Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 25, Note on Digital Production Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 874 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABK4014-0025 /moa/harp/harp0025/

Restricted to authorized users at Cornell University and the University of Michigan. These materials may not be redistributed.

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 25, Note on Digital Production 0025 000
Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 25, Note on Digital Production A-B

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 25, Issue 145 [an electronic edition] Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 874 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABK4014-0025 /moa/harp/harp0025/

Restricted to authorized users at Cornell University and the University of Michigan. These materials may not be redistributed.

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 25, Issue 145 International monthly magazine Harper's monthly magazine Harper & Bros. New York June, 1862 0025 145
Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 25, Issue 145, miscellaneous front pages i-viii

HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. VOLUME XXV. JUNE TO NOVEMBER, 1862. NEW YOIIK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 327 to 335 PEARL STREET, FItANELIN SQUARE. 1862. L 98P? ~ ~, CONTENTS OF VOLUME XXV. ADAMS, JOHN, MARGINALIA OF Charles T. Congdon 357 .iESTHETICS, SOCIAL Richard Grant White 162 AGASSIZ; LOUIS James Wynne 194 ALONG THE WHARVES J. W. Watson 307 ARCTIC EXPLORATIONS W. Parker Snow 829 BANCROFT, GEORGE James Wynne 52 BOSTON, OUR COUSINS FROM 781 BROADWAY N. G. Shepherd 1 BUFFALO COUNTRY, IN THE George D. BrGwerton 447 BURRS CONSPIRACY Benson J. Lossing 69 BUYING WINTER THINGS Louise Chandler Moulton 802 CANNON, ABOUT J. T. Ileadley 593 CARLYLES FREDERICK THE GREAT A. H. cuernsey 523 CARTE DE VISITE, THE N. G. Shepherd 479 CATAWISSA RAILROAD II. D. Hears 20 CONFEDERACY, THE NEW ENGLAND 627 CONGRESS, A NOTABLE Charlotte Taylor 732 CONGRESS, THE FIRST COLONIAL 764 DANDIES, LAST OF THE A. H. Guernsey 745 DANGEROUS JOURNEY J. Boss Browne 6 DEAD-LETTER OFFICE, THE J. L. Tracy 256 DICKENS, CHARLES Louis Gaylord Clark 376 EDITORS DRAWER. DRAWER FOR Jrmie 131 DRAWER FOR JULY 279 DRAWER FOR AUGUST 424 EDITORS EASY CHAIR. CHAIR FOR JUNE 121 CHAIR FOR JULY 270 CHAIR FOR AUGUST 418 EDITORS FOREIGN BUREAU. BUREAU FOR JUNE 127 EDITORS TABLE. FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION 116 VICTORY 265 DRAWER FOR SEPTEMBER 567 DRAWER FOR OCTOBER 711 DRAWER FOR NOVEMBER 853 CHAIR FOR SEPTEMBER 563 CHAIR FOR OCTOBER 706 CHAIR FOR NOVEMBER 848 BUREAU FOR JUL~Y 275 THE PEOPLE AND THE GOVERNMENT.... 843 ENGLISH IN INDIA, THE A. H. Guernsey 685 FAILING LOVE T. S. Arthur 96 iv CONTENTS. FASHIONS, THE FASHIONS FOR JUNE 143 FASHIONS FOR SEPTEMBER 575 FASHIONS FOR JULY 287 FASHIONS FOR OCTOBER 719 FASHIONS FOR AUGUST 431 FASHIONS FOR NOVEMBER 863 FIRST COLONIAL CONGRESS Benson J Lossing 764 FLYING TRIP THROUGH NORWAY 145, 289 FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION Joseph Alden 116 FREDERICK THE GREAT, CARLYLES 523 HARTFORD CONVENTION, THE Benson J Lossing 217 HOSPITAL, ST. LUKES 503 IDLEWILD, DOWN IN THE GLEN AT Fitz James OBrien 236 IF I COULD KNOW T. S Arthur 254 INDIA, THE ENGLISh IN 685 IRON-CLAD VESSELS A. IL Guernsey 433 KENNEDY, JOHN P James W4jnne 335 KENTUCKY, PIONEERS OF Robert F Coleman 577 LANGUAGE AND POETRY OF SMOKE Frank H Norton 499 LAST OF THE DANDIES 745 LAUGHTER, CONCERNING Char/es Nordhoff 93 LETTYS PROPOSAL Kate J Neel,y 607 LITERARY NOTICES. Burtons City of the Saints; The Rebellion Record, 115. Trollopes North America, 262. Parson Brown- 114. Mill on Representative Government; Dickens, lows Book, 263. Olive Blakes Good Wcrk; Osgoods Household Edition; The Last of the Mortimers; The Christian Worship; Picture-Book of the Sagacity of Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson; Scotts Mili- Animals; Adlards Sutton-Dudleys, 264. Life of Ed- tary Dictionary; Caseys Infantry Tactics; Gibbons ward Irving, 840. School and Family Charts; Will- Artilleriots Manual; Bentons Ordnance and Gunnery; sons Manual of Object Lessons; Wellss Graded Course; Simpsons Ordnance and Naval Gunnery; Cullums McGregors Logic, 842. Military Bridges; Harpers Hand-Book for Travelers, LOIS, THE STORY OF A MANS MISTAKE Louise Chandler Moulton 249 LOVE IN AUTUMN N. G. Slsepherd 828 MADELEINE SCHAEFFER harriet F. Prescott 37, 651, 753 MARGINALIA OF JOHN ADAMS 357 MISTRESS AND MAID Dinah Maria Msslock 58, 229, 360, 487, 619, 505 MONTHLY CONCERT AT TAMPA BAY Jane C. Fuller 616 MONTHLY RECORD OF CURRENT EVENTS. UNITED STATesCapture of Yorktown, 112. Battle of Shiloh, 112. Capture of Huntsville, 113. Capture of Forts Pulaski and Macon, 113. Capture of New Orleans, 113, 218 General Butlers Proceedings, 259, 411. Cap- ture of Fort Wright, 259. Capture of Memphis., 260. Evacuation of Corinth, 260. Surrender of Norfolk, 260. Destruction of the Merrimac 260. Repulse at Fort Dar- hug, 260. Defeat of Banks, 260. Battle of Cross Keys, 263. Evacuation of Pensacola, 261. General Hunters Order, 261. Governor Stanly, 261, 417. Our Army on the Chickahominy, 261, 417. Battle of Hanover Court Ilouse, 261. Battle of Fairoaks, 261. Withdrawal frdm the Chickalsominy, 417, 561. Defeat near Charleston, 417. General Pope in Command in Virginia, 417. lIen- ignation of Fr~mont, 417. Cumberland Gap, 417, 838. Siege of Vicksburg, 417, 562. Call for 300,000 men, 417. Attack upon Fort Charles, 417. The Tax-Bill, 417. The Confiscation Bill, 510. Presidents Procla- mation of Warning, 560. The Public Debt, Sill. The Retreat to the James River, 417, 561. Battles before Richmond, 561. Our Losses, 562. MClellans Address, 562. Jefferson Daviss Address, 562. The Ram Arkan- sas, 562, 705. Retreat of General Curtis, 562. General Hahleck in Command, 562. Presidents Order respect- ing Negroes, 562. The second Call for 100,000 Men, 562. Exchange of Prisoners, 562. Death of Marlin Yen Buren, 563. Loss of the steanser Golden Gate, 563. Withdrawal from the Peninsula, 704. Collision on the James River, 704. Battle of Cedar Mountain, 704. Re. treat from the Rappahannock, 704. Battles at Kettle Run, Bull Run, Centreville, and Chantilly, 704. Re- treat to Washington, 705. Invasion of Maryland, 705, 816. Proclamation of the Governor of Pennsylvania, 705. Invasion of Kentucky, 705, 818. Resignation of Governor Magoffin, 705. Battle at Richmond, 705. Capture of Lexington and Frsukfort, 705. Cincinnati threatened, 7U5. Battle at Baton Rouge, 705. Surren- der of Clarkeville, 705. Release of Corcoran, 705. In- dian Outreges in Minnesota, 705, 818. The Presidents Letter to the Tribune, 705. Invasion of Maryland, 836. General Lees Address, 816. Capture of Harpers Fer- ry, 837. Battles of South Mountain and Antietam, 837. MClellans Report, 837. Confederate Accounts, 838. Louisville threatened, 838. Evacuation of Cnmberland Gap, 838. Murder of General Nelson, 838. Surrender of Natchex, 838. Battle at luke, 838. Battle at Corinth, 838. New Mexico, 838. General Popes Report of Oper- ations in Virginia, 838. Pope sent to the Northwest, 839. The Presidents Emancipation Proclamation, 819. Habeas Corpus suspended, 839. Reception of Proclama- tions at Richmond, 839. Convention of loyal Govern- ors, 839. Soncruxac AaxxsoA.Ths Allies in Mexico, 113. De- feat of the French at Puebla, 261. Reinforcements sent from France, 418. Euaope.Iron.clad Vessels and Armstrongs Cannon, CONTENTS. V MONTHLY RacoaDContinued. 113. The Cotton Famine, 262, 563. M. Mercier at Rich. bate in Parliament, 418. Lord Palmerston on Butlers mond, 262. Reports of Intervention, 262, 418, 563. Proclamation, 418. Renewed Debate in Parliament, Mr. Rosts Dispatch, 262. Position of France and Spain, 563. Position of the Government, 563. The Defense 262. The London Exhibition, 262. British Iron-clad of Canada, 563. GaribaldIs Attempt upon Rome, 840. Vessels, 262. Earl Russell on Intervention, 418. De NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY Benson J. Lossing 627 NON RESPONDET Clarence Sticlcney 813 NORWAY, FLYING TRIP THROUGH I. Boss Browne 145, 289 NOTABLE CONGRESS 732 NOT AT MY EXPENSE T. S. Arthur 769 NULLIFICATION, SOUTH CAROLINA 367 ONE DAY Alice B. Haven 660 ORLEY FARM Assthony Trollo;se 77, 201, 341, 506, 634, 785 OUR COUSINS FROM BOSTON Frances Lee 781 PARTIE CARR~E Elizabeth D. B. Stoddard 466 PEOPLE AND GOVERNMENT, THE Samuel Osgood 843 PHILIP, ADVENTURES OF W ilL Thaclceray 99, 237, 404, 533 PIONEERS OF KENTUCKY s7~ POLAND OVER-GROUND AND UNDER-GROUND J. Boss Browne 721 RECEIPT, THE UNSIGNED Thomas Dunn English 224 REGATTA, THE A(fred Carroll 861 ROMOLA Marion C. Evans 380, 545, 669, 772 ROUGH RIDING DOWN SOUTH J. F. H. Claiborne 29 SAINT LUKE~S HOSPITAL K. K. Kind 503 SEADRIFT T. B. Aldrich 560 SILLIMAN, BENJAMIN James ~ynne 480 SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON, THE Anthony Trollope 691, 815 SMOKE, LANGUAGE AND POETRY OF 499 SOCIAL STHETICS 162 SOUTH CAROLINA NULLIFICATION Benson J. Lossing 367 SURRY COUNTY, NORTH CAROLINA A. H. Guernsey 178 TOMMATOO Fitz James OBrien 325 VESSELS, IRON-CLAD 433 VICTORY Sansuel Osgood 265 WHARVES, ALONG THE 307 WRECKED AND RESCUED .Jane G. Austin 185 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 1. Broadway, the Pave 1 2. Something Coming 3 3. In Form& Pauperis 3 4. Work is over 4 5. At Home 4 6. Eleven oclock S 7. Toward Morning 5 8. A lonely Ride 6 9. The Attack 9 10. San Miguel 11. 11. Spanish Caballero 12 12. Valley of Santa Marguerita 13 13. Lassoing a Grizzly 15 14. Belle of the Fandango 17 15. The Bluffs at Catawissa 20 16. View at Port Cljnton 21 17. Coal Shutes at Tamaqun 22 18. View near Quaquake Junction 23 19. head-Waters of Little Schuylkill 24 20. View near Strangers Hollow 25 21. Mainville Water Gap 25 22. View from Maineville 26 23. View from Catawissa 26 24. Town of Catawissa 27 25. Saw-Mill at Williamsport 28 26. Electioneering in Mississippi 29 27. The lonely Grave 30 28. The bereaved Negroes 31 29. The Woods on Fire 32 30. The Hurricane 35 31. Barrett and the Boar 36 32. Lady Mason going to Court SO 33. Sir Peregrine and Mr. Round 88 34. Res angusti Domi 99 35. Paterfamilias 100 36. Materfamilias 106 37. Hentzs Lips 137 38. Pushs Tavern 138 39. The Disconsolates 139 40. A Deviation 140 41. After Supper 141 42. Its no Consequence 142 43. Bridal Toilet 143 44. Undress Costume 144 45. In Norseland 145 46. Steamer entering the Fjord 147 48. The Coast of Norway 149 49. Approach to Christiania 150 50. Station-House, Logen Valley 154 51. Station Boy 156 52. Good-byMany Thanks 157 53. Norwegian Peasant Family 158 54. The Post-Girl 160 55. The Venus of Milo 162 56. Horned head-Dresses 166 57. Head-Dresses, 1750 166 58. Ball Dress, 1810 166 59. Marguerite of Lorraine 167 60. La Belle Hamilton 167 61. Queen Elizabeth 168 62. Catherine de Medicis, 1550 .. 169 63. Marguerite of Lorraine, 1590 . 169 64. Shawl and Lady, 1859 170 65. Ringing the Bell 170 66. Evening Dress, 1812 171 67. Normandy Peasant Girl 172 68. Mrs. Flounsir 173 69. Lady Percy and Northumberland 176 70. Heloise, 1150 177 71. The Windsor Chair 178 72. Good-mornin, Ladies 179 73. The Pigeon Roost 180 74. The Horn-Snake 181 75. The Wedding 182 76. The Night Meeting 183 77. The Fire Hunt 184 78. Father and Daughter 207 79. The Two Peregrines 212 80. The Old Man of the Mountains 237 81. Joan of Arc 242 82. Judith and Holofernes 247 83. Setting up in Business 285 84. Young America 286 85. Street Costume, Boys Dress 287 86. Promenade Toilet 288 87. Norwegian Farm 289 88. Waiting for a Nibble 291 89. Snow-Plow 292 90. A Drinking Bout 293 91. Norwegian Church 294 92. Parish Schoolmaster 295 93. Dovre Fjeld 296 47. Islands on the Coast of Norway 148 94. Playing him out 297 4 ILLUSTRATIONS. vii 95. English Sportsman 297 150. The Ram 445 96. Bear Chase 298 151. Portrait of G. D. Brewerton 447 97. Peasant Women at Work 298 152. The Prairie Ocean 448 98. Wheeling Girls 299 153. The First Buffalo 452 99. Justice of the Peace 300 154. Storm on the Plains 454 100. Model Landlord 300 101. Drivsdal Valley 301 102. Passage on the Driv 302 103. The Prize 304 104. Traveling on Foot 306 105. What Luck? 306 106. Mr. Biggs at Home 307 107. New York in 1664 308 108. Get out wid ye 309 109. The Bethel Ship 310 110. The Albany Dock 311 ill. Pocket-Book Droppers 312 112. Oyster-Boats 313 113. Hay-Scales 314 114. The Derrick 315 115. Telegraph Office 316 116. Be keerful of my Vest 317 117. Hotel de Flaherty 318 118. You move on, now 320 119. Floating Docks 322 120. Artist and Critic 323 121. Ferry-House, Brooklyn, 1791 323 122. Brooklyn in 1810 324 123. Barrister and Attorney 346 124. Lady Mason in Court 356 125. Romola: Florence 380 126. The Shipwrecked Stranger 383 127. Suppose you let me look at Myself.... 394 128. The blind Scholar and his Daughter... 399 129. Philip Firmins Trials 404 130. Upon the World 407 131. More free than Welcome 411 132. Literary Young America 427 133. No Improvement in Photography 428 134. Soft Sawder 429 135. An Explanation 430 136. Equestrian Costumes 431 137. Pardessus 432 138. Launch of the Monitor 433 139. Portrait of John Ericsson 435 140. The Atlantic Forge 436 141. Forging a Bloom 437 142. Forging a Plate 438 143. Drilling Plates 439 144. Bending Turret Plates, 440 145. Setting up the Turret 441 146. Bending the Plates 441 147. Trucking Plates 442 148. Line-of-Battle Ship cut down 444 149. Screwing up the Bolts 444 155. Fording the Arkansas 156. Portrait of Kit Carson 157. A Prairie Scene 158. Painted Trees 159. Dead Buffaloes 160. Prairie Dog Village 161. A Shot at the Comanches 162. A pleasant Night 163. Fate of Bill Williams 164. The Drawing-Room at Noningsby.... 165. How are they all at Noningsby ? 166. The last Stage but one of Philip 167. The Good Fairy 168. A Street in Florence 169. A Recognition 170. Love and Politics 171. House-Cleaning 172. How Mrs. Millefleurs cleaned House... 173. A Misunderstanding 174. Carriage or Dinner Toilet 175. Autumn Pardessus 176. The Captive Saved 177. Indian and Pony t78. Harrod and the Warrior 179. Boone at the Blue Licks 180. Attack on th.e Emigrants 181. Return of John Moredock 182. Murder of Mary Saunders 183. Death of the Indian 184. Cannon of 1390 185. Original Cannon 186. Bombard du Gand 187. Mons Meg, Edinburgh Castle 188. Iron Ship Gun, 1545 189. Wrought-Iron Gun, Moorshedabad... 190. Serpentine 191. The Mallet Mortar 192. English Howitzer, 1693 193. Fracture in Cast-Iron Guns 194. Dahlgren 24-Pound Howitzer, 1862... 195. Lady Mason Leaving Court 196. How can I bear it? 197. Under the Plane-Tree 198. The Cloister Gate 199. The First Kiss 200. Allington Church-Yard 201. Can we have the Pease to shell? 202. Taking a Cart de Visite 203. Making a Bargain 204. The Account of Sales 456 457 458 459 459 461 463 464 465 510 513 533 535 545 556 571 572 573 574 575 576 577 579 581 584 586 588 590 592 593 594 595 596 596 597 598 601 603 603 604 638 641 675 678 680 691 701 715 716 717 viii ILLUSTRATIONS. 205. A case of Colic 718 206. Morning Negligee, Girls Dress 719 207. Eglantine Cloak 720 208. Polish National Costumes 721 209. The Passport Bureau 723 210. Portrait of Kosciusko 724 211. View of Cracow 725 212. Church of St. Mary, Cracow 726 213. Polish Jew of Rank 726 214. Polish Jews, Cracow 727 215. Gateway Shrine, Cracow 728 216. Outer Wall of Cracow 729 217. Inspector of Workmen 730 218. Author in Costume 730 219. Shaft in the Salt-Mines 731 220. Black Horse-Fly 732 221. Parts of the Horse-Fly 733 222. Cess-Pool Fly 734 223. Parts of Cess-Pool Fly 734 224. Sewer Fly 735 225. Plantation Fly 735 226. Dueghill Fly 736 227. Georgia Piercer 737 228. Salt-Marsh Fly 738 229. Parts of Salt-Marsh Fly 738 230. Silvery Gnat 739 231. Parts of Silvery Gnat 740 232. Cotton Crane-Fly 741 233. Vigilant Flesh-Fly 742 234. Hide-Fly 742 265. Gooseberry Saw-Fly 743 236. Cherry Saw-Fly 743 237. Parts of Gooseberry Saw-Fly 744 238. Parts of Cherry Saw-Fly 744 239. The Last of the Dandies 745 240. Quadrille at Almacks 746 241. Gronow, Allen, DOrsay 747 242. Lord Alvanley 749 243. Lord Londonderry 750 244. Kangaroo Cook 750 245. Hughes Ball, Lord Wilton 750 246. Prince Esterhazy, Lord Fife 751 247. Lord Yarmouth 751 248. Peasants Fair, Florence 777 249. Lucius Mason at the Gate 789 250. Bridget Bolster in Court 796 251. Croquet 815 252. And you love me 821 253. The Regatta: on the Steamer 861 254. The Regatta: on the Yachts 862 255. Home Dress, Girls Pardessus 863 256. Street Costume 864

N. G. Shepherd Shepherd, N. G. Broadway 1-6

HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. CXLV.JUNE, 1862.VoL. XXV. BROADWAY. ~HE sunlight fails from the fair blue sky On buildings stately and grand and high, Whose distant roofs seem to touch the clouds That gaze below on the ~passing crowds. Hung with laces and lawns so fine, With silks and satins that shimmer and shine, Shawls of Cashmere, and robes of wool Wondrously woven, crowded full ALIVE WITH THE TREAD OF FEET. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by Harper and Brothers, in the Clerks Office of the Dis- trict Court for the Southern District of New York. VOL. XXV.No. 145.A 2 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Are the polished windows with all things rare, From the costly cloth made of camels-hair To the plumes of the ostrich white as snow, And the silky down of the marabou: Purple clusters from Spanish vines; Tropical fruits and luscious wines; Jewels that sparkle, of every kind Lumitious pearls that the divers find Down in the depths of the sea so blue, Scintillant diamonds like drops of dew, Wine-dark rubies and emeralds fine, Milky opals that gleam and shine Like sullen fires through a pallid mist, With the carven onyx and amethyst. Tis four oclock, and the crowded street Is all alive with the tread of feet; Hither they come and thither they go, Like a mighty river they ebb and flow, With a rushing sound as of falling rain, Or of wind that ripples the grassy plain. The old and the young, the sad and the gay Jostle each other on bright Broadway. Hard-featured men with sinister faces, Women adorned with jewels and laces, There are men with beards and men who have none. Every condition under the sun The man of fashion and indolent ease, The sun-browned sailor from over the seas, The cold, proud lady of stately mien, The child who is sweeping the cross-way clean, The whiskered fop with the vacuous stare, The gambler standing outside his lair, Innocent girlhood in contact with Shame That purity shudders to think of or name Hither they come and thither they go, Like a mighty river they ebb and flow, With a rushing sound as of falling rain, Or of wind that ripples the grassy plain. Hark! down the street there is something coming, A mingling of fifes and noisy drumming; With gleam of sabre and bayonet bright That, glancing, flash in the warm suns light; Nearer they come with soldierly tread, And the calm blue heavens high overhead Ring with the shout of the clamorous throng, As each solid column is marched along. In her elegant carriage, dressed with care, Sits the haughty Madame Millionaire. A queen she looks as she rides in state, And the strong-limbed horses seem elate With the thought of the lady, fine and gay, Who rides behind them ma bright Broadway. With their iron-clad hoofs the stones they spurn; The folks on the sidewalk gaze, and turn To gaze again as she passes by When lo! on the air breaks a piercing cry, BROADWAY. 3 And some one lifts from the cold, hard stones A shapeless bundle of broken bones, And they bear it off in a jolting cart, Mid the noise and din of the busy mart. On the pavement yonder, cold and bare, At the further corner, over there By the marble building lofty and grand, Around whose windows the people stand And stare at the costly show within, Sits a woman, poorly clad and thin, With hand outstretched and a pleading face So wan and wasted that you may trace Each separate bone through the shrivclcd skin. And count them all from the brow to the chin. Two hours have passedfrom factories grim, With windows smoky, dusty, and dim, Through whose crusted panes the sunshine falls On the grimy floors and the blackened walls, Comes a sudden current of human life Mother and daughter, sister and wife Glad to escape from the heated rooms, The whirring spindles and noisy looms, From the squalid, narrow, and gloomy streets Which the light of heaven but seldom greets, DOWN TIlE STREET THERE IS SOMETHING COMING. SITS A WOMAN, rOORLY CLAD AND THIN. 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. From the fetid air they have breathed all day, To the life and vigor of bright Broadway; And on they pass with the hurrying crowd, While swells the murmur prolonged and loud. The lights are lit in dwelling and store; In countless numbers, score upon score Of those that crowded the brilliant mart Are gone to their homes in the citys heart; Yet the throng in the street seems hardly less In the crush and tumult, hurry and press. One! two! three! four! Over the roofs of the city pour The hollow notes of the deep-mouthed bells, Louder and louder the chorus swells; The engines rattle adown the street; The pavement rings to the tread of feet; The air is wild with the hoarse loud cry Of the panting firemen hurrying by. Ten has soundedthat stroke is the last; Painted shadows go flitting l)ast, The stages pause on their upward way, To wait for those who are in at the l)lay. COMES A sUDDEN CURRENT OF hUMAN LIFE. THE LIGhTS ARE LIT IN DWELLING AND STORE. BROADWAY. They are coming now, like a gathring tide. From the glare and heat to the worl(l outside. And the women seem, in their evening dresses. Made expressly for loves caresses. Like a lovely vision they pass, and soon Their voices sound ill the gay saloon. Tis the dea(i of night, and silent and dark Are the sha(lowy trees in the gloomy 1 ark. And silent, too, is the 1)cantiful street, Save the watehman pacing his lonely beat. The bundle of bones on the hospital bed Moans, and tosses its restless head While the haughty Madame Millionaire Ia her chamber, where the indolent air Is heavy with perfume from fragrant urns, And the waxen taper drowsily burns, With the sumptuous curtains closely drawi Sleeps on her pillow of snowy lawn. The hours go by, and the l)ale, wan light Comes like a ghost to startle the night Far u~~ on the buildings so grand and high. That rear their forms to the morning sky, On shaft and column and cornice bold God writes his love in letters of gold. FROM THE GLARE AND HEAT TO TILE WOELD OUTSIDE. TILE WATCHMAN PACING 1118 LONELY BRAT. 6 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. A DANGEROUS JOURNEY. IN TWO PARTSPART II. A Slstruck into the trail and out into the broad valley of the Salinas a sense of free- dom relieved me in some degree of the gloom inspired by the last words of this strangely un- fortunate man. The stars were shining bright- ly overhead, but the moon had gone down some time previously. It was just light, enough to see the way. A small white object lying in the trail caused the mule to start. In the excitement of my escape I had forgotten about the papers. Here they were, all safe. I had no doubt they had been thus disposed of by the ruffian Jack, during the previous evening when he took occa- sion to absent himself from the camp. I quick- ly dismounted and placed the package securely in the leg of one of my boots, then pushed on with all speed to reach a turning-point of the mountains some distance ahead, in order to be out of sight by the dawn of day, which could not be far off. In about an hour I had gained this point, and at the same time the first faint streaks of the coming day began to appear in the east- ern sky. The air was peculiarly balmycool enough to be pleasant, and deliciously odorous with the herbage of the mountains. Already the deer began to leave their coverts among the shrubbery on the hill-sides, and numerous bands of them stood gazing at me as I passed, their antlers erect, their beautiful forms motionless, as if hewn from the solid rock, but manifesting more curiosity than fear. Thousands of rabbits frisked about in the open glades, and innumera- ble flocks of quail flitted from bush to bush. The field-larks and doves made the air musical with their joyous hymns of praise to the rising sun; the busy hum of bees rose among the wild flowers by the way-side; all nature seemed to awake from its repose smiling with a celestial joy. In no other country upon earth have I seen such mornings as in the interior of Califor- niaso clear, bright, and sparklingso rich and glowing in atmospheric tintsso teeming with unbounded opulence in all that gives vigor, health, and beauty to animated nature, and in- spiration to the higher faculties of man. There is a redundancy of richness in the earth, air, and light unknown even in that laud of fascina- tion which is said to possess the fatal gift of beauty. A LONELY ama.

J. Ross Browne Browne, J. Ross Dangerous Journey 6-20

6 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. A DANGEROUS JOURNEY. IN TWO PARTSPART II. A Slstruck into the trail and out into the broad valley of the Salinas a sense of free- dom relieved me in some degree of the gloom inspired by the last words of this strangely un- fortunate man. The stars were shining bright- ly overhead, but the moon had gone down some time previously. It was just light, enough to see the way. A small white object lying in the trail caused the mule to start. In the excitement of my escape I had forgotten about the papers. Here they were, all safe. I had no doubt they had been thus disposed of by the ruffian Jack, during the previous evening when he took occa- sion to absent himself from the camp. I quick- ly dismounted and placed the package securely in the leg of one of my boots, then pushed on with all speed to reach a turning-point of the mountains some distance ahead, in order to be out of sight by the dawn of day, which could not be far off. In about an hour I had gained this point, and at the same time the first faint streaks of the coming day began to appear in the east- ern sky. The air was peculiarly balmycool enough to be pleasant, and deliciously odorous with the herbage of the mountains. Already the deer began to leave their coverts among the shrubbery on the hill-sides, and numerous bands of them stood gazing at me as I passed, their antlers erect, their beautiful forms motionless, as if hewn from the solid rock, but manifesting more curiosity than fear. Thousands of rabbits frisked about in the open glades, and innumera- ble flocks of quail flitted from bush to bush. The field-larks and doves made the air musical with their joyous hymns of praise to the rising sun; the busy hum of bees rose among the wild flowers by the way-side; all nature seemed to awake from its repose smiling with a celestial joy. In no other country upon earth have I seen such mornings as in the interior of Califor- niaso clear, bright, and sparklingso rich and glowing in atmospheric tintsso teeming with unbounded opulence in all that gives vigor, health, and beauty to animated nature, and in- spiration to the higher faculties of man. There is a redundancy of richness in the earth, air, and light unknown even in that laud of fascina- tion which is said to possess the fatal gift of beauty. A LONELY ama. A DANGEROUS JOURNEY. 7 Contrasted with the dark spirit of crime that hung over my late encampment, such a morning was inexpressibly lovely. Every breath of air every sound that broke upon the listening ear every thought of the vast wild plains and tow- ering mountains that swept around me in the immeasurable distanceinspired vague and un- utterable sensations of pleasure and painpleas- ure that I was free and capable of enjoying such ~xquisite physical and mental luxuries; pain that here, on Gods own footstool, All but the spirit of juan was divine. As the sun rose, and spread over mountain and valley a drapery of glowing light, giving prom- ise of continued life to the birds of the air and the beasts of the field, I could not but think with sadness how manmade after Gods own image, the most perfect of his works, gifted with reason and intelligenceshould so strangely turn aside from the teachings of his Maker, and cast away the pure enjoyments so bountifully spread before him. Was it possible that a single created be- :ng, however steeped in crime, could be insensi- ble to the soothing and humanizing influences c~f such a scene? The unhappy fate of the poor fellow to whom I was so deeply indebted haunted me. He, at east, must have felt the better promptings of his inner nature amidst these bcautiful works of a beneficent Creator. Surely such a man could never be utterly lost. There were noble traits ~n his character that must, some time or other, assert their supremacy. Honorable even in his degradation, he scorned to turn traitor to men whom he despised. His was not a nature form- ed for cruel and crafty deeds. Frank, manly, and ingenuous in his whole bearing, there was evidence of innate nobility in his misguided sense of honor, and a manifest scorn of decep- tion in his wild outbursts of passion. What could have driven him to this career of crime? What Satanic power was that by which he was enthralled? I could not believe that he was voluntarily bad. That single outburst of emo- tion as he spoke of his mother would have re- deemed him had he been the worst of criminals. A career of dissipation must have brought him to this. He was evidently compromised, but to what extent? Some painful mystery hung over his connection with these bad menI could not fathom it. The more I reflected upon all I had seen and heard, the more profound became my sympathy; nor is it an affectation of generosity to say that I would have sacrificed much to have saved him. Yet this mans case was not an un- common one in California. There were many there, even at that early period, and there a~e still many, who, with the noblest attributes that adorn human nature, have become castaways. As the day advanced a marked change became perceptible in the character of the country. Pass- ing out from the valley of the Salinas to the right, the trail entered a series of smaller val- leys, winding from one to another through a suc- cession of narrow cafions between low, gravelly hills, destitute of shrubbery, and of a peculiarly whitish and barren aspect. The scene was no longer enliven~d by bands of deer and smaller game, such as I had seen in the morning; the birds had also disappeared; not a living thing was in sight save a few buzzards hovering in the air over the bleached and sterile hills, and occa- sionally a coyote or wild-cat skulking stealthily across the trail. Toward noon the earth became like a fiery furnace. The air was scorching. In the narrow passages, where the hills converged into a focus, cutting off every current of air, the refraction of the suns rays was absolutely ter- rific. It seemed as if my very clothing must crisp~~~to tinder and drop from my body. The skin ~pt~eled from my face and hands; a thick woolen hat was insufficient to keep the fierce and seething heat from my head, and I some- times feared I would be smitten to the earth. Not knowing the water-holes, or rather having no time to look for them, I was parched with an intolerable thirst. On every eminence I turned to look back, but nothing was in sight save the dreary waste of barren hills that lay behind. Toward evening, having stopped only a few minutes at a pool of water, my mule began to lag again. I had no spurs, and it was utterly in vain that I urged him on by kicks and blows. His greatest speed was a slow trot, and to keep that up for a few hundred yards at a time re- quired my utmost efforts. By sundown I esti- mated that the distance to San Miguel must be twelve or fifteen miles. It was a very unpleas- ant position to be inpursued, as I had every reason to suppose, by men who would not hesi- tate to take my life, yet unable to accelerate the speed of my animal. All I could do was to con- tinue beating him. The country became still more lonesome and desolate as I advanced. The chances of being overtaken momentarily increased. My anxiety to reach San Miguel caused me to forget all the sufferings of fatigue and thirst, and strain every nerve to get my mule over the ground. But the greater the effort the slower he traveled. It was true, I bad a pistol and could make some defense. Yet the chances were greatly against me. Unskilled in this sort of warfare, an in- different rider, unacquainted with the trails by which I might be cut off and surprised, it seem- ed indeed a very hopeless case, should such an emergency arise. Besides, it would be very lit- tle satisfaction to shoot one, or even two men, against whom I felt no enmity, and whose lives were worth nothing to me; and still less to get killed myself. The truth is, I had a particular relish for life; others were interested in it as well as myself, and I did not feel disposed to risk it unnecessarily. The sun went down at last, and the soft shad- ows of night began to soften the asperities of the scene. I rode on, never once relaxing my efforts to get a little more speed out of my mule. The moon rose, and innumerable stars twinkled in the sky. The air became delightfully barmy. Long shadows of rocks and trees swept across the trail. Mystic forms seemed to flit through 8 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the dim distance, or stand like ghostly sentinels along the way-side. Often I fancied I could see men on horseback stationed nnder the overhang- ing rocks, and detect the glitter of their arms in the moonlight. Stumps of trees riven by the storms of winter loomed np among the rocks like grim spectres; the very bushes assumed fantastic forms, and waved their long arms in gestures of warning. The howling of innumer- able coyotes and the hooting of the night-owls had a singularly weird effect in the stillness of the night. It must have been nearly ten oclock when my mule suddenly stopped, turned around, and set up that peculiar nickering bray by which these animals hail the approach of strangers. As soon as he ceased his unwelcome noise I listened, and distinctly heard the clatter of hoofs in the road, about half a mile in the rear. That my pursuers were rapidly appronching there was now very little doubt. It was useless to attempt to reach San Miguel, which must be still four or five miles distant. I had no time and resolved at once to make for a little grove some three or four hundred yards to the right. As I approached the nearest trees I was re- joiced to see something like a fence. A little farther on was a gray object with a distinct out- line. It must be a house. There was no light; but I soon discovered that I was within fifty yards of a small adobe building. My mule now pricked up his ears, snuffed the air wildly, and absolutely refused to move a step nearer. I dis- mounted and tried to drag him toward the door. His terror seemed unconquerable. With start- ing eyes and a wild blowing sound from his nos- trils, he broke away and dashed out into the plain. I speedily lost sight of him. This time I had taken the precaution to se- cure my papers and pistol on my person. The mule had taken the direction of San Miguel, but even should I be unable to recover him the loss would not be so great as before. However, it was no time to calculate losses. The clatter of hoofs grew nearer and nearer, and soon the advancing forms of two mounted men became distinctly visible in the moonlight. There was no alternative but to seek security in the old adobe. I ran for the door and pushed it open. The house was evidently untenanted. No an- swer was made to my summons save a mocking echo from the bare walls. My pursuers must have caught sight of me as they approached. I could hear their imprecations as they tried to force their animals up to the door. One of the partythe Colonel, whose voice I had no diffi- culty in recognizing, said: Blast the fellow! what did he come here for? The other answered with an oath and a brutal laugh, Weve got him holed, any how! It wont take long to root him out. They then dismounted and proceeded to tie their horses to the nearest tree. I could hear them talk as they receded, but could not make out what they said. While this was going on I had closed the door and was looking for some bolt or fastening when I heard the low fierce growl of some ani- mal. There was no time to conjecture what it wasthe next moment a furry skin brushed past, and the animal sprang through an opening in the wall. A wooden bar was all I could find; but the iron fastening had been broken, and the only way of securing the door was to brace the bar against it in a diagonal position. The floor was of rough hard clay, and served in some sort to prevent the brace from slipping. A few mo- ments of painful anxiety passed. I had drawn my revolver, and stood close against the inner wall, prepared to fire upon the first man that entered. Presently the two men returned, ap- proaching stealthily along the wall, so as to avoid coming in range of the door. The sharp, hard voice of the Colonel first broke the silence. Come, said he, open the door! You can t help yourself now! It is all up with you, my fine fellow! I knew the villains wanted to find my posi- tion, and made no answer. You may as well come out at once, said the Colonel; ydu have no chance! There is nobody here to stand by you as there was last night. Your friend is keeping camp with a bull- et through his head and a gash in his throat! Pressed as I was this news shocked me be- yond measure. The unfortunate man who had befriended me had paid the penalty of his life for his kindness! Out with you! roared the Colonel, fierce- ly or well burst the door down! Come, be quick Another pause. I heard a low whispering, and stood with breathless anxiety with my fin- ger upon the trigger of my pistol. In that brief period it was wonderful how many thoughts flashed through my mind. I knew nothing of the construction of the house, had no time even to look around and see if there was any back entrance. A faint light through one small win- dow-hole in front, within three feet of the doot, was all I could discern. Every nerve was strained to its utmost tension. My sense of hearing was painfully acute. The low whispering of the two ruffians, the faint jingling of their spurs, the very creaking of their boots, as they stealthily moved, was fearfully audible. With an almost absolute certainty of death, without the re- motest hope of relieg it was strange how my thoughts wandered back upon the past; how the peaceful fireside of home was pictured to my mind; how vividly I saw the beloved faces of kindred and friends; how all that were dear to me seemed to sympathize in my unhappy fate. Yet it was impossible to realize that my time had come. The whole thingthe camp, the dark, murderous faces, the chase, the blockade resembled rather some horrible fantasy than the dread truth. Strange, too, that I should have noticed something even grotesque in my situation; run into a hole, as the ruffian Jack A DANGEROUS JOU1~NEY. 9 had said, like a coyote or a badger. Five mm- borne it from its binges or shattered it to frag- utesit seemed a long timemust have passed meats. in this way, when I became conscious of a grad- hold on, Jack ! said the wounded man in ual darkening in the room. A low, heavy breath- a low voice; come here, quick! The infernal ing attracted my attention. I looked in the fool has shot me through the shoulder! Im direction of the window and thought I could de- bleeding badly. tect something moving; but the darkness was so The ruffian dropped his har, as I judged by impenetrable that it might be the result of im- the sound, and turned to drag his leader out of agination. Should I tire and miss my mark, range of the door. Now was the time for a the flash would reveal my position and be cer- bold move. Hitherto I had acted on the defens- tam destruction. The dark mass again moved. ive; but every thing depended on following up I could distinctly hear the respiration. It must the advantage. Removing the brace from the be one of the men trying to get in through the door, I made an opening sufficient to get a small window-hole. I raised my pistol, took glimpse of the two men. The stout fellow, dead aim as naar as possible upon the centre of Jack, was stooping down dragging the other to- the object, and tired. The fall of a heavy body ward the corner of the house. I tired again. outside, a groan, an imprecation, was all I could I The ball was too low; it missed his body but hear, when a tremendous effort was made to must have shattered his ~vrist; for with a Lord- force the door, and two shots were fired through ble oath he dropped his burden, and staggered it in quick succession. The wood was massive back a few paces writhing with pain, his band but much decayed; and I saw that it was rapid- covered with blood. Before I could get an- ly giving way hefore the furious assaults that other shot he darted behind the house. At the were made upon it from the outside, evidently same time the Colonel rose on his knee, turned with a heavy piece of timber. Another lnn~e quickly, and tired. The ball whizzed by my or two of this powerful battering-rain must have head and struck the door. While I was trying 10 HARPERS ~EW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. to get a shot at him in return, he jumped to his feet and staggered out of range. I thought it best now to rest satisfied with my success so far, and again retired to my position behind the door. For the next ten or fifteen minutes I could hear, from time to time, the smothered impreca- tions of the wounded ruffians, hut after this there was a dead silence. I heard nothing more. They had either gone or were lying in wait near by, supposing I would come out. This uncer- tainty caused me considerable anxiety, for I dared not abandon my gloomy retreat. Two or three hours must have passed in this way, dur- ing which I was constantly on the guard; but not the slightest indication of the presence of the enemy was perceptible. Two nights had nearly passed, during which I had not closed my eyes in sleep. The per- petual strain of mind and the fatigue of trav- el were beginning to tell. I felt faint and drowsy. During the whole terrible ordeal of this night I had not dared to sit down. But now my legs refused to support me any longer. I groped my way toward a corner of the room to lie down. Some soft mass on the ground caused me to stumble. I threw out my hands nnd fell. What was it that sent such a thrill of horror through every fibre? A dead body lay in my embracecold, mutilated, and clotted with blood! It has been my fortune, during a long career of travel in foreign lands, to see death in many forms. I do not profess to be exempt from the weakness common to most mena natural dread of that undiscovered region toward which we are all traveling. B.at I never had any peculiar re- pugnance to the presence of dead men. What are they, after all, but inanimate clay? The living are to be feared-not the dead, who sleep the sleep that knows no waking. Not thisnot the sudden contact with a corpse; not simply the cold and blood-clotted face over which I passed my hand was it that caused me to recoil with such a thrill of horror. It was the solu- tion of a dread mystery. There, in a pool of clotted gore, lay the corpse of a murdered man. No need was there to conjecture who were his murderers. I rose up, thoroughly aroused from my drowsi- ness. It was probable others had shared the fate of this man. If so, their bodies must be near at hand. I was afraid to open the door to let in the light, for, bad as it was to be shut up in a dark room with the victim or victims of a cruel murder, it was worse to incur the risk of a similar fate by exposing myself. After some- what recovering my composure I groped about, and soon discovered that three other bodies were lying in the room: one on a beda woman with her throat cut from ear to earand two smaller bodies on the floor near bychildren perhaps eight or ten years old, but so mutilated that it was difficult to tell what they were. Their limbs were almost denuded of flesh, and their faces and bodies were torn into shapeless masses. This must have been the finishing work of the animala coyote no doubtthat had startled me with a growl, and broken through the win- dow after I had first closed the door. I could also now account for the strange manner in which the mule had snuffed the air, and his unconquer- able terror in approaching the house. Only a few articles of furniture were in the rooma bed, two or three broken stools, a fry- ing-pan, coffee-pot, and a few other cooking uten- sils, thrown in a heap near the fire-place. There was no other room; nor was there any back en- trarte, as I had at first apprehended. It was a gloomy place enough to spend a night in; but ther~ was no help for it. I certainly had less fear of the dead than of the living. It could not be over two or three hours till morn- ing; and it was not likely the two men, who were seeking my life, would lurk about the prem- ises much longer, if they had not long since taken their departure, which seemed the most probable. I knelt down and commended ray soul to God; then stretched myself across the brace against the door, and, despite the presence of death, fell fast asleep. It was broad daylight when I awoke. The suns earliest rays were pouring into the room through the little window and the cracks of the door. A ghastly spectacle was re- vealeda ghastly array of room-mates lying stiff and stark before me. From the general appearance of the dead bod- ies I judged them to be an emigrant family from some of the Western States. They had prob- ably taken up a temporary residence in the old adobe hut after crossing the plains by the South- ern route, and must have had money or property of some kind to have inspired the ctrpidity of their murderers. The man was apparently fifty years of age; his skull was split completely open, and his brains scattered out upon the earthen floor. The woman was doubtless his wife. Her clothes were torn partly from her body, and her head was cut nearly off from her shoulders; besides which her skull was fractured with some dull instrument, and several ghastly wounds disfigured her person. The bed-clothes were saturated with blood, now clotted by the parching heat. The two children had evidently been cut down by the blows of an axe. Their heads were literally shattered to fragments. What the murderers had failed to accomplish in mutilating the bodies had been completed by some ravenous beast of preythe same, no doubt, already mentioned. I saw no occasion to prolong my stay. It was hardly probable the Colonel and Jack, wounded as they were, would renew their attack. They must have made their way back to camp, or at least retired to some part of the country where they would incur less risk of capture. It was a bright and beautiful morning as I left the house and turned toward San Miguel. The contrast between the peaceful scene before me and the horrible sight I had just witnessed was exceedingly impressive. The mellow light of 3. A DANGEROUS JOURNEY. 11 the early sun on the mountains; the winding tion of ruinous old buildings that comprised the streams friuged with shrubbery; the rich, gold- former missionary station of San Miguel. A en hue of the valley; the cattle grazing quietly gang of lean, wolfish dogs ran out to mcet me in the low meadows bordering on the Salinas as I approached, and it was not without diffi- River; the singing of the birds in the oak groves, culty that I could keep them off without resort- were indescribably refreshing to a fevered mind, ing to my revolver, which was an alternative and filled my heart with thankfulness that I was that might produce a bad impression where I spared to enjoy them once more. Yet I could most hoped to meet with a friendly reception. not but think of what I bad witnessed in the As I approached the main buildings I was struck adobe huta whole family cut down by the with the singularly wild and desolate aspect of ruthless hands of murderers who might still be the place. Not a living being was in sight. The lurking behind the bushes on the wayside. Their carcass of a dead ox lay in front of the door, dreadful crime haunted the scene, and its ex- upon which a voracious brood of buzzards were quisite repose seemed almost a cruel mockery. feeding; and a coyote sat howling on an cmi- De Quincey somewhere remarks that he never nence a little beyond. I walked into a dark, experienced such profound sensations of sadness dirty room, and called out, in what little Span- as on a bright summer day, when the very lux- ish I knew, for the man of the house. Quien uriance and maturity of outer life, and the full- es ? demanded a gruff voice. I looked in a ness of sunshine that filled the visible world, corner, and saw a filthy-looking object, wrnpped made the desolation and the darkness within the in a poncho, sitting lazily on a bed. By his more oppressive. I could now well understand uncouth manner and forbidding appearance I the feeling; and though grief had but little part judged him to be the vaquero in charge of the n it, beyond a natural regret for the unhappy place, in which I was not mistaken. With con- fate of the murdered family, still it was sad to siderable difficulty I made him comprehend that feel the contrast between the purity and beauty I had lost my mule, and supposed it had strayed of Gods creation and the willful wickedness of to San Miguel. man. Quien sabe? said the fellow, indifferently. I had not lost the strong instinct of self-pres- Could he not find it? I would be willing to ~rvation, which, so far at least, through the kind reward him. I would give him the blankets. aid of Providence, had enabled me to preserve I was an OJicidl, and was on my way to San my life; and in my lonely walk toward San Luis Obispo. To each of these propositions the Miguel I was careful to keep in the open valley, man returned a stupid and yawning answer, and avoid, as much as possible, coming within Quien sabewho knows? range of the rocks and bushes. In about an Finding nothing to be gained on that point I hour I saw the red tile roofs and motley collec- asked him for something to eat, for I was well- SAN ~XIGUEL. 12 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. nigh famished with hunger. He pointed lazily to a string of jerked beef strung across the rafters. It required but little time to select a few dry pieces, and while I was eating them the fellow asked me if I had any tobacco. I handed him a plug, which speedily produced a good effect, for he got up and passed me a plate of cold tor- tillas. When I had somewhat satisfied the crav- ings of hunger, I asked him, in my broken Span- ish, if he had heard of the murderfive persons killed in an old adobe house near by. Quien sabe 7 said he, in the same indifferent tone. illuckos maihos hombres aqei. This was all he knew, or professed to know, of the murder. Amigo, said I, if youll get my mule and bring him here, Ill give you this watch. He took the watch and examined it carefully, handed it back, and remarked as before, Quien sabe 7 The glitter of the gold, however, seemed to quicken his perceptive faculties to ~s extent that he got up from the bed, put on ~s spurs, took a riata from a peg on the wall, and walked out, leaving me to entertain myself as I thought proper during his absence. Having finished a substantial repast of jerked beef and tortillas, I ~vent out and rambled about among the ruins for nearly an hour. A few lazy 8PAI~15kI CABALLERO. and thriftless Indians, lying in the sun here and there, were all the inhabitants of the place I could see. This ranch must have been a very desirable residence in former times. The cli- mate is charming, except that it was a little warm in summer, and the cattle ranges are rich- ly clothed with grass and very extensive. In about an hour my friend the vaquero came back, mounted on a Broncho or wild horse, lead- ing after him my mule, with the pack un- changed. From what I could understand he had found the mule entangled by the bridle in the bushes, some three miles on the trnil toward San Luis. According to promise, I handed him my watch. He took it and examined it again, then handed it back without saying a word. Amigo, said I, the watch is yours. I promised it to you if you found my mule. To this he merely shrugged his shoulders. Wont you take it? I have no money. No, Seflor, said he, at length, with a some- what haughty air, I am a Spanish gentle- man. Oh, I beg your pardon. Will you do me the favor, then, to accept a plug of tobacco ? I opened my pack and handed him a large plug of the finest pressed Cavendish. Milgracias ! said the Spanish gentleman, smiling affably, and making a condescend- ing inclination of the head. That suits me better. A watch is had property here. I dont want to be killed yet a while. Here was a hint of his reason for declining the proffered reward. But he did it very grandly; and I was quite willing to accord to him the title of Sefior Caballero to which he aspired, though he cer- tainly looked as unlike the Caballeros described by the learned Fray Antonio Agapida, who went out to make war upon the Moors of Granada, as one dis- tinguished individual can look unlike an- other. There was ample rea- son why I shouh~ regard my mule with dissatis- faction. All my mis- fortunes, so far, had arisen from his defective physical and mental or- ganization (if I may use the term in reference to such an animal); but A DANGEROUS JOUI~NEY. 13 the fact is, it has been my fate, as fai back as I can recollect, to have the worst stock in the country foisted upon me. Never yet, up to this hour, have [succeeded in purchasing a sound, safe, and reli- able animalexcept, indeed, an old horse that I once owned in Oakland, generally known in the neighborhood as Selim the Steadya name rived from his unconquerable propensity for re- maining in the stable, or getting back to it as soon as ever he left the premises. The vaquero, or, as he aspired to be called, the Caballero, offered to barter his Broncho for my mule, and as an inducement set him to buck- ing all over the ground within a circle of fifty yards, merely to show the spirit of the animal, of which I was so well satisfied that I declined the barter. Bidding my worthy friend a kindly Adios, I mounted the mule and pursued my journey to- ward San Luis. The country, for many miles after leaving San Miguel, was very wild and pic.. taresque. Blue mountains loomed up in the distance; and the ttail passed through a series of beautifully undulating valleys, sometimes ex- tensive and open, but often narrowed down to a mere gorge between the irregular spurs of the mountains. Game was very abundant, especial- ly quail and rabbits. I saw also several fine herds of deer, and occasionally bands of large red wolves. It was a very lonesome road all the way to the valley of Santa Marguerita, not a house or human being to be seen for twenty miles at a stretch. Toward evening, on the first day after leaving San Miguel, I descended the bed of a creek to water my mule. While looking for the water-hole, I heard some voices, and suddenly found myself close by a camp of Sonoranians. It was too late to retreat, for I was already betrayed by the braying of my mule. Upon riding into the camp I was struck with the savage and picturesque group before me, con- sisting of some ten or a dozen Sonoranians. It is doing them no more than justice to say that they were the most villainous, cut-throat, ill- favored looking gang of vagabonds I had ever laid eyes upon. Some were smoking cigarritos by the fire, others lying all about under the trees playing cards, on their ragged saddle-blankets, with little piles of silver before them; and those that were not thus occupied were capering around on wild horses, breaking them apparently, for the blood streamed from the nostrils and flanks of the unfortunate animals, and they were cov- ered with a reeking sweat. Probably it may be thought that I exceeded the truth when I asked this promising party if they had seen six Americanos pass that way with a pack-train from San Luis, friends of mine VALLEY OF SANTA MARGUERITA 14 HARPERS ~EW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. that I was on the look-out for. They had seen no such pack-train; it had not passed since they camped there, which was several days ago. Then, said I,~ it must be close at hand, and I must hurry on to meet it. The mules are laden with mucka plata. Having watered my mule, I rode on about five miles further, where I reached a small ranch.. house occupied by a native Californian family. They gave me a good supper of frijoles and jerked beef, and I slept comfortably on the porch. Next day I struck into the Valley of Santa Marguerita. I shall never forget my first im- pression of this valley. Encircled by ranges of blue mountains were broad, rich pastures covered with innumerable herds of cattle; beautifully diversified with groves, streams, and shrubbery; castellated cliffs in the fore-ground as the trail wound downward; a group of cattle grazing by the margin of a little lake, their forms mirrored in the water; a mirage in the distance; mount- ain upon mountain beyond, as far as the eye could reach, till their dim outlines were lost in the golden glow of the atmosphere. Surely a more lovely spot never existed upon earth. I have wandered over many a bright and beauti- ful land, but never, even in the glorious East, in Italy, Spain, Switzerland, or South America, have I seen a country so richly favored by na- ture as California, and never a more lovely val- ley than Santa Marguerita upon the whole wide world. There is nothing comparable to the mingled wildness and repose of such a scene; the rich and glowing sky, the illimitable dis- tances, the teeming luxuriance of vegetation, its utter isolation from the busy world, and the dreamy fascination that lurks in every feature. I had paBsed nearly across the valley, and was about to enter upon an undulating and beauti- fully timbered range of country extending into it from the foothills, when a dust arose on a rise of ground a little to the left end about half a mile distant. My mule, ever on the alert for some new danger, pricked up his ears and mani- fested symptoms of uncontrollable fear. The object rapidly approached, and without further warning the mule whirled around and fled at the top of his speed. Neither bridle nor switch had the slightest effect. In vain I struggled to arrest his progressbelieving this, like many Other frights he had experienced on the road, was rather the result of innate cowardice than of any substantial cause of apprehension. One material difference was perceptible. He never before ran so fast. Through brush and mire, over rocks, into deep arroyas and out again, he dashed in his frantic career, never once stopping till by some mischance one of his fore-feet sank in a squirrel-hole, when he rolled headlong on the ground, throwing me with considerable vio- lence several yards in advance. I jumped to my feet at once, hoping to catch him before he could get up, but he was on his feet and away before I had time to make the attempt. It now be- came a matter of personal interest to know what he was running from. Upon looking back I was astonished to see not only one object, but four others in the rear, bearing rapidly down toward me. The first was a large animal of some kind I could not determine whatthe others mount- ed horsem~n in full chase. Whatever the ob- ject of the chase was, it was not safe to be a spectator in the direct line of their route. I cast a hurried look around and discovered a break in the earth a few hundred yards distant, toward which I ran with all speed. It was a sort of mound rooted up by the squirrels or coyotes, and afforded some trifling shelter, where I crouched down close to the ground. Scarcely had I partially concealed myself when I beard a loud shouting from the men on horseback, and, peeping over the bank, saw within fifty or sixty paces a huge grizzly bear, but no longer retreat- ing. He hadfaced round toward his pursuers, and now seemed determined to fight. The horsemen were evidently native Californians, and managed their animals with wonderful skill and grace. The nearest swept down like an a~danche to- ward the bear, while the others ~s~ed off a short distance in a circling directi6n to prevent his escape. Suddenly swerving a little to one side, the leader whirled his lasso once or twice around his head and let fly at his game with un- erring aim. The loop caught one of the fore- paws, and the bear was instantly jerked down upon his haunches, struggling and roaring with all his might. It was a striking instance of the power of the rider over the horse, that, wild with terror as the latter was, he dared not dis- obey the slightest pressure of the rein, but went through all the evolutions, blowing trumpet- blasts from his nostrils and with eyes starting from their sockets. Despite the strain kept upon the lasso, the bear soon regained his feet and commenced hauling in the spare line with his fore-paws so as to get within reach of the horse. He had advanced within ten feet before the nearest of the other horsemen could bring hif lasso to bear upon him. The first throw was at his hind-legsthe main object being to stretch him outbut it missed. Another more fortunate cast took him round the neck. Both riders pulled in opposite directions, and the bear soon rolled on the ground again, biting furiously at the lassos, and uttering the most terrific roars. The strain upon his neck soon choked off his breath, and he was forced to let loose his grasp upon the other lasso. While struggling to free his neck, the two other horsemen dashed up, swinging their lassos, and shouting with all their might so as to attract his attention. The nearest, watching narrowly every motion of the frantic animal, soon let fly his lasso and made a lucky hitch around one of his hind-legs. The other following quickly with a large loop swung it entirely over the bears bodyand all four riders now set up a yell of triumph and began pulling in opposite directions. The writhing, pitching, and straining of the powerful monster were now absolutely fearful. A dust arose over him, and the earth flew up in every direction. 4 A DANGEROUS JOURNEY. 15 Sometimes by a desperate effort he regained his feet, and actually dragged one or more of the horses toward him by main strength; but when- ever he attempted this the others stretched their lassos, and either choked him or jerked him down upon his haunches. It was apparent that his wind was giving out, partly by reason of the long chase, and partly owing to the noose around his throat. A general pull threw him once more upon his back. Before he could regain his feet, the horsemen, by a series of dextrous mancuuvres, wound him completely up; so that he lay perfectly quiet upon the ground, breath- ing heavily, and utterly unable to extricate his paws from the labyrinth of lassos in which he was entangled. One of the riders now gave the reins of his horse to another and dismounted. Cautiously approaching, with a spare riata, he cast a noose over the bears fore-paws, and wound the remaining part tightly round the neck, so that what strength might still have been left was speedily exhausted by suffocation. This done, another rider dismounted, and the two soon suc- ceededinbindingtheirvictim so firmly by thepaws that it was impossible for him to break loose. They next bound his jaws together by means of another riata, winding it all the way up around his head, upon which they loosened the fasten- ing around his neck so as to give him air. When all was secure, they freed the lassos and again mounted their horses. I thought it about time now to make known my presence and stood up. Some of the party had evidently seen me during the progress of the chase, for they manifested no surprise; and the leader, after exchanging a few words with one of the men, and pointing in the direction taken by the mule, rode up and said very politely, Baenas dias, SeZor. He then informed me, as well as I could understand, that he had sent a man to catch my mule, and it would be back presently. While we were endeavoring to carry on some conversation in reference to the capture of the bear, during which I made out to gather that they were going to drag him to the ranch on a bullocks hide and have a grand bull- fight with him in the course of a few days, the vaquero returned with my mule. I had a pleasant journey of thirty-five miles that day. Nothing further occurred worthy of record. When night overtook me I was within fifteen miles of San Luis. I camped under a tree, and, notwithstanding some apprehension of the Sonoranians, made out to get a good sleep. Next morning I was up and on my way by daylight. The country, as I advanced, increased in picturesque beauty, and the hope of soon reaching my destination gave me additional pleasure. A few hours more, and I was safely lodged with some American friends. Thus end- ed what I think the reader must admit was a dangerous journey. A few days after my arrival in St. Luis I went, in company with a young American by the name of Jaekson, to a fandango given by the native Californians. The invitation, as usual in such, cases, was general, and the company not ver~v select. Every person within a circle of LASSOING A GRIZZLY. 16 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. twenty miles, and with money enough in his pockets to pay for the refreshments, was expect- ed to be present. The entertainment was held in a large adobe building, formerly used for missionary purposes, the lower part of which was occupied as a store-house. A large loft over- head, with a step-ladder reaching to it from the outside, formed what the proprietor was pleased to call the dancing-saloon. In the yard, which was encircled by a mud wall, were several chap- adens, or brush tents, in which whisky, gin, aguardiente, and other refreshments of a like na- ture, for ladies and gentlemen, were for sale, at two bits a drink. A low rabble of Mexican greasers, chiefly Sonoranians, hung around the premises in every direction, among whom I rec- ognized several belonging to the gang into whose encampment I had fallen on my way down from Santa Marguerita. Their dirty serapas, machil- las, and spurs lay scattered about, just as they had dismounted from their mustangs. The an- imals were picketed around in the open spaces, and kept up a continual confusion by bucking and kicking at every straggler who came within their reach. Such of the rabble as were able to pay the entrance-fee of dos realles were sit- ting in groups in the yard, smoking cigarritos and playing at montd. A few of the better class of rancheros had brought sefioritas with them, mounted in front on their saddles, and were wending their way up the step-ladder as we en- tered the premises. I followed the crowd, in company with my friend Jackson, and was admitted into the sa- loon upon the payment of half a dollar. This fund was to defray the expense of lights and music. On passing through the door-way I was forci- bly impressed with the scene. Some fifty or sixty couples were dancing to the most horrible scraping of fiddles I had ever heardmarking the time by snapping their fingers, whistling, and clapping their hands. The fiddles were accompanied by a dreadful twanging of guitars; and an Indian in one corner of the saloon added to the din by beating with all his might upon a rude drum. There was an odor of steaming flesh, cigarritos, garlic, and Cologne in the hot, reeking atmosphere that was almost suffocating; and the floor swayed under the heavy tramp of the dancers, as if every turn of the waltz might be the last. The assemblage was of a very mixed character, as may well be supposed, con- sisting of native Californians, Sonoranians, Americans, Frenchmen, Germans, and half- breed Indians. Most of the Mexicans were rancheros and vaqueros from the neighboring ranches, dressed in the genuine style of Caballeros del Cam- paiia, with black or green velvet jackets, rich- ly embroidered; wide pantaloons, open at the sides, ornamented with rows of silver buttons; a red sash around the waist; and a great pro- fusion of gold fillagree on their vests. These were the fast young fellows who had been, suc- cessful in jockeying away their horses, or gain- bling at montd. Others of a darker and lower grade, such as the Sonoranians, wore their hats and machillas just as they had come in from camp; for it was one of the privileges of the fandango that every man could dress or undress as he pleased. A very desperate and ill-favored set these wereperfect specimens of Mexican outlaws. The Americans were chiefly a party of Tex- ans, who had recently crossed over through Chihuahua, and compared not unfavorably with the Sonoranians in point of savage costume and appearance. Some wore broadcloth frock-coats, ragged and defaced from the wear and tear of travel; some red flannel shirts, without any coatstheir pantaloons thrust in their boots in a loose, swaggering style; and all with revolv- ers and bowie-knives swinging from their belts. A more reckless, devil-may-care looking set it would be impossible to find in a y~ars journey. Take them altogetherwith their uncouth cos- tumes, bearded faces, lean and brawny forms, fierce savage eyes, and swaggering manners they were a fit assemblage for a frolic or a fight. Every word they spoke was accompanied by an oath. The presence of the females imposed no restraint upon the subject or style of the conver- sation, which was disgusting to the last degree. I felt ashamed to think that habit should so bru- talize a l)eople of my own race and blood. Many of the sefioritas were pretty, and those who had no great pretensions to beauty in other respects were at least gifted with fine eyes and teeth, rich brunette complexions, and forms of wonderful pliancy and grace. All, or nearly all, were luminous with jewelry, and wore dresses of the most flashy colors, in which flowers, lace, and glittering tinsel combined to set off their dusky charms. I saw some among them who would not have compared unfavorably with the ladies of Cadizperhaps in more respects than one. They danced easily and naturally; and, considering the limited opportunity of culture they had enjoyed in this remote region, it was wonderful how free, simple, and graceful they were in their manners. The belle of the occasion was a dark-eyed, fierce-looking woman, of about six-and-twenty, a half-breed from Santa Barbara. Her features were far from comely, being sharp and uneven; her skin was scarred with fire or small-pox; and her form, though not destitute of a certain grace of style, was too lithe, wiry, and acrobatic to convey any idea of voluptuous attraction. Ev- ery motion, every nerve seemed the incarnation of a suppressed vigor; every glance of her fierce, flashing eyes was instinct with untamable pas- sion. She was a mustang in human shapeone that I thought would kick or bite upon very slight provocation. In the matter of dress she was almost Oriental. The richest and most striking eQlors decorated her, and made a rare accord with her wild and singular physique; a gorgeous silk dress of bright orange, flounced up to the waist; a white bodice, with blood - red ribbons upon each shoulder; a green sash around A DANGEROUS JOURNEY. 17 the waist; an immense go id-cased breast-pin, with diamonds glitter- ing in the centre, the greatest profusion of rings on her fingers, and her ears loaded down with sparkling ear- rings; while her heavy black hair was gathered up in a knot behind, and pinned with a gold dagger all being in strict keep- ing with her wild, dash- ing character, and l)earing some remote affinity to a dangerous but royal game-bird. I thought of the Mex- ican chichilaca as I gazed at her. There vas an intensity in the quick flash of her eye which produced aburn- ing sensation wherev- er it fell. She cast a spell around her not unlike the fascination of a snake. The wo- men shunned and fear- ed her; the men ab- solutely worshiped at her shrine. Their in- fatuation was almost incredible. She seem- ed to have some super- natural capacity for arousing the fiercest passions of love, jeal- ousy, and hatred. Of course there was great rivalry to engage the hand of such a belle for the dance. Crowds of admirers were constantly urging their claims. It was impossible to look upon their excited faces and savage rivalry, knowing the desperate character of the men, without a foreboding of evil. Perhaps yon will not be surprised, said Jackson, to hear something strange and start- ling about that woman. She is a murderess! Not long since she stabbed to death a riv4 of hers, another half-breed, who had attempted to win the affections of her paramour. But, worse than thatshe is strongly suspected of having killed her own child a few months ago, in a fit of jealousy caused by the snpposed infidelity of its fatherwhose identity, however, can not be fixed with any certainty. She is a strange, bad womana devil incarnate; yet yon see what a spell she casts aroupd her! Some of these men are mad in love with her! They will fight be- fore the evening is over. Yet she is neither pretty nor amiable. I can not account for it. Let me introduce you.~~ As soon as a pause in the dance occurred I was introduced. The revolting history I had VOL. XXV.No. 145.B heard of this woman inspired me with a curios- ity to know how such a fiend in human shape could exercise such a powerful sway over every man in the room. Although she spoke but little English, there was a peculiar sweetness in every word she ut- tered. I thought I could detect something of the secret of her magical powers in her voice, which was the softest and most musical I had ever heard. There was a wild, sweet, almost unearthly cadence in it that vibrated upon the ear like the strains of an JEolian. Added to this, there was a power of alternate ferocity and tenderness in her deep, passionate eyes that struck to the inner core wherever she fixed her gaze. I could not determine for my life which she resembled mostthe untamed mustang, the royal game-bird, or the rattlesnake. There were flitting hints of each in her, and yet the com- parison is feeble and inadequate. Sometimes she reminded me of Rachelthen the living, now the dead, Queen of Tragedy. Had it not been for a horror of her repulsive crimes, it is hard to say how far her fascinating powers might have affected me. As it was, I could only won- der whether she was most genius or devil. Not BELLE OF FANDANCO. 18 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. knowing how to dance, I could not offer my services in that way; and after a few common- place remarks withdrew to a seat near the wall. The dance went on with great spirit. Ahsurd as it may seem, I could not keep my eyes off this woman. Whichever way she looked there was a commotiona shrinking hack among the wo- men, or the symptoms of a jealous rage among the men. For her own sex she manifested an absolute scorn; for the other she had an inex- haustible fund of sweet glances, which each ad- mirer might take to himself. At a subsequent period of the evening I ob- served, for the first time, among the company a man of very conspicuous appearance, dressed in the picturesqne style of a Texan Ranger. His face was tnrned from me when I first saw him; hut there was something manly and imposing about his figure and address that attracted my attention. While I was looking toward him he turned to speak to some person near him. My astonishment may well be conceived when I rec- ognized in his strongly-marked featnres and de- jected expression the face of the man Griff to whom I was indebted for my escape from the assassins near Soledad! There could be no doubt that this was the outlaw who had ren- dered me such an inestimable service, different- ly dressed, indeed, and somewhat disfigured by a ghastly wound across the temple; but still the same; still bearing himself with an air of de- termination mingled with profound sadness. It was evident the Colonel had misinformed me as to his death. Perhaps, judging from the wound on his temple, which was still unhealed, he might have been left for dead, and subsequently have effected his escape. At all events, there was no doubt that he now stood before me. I was about to spring forward and grasp him by the hand, when the dreadful scene I had wit- nessed in the little adobe hut near San Miguel flashed vividly upon my mind, and, for the mo- ment, I felt like one who was paralyzed. That hand might be stained with the blood of the un- fortunate emigrants! Who could tell? He had disavowed any participation in the act, but his complicity, either remote or direct, could scarcely be doubted from his own confession. Flow far his guilt might render him amenable to the laws I could not of course conjecture. It was enough for me, however, that he had saved my life, but I could not take his hand. While reflecting upon the course that it might become my duty to pursue under the circum- stances, I observed that he was not exempt from the fascinating sway of the dark seiiorita, whose face he regarded with an interest even more in- tense than that manifested by her other admir- ers. He was certainly a person calculated to make an impression upon such a woman; yet, strange to say, he was the only man in the crowd toward whom she evinced a spirit of hostility. Several times he went up to her and asked her to dance. Whether from caprice or some more potent cause I could not conjecture, but she in- variably repulsed himonce with a degree of asperity that indicated something more than a casual acquaintance. It was in vain he attempt- ed to cajole her. She was evidently bitter and unrelenting in her animosity. At length, in- censed at his pertinacity, she turned sharply upon him, and leaning her head close to his ear, whispered something, the effect of which was magical. He staggered back as if stunned, and gazing a moment at her with an expression of horror, turned away and walked out of the room. The womans face was a shade paler, but she quickly resumed her usual smile, and otherwise manifested no emotion. This little incident was probably unnoticed by any except myself. I sat in a recess near the window, and could see all that was going on without attracting attention. I had resolved, after overcoming my first friendly impulses, not to discover myself to the outlaw until the fan- dango was over, and then detertaine upon my future course regarding him hy the result of a confidential interview. I fully believed that he would tell me the truth, and nothing but the truth, in reference to the murder of the emi- grants. The dance went on. It was a Spanish waltz; the click-clack-clack of the feet, in slow-meas- ured time, was very monotonous, producing a peculiarly dreamy effect. I sometimes closed my eyes and fancied it was all a wild, strange dream. Visions of the beautiful country through which I had passed flitted before mea country desecrated by the worst passions of human na- ture. Amidst the rarest charms of scenery and climate, what a combination of dark and deadly sins oppressed the mind! What a cess-pool of wickedness was here within these very walls! Half an hour may have elapsed in this sort of dreaming, when who had been so strange- ly repulsed by the dark sefiorita, came back and pushed his way through the crowd. This time I noticed that his face was flushed, and a gleam of desperation was in his eye. The wound in his temple had a purple hoe, and looked as if it might burst out bleeding afresh. His motions were unsteadyhe had evidently been drinking. Edging over toward the woman, he stood watch- ing her till there was a pause in the dance. Her partner was a handsome young Mexican, very gayly dressed, whom I had before noticed, and to whom she now made herself peculiarly fas- cinating. She smiled when he spoke; laughed very musically at every thing he said; leaned up toward him, and assumed a wonderfully sweet and confidential manner. The Mexican was perfectly infatuated. He made the most passionate avowals, scarcely conscious what he was saying. I watched the tall Texan. The veins in his forehead were swollen; he strode to and fro restlessly, fixing fierce and deadly glances upon the loving couple. A terrible change had taken place in the expression of his features, which ordinarily had something sweet and sad in it. It was now dark, brutish, and malignant. Suddenly, as if by an ungovernable impulse, he rushed up close to where they stood, and draw- A DANGEROUS JOURNEY. ____________________________________________________________ 19 I ng a large howie-knife, said to the woman, in a she saw that he was doomed to die, the tears quick, savage tone, ceased to flow from her eyes, and she sat hy his Dance with me now, or, damn you, Ill cut bedside with a wild, aifrighted look, clutching your heart out ! his hands in hers, and ever and anon bathing She turned toward him haughtily Sefior! her lips in the life-blood that oozed from his Dance with me, OR DIE! mouth. Sei~or, said the woman, quietly, and with I loved you~till love you better than my an unflinching eye, you are drunk! Dont life ! come so near to me! These were his last words. A gurgle, a quiv- The infuriated man made a motion as if to ering motion of the stalwart frame, and he wa~ strike at her with his knife; but quick as light- dead! ning the young Mexican grasped his uprisen At an examination before the Alcalde, it was arm and the two clenched. I could not see proved that the stabbing must have occurred what was done in the struggle. Those of the before the affray became general. It was also crowd who were nearest rushed in, and the affray shown that the young Mexican was unarmed, soon became general. Pistols and knives were and had no acquaintance with the murdered drawn in every direction; but so sudden was man. the fight that nobody seemed to know where to Who could have done it? aim or strike. In the midst of the confusion Was it the devil-woman? Was this a case a man jumped up on one of the benches and of jealousy, and was the tall Texan the father shouted, of the murdered child? Back! Back with you! The mans stabbed! Upon these points I could get no information. Let him out! The whole affair, with all its antecedent circum- The swaying mass parted, and the tall Texan stances, was wrapped in an impenetrable mystery. staggered through, then fell upon the floor. His When the body was carried to the grave, by a shirt was covered with blood, and he breathed few strangers including myself, the chief mourn- heavily. A moment after the woman uttered er was the half-breed womannow a ghastly a low, wild cry, and, dashing through the crowd wreck. The last I saw of her, as we turned her long black hair streaming behind her sadly away, she was sitting upon the sod at the she cast herself down by the prostrate man and head of the grave, motionless as a statue. sobbed, Next morning a vaquero, passing in that di- 0 cara mio! 0 Deos! is he dead! is he rection, noticed a shapeless mass lying upon the dead! newly-spaded earth. It proved to be the body Who did this? Who stabbed this man ? of the unfortunate woman, horribly mutilated demanded several voices fiercely. by the wolves. The clothes were torn from it, No matter! answered the wounded man, and the limbs presented a ghastly spectacle of faintly. It was my own fault; I deserved fleshless bones. Whether she died by her own it! and, turning his face toward the weeping hand, or was killed by the wolves during the woman, he said, smiling, Dont cry; dont night, none could tell. She was buried by the go on so ! side of her lover. There was an ineffable tenderness in his voice, Soon after these events, baying completed and something indescribably sweet in the ex- my business in San Luis, I took passage in a pression of his face. small schooner for San Francisco, where I had 0 Deos! cried the woman, kissing him the satisfaction in a few days of turning over passionately. 0 cara mio! Say you will not ten thousand dollars to the Collector of Cus- lie! Tell me you will not die ! And tearing toms. her dress with frantic strength she tried to stanch I never afterward could obtain any informa- the blood, which was rapidly forming a crimson tion respecting the two men mentioned in the pool around him. early part of my narrative the Colonel and The crowd meantime pressed so close that Jack. No steps were taken by the authorities the man suffered for want of air, and begged to to arrest them. It is the usual fate of such be removed. Several persons seized hold of him, men in California sooner or later to fall into the and, lifting him from the floor, carried him out, hands of an avenging mob. Doubtless they met The dark sefiorita followed close up, still press- with a merited retribution. mug the fragments of her blood-stained dress to Eleven years have passed since these events his wound, took place. Many changes have occurred in Order was restored, and the music and dane- California. The gangs of desperadoes that in- mug went on as if nothing had happened. fested the State have been broken up; some of I had no desire to see any more of the even- the members have met their fate at the hands of ing amusements, justicemore have fallen victims to their own Next day I learned that the unfortunate man excesses. I have meanwhile traveled in many was dead. He was a stranger at San Luis, and lands, and have had my full share of adventures. refused to reveal his name, or make any dis- But still every incident in the Dangerous Jour- closures concerning the affray. His last words ney which I have attempted to describe is as were addressed to the woman, who clung to him fresh in my mind as though it happened but yes- with a devotion bordering on insanity. When terday. 20 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE CATAWISSA RAILROAD. PENNSYLVANIA has long been celebrated for the magnificence of the scenery afford- ed by the Alleghanies and the Blue Ridge, and by the valleys of the Susquehanna, Alleghany, Monongahela, Delaware, and Schuylkill rivers. Since the completion of the various lines of rail- way throughout the State, the facilities for vis- iting these mountains, valleys, and rivers have become entirely within the reach of all, espe- cially the residents of the populous cities of our sea-board. The Catawissa Railroad, with the roads di- rectly connected with it, for one hundred and uineteeu miles passes through the valleys and over the mountains of the Blue Ridge; com- mencing at Port Clinton, on the line of the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad, and term- inating at Williamsport, the county seat of Ly- coming County. The lower portion of the road is that of the Little Schuvikill Railroad Coal and Navigation Company, which is principally engaged in the transportation of coal from the Tamaqna District, being an important feeder to the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad. The northern portion has largely aided in the de- velopment of the immense lumber traffic of the west branch of the Susquehanna River; Will- iamsport being surrounded by extensive steam saw-mills, cutting many millions of feet annual- ly of most excellent timber, flooring, scantling. laths, and pickets from the rafts of logs floated down from the forests in the northwest section of the State. The central portion of the Catawissa Road is that which affords the most characteristic seen- cmv. The view of the Schoylkill River at Port Clinton will give the traveler, as he alights from the cars of the Philadelphia and Reading Rail- road, a foretaste of the rich treat in store for him. The river, gracefully winding soutbwardly from the town, is lost to sight behind the mount- ain through which the railroad tunnel has been VIEW FEOM THE BLUFF8 AT CATAWIBSA.

H. D. Mears Mears, H. D. Catawissa Railroad 20-29

20 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE CATAWISSA RAILROAD. PENNSYLVANIA has long been celebrated for the magnificence of the scenery afford- ed by the Alleghanies and the Blue Ridge, and by the valleys of the Susquehanna, Alleghany, Monongahela, Delaware, and Schuylkill rivers. Since the completion of the various lines of rail- way throughout the State, the facilities for vis- iting these mountains, valleys, and rivers have become entirely within the reach of all, espe- cially the residents of the populous cities of our sea-board. The Catawissa Railroad, with the roads di- rectly connected with it, for one hundred and uineteeu miles passes through the valleys and over the mountains of the Blue Ridge; com- mencing at Port Clinton, on the line of the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad, and term- inating at Williamsport, the county seat of Ly- coming County. The lower portion of the road is that of the Little Schuvikill Railroad Coal and Navigation Company, which is principally engaged in the transportation of coal from the Tamaqna District, being an important feeder to the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad. The northern portion has largely aided in the de- velopment of the immense lumber traffic of the west branch of the Susquehanna River; Will- iamsport being surrounded by extensive steam saw-mills, cutting many millions of feet annual- ly of most excellent timber, flooring, scantling. laths, and pickets from the rafts of logs floated down from the forests in the northwest section of the State. The central portion of the Catawissa Road is that which affords the most characteristic seen- cmv. The view of the Schoylkill River at Port Clinton will give the traveler, as he alights from the cars of the Philadelphia and Reading Rail- road, a foretaste of the rich treat in store for him. The river, gracefully winding soutbwardly from the town, is lost to sight behind the mount- ain through which the railroad tunnel has been VIEW FEOM THE BLUFF8 AT CATAWIBSA. TIlE CATAWISSA RAILROAD. 21 cut. Its waters, of a bright-green color, com- pletely landlocked, and calm as a lake, are only rippled by the slowly-la~ging canal-boat laden with coal, which at intervals is dispatched from the coal shutes just on the other side, or com- ing from farther up stream, is bearing its freight of black diamonds to Philadelphia or New York and a market. Looking up stream, a very sub- stantial bridge spans the river over which the Little Schuylkill Railroad crosses; and the route now for twenty miles follows the river of that name in its tortuous windings. The banks of this river are fringed with the rank undergrowth peculiar to mountain streams. The tall pine-trees rear their stately forms upon either side, and here and there a bit of cleared land indicates the presence of thrift and indus- try, the out-buildings and tenement-houses giv- ing evidence of the pursuit of a home under dif- ficulties. At the town of Ringgold, just ten miles on the journey, the tank of the engine is replenished with wood and water. There is no- thing special to note other than the reminiscence of the Mexican war and the brave commander of the battery which bore his name, afforded by the mention of this station. Approaching the thriving borough of Tama- qua the traveler obtains, in many instances, his first correct impressions with reference to the anthracite coal region of Pennsylvania. Vast piles of the refuse coal and dirt from the mines, covering miles in extent, are seen upon either hand. They are a source of immense loss to the operator or miner. The valley at and in the immediate vicinity of ~Lamaqua being so narrow, and the surface of the level land being consequently so circumscribed, it has been neces- sarv to follo~v down the stream for miles to find a place to dump the large quantities of dirt from the mines. These piles of refuse would appear, to the casual observer, to be of great value, the presence of coal in greater or less quantities being unmistakable. And so they would be for- tunes for hundreds of people if in New York or Philadelphia; but the cost of transportation thitherward would far more than absorb the value of the portion of coal which they contain. In passing these huge dirt heaps, the question of profit and loss, to the mind accustomed to such problems, most naturally comes up; and the hardships, the toils, and the losses of the miner are most vividly portrayed, when it is considered that it has cost him full as much to produce each ton of this refuse which is thrown aside as utterly valueless, as it has done to produce the ton of coal ready for market, and for which he is so sparingly paid. About a mile below the town the opening or mouth of a mine, with its out-buildings, ma- chinery, side-tracks, horses, mules, and drivers, furnishes a fair specimen of over one hundred and fifty just such extensive operations as arc daily going on within a circuit of fifty miles from Tamaqua. Fifteen miles to the eastward the Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company have their extended and varied coal-fields, the thriving borough of Mauch Chunk being its mercantile and shipping point. About the same distance northwardly the Ilazelton Coal Company, with other opera- tions of newer organization, produce large quac- tities of coal; while to the eastward, within range of twenty-five miles, the Pottsville, Miners- ville, and Ashland districts are dotted with open- ings, giving forth annually several hundreds of thouQands of tons of anthracite. viaw AT roar CLINTON. 22 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The immediate surroundings of the opening of a coal-mine in full operation present a busy scene. The constant puffing of the pit engine, as it toils and labors in hoisting the coal-buckets from the bottom of the mine, or as it draws up upon the inclined plane the small mine cars loaded with the miners products, reminds the traveler who has been on the Western waters of the lullaby those high-pressure steamboats afford in their hoarse cough, which never forsakes him while on board. The large frame building, which inclines from a considerable elevation toward the tracks, cov- ers the system of screens and shutes which clean and separate the different sizes of coals for steam, heating, and household purposes, after the larger lumps have been passed through the rollers or breakers, as they are called, contained in the tower-like structure which surmounts all. The breakers are rapidly driven by a separate engine from the pit machinery, and the crush- ing of the coals with the revolving of the large iron screw below, the running of the coals from shutes to the cars, the yelling of drivers as they urge their mules at their work, all combine to make a hideous noise entirely peculiar and never to he forgotten. The town of Tamaqua is a very thrifty, inter- esting place, contains a number of churches, school-houses, banks, etc., and its interests, its hopes and. fears alike, are dependent upon the coal-trade. The machine shops of the Little Schuylkill Railroad Company are here located; and in these identical shops there stands to-day, exempt from duty, the original engine imported by the Company nearly thirty years agoone of the first, if not the very first, locomotive engines brought out from England to this country; and there still lives, in the borough of Tamaqun, the identical machinist who came out along with the wonderful machine to put it together and run it. The Little Schuvlkill Railroad was the pioneer railroad in Pennsylvania, and the boiler of this locomotive was hauled upon a wagon drawn by horses the entire distance, eighty miles, from Philadelphia to Port Clinton, by turnpike; and all this within the memory of man. When we reflect that, to-day, more than four thousand locomotives of American manufacture are in daily use in the United States alone, and over twenty-eight thousand miles of railway are con- stantly traversed by them, it is surely a matter in itself of great interest to behold the imported engine of thirty years ago, and the man who came along with this great reformer to put it to- gether for use. The various coal-mines in the vicinity of Tamaqua will well repay the traveler to sojourn amon,, arid carefully visit them. The superin- tendents of these subterranean scenes of life are generally courteous, and happy to afford every opportunity to those in search of knowledge or pleasure to gratify their desires. True, it re- quires some nerve, more faith, and a total dis- regard to a temporary soiling of the hands, face, and clothes. Besides these prerequisites, the seeker for knowledge should have a guide in the person of the superintendent, or some one who is perfectly familiar with the special premises about to be visited. Powder in large quantities, of coarse grain, is used in mining coal; and were it not for the perfect system of ventilation connected with ev- ery well-regulated mine, the air inside would be entirely insufferable from the impregnation of sulphur fumes arising from the frequent blasts. This ventilation also serves to carry off the fire- damp which collects in the mines. It also serves to free the galleries and tunnels of the carbonic acid and other deadly gases. The vis- itor to the inside of a coal-mine will be struck with the free circulation of pure air away below the surface of the earth. In the vicinity of Tamaqua there is a burning cola SHUTES, BELOW TAMAQUA. THE CATAWISSA RAILROAD. 23 mine, which many years ago caught fire in one of the galleries from a fire ignited by some of the workmen to warm themselves by. Through some means or other the fire was left to burn in contact with the coal, which was of a highly combustihle character, and communicating with large quantities of coal contignous to it, the fire hecame of such magnitude as to be heyond the power or control of man, and no human agency has since been devised to quench it. The exact extent of its hounds is unknown; but like a vol- cano, it is a dreaded locality, and conjecture alone can approach the amount of the immense loss occasioned by this singular and uncommon accident. The direction from Tamaqua of the Burning Mine is known to every urchin of the place; and the traveler will have the op- portunity to visitat a safe distancethe mouth of the pit. Leaving Tamaqua, the Little Schuylkill Rail- road soon terminates and the Catawissa Railway commences. The transition from one road to the other is, however, unknown to the occupant of the cars, the gauge of track being precisely the same, and the roads for all traveling and freight intents and purposes one and the same. The grade of the road now becomes steeper than at any portion of it heretofore traversed; and the traveler is reminded, by the rapid falls of water of the mountain stream, now narrowing on the right as he proceeds, that the mountain is being climbed by the engine and train. Nearly ten miles of heavy grade, full sixty feet to the mile, of such journeying and the Quaquake Valley is spread out far down the mountain side. Extending for many miles far away to the eastward, the valley is inclosed by range upon range of mountains, until all is lost in the haze of extreme distance. As the railway winds around the mountain side the junction of the Quaquake Valley Road is soon reached, where the connection of a line of railway to New York city, hereafter referred to, is made. After passing the short tunnel a few miles further on, the road enters one of those gloomy pine forests so peculiarly Amer- ican. Huge masses of conglomerate rock crown the summit of the mountain, ponderous boulders lie scattered at the base, bespattered with the black and gray lichen; while the pines, dark, tall, and sinewy, seem to keep a grim watch over all. A feeling of awe steals over the mind while passing through this forest, giving all the more zest for the brightness and beauty which so soon follows. The summit of the mountain is reached, and here the Little Schuylkill River has its birth. A bit of rude masonry on the west side of the road marks the spot where the young waters come gurgling forth from their dark confine- ment, and joyously go babbling on their way over snow-white pehbles, and under banks of moss and fern, to swell the great tide of the Dela- ware. This spot is one of peculiar interest to the tourist: the whole scene is particularly ro- mantic. The spring, surrounded by dark hazel bushes, with here and there a stately pine-tree to relieve the back-ground, makes up a choice l)icture; while off to the eastward a rocky spur of the mountain, with the entrance to the tun- nel in its hlackness clearly defined, adds to the wildness of the locality. Passing through this tunnel at the summit, the first view of the heautiful Valley of the Cata- wissa Creek is obtainedCatawissa, an Indian word, signifying pure water. The creek has its rise in the tunnel in the form of a freely flowing spring, and is followed by the railroad, through its whole length, to its confluence with the Susquehanna. This occurs at the town of Catawissa, some thirty miles distant. From this point the views from the road present a series of grand panoramic pictures of the highest type of mountain scenery. Looking backward from the VIEW EEAR QUAQUAKE JUNCTION. 24 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. curve at Sweet Spring hollow (a few miles fur- ther on) a double valley is seen, formed by a secondary range of hills intersecting the valley from Summit Tunnel to this point. The mount- ains here attain their greatest altitude; and their ever-varying forms, with occasional glimpses of the sparkling Catawissa, caught through the light and graceful foliage of the mountain birch, form a series of charming pictures. After passing Beaver Station, some three or four miles distant, there is presented a most striking and characteristic view from Strangers Hollow. This is of a deep mountain gorge through which the Catawissa is seen hurriedly making its way over its rocky bed. The whole scene is particularly wild, and the surronndings give less evidence of the footprints of man than perhaps any other portion of the road. Further on, at Maineville, there is a gap in the mountain chain, which, although not so grand as the Dela~vare or Lehigh Gaps, presents a very 1)eautiful view. Approaching the mount- ain upon the west side of the Gap, the railroad track crosses a narrow ravine upon a substantial bridge supported by stone piers, immediately be- neath which, to the eastward, is located the town of Maineville. Looking through the Gap, a most beautiful highly cultivated valley brightens up the picture, which, at a distance of a mile or more, as the train approaches the bridge, seems to be framed by the mountains on either side. The view from the bridge, looking toward the Nescopeck and MCanley Mountains in the dis- tance, is also very lovely. The village of Maineville is a quaint, quiet, finished town that seems to have always been as it now is, and as if determined to remain so. looking up at each passing train with a ~vonder that never seems to grow less. Equally aston- ished seems the hitherto boisterous Catawissa here for the first time checked in its freedom by the milldam. It seems illy to bear the impost it is now for the first time compelled to pay to the buckets of an uncovered, undershot mill-wheel belonging to the miller of Maineville. Seven miles further on the ancient town of Catawissa is locatednpon the banks of the besutiful Susquehanna, at its confluence with HEAD WATERS OF THE LITTLE SCHeYLKIIL. THE CATAWISSA RAILROAD. 25 the Catawissa Creek. Several churches, an ex- cellent hotel, and a most hospitable resident pop- ulation are the attractions of Catawissa proper; while it is the centre of some of the most sub- lime views along the whole line of this road. The mountain views and scenery, heretofore re- lieved by the waters of the Catawissa Creek, are now accompanied by the gracefully winding wa- ters of the Susquehanna. The view lookin~ up the river from the bluffs a short distance belo~v the town, has been pro- nounced inferior to none, in point of beauty, in this country. At an elevation of two hundred feet perpendicular, which is readily attained by an easy ascending path just back of the town, a most beautiful panoramic view of the North Branch of the Susquehanna, with the island, bridges, canal, railroad, etc., is obtained. The jsland seen from the bluff is named the Cata- wissa Island, a most delightfully-shaded retreat from the summer sun, while the cool breezes constantly wafted from the river contribute to make it most desirable to visit. The canal seen to the westward, winding its way around the base of the mountain, is the North Branch Canal. formerly the property of the State of MALNEVILLE WATER GAP. VIEW NEAR STRANGERS HOLLOW. 26 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Pennsylvania, but recently disposed of to private individuals, in accordance with an act of Legis- lature providing for the sale of all public im- provements, canals, and railroads. Looking up to the bend of the river, the Catawissa Railroad Bridge is in view; and nearer, below the island, the County Bridge, one of the old-timed, cover- ed wooden structures, with stone piers, crosses the river in front of the town. Many years gone by the red men of the forest used to come to this point of the river, below and about the island, as a favorite fishing-ground. Salmon, large and plenty, abounded here; and even forty years ago it was no uncommon occur- rence to catch salmon in their seine while fish- ing for shad at this very point. The Susque- hanna has long since, however, been without the excellent fish which once abounded in her waters. The building of dams, canals, etc., frightened off the fish, so that they ceased fre- quenting the former streaxhs and localities, and are now, particularly the salmon, entirely foreign to the waters of the State of Pennsylvania. Back of the town of Catn~vissa, from the top of the mountain looking due east, we have a most magnificent view of the Catawissa Valley, with the meandering course of the creek before us for fifteen miles, winding in the dim distance like a silver thread. This is another character- istic scene, and one that has attracted the atten vIEW FROM CATAWISSA. vIEW FROM MAINEVILLE, UP THE cATAWISSA. THE CATAWISSA RAILROAD. 27 tion of artists; a work of great merit, taken from this identical landscape, having been produced by the artist Moran, of Philadelphia, which attract- ed considerable attention and elicited the high- est encomiums from connoisseurs at the recent artists reception of Philadelphians. The time chosen in his picture is the fall of the yearthe forests tinged with gold and crimsonthe first coloring of leaves by early frost, most beautifully delineated, greatly heightening the effect of the picture. The railroad, in sight all the way up the valley, furnishes, at times, the only lifelike object, when the train of cars with its engine, and white, puffing steam ascending, gives some- thing moving to relieve the dull quiet, under certain conditions of the atmosphere, inseparably connected with so extended a view. Ascending the mountain-slope to the north of Catawissa, a very striking view of the town and surroundings is obtained, not to be secured from the other eminences. The town is located on a fiat piece of land between the mountains, extending down to the banks of the Susquehan- na. Looking downward, the County Bridge, be- low the island, stretches across the stream; the railroad, winding southwardly from the bridge just beyond, enters the town at the foot of the mountain. Looking upward, or northwardly, the bridge of the railroad is very near to us, while beyond, the very pleasant town of Blooms- burg is in sight. Farther on are gracefully- loping hills, dotted with farms, while the great North Mountain, dim from distance, closes the ~cene. Leaving Catawissa, distant three miles the own of Rupert is located, at the junction of the Catawissa and the Lackawanna and Bloomsburg railroads. This latter railroad takes the tour- ist to the historical and romantic valley of Wy- oming. Seven miles beyond Rupert the town of Dan- yule is reached. Danville is the site of the ex- tensive iron-works of the Montour Iron Com- pany, which has for many years past been heavi- ly engaged in the manufacture of railway iron. A large number of men are constantly employed by this Company; and the close proximity to furnaces of heavy capacity enables the mills to produce very large quantities of rails. Of late years the practice has obtained more than ever among the managers of the railway companies throughout the United States of re-rolling the rails heretofore disposed of as old rails, and cred- ited at a sometimes nominal rate; whereas, un- der the existing state of things, the rails are re- produced and made to last many years. The Montour Company are, next to the Cambria Iron- Works, the largest in the State of Pennsylvania. Further on the road reaches Milton, Pennsyl- vania. This is a very thriving town of small extent at the junction of the Sunbury and Erie Railway Company. The cars of the Northern Central Road, from Baltimore and Harrisburg. also are joined to the train, and proceed on to Williamsport, the terminus of the line of the Catawissa Railroad. Williamsport possesses n new and substan- tiallybuilt courthouse, several hotels, a number of churches of various denominations, and a seminary of learning which has a wide reputa- tion. Its location is very healthyupon the right bank of the Susquehanna River. It has regularly laid-out streets, which are lighted with gas. and the houses supplied with the purest TOWN OF (JATAWISSA. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 28 water, conveyed from a stream upon the mount- pany, and so each and every of the owners gets am hack of the borough. The railroad running his own. to Elmira here terminates, aud from the several The sawing of lumber into various shapes or railroads the influx of strangers at times 15 quite sizes is a very interesting process to the novice, large. In the summer season there could be no and many hours may be well employed in study- more delightful or healthful resort selected than ing the various operations of the improved ma- this very town of Williamsport. The facilities cliinery at Williamsport introduced into this of obtaining the dailies of the cities, with ease branch of mechanics. of egress or access, make it peculiarly desirable; The lumber, when sawed, is forwarded by rail- while the mountain streams, on the line of the road to New York, Philadelphia, and the various Catawissa Railroad, and also upon the Elmira stations along the line of the several roads lead- Road, near to the town, afford the most satisfac- ing to the cities. Also, by means of canal trans- tory gratification to the followers of Jsaak Wal- portation, large quantities go forward during the ton. season of navigation. The capital invested in The vast lumbering interests centering at this the lumber milling business is very heavy, and point afford employment to large numbers of heretofore the results have been in a great degree men in the various capacities of sawyers, engi satisfactory to the parties concerned. necis, canal boatmen, raftsmen; etc. The mills Thus the coal-mining at the lower portion of themselves are extensive affairs in their line, and the Catawissa Road, and the lumber milling at will well repay a visit. The large number of the upper portion of it, afford a world of pleas- logssaw-logsnecessary to carry on the busi- nrc and information when coupled with the very ness, on the scale upon which it is conducted in grand views in nature with which the route this immediate vicinity, renders a systematic abonnds. The various approaches to the Cata- protection of the various interests a matter of wissa Railroad are in themselves very ihteresting necessity. and pleasant rides; and leaving New York, or The manner of identifying the logs of the sev- I~hihadelphia, or Baltimore, the mountain scenery oral parties engaged in saxvin~ lumber is simple. is reached in less than seven hours from either The name, or private mark, of the parties own- pointrendering it quite possible to view the ing the logs is branded by a heavy blo~v from an whole in one day, and return the next. The iron marker upon the logs at the point where I routes from New York are by the New Jersey they are first thrown into the riveraway up in Central Railroad to Easton, Pennsylvania, thence the wild woods of the interior. There are or- by the Lehigh Valley and Quaquake Valley rail- ganizations, entitled Boom Companies, who roads to Quaquake Junction; or by the same to have the means provided at the several sawing Easton, by the East Penusylvanbi Railroad to points along the river in the way of long booms, Reading, Pennsylvania, thence to Port Clinton. or logs, chained together at their ends and thus Or by the New York and Eric Railroad to El- strung across the river at intervals to interrupt mira, Chemung County, New York, thence vie the passage of the logs. The logs owned at any Williamsport Railroad to Williamsport. The given point being secured and fastened, either in routes from Philadelphia ni-c by way of thePhila- the milldam or in a raft to the shore, the balance delphia and Reading Railroad to Port Clinton are let loose to float down to the next boom com- direct. SAW-MILL AT WILLIAMSPORT. ROUGH RIDING DOWN SOUTH. 29 ROUGH RIDING DOWN SOUTH. ALONG the Gulf of Mexico, or what the United States Coast Survey styles the Mis- sissippi Sound, extending across the State of Mississippi, with a depth in the interior of about one hundred miles, there lies a region of country usually denominated the Pine Woods. The soil is sandy and thin, producing small crops of rice, potatoes, and corn, a little cotton, indigo, and sugar-cane, for home consumption. But it sustains a magnificent pine forest, capa- 1)10 of supplying for centuries to corAe the na- ries of the world. The people are of primitive habits, and are chiefly lumbermen or herdsmen. Exempt from swamps and inundation, from the vegetable decomposition incidental to large agri- cultural districts, fanned by the sea-breeze and perfumed by the balsamic exhalations of the pine, it is one of the healthiest regions in the world. If the miraculous fountain, in search of which the brave old Ponce de Leon met his death in the lagoons of Florida in 1512, may be found any where, it will be in the dis- trict I am now wandering over. I have never seen so happy a people. Not af- flicted with sickness or har- assed by litigation; not de- moralized by vice or tor- inented with the California fever: living in a state of equality, where none arc rich and none in want; where the soil is too thin to accumulate wealth, and yet sufficiently productive to reward industry; man- ufacturing all that they wear; producing all they consume; and preserving, with primitive simplicity of manners, the domestic vir- tues of their sires. Early marriages are universal. Fathers yet infants in law, and happy grandams yet in the vigor of ~vomanhood, may be found in every set- tlement; and numerous are the firesides around which cluster ten or a dozen chil- dren, with mothers still lovely and buoyant as in the days of their maiden bloom. Leaving the Gulf shore at Pascagoula for the lute- ior, in a couple of hours the traveler finds himself on the banks of a broad, deep, beautiful river, the Escatawba, curving gently (Iowa to mingle with the ocean. It flows through a forest of colossal growth. Many of these hoary Titans were over- thrown by the great hurricane of 52, which be- gan at 10 A.M., August 24, and blew with in- creasing fury until 12 M. next day, raging with undiminished violence until 12 at night, when it began to abate. It tore away whole masses of bluff on the sea-shore, dug up the earth from the roots of trees, blew down the potato hills as it swooped along the surface, and prostrated for- ests in its mad career. Here, at what is now called Elders Ferry, once stood the lodge of the last chieftain of the Pas. cagoulas. His warriors had all perished in the fatal wars with the Muscogees of Alabama. Sole survivor of the last conflict, the enemy still upon his trail, he led the women arid children from the Escatawba to the sea, preferring death in its much loved waters to captivity and slavery You have heard of the mysterious music which at midnight chimes along these shores; a low, ELECTIONEzRING IN MISSISSIPPI.

J. F. H. Claiborne Claiborne, J. F. H. Rough Riding Down South 29-37

ROUGH RIDING DOWN SOUTH. 29 ROUGH RIDING DOWN SOUTH. ALONG the Gulf of Mexico, or what the United States Coast Survey styles the Mis- sissippi Sound, extending across the State of Mississippi, with a depth in the interior of about one hundred miles, there lies a region of country usually denominated the Pine Woods. The soil is sandy and thin, producing small crops of rice, potatoes, and corn, a little cotton, indigo, and sugar-cane, for home consumption. But it sustains a magnificent pine forest, capa- 1)10 of supplying for centuries to corAe the na- ries of the world. The people are of primitive habits, and are chiefly lumbermen or herdsmen. Exempt from swamps and inundation, from the vegetable decomposition incidental to large agri- cultural districts, fanned by the sea-breeze and perfumed by the balsamic exhalations of the pine, it is one of the healthiest regions in the world. If the miraculous fountain, in search of which the brave old Ponce de Leon met his death in the lagoons of Florida in 1512, may be found any where, it will be in the dis- trict I am now wandering over. I have never seen so happy a people. Not af- flicted with sickness or har- assed by litigation; not de- moralized by vice or tor- inented with the California fever: living in a state of equality, where none arc rich and none in want; where the soil is too thin to accumulate wealth, and yet sufficiently productive to reward industry; man- ufacturing all that they wear; producing all they consume; and preserving, with primitive simplicity of manners, the domestic vir- tues of their sires. Early marriages are universal. Fathers yet infants in law, and happy grandams yet in the vigor of ~vomanhood, may be found in every set- tlement; and numerous are the firesides around which cluster ten or a dozen chil- dren, with mothers still lovely and buoyant as in the days of their maiden bloom. Leaving the Gulf shore at Pascagoula for the lute- ior, in a couple of hours the traveler finds himself on the banks of a broad, deep, beautiful river, the Escatawba, curving gently (Iowa to mingle with the ocean. It flows through a forest of colossal growth. Many of these hoary Titans were over- thrown by the great hurricane of 52, which be- gan at 10 A.M., August 24, and blew with in- creasing fury until 12 M. next day, raging with undiminished violence until 12 at night, when it began to abate. It tore away whole masses of bluff on the sea-shore, dug up the earth from the roots of trees, blew down the potato hills as it swooped along the surface, and prostrated for- ests in its mad career. Here, at what is now called Elders Ferry, once stood the lodge of the last chieftain of the Pas. cagoulas. His warriors had all perished in the fatal wars with the Muscogees of Alabama. Sole survivor of the last conflict, the enemy still upon his trail, he led the women arid children from the Escatawba to the sea, preferring death in its much loved waters to captivity and slavery You have heard of the mysterious music which at midnight chimes along these shores; a low, ELECTIONEzRING IN MISSISSIPPI. 30 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tersin these remote re- treats, where only an echo of the storms of life is he4rd. No wonder the imaginative ancients peopled them with divinities: for here, at every step, one can but feel the presence of a God; and the feeling chastens and refines the heart. It is not in your gorgeous temples, with co- quettish eyes and Shylock countenances around, and vanity peeping out even from the pulpit, that one truly feels the sentiment of religion in its humanizing and exalting influences. By the road-side, near the ruins of a rude country meeting-house, long since deserted, may be seen a sol- itary grave. Years ago a wanderer, once favored by fortune, high in the profes- sion of the law, died near this spot, the wretched vic- tim of a debasing vice. His body, his bottle, and the last lines he ever penned were found near where he now sleeps: Pilgrim, wheresoser thou stray, Pause here upon thy weary way. Take this relic if thou may, Aud for its thirsty owner pray. Fatal gift, wheu overflowing! Oh, that man should ever know- ing, Servant be to liquors spell, Sorcery from the caves of hell! lute-like strain, sometimes a vesper hymn, some- times like a harp-string breaking. When the winds and surges sleep, in the still hours of night, I have often heard this plaintive anthem; and tradition says it is the death-chant of the Pasca- goulas that wails along the sea. The Indian village stood on a picturesque hluW the gentle river, flowing through prairies of verdure, margined by aged oaks that lift their beads among the clouds and bathe their mossy beards in the silver spray beneath. The coun- try spreads out into a continuous meadow of boundless extent, on every side dotted with little islets of palm-like trees. At intervals a serpen- tine line of ravine comes sweeping along, fringed with dwarf laurel, myrtle, jasmine, and other parasites, and the whole plain around is embroid- ered with flowers of every hue. Ab! it is pleas- ant to bivouac in these solitary plai.ns, the quiet stars smiling upon you, and the fragrant winds singing in the trees around. There is a charm in these grand old woodsin these laughing wa Touch nottie poisonous to thee; Taste notalas, it ruined me! Time nuclean thing forever shuu, Or thou, 0 pilgrim, art undone! In timis silent house of grace Seek thy Maker, face to face Ask thy conscience, if thou will, Dost thou good, or dost thou ill? Lonely now my way I go, Lingering through my life of woe; Stranger, for the loot one pray, And God will bless thee every day. On thy hearth-stone he will fling Countless blessings following, In thy spring time, in thy age, Every day of lifes brief page; In thy health, and in thy otorc, Grace and goodness evermore! Crossing the Chickasawha River I took refuge from the noonday sun in the hospitable dwell- ing of Mr. R. It is perched on an elevated bluff. Far down in a field below, on the river- side, his servants had been at work, and might now be seen winding up a zigzag path toward the house, to get tloc mid-day meal. A group of tiny darkeys were sitting under the trees in the yard awaiting their mothers. Suddenly a THE LOOSELY GRAVE. ROUGH RIDING DOWN SOUTH. 31 little cloud gathered on the horizonthere was my distress. On rushed the fiery torrentflank a single burst of thundera single flash that and realup hill and downand on I drove, at blinded me for a momentand then, oh what a a killing gait, only ten paces in advance; my shriek of agony from the wretched mothers! carpet-hag smoking, my hat and coat singed, Three of the children had been killed by the my face and hands charred, when suddenly the fatal bolt. Never, ah never shall I forget that wind shifted, and the flaming dragon plunged sight of sorrow, and the wailings of those broken away to the left, hissing through the crackling hearts! I have seen the strong man crushed; reed-brakes, and shaking his terrible crest among the fond mother swooning over the loss of her the lofty trees. first-born; the young and beautiful, just step- Exhausted by this frightful contention, I was ping into life on a pathway of flowers, stung by glad to find shelter at the wayside inn of my the serpent, and snatched away, leaving for the worthy friend, Mr. Hiram Breeland, of Greene survivors, in the dim future, only a long despair; County. He is famous for peach and honey; but never had I witnessed the intense grief of for river trout, venison steaks, and fried chick- these simple slaves. All that they had to live en, and indeed for every thing that a weary tray- for was wrapped up in the stricken infants that eler covets. His wife is a model in her way. no~v, all lifeless, they pressed to their distracted They have had eighteen children, and are yet bosoms. a young and handsome couple. Far and near Leaving the scene of sorrow, I entered the this is known as the musical family. Six great pine forest that leads to the town of Au- daughters in the bloom of life, richly dowered gusta. The woods were on fire. The road lies with those perfections that men sigh for and on a high ridge or backbone, and at short in- never forget, possess rare musical gifts; and tervals on each side there are lateral ridges running down into deep reed-brakes below. Along one of these vertebrte, on my left, a mighty volume of smoke and flame and eddying leaves came rolling rapid- ly toward me. The road itself, but rarely traveled at this season of the year, was covered several inch- es deep with piue straw, which was soon in a blaze. There was literally a fire in my rear. Dashing for- ward, I meant to drive down a ridge on my right until the road should be cleared, hut the flames, swept by the whirling winds, had by this time burst out there, and came surging into the sea of fire just behind me. I had no choice but to run for it. Though noonday, it was as black as midnight. The smoke of one hundred thousand acres of combus- tibles was around me. The roar of the devouring ele- ment, like the boom of a tremendous surf, was above me. The flames were pro- truding, like the tongues of boa constrictors, on each side of me, melting the var- nish of my buggy and crisp- ing my whiskers; and, ever and anon, the crash ofafall- ing pine, uprooted by the fire, seemed to be discharg- ing minute-guns in token of TIlE BEREAVED REGROES. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Plummer soon won her heart. He picked up the little wee one, just then toddling about, placed it across his lap, turned up its little petticoats, and began to search for red begs. Next morning Cage stole out hefore day, went to the wood-pile, cut a turn of wood, determined to win the old ladys favor by makiugher fire, while Plum- mer, as he fancied, lay snor- ing in bed. While toiling up the hill with his load, what was his astonishment to see the old un milking her cow, and Plummer holding off the calf l~y the tail! their concerts with voice and violins are really enchanting. Excited and nervous after the fiery ordeal I had passed, they soothed my soul with melody, and my slumbers with charming dreams. Long after the witching hour of~ night, in the delicious delirium between sleeping and waking, the tinkle of the guitar and a sweet voice, softer than a sigh, mingled with the lullaby of the winds in the tops of the aged pines. Their names are in harmony with their mu- sic. What can be more melodious than Eliza- beth Amauda, Priscilla Brunetta, Louvena An- neta, Martha Miranda, Zelphi Emmeline, and Sophronie Angelina? This house has been a favorite stopping-place for candidates for many years, and Breeland is pretty well posted up with anecdotes. When Harry Cage and Franklin E. Plummer were canvassing for Congress they came here together, and Cage began to joke and sport with the children, much to the mothers delight. But A day or two after this, said Squire B., Cage made a tip-top speech at Greene Court House. It was hard to beat, and Plummer knew it. So when he got up he said: Fellowcitizens, 1 would answer the gentle- mans argument if there was any argument to an- swer. It reminds me of an honest couple down in my county who are troubled with a very small specimen of a child that cries all night. The husband, much tormented, complained that he could not get a moments sleep. Spank it, then, says the wife. He funibled about, but the child contin- ued to cry. Well, why dont you spank it ? says she. Because, saidhe, I cant find any thiny to spank ! It is hardly necessary to say that Cage in- continently caved in, and refused to travel any farther with the Yankee wagon-boy. Plummer ~vas hard pressed sometime after this, being charged with sundry matters affect- ing his integrity. He deliberately sat down and wrote an account of his visit to my house, charg- ing that he had attempted to swindle me, had behaved with gross indecorum to my family, and had been kicked out of doors. This he con- trived to have published, and it went the round of the papers, creating great excitement. He called on me for my certificate, which, of course, was promptly given, for I was surprised and in- dignant at such a slander. The reaction was tremendous; and after this nobody in this sec- tion would believe any thing against Plummer. When the Hon. Powhatan Ellis, a very fin- ished gentleman, was traveling through this dis- trict electioneering for some office, he lost his 32 TilE WOODS ass ~uux ROUGH RIDING DOWN SOUTH. 33 portmanteau in attempting to ford a creek. Plummer immediately advertised its contents: 6 ruffled shirts, 6 cambric handkerchiefs, I hair-brush, 1 tooth-brush, 1 nail-brush, 1 pair curliug tongs, 2 sticks pomatum, 1 box pearl- l)o~Vder, 1 bottle Cologne, 1 do. rose-water, 4 pairs silk stockings, and 2 pairs kid gloves. This defeated the Judge. He was set down as a born aristocrat and swelled head. Plummer was a poor young lawyer, boarding, or loafing, at a tavern in Westville, when he an- nounced himself for Congress. He hadnt a sin- gle red in his pocket. He opened the canvass in Benton, put up at the best hotel, dined a doz- en friends every day, and opened a very liberal account at the bar. On the third day, when about to depart, he cried out to the crowd, Gen- tlemen, I wish to make my public acknowledg- ments to our generous landlord. He has treated me like a prince; he has feasted my friends; ~is tipple has run freely. Sir, said he, turning to the landlord, if you ever come to my town dont go to a hotel: put up with me; I shall be proud to reciprocate your hospitality ! With these words he vaulted on his horse, and was out of sight before the astonished Boniface could say turkey about his bill. While sojourning at this pleasant retreat it was agreed, one day, that we should go out on a deer-drive. I was wrapping up a lunch to put in my pocket, and said to my boy Tom, Well, Tom, how about this butter? I cant put it in my pocket. No, massa, said Tom, him :un away. But you kin eat 1dm fore you go / On a deer-drive in the South one man follows the hounds in the thickets or reed brakes where the herds usually feed, while three or four others take their stands at various points which they are expected to cress in their flight. The dogs soon broke cover; a noble doe came bounding me. I fired and missed; but passing on, the Squire, who is a noted shot, brought her down. The outcries of the huntsman soon called us down to the brake, and there we saw a most ex- traordinary spectacle. Two bucks of the larg- est size in deadly combat, their branching ant- lers so interlocked that neither could use them against the other. The ground was torn up all around; their sides were dripping blood; and they had evidently fought long before this sin- gular union of their weapons terminated the combat. Their furious struggles at our approach only united them more closely; and thus they would have perished. The hunters shot them, and informed me that they had often found the skeletons of bucks that had thus died, their horns so locked that no ingenuity could undo them. The buck is a timid animal until wounded. He then stands at bay, and is dangerous to ap- Isroach. He is the sworn enemy of the rattle- snake. When he perceives one, he walks around it until it throws itself into a coil, and then the buck vaults into the air and comes down upon it with his pointed hoofs. Not content with kill- ing it, he stamps it into shreds. Those noxious reptiles al~vays multiply as the deer diminish. Vor~. XXV.No. 145.C Speaking of rattlesnakes, my friend Colonel Wilkins, of Green Court House, tells me that he was once rolling logs in a piece of new ground on the Bigbee River, near Bladen Springs, when one of his men cried out, Heres a rattle- snake ! Presently another sung out; and all round the clearing they kept up the cry, until the Colonel, quite angry, cried out, Let the logs alone, and all of you go to snaking! They piled up fifty-three in the course of the fivening. I once went to purchase a country seat on the bayou of St. John, in the vininity of New Or- leans, belonging to Mr. Michel, who had gone to France. It was occupied by Mr. Creecy, an old Vicksburg editor. Strolling into the gar- den, I was about to step toward an orange hedge to gather a few leaves, when he said Look out for snakes I What, said I, have you snakes here? Walk this way, said Creecy. He led me to a point where three or four ditches, commu- nicating with the bayou and with the swamp, intersected, and I counted a dozen dead mocca- sins lying about, and some twenty navigating the different ditches. This is our only game, said he. I shoot moccasins every afternoon ! Mr. Michel lost an excellent purchaser for his place, and my hi-other editor held on until the snakes fairly run him out of the house. There was once a man by the name of Gal- lendee living in Hancock county, who was, per- haps, rather unjustly suspected of hog stealing. He came running in from the woods one day shouting murder, the shirt fairly whipped off his back. He assured me it had been done by a coach-whip snake that had wrapped itself round his leg and thrashed him over the shoulders; but uncharitable people suspected it had been done by Judge Lynch! The same man went to the late Judge Daniel to complain of these accusations, and to ask his advice. Well, said the Judge, I will tell you what to do. If you feel innocent, face these charges like a man. But if you are guilty, get into Louisiana as soon as you can. That even- ing his client crossed Pearl River, and became a citizen of our sister State. Having recruited at this pleasant anchorage, I bid adieu to my friend Breeland, and set out for the village of Augusta, bowling merrily along in my blood-red buggy. The road is beautiful, roofed over with trees and tendrils, and the air fragrant with the breath of flowers. There was, however, one drawback to my comfortmyriads of flies of every species, that swarmed around and ravenously cupped the blood from my horse. It was what is appropriately termed here fly timethat is to say, the period when this nu- merous family of scourges have it all their own way, and neither man nor beast can sojourn in the woods without much suffering. Now the deer plunge into deep pools and lakes, leaving only their heads exposed, and browse only dur- ing a portion of the night while these insects sleep. The cattle from a thousand hills seek the abodes of man, and huddle around some 34 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. smoking pine or in some open field to escape their tormentors. On a sndden curve of the road I found myself near one of these stamping grounds, and a simultaneous roar from five hundred infuriated animals gave notice of my danger. It is well known that the Spanish matadores provoke the wounded hulls in the arena hy flaunting the mo- leta or blood-red flag in their faces. It was the vermilion of my buggy that excited this bellow- ing herd. They snuffed the air, planted their heads near the ground, tore it up with their hoofs and horns, and glared at me with savage eyes. The fierce phalanx blocked the road, and it was the hetter part of valor to retreat. The instant I wheeled the pursuit commenced. A cloud of dust enveloped them, and the trampling of their feet was like the roll of thunder. My horse dashed forward frantic with terror, and on they plunged on every side, crushing down the hrush-wood in their course, goring and tum- bling over each other, filling the forest with their dreadful cries, and gathering nearer and nearer in the fearful chase. The struggle now became desperate. In five minutes we should have been overturned and trampled to death; but at this juncture Tom threw out my overcoat, and with an awful clamor they paused to fight over it, and to tear it into shreds. Driving at full speed, I directed Tom to toss out the cushion. The in- furiated devils trampled it into atoms, and came charging on, their horns clashing against the huggy, and ripping up the ribs of my horse. At this fearful moment we were providentially saved. A huge oak, with a forked top, had fallen by the wayside, and into this I plunged my horse breast- high, and he was safe, the back of the buggy be- ing then the only assailable point. At this the whole column made a dash, but I met the fore- most with six discharges from my ievolver; two bottles of Cognac were shivered on their fore- heads; next a cold turkey; and, finally, a bot- tle of Scotch snuffthe last shot in the locker! This did the business. Such a sneezing and bellowing was never heard before; and the one that got the most of it put out with the whole troop at his heels, circling round, scenting the blood of the wounded, and shaking the earth with their thundering tramp. I was now fairly in for it, and made up my mind to remain until night, when I knew they would disperse. I was relieved, however, by the approach of some cattle-drivers, who, gal- loping up on shaggy but muscular horses, with whips twenty feet tong, which they manage with surprising dexterity, soon drove the belligerent herd to their cow-pens, for the purpose of mark- ing and branding. This is done every year in fly time. The cattle ranging over an area of thirty square miles are now easily collected, driven to a common pen or pound, when the re- spective owners put their mark and brand on the increase of the season. Thus this Egyptian plague is turned to a useful purpose. I was now approaching the ancient village of Augusta, once the stamping-ground of the fa mous Coon Morris. Being advised to take a near cut when within three miles, I turned to the right and drove ahead through leafy by- paths and across deserted fields grown over with stunted pines. For three hours I drove about. describing three segments of a circle, and finally got back to the point I started from. [N~aa bene: Let all travelers stick to the beaten road, for in this country one may travel twenty miles without meeting a traveler or a finger-board.] The coun- try through which I passed was poor, the popula- tion sparse, and no indications of the proximity of a town that I had heard of for twenty-five years. I drove on, however, expectation on tip-toe, the sun pouring down vertically, and my flagging steed sinking above his fetlocks in the sand, when, lo! the ancient village stood before me- an extensive parallelogram, garnished round with twelve or fifteen crumbling tenements, the wrecks of by-gone years! Not a tree stood in the gaping square for the eye to rest upon; the grass was all withered up; the burning sun fell on the white and barren sand as on a huge mir- ror, and was reflected back until your cheeks scorched and your eyes filled with tears. Even of these dilapidated houses several were unoccu- pied, and we drove round two-thirds of the square before we could find a human being to direct us to the tavern. It was a log-cabin, with one room, a deal table, some benches and cots, and a back shed for kitchen. Stable there was none, nor bar, nor servant, nor landlord visible. 1 turned my horse on the public square and took peaceable possession of the establishment. No- body was to be seen. I was hungry and fa- tigued. The idea of a town once famous, and its hundred-and-one little comforts for the trav- eler, had buoyed me up during the morning drive, and fancy had diagramed something very different from what I was then realizing. In a few hours, however, the bachelor landlord came in. Not expecting company he had gone out on a foraging expedition. lie feasted us on deli- cious venison, and, being a Virginian, soon con- cocted an ample julep. The mint grew near the grave of a jolly lawyer, a son of the Old Do- minion, who died there a few years before. No man can live in such a place without losing his energies. The mind stagnates, and in six months one would go completely asleep. I never saw such a picture of desolation. All was silence and solitude. In reply to my inquiry, my old friend, Colonel Mixon, said that times were dull~ there was a little activity in one line only; and hobbling off he soon returned with a pair of babies in his arms twin gems, plump, blue- eyed, rosy-checked, hanging around his neck like flowers on the stump of a storm-battered oak. Counselor Barrett, who seemed thoroughly post- ed in this branch of statistics, informed me that, during the last twelve months, thirteen matrons of that vicinity had produced doublets! The Colonel said that any disconsolate pair who would board with him six months, and drink from a peculiar spring on the premises, without having their expectations realized, should have ROUGH RIDING DOWN SOUTH. 35 a free ticket at his table for sixty days to try it again. These infant phenomena, however, are by no means confined to Perry Conntv. East Missis- sippi every where is eqnally prolific. In the Padding Clarion I read the following, from the Rev. Marmaduke Gardiner, of Clarke County: FALLING SPRING, Feb. 2. More than one hnndred persons have visited my house since Saturday last, for the purpose of seeing three beau- tiful boy babies which my ;cife gave birth to on the 28th nit. One weighs 74, the others 6~ esich, and are perfectly formed. We have named them Abraham, isaac, and Jacob. I married my wife twenty years ago, and she has given me nine sons and nine daughters, bnt no triplicates until the l~ot. Married couples in search of heirs often cross the Atlantic, or ding themselves with nostrums and stinking mineral waters, when a single snm- mer in these pine-woods would accomplish what they desire without extraordinary efforts, and at one-twentieth of the expense. The old town next day presented a more live- ly scene. That certain pre- monitory of a piny-woods gathering, the ho or and gin- ger-bread cart, came rum- hling into the sqnare. Rickety vehicles, of odd shapos, laden with melons, trundled along behind. A corner shanty displayed sev- eral stispicious-looking jngs and kegs. Buck negroes, dressed in their holiday suits, strode in, looking about for the candidates as one would for the giraffe. No candidate except the Hon. Robert J. Walker had visited the defunct town for years. It was quite an event. Finally, the stout sovereigns from the coun- try came in, and the com- edy commenced. The larg- est portion of the crowd was in the court-house to hear the orators, but a pret- tv considerable group was posted about the doggery. A number were playing old sledge on the heads of empty whisky barrels, and others were discussing the preliminaries of a quar- ter race. Three of the candidates had spoken, when the late Judge Mitchell (formerly a well - known Member of Congress from Tennessee) rose. After an elaborate reply to the arguments of two of them, he turned to the third, and laying his hand on his head, said, I have only one word to say in answer to my young friend, lie has a leetle soft spot right here, and it is sssnshy all rossnd it. When II. J. Walker was canvassing against George Poindexter for the Senate, he was ac- companied, said Colonel Mixon, by a queer fish, one Isaac MFarren, a fellow of infinite jest, and ~vliose countenance was a comedy of itself. On a certain occasion they put up with a new settler, and had to sleep on the floor, while the man and his wife occupied a hunk in the same room. A very buxom damsel slept in a small kitchen near by. Mac had cast sheeps- eyes at her, and being uncomfortable on the floor, concluded to go and whisper a few soft nothings in her ear, lie slipped out very quietly; but it being a crispy and frosty night, the door of the kitchen creaked upon its hinges, and the woman exclaimed, husband! husband! one of them mens arter Sally ! He sprang up, seized his rifle, and was rushing out, when Mr. Walker seized his arm. MFarren hearing the THE I~~IRI~ANE. 36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. noise, appeared at the other deer rather en elisha- HlI~. Je-men-y! cried the man, and cocked his rifle. Mr. Walker threw it up, and Mac, running forward, seized him by the band, cx- claiming, Sir, it is only a frolic and an indis- cretion; I am a man of honor, incapable of in- juring sleeping innocence. Sir, I throw my- self on your generosity. I see that you belong to the honorable fraternity of free and accepted masons. Brother, I give you the right hand ot fellowship ! The man was overwhelmed with this volubility, and flattered at the notion of be- ing mistaken for a mason. He accompanied the party over the county, hut finally voted the Poindexter ticket, because Walker would persist in running when MFarren was the proper man for the place! I was in , said Counselor Barrett, when Governor , who was a candidate for re-election, came there. The county had been re- cently organized, and few of the people had been there long enongh to vote under the Constitu tional provision which re- quires six months residence in the county and twelve in the State. They were anxious to vote, and got up a petition to the Board of Police (which has the su- pervision of elections) to disJ)ense with the reqazsi~ tions of the Constitntion. Did the Board comply ~vith the petition ? I cant exactly say, said the Conuselor; bet as they all toted, I presume the order was duly made. The best of the joke was, the Governor signed the pe- tition I Next day the Counselor accompanied me afewiniles on my way. Showing me a road running down to- ward the swum!), he in- quired if I know how that road came to be made. On replying that I did not, he said: Some years ago I was down in that swamp with some fellows after wild hogs. I was standing on the edge of it hallooing on the hounds, my gun rest- ing against a tree, when out rushed an enormous boar and charged right at me. I could only straddle my legs to escape his furious onset; but as he passed under, being rather low in the crotch, I found myself astride of him. Almost unconscious from terror, I involuntarily seized his tail, and stuck my heels under his shoulders. At every stride he took my spurs goaded him on. Thus he ran some three miles through the brush- woo(l, making a clean sweep as he went, but finally fell exhausted, when I dispatched the monster with my bowie-knife. The road is now used for hauling timber from Leaf River swamp, and is called Barretts trail. The country through which I am journeying ~ sparsely settled, and is only adapted to graz- ing. Its surface undulates like the roll of the ocean, and hill aud valley are covered with lux- uriant grass and with flowers of every hue. Herds of cattle stand in the plashy brooks. Red deer troop along the glades; wild turkeys run before you along your road, and the partridge rises from every thicket. But for these the sell- tisde would be painful. Settlements are often twenty miles apart; the cheering mile-post and gossiping wayfarer are rarely met with. The gaunt pines have a spectral aspect, and their long shadows fall sadly upon the path. At j ~N\\i r U\ \ IARItETT AND TIlE BOAE. MADELEINE SCHAEFFER. 37 nightfall, when the flowers have faded away, no Street to crack, and they found the meat sweet! fire-flies gem the road; one hears no tinkling One (lay he came home to Madeleine with Ruin bell ; the robber owl skims lazily by ; fantastic as plainly lettered on his face as Dantes Omo. shades chase each other into deeper gloom; and It was impossible for him to stay and front the instead of the watch-dogs cheerful cry, the vassals of his little burgh, and so they fled before wolfs long howl comes from the reed-brakes, the sheriff to the city; and there, after two years and is echoed by its prowling mate on the neigh- of hard struggle and much ~vant, the old man boring hills. died. What little remained in the purse Made- The day was dark and lowering. For weeks leine spent in conveying the dear form to its nor rain nor gentle dews had refreshed the cal- restthat last in the bug row of ancestral cined earth. A heavy cloud hung overhead, graves whose sunken stones, wreathed with wild- and its pent-up fury burst upon the forest. The brier vines and wrought with lichens, slanted few birds that tenant these silent woods flew and crumbled before the sun and wind of two screaming to their eyries; some cattle dashed centuries. Then the coach deposited her at the across the hills for shelter. The whole wilder- station once more just as the great, panting train ness was in motion. The pines swayed their came in. Her foot was on the step before lofty heads, and the winds shrieked and moaned thought struck her, and she paused to ask her among the gnarled and aged limbs. A few old self what was to be sought in the citywhat but ones fell thundering down, casting their broken blanker ruin faced her in those swarming lanes? fragments around ; and then the hurricane Madeleine drew her shawl about her and moved rushed madly on, tearing up the largest trees, away. As well die here as there; at least the and hurling them like javelins through the air, autumn leaves would drift and mound above her The sky was covered as with a pall; and lurid and the train thundered by. She turned un flashes, like sepulchral lights, streamed and der the late, dull sky, and once more meehan- blazed athwart it. The earthquake voice of na- ically sought her fathers grave. But she did ture trembled along the ground, and, ore its run- not enter the inclosure, only sat on the low ning echoes died away, came again, crash after gate-stone, like a sad sphinx to question the crash thundering forth. But at length, as though passers-i, while twilight hastened up to wrap weary of the agony, it paused, and the phantom her in its shadows. clouds scudded away. The scene around was lie that overcometh, the same shall be appalling! Hundreds of trees lay prostrate, clothed in white raiment, she sighed through while, here and there, others stood shivered by the stillness. ~he bolt of heaven and smoking with its fires. Because thou hast kept the word of my God preserve me from another ride through patience, I also will keep thee from the hour of Lhese giant 2iues in such a tempest! teml:)tation, said another voice. _____________________________________________ Madeleine started; she did not know that she MADELEINE SCHAEFFER. had spoken; and looking up through the gray dampness she saw the old clergyman standing I. above her. He took her home with him. and T twenty years old Madeleine Schacifer had her put to bed and to sleep, and allowed her A found herself three against Fate, as Des- the refuge of torpor and grief. A friend of his cartes against the murderous sailors: God, I, knew of some gay Southern travelers who, at and my swordthe last a weapon whose fine the North in the summer, had desired a govern- edge the dull armor of her opponent had already ess. A letter came and went wfth its swift white partly turned. In other parlance, she had not wings, and Madeleine was checked and ticketed a friend in the world, and had forgotten how to on her way to the Carolinian coastkindness make one. Born in the faith that the race of which the good, glad-giving man could ill af- Schacifer crowned humanity, and that, owing to ford since the generous Sehaeflbr tithe had fail- their rare condescension, the rest of creation ed him. shared sunlight and starlight, dew and rain, it A weary journey both hy nights and days was a stern teacher that wrought a new creed. clattering over leagues of pine barrenscoach- In her native village her father ruled supreme, ing through everglades that were sloughs of de- and art and ~vealth had done their best to make spondskirting luxury, unthrift, and squalor his daughter worthy of her blood; culture and at length they plunged into an almost unbroken accomplishment could hardly go further. When forest, hung with long veils of bleached moss, at length he looked upon his work, and saw that and Madeleine found herself the solitary female it was good, there came a great gap into his life on the deck of a crazy little steamer bound down he had met with fulfillment. It was then that river. She drew her veil over her face, and sat a malevolent deity whispered at his ear. His apart on the deck, for there remained no great daughters fortunewas it at all equal to what distance before her. Approaching it, her future, such a creature had the right to demand? that she had kept resolutely out of mind, now Were there not flocks of golden fleece rambling rose and refused to be dwarfed. It was an ugly about the earth, whose rightful shepherds were sight to her; her sensitive l)ride, her inborn han- Schaeffers? And so the simple old country- teur recoiled: yet it was work, and to meet it born-and-bred aristocrat plunged into the vor- she summoned endurance. Sitting there, she tex of speculation. An excellent nut for Wall watched the banks of the narrow channel down

Harriet E. Prescott Prescott, Harriet E. Madeline Schaeffer 37-52

MADELEINE SCHAEFFER. 37 nightfall, when the flowers have faded away, no Street to crack, and they found the meat sweet! fire-flies gem the road; one hears no tinkling One (lay he came home to Madeleine with Ruin bell ; the robber owl skims lazily by ; fantastic as plainly lettered on his face as Dantes Omo. shades chase each other into deeper gloom; and It was impossible for him to stay and front the instead of the watch-dogs cheerful cry, the vassals of his little burgh, and so they fled before wolfs long howl comes from the reed-brakes, the sheriff to the city; and there, after two years and is echoed by its prowling mate on the neigh- of hard struggle and much ~vant, the old man boring hills. died. What little remained in the purse Made- The day was dark and lowering. For weeks leine spent in conveying the dear form to its nor rain nor gentle dews had refreshed the cal- restthat last in the bug row of ancestral cined earth. A heavy cloud hung overhead, graves whose sunken stones, wreathed with wild- and its pent-up fury burst upon the forest. The brier vines and wrought with lichens, slanted few birds that tenant these silent woods flew and crumbled before the sun and wind of two screaming to their eyries; some cattle dashed centuries. Then the coach deposited her at the across the hills for shelter. The whole wilder- station once more just as the great, panting train ness was in motion. The pines swayed their came in. Her foot was on the step before lofty heads, and the winds shrieked and moaned thought struck her, and she paused to ask her among the gnarled and aged limbs. A few old self what was to be sought in the citywhat but ones fell thundering down, casting their broken blanker ruin faced her in those swarming lanes? fragments around ; and then the hurricane Madeleine drew her shawl about her and moved rushed madly on, tearing up the largest trees, away. As well die here as there; at least the and hurling them like javelins through the air, autumn leaves would drift and mound above her The sky was covered as with a pall; and lurid and the train thundered by. She turned un flashes, like sepulchral lights, streamed and der the late, dull sky, and once more meehan- blazed athwart it. The earthquake voice of na- ically sought her fathers grave. But she did ture trembled along the ground, and, ore its run- not enter the inclosure, only sat on the low ning echoes died away, came again, crash after gate-stone, like a sad sphinx to question the crash thundering forth. But at length, as though passers-i, while twilight hastened up to wrap weary of the agony, it paused, and the phantom her in its shadows. clouds scudded away. The scene around was lie that overcometh, the same shall be appalling! Hundreds of trees lay prostrate, clothed in white raiment, she sighed through while, here and there, others stood shivered by the stillness. ~he bolt of heaven and smoking with its fires. Because thou hast kept the word of my God preserve me from another ride through patience, I also will keep thee from the hour of Lhese giant 2iues in such a tempest! teml:)tation, said another voice. _____________________________________________ Madeleine started; she did not know that she MADELEINE SCHAEFFER. had spoken; and looking up through the gray dampness she saw the old clergyman standing I. above her. He took her home with him. and T twenty years old Madeleine Schacifer had her put to bed and to sleep, and allowed her A found herself three against Fate, as Des- the refuge of torpor and grief. A friend of his cartes against the murderous sailors: God, I, knew of some gay Southern travelers who, at and my swordthe last a weapon whose fine the North in the summer, had desired a govern- edge the dull armor of her opponent had already ess. A letter came and went wfth its swift white partly turned. In other parlance, she had not wings, and Madeleine was checked and ticketed a friend in the world, and had forgotten how to on her way to the Carolinian coastkindness make one. Born in the faith that the race of which the good, glad-giving man could ill af- Schacifer crowned humanity, and that, owing to ford since the generous Sehaeflbr tithe had fail- their rare condescension, the rest of creation ed him. shared sunlight and starlight, dew and rain, it A weary journey both hy nights and days was a stern teacher that wrought a new creed. clattering over leagues of pine barrenscoach- In her native village her father ruled supreme, ing through everglades that were sloughs of de- and art and ~vealth had done their best to make spondskirting luxury, unthrift, and squalor his daughter worthy of her blood; culture and at length they plunged into an almost unbroken accomplishment could hardly go further. When forest, hung with long veils of bleached moss, at length he looked upon his work, and saw that and Madeleine found herself the solitary female it was good, there came a great gap into his life on the deck of a crazy little steamer bound down he had met with fulfillment. It was then that river. She drew her veil over her face, and sat a malevolent deity whispered at his ear. His apart on the deck, for there remained no great daughters fortunewas it at all equal to what distance before her. Approaching it, her future, such a creature had the right to demand? that she had kept resolutely out of mind, now Were there not flocks of golden fleece rambling rose and refused to be dwarfed. It was an ugly about the earth, whose rightful shepherds were sight to her; her sensitive l)ride, her inborn han- Schaeffers? And so the simple old country- teur recoiled: yet it was work, and to meet it born-and-bred aristocrat plunged into the vor- she summoned endurance. Sitting there, she tex of speculation. An excellent nut for Wall watched the banks of the narrow channel down 38 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. which the steamer was shootinghanks which, in spite of the early autumn, were yet dense xvitli lofty greenery, and often gorgeous in the floral garniture of riotous vinesstill wild and virgin as when the river first hurst its way between them. Here the engnes stopped for food; or here the bows were half shoved in toward shore, and a long-limbed young man, rifle in hand, leaped on deck; or here there was fretting delay over piles of waiting cotton-hales; and here the little steamer went on her noisy way again. It wns nll very tiresome, and Madeleine turned to discover the nationality of her companionsan uproarious set of tobac~o-feoffs for the most part. In one spot they threw the dice; in another, bartered and discussed the merits of crops, hu- man and cotton; in a third, loud words, pictur- esque gestures, and angry eyes betrayed the po- litical quarter of that microcosm. In the cen- tre of this group, leaning on his gun, stood the young man who had lately leaped on board, hail- ed with a halloo. His shooting-clothes of some very coarse and thick stuffhis heavy hoots the hat slouched over his facethese thin~s al- lowed him no exalted station; but there was a certain air in his manner of wearing them that said autocrat as distinctly as ermined velvet and jeweled orders could have done. Boon compan- ion of them every one, he yet seemed to surround himself with a personal atmosphere which none of these creatures could penetrate; his brief and curt harangue, received with aeclamatory acqui- escence, had been uttered like a ukase. If, as he stood there, leaning in this lordly way upon his gun, his cigar, with its faintlycurling wreath, held carelessly away between downward fingers if; standing so, he vouchsafed a sentence, it was rather tossed at them than spoken; and this fawning public of his, like any other spaniel, seemed to relish his thrusts better than another man s caress. But since she understood nothing, this, too, soon wearied, and, in despite of her tremor, she gladly greeted the sight of her little box thrown upon a landing where overhanging boughs darkened the stream, and a plank flung out on which she was to walk ashore. The tall young man with the rifle preceded, and, with a bow, offered a hand to assist hera hand not much in accordance with the rest of him, and gleaming with a singular ring. Directly after- ward he disappeared. Within a yard or two Madeleine now discovered an old coach awaiting her, and the driver having, satisfactorily to his own understanding, decided upon her identity in the affirmative, she was conducted at a fune- real pace toward her final destination. The road was a causeway built above the dykes of broad rice-fields that every where, as far as eye could see, were green with the rank malarial tinge of a new, rich, second springing, although already stacked with the abundant harvest. At length they entered under a broad avenue of ancient oaks, a magnificent growth, huge and columnar, with vast arches and cathedral spaces. The pendent sheets of misty mossthe wild and brilliant parasites, whose blossoms fluttered like splendid wings in the dark and polished leafage the carpet of dazzling verdure, sprinkled with shifting sun and shadow from its emerald under- sky, made a scene that filled Madeleines soul with rest; and when, weary of gazing, she lean- ed hack with closed eyes, the lofty murmur among the waving boughs seemed to sing the very strain of her dreams. She would have been content to jolt on under this antiphonal vault forever ; but, as nothing is eternal, there came an end to leisure and pleasure in the shape of a large and irregular house, not in particular repair, and singularly weatherstained, half cov- ered with vines, and hacked with a lofty grove of sycamore and cypress, and beyond, a dim line of sea. Mrs. Ediston met her with a brood of little Edistons clinging about her skirts, and in ten minutes Miss Schaeffer had found her level for so long as she should teach beneath that lintel. Weary at heart, she gladly availed herself of permission to retire, and to dull with sleep the first edge of service. It was early on the next morning when she awoke. Unpacking and arranging her slight wardrobe, she then made the most elaborate toilet of her life. A glance, a word, had taught her what to expect of Mrs. Ediston: white, but a servant. The haughty Schaeffcr blood ill brook- ed it. But there is a l)ride far more tremendous than any otherthat of proud humility, and be- hind this the girl intrenched herself beyond reach of all of Mrs. Edistons arrows. From her few dresses, once rich, now turned and pieced, she chose the plainest, and bound her throat and wrists with a narrow linen. But first, all those drooping veils of darkest hair that yesterday hung their ever-changing shadows about her face, that waving and waving below the soft, round chin, had at length broken into globy masses of curl, she combed out and brushed straight along the brow, to be coiled behind in one heavy knot. It is true there was thus left exposed an ear deli- cate and pink as any faintly-tinged whorl, and an outline fine and soft enough for a Madonna: yet one scarcely notices such things in a depend- ent. Moreover want, and care, and grief had somewhat sharpened them all; and thus attired pale through fatigue, and with no lovely ex- pression in the curves of those reticent lips, cer- tainly no one would have accused Miss Schaeffer of heauty. Some dozen years before this epoch Mr. Boa- noke the elder had died, leaving his youngish widow and her son well provided with stocks. mortgages, and railroad bonds, and his estate to a son by a previous marriage. On the estate. however, the widow continued to reside for a part of every year, traveling during the spring and summer. In one of these journeys she met with an admirer who sl)eedily made her Mrs. Ediston, and returned with her to manage her stel)-sons affairs. This son, in process of edu- cation at the North, afterward chose to bury himself on one of the few rice-lands on the Mis- sissippi, a maternal inheritance, leaving Mrs. MADELEINE SCHAEFFER. 39 Ediston for the present in undisputed possession. self attended to Robs Greek. For a day or two But on the death of Mr. Ediston the vast out- it was hard work with the uproarious Essie and door arrangements of a plantation proved too Ally; but then the pair found that they were much for her skill, and Mr. Geoffrey Roanoke under that strong hut light baud and succumbed returned to his ancestral acres. It was to this with riotous J)leasure; and in all Miss Schaef- young man, then, that Mrs. Ediston presented fers stay at Roanoke Fields she had no more Miss Schacifer as she entered the breakfast-room feal subjects than these breezy little things. Rob that morningpresented as to a potentate. Mr. regarded his governess rather as a region to he Roanoke was deep in his newspaper, but glauc- explored, did not at once surrender his affec. ing up, he rose, bowed, and extended his band tions, held her command as a personal indigni- after a moments deliberation, with that cbiv- ty, and refused allegiance. Miss Clara Ediston nlrous deportment due to any woman. Miss was the easiest victim of the whole. She bud Scbaeffbr bent coolly in return, chose not to see attained her twelfth year, and was advanced in the band, and passed to the seat indicated by her studies so far as the third volume of the Mrs. Ediston, between the Misses Ally and Es- Children of the Abbey. Upon l)romotion sie Ediston, who were already clamoring for ev- she was struck with a fit of the sulks, dur ery thia~ on the table. Quieting them, Miss ing which her mamma prescribed and adminis- Schacifer scarcely suffered aught to escape her, tered a dark closet. With her release she fled since the first few moments of acquaintance are incontinently to Miss Schaeffer, and bewailed foundation-stones. It was more by intuition her fate in a style unworthy of Amanda, and than otherwise that she recognized the state of found solace thereon in Claras Waltz, with affairs between the young man and her mistress. which Miss Scheeffer silenced her, and for which On the one l)art, a financial arrangement that she suffered her that day to l)ut hy the exercises. spared the privy purse. On the other, she bad Thus established the autumn went fleeting into been his fathers wife; therefore was to he treat- winter; hut Miss Schaeffer had lost her bear- ed with respect; in the mean time managed his ings, she had no motive for notching off the household admirably. But to say that there was days on her memory, and since the weather lore lost between them would have been a waste was like May she forgot that it was IJecember. of words. She had not become a whit more reconciled Another cup, my dear Geoffrey? Julius, with her condition; she had only hardened her Mr. Roanokes cup. And between the periods armor. Mrs. Ediston could not keep her at a of his paragraphs Ms. Roanoke sipped his cof- greater distance than she kept Mrs. Ediston. fee, black and bittera habit which Miss Schaef- As for Mr. Roanoke, she did not know that be- fer supposed he had contracted to guard against yond the table courtesies she had yet exchanged the miasms. As she looked at him he wore a a word with him. She was left out of all his strangely-familiar air; she wondered where she plans. He regarded her as a subordinate, and had seen him before; and then as the ring on treated her with quiet resl)eet. To Miss Schaef- his hand flashed in her face she remembered. for it seemed quiet contempt. The frequent It was ~ue he wore broadcloth now rather than visitors did not know of her existence, of course. fustian; and the countenance, crowned with its She never lingered at the table, never was to he white forehead above deep-set hut glowing eyes, found in drawing-room or on veranda; but in the had a somewhat less sardonic guise than when school-room, if Mrs. Ediston sought her, or Mr. the brown beard and mustache alone appeared Roanoke came about Robs Greek, she received beneath the shade of a slouching hrim. Still it them like a queen in her own domain. was the same; and then an older remembrance Why dont you ever come down when theres struck her. A hand ungloved to fasten her company, Miss Schaeffer? asked Essie, skip- cloak, and a strange ring scattering light from ping into the room on one foot and resting it it. Well, why should he recognize in a pale, with the other. serge-clad governess the brilliant being who float- Both feet, Essie. ed on his arm in swooning circles amidst music, Oh, I forgot. Why dont you? Theres and incense, and lustre? Damask cheek, drop- going to be dancing to-night, theyre fixing ping tresses, raiment of gold-colored satin that What is it ? seemed but the shadow thrown by her topaz I meanwhy, Miss Schueffer, what should gems. Miss Schacifer glanced at the mirror I say ? that hung opposite: no, severe and old, she What is it they are doing ? would not have known herself. As her eye fell Mending the balcony. it rested for a moment on Mrs. Edistons. Mrs. Thats what you should say then. Ediston smiled, and stirred her coffee, and tasted. Theyre mending the balcony for the fid- A servant brought round Mr. Roanokes horse dlers. Dont you know how to dance? Dont for his daily visit to the fields; the cheerful ban- you like to dance ? quet was concluded, and not a word had been Yes, very well. thrown away. So do I ! And Essie pironetted round It did not take Miss Schaeffer long to fall half the chairs. into the round of her new duties, which were Not quite so much fling, Essie. A little not heavy; for after class-hours there was no- more quietly, said Miss Schaeffer; for Essie thing hut Claras music, and Mr. Roanoke him- danced after the fashion of a recklessfiqerante. 40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the Why, I dont make a bit of noise ! was round-eyed reply. No; but a gentler movement. This way. And Miss Schacifer, binding Ul) a fallen tress, suddenly paused with a color in her cheeks, find- ing herself softly humming the gayest of tunes, and waltzing down the room with Essie. 0 Miss Schacifer, you dance better than mamma! cried the child in an ecstasy. Do come down and waltz with me to-night. To-night you will be in bed. There, Essie, now I mnst draw your copics. No, indeed, we always sit up when theres company, to learn case, mamma says. Miss Schacifer, wont yon ? No. Run away. But why not? pursued Essie. Why not ? repeated Miss Schacifer, throw- ing down her pencil. Oh, because my dancing days are over. Over! What makes them over? Ive lost my slippers, said Miss Schacifer, with half a smile. Wait net to find your slippers, But come in your naked feet, hummed a voice in the corridor; and as Miss Schacifer heard a retreating step she felt an un- comfortable suspicion that a witness of the little drama had been in the door-way. But if Mr. Geoffrey Roanoke had allowed himself such free- dom, it must have been an inadvertence; more probably he had heedlessly caught the word in passing; and a moment after, as if to dispel the very idea, Mr. Roanoke himselg grave as Rhad- amanthus, marshaled in the refractory Rob, bowed silently to Miss Schaeffer, and proceeded to scatter Robs wits through the mazes of an irregular verb. One morning shortly after this occurrence, when Miss Schaeffer took her seat at the break- fast-table, her eve was arrested by an envelope lying beside her napkin. A letter to her? And from whom in the world? Ah no; Mrs. Edis- ton allowed Mr. Roanoke the pleasure of paying her bills. Such was his method. As few ~vords as possible with his serfs. All this without the movement of an eyelash. I suppose you know that the holidays are upon us, Miss Schaefibr ? said Mrs. Ediston. I had forgotten. You wish the children should have vacation ? Oh, certainly. From Christmas until Epiph- any, always. It will be such a relief; Geoffiev, if Rob ever gets to college A relief not to be immediately experienced. He is very xvell as he is. A good enough boy as boys go, said the young man, scarcely glanc- ing up from the price-current of the Mercury. You will not have time to return to the North, Miss Schaeffer, in twelve days ? con- tinued Mrs. Ediston. I do not wish it. I suppose there is some place in the neighborhood where I can stay till they resume. Oh, here of course. There will be care enough for you. But I should have thought you would wish to go home, said Mrs. Ediston, meditatively. I have no home to go to, replied Miss Schacifer, after a pause, gazing into her cup, and then looking steadfastly up. No home to go to! But where are youi relatives ? I have no relatives. And no friends? No friends. No relatives? no friends? Great Heavens, Geoffrey ! cried Mrs. Ediston in French across the table. What sort of thing is this in the house with no relatives and no friends ? Miss Schacifer colored a deep, warm tint that clung to her cheek. She smiled too, a smile that disclosed little bits of pearl. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Ediston, but I un- derstand French. As my governess should ! retorted that lady, flushing angrily. Miss Schueffer did not notice the words, for her glance had caught Mr. Geoffrey Roanokes; and with the dimpling smile, the gay glint of dark eyes, the color, Miss Schacifer was for a moment again radiantly lovelyand knew it. Only a moment; then it all fell, and she was the gray-faced governess of old. Yet brief as the moment was, it was a small triumph ; for Mr. Geoffrey Roanoke had been altogether in the habit of making the most trifling remarks to his mamma, in the French tongue, as if to ex- clude the white servant from any participation. lIe smiled himselfhe could not help it; and as his eyelids dropped, it was on that perfect licture. In a breath he glanced up again as if to assure himself that it was still there. No, it had been a glamournothing else; n one but the pale, stern, black-clad woman sat b~re him. Miss Schacifer had certainly taken a liberty. Mr. Roanokes demeanor became icily lordly. At least so Miss Schacifer construed the mean- ing of the next few moments. Little did the governess care. Indispensable, and knowing it, giving them good work for good payment they were welcome to imidulge their little whims. Iler sole solicitude was to amass such a sum as would allow her to open a day-school in the city at no distant period, and after that perhaps to pay her fathers debts. This very scene was another plate for her armor. She rose from tIme table, took the envelope, bowed to Mrs. Ediston as usual, and withdrewEssie and Ally skipping down to follow her. But at sight of that money I can not say that a tortured fiend did not turn in her heart anew. It wanted yet a half hour to class-time, and in the school-room Miss Schaeffer composed herself above a sheet of laper. There was too much nobility in Made- leines nature to attempt offering the good cler- gyman repayment of the sum he had expended for her. Necessity had forced acceptance upon her; it was impossible to cancel an obligation. But she could at least devote a portion of her earnings toward alleviating wants that she knew too well. Poor people in the surrounding coun MADELEINE SCHAEFFER. 41 try she had not yet met, for her walks with her I mas. And he wont be home foroh, for months! pupils had heen restricted to Roanoke Fields, What err you thinking of, Miss Schaefler ? the large island entirely occupied by Mr. Tioa- I am thinking of an old woman who will have nokes plantation; and yet she felt as if there two blankets this ~viuter instead of none. Of the were a debt due Providence from her. An in- little girl who looks like dying, and who is to have stalhnent of this debt then, her letter being con-. flowers and sherry wine and bits of chicken. eluded, she folded within the delicate leaf, and Of three miles down river to sebool that Tom superscribed and sealed it. Enuning down stairs Allan shall skate now with flashing heels, in- with that light heart which makes a light foot, stead of the five he used to walk. And what she saw Mr. Roanoke crossing the hall at their are you thinking of, Clara ? as tbat (lamseI con- base. fronted them in an aureole, a})parently. Oh, Mr. Roanoke,~~ she cried. Are you Oh, Essie! oh, Miss Schacifer! Were going into town to-day may I ask? going to Juliet l)evelius I am, Miss _____ Pooh ! said Essie. Who cares Schaeffer, Sir. Will you have the great I do. Oh, Miss Schacifer, shes just so kindness to post this for me ? And she hand- beautiful! And she lets me stand at the toilet ed him the letter and the dime ; for it was he- while shes dressing fore that glorious invention of three - penny I like the l)octor best; I dont care a snap hits. about her, except that, if she were a doll, maybe This was too much for Mr. Geoffrey Roanoke. Id like her in amy stocking. Great black eyes, lie lightly, halfunobservantly shook the dime without any wiukers, just like a dolls. And off into her hand, saying, in his courtliest style, she slaps SilverIve seen her! I take pleasure in doing so. \Yelh, what if she does? Mother slaps Ju- Miss Sthaeffer opened her eyes. She was not hius. aware that it was the first time she had ever vol- Geoffrey (lout; and lie dont allow us. And nntarilv addressed him. But thanking him now, lie says no lady she turned away and dropped the dime into time Just here Gm hell tinkled, and time remaining palm of a little bhaekball who came tumbling personalities were host to the world and Miss down the stairs at the one opportune moment of Schacifer. his life. The holidays slipped over easily enough, on What is it, Geoffrey ? asked Mrs. Ediston, part of them the children being absemit visiting at his shoulder, as lie drew on the riding-gloves, Miss Devehin, who, under tIme surveihlammee of an and before Miss Schacifer was beyond hicarimig. anciemit aimmit, kept her hurothmers house . and omi You can see, mamma. their return, amid time reopemmiug of school-books, Dear me! Rev. Cyrus Grey, Schacifers- life jogged along the foot-pathway till s~)riimg. ha, N. Y. Sonic little deacon studying for or Mrs. Ediston bustled about the house; the chiil- ders, I suppose; and after ordination theres to dren made it resonamit; Mr. Roanoke was absent lie a Mrs. Cvr us Grey and love in a cottage ! the greater poition of tIme time, either busy at thie What does the direction say to yen ? rice-mill or absorbed in caucuses and othuer such Fahlen fortunes, umaumma. emumbroghios umot in thue caucuses themselves, how ? hiowever, for he never condescended to lift his The Schacifershin. But I hadnt read it. finger politically to pull a wire or turn a card; Well. Dont forget to call at Spray Rocks. but on time dinners and routs that figured pre- The chuildren accept with pleasure. And theres viouusly to their sessions if hue hiad a wish lie cx pressetl it, iumid every hotly else acted upon it. my I nun going the other way. Send Julius. Indeed so long humid the Roanokes herded it over Why, Geoffrey ! it ismut a minute since you that district, that few would have known hmouv to premised me to go at once yourself! And Ju- witiustamid their precedent, even had Mm. Geoffrey hiums will make a mess of it. hmimuself been a persoum to withstand; amid if some Very well, then. I will call on my return. umewconuer or soume old umialcentent dared object, What! right in tIme neon? then Mr. Geoffrey rose imi might amid annihilated At sonie time to-day. Now I have an en- him. Of course this gave huiuum but snmahl life at gagement in town. home ; days l)assed iii which time governess never Bat Miss Schmneffer went springimig up stairs saw nor rememluered himwhat little intercourse and along time ball, with a half latughi lighting they did have was of tIme curtest auth lost in his her face. thoughts hue sat with thmat sardonic shadow on his What are you laughing at, Miss Schueffer ? face, and gave few words te any. With March, asked Essie, capering besid her, however, he took Rob on a long Northern jour- At laughing thoughts. umey, amid Miss Schineffer fohlowed tIme remainder So am I. What are your langhuimig of the family to certain Virgiuiian Springs, where, thoughts ? having established her within the chmilchren, Mrs. What are yours, Essie ? Ediston spent the suuiuuiier in visits to her count- Oh! cakes and tarts and Dr. Devehinhe less acquaintancein September gathering her always gives us such pecketfuuls. I wish Europe brood under her wimug at home in time city house, was in Guinea, and a theusauud miiihes off! Thats since it was yet too cathy to breathe tIme poison- where he is now. lie used to lie here at Christ- ens atnuospliere of time plantation. Time year had VOL. XXV.No. 145.D 42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. been a trying one to Miss Schaeffer. Rob, en- franchised in soul, was more refractory than ever at being again obliged to own tbe female sway; the girls were also turbulent; and weary and worn, Miss Schacifer would have given worlds for some friend to exchange a word of sympathy, to rest her and relieve her ~vith love. Three weeks of the city life, and Miss Schaef- fer longed for that cool, sweet quiet of the island of Roanoke Fields. But Mrs. Ediston was in her element; the place was very gay. She went out every nightcrape mitigated by lacefor a long seclusion gave ber pleasures zest. At length one morning she planned a sailing party to the Fieldsa party which should go and re- turn by sunlight, owing to the nightly ascend- ence there of mists and miasms; and she con- sulted Mr. Geoffrey, who rode or sailed down and hack every day, in reference to her de- signs. Damn the place ! said Mr. Geoffrey, kick- ing over a foot-stool. Id swop the whole of it for one acre of my Mississippi land if I had to choose. There its as healthy as a New En- gland corn-field; here, if you sneeze, youre a dead man. Freshes and saltsIm tired of the sound! It was a fresh in the spring, and then had to come drought and upset the tide; and heres a salt to kill my plants just out of the long flow. Its the life of a dogof the dogs of ~var! Good-morning ! And Mr. Geoffrey was off, to swear some unlimited oath in the privacy of his morning ride. But Mrs. Ediston, nothing baf- fled by this statement of a rice-planters miseries, proceeded with her plans, and one day packed her hampers. She had, it might he confessed, a secret longing to look into the house, and see what ravages summer had made therea long- ing which this course was one to satisfy and justify. A hot, sultry morning, and the gay party went winding down the harbor in their boat, Mr. Geoffrey leading the way with Essie in a tiny yawl. The sun was blazing overhead; it seem- ed as if the furnace-blast of the wind should make the water smoke; but they went simmer- ing on, reached Roanoke Fields, and disem- barked. how changed was every spray! The rank- est, lushest, most entangled foliage; the foot sinking ankle-deep in flowery tuif whose clouds of incense bewildered the brain with satiety. Overhead the boughs at noon made midnight with myriad leaves, that seemed each in their juicy strength capable of distilling the poison they sucked in from the ambient air; and far and wide, stretching away into the dim sea-line, clothed in deadly verdure, virulently virid, lay the long rice-fields smiling falsely under that mask of tenderest, freshest green. It was a glad day. No more graceful host than Mr. Roanoke, when he chose, ever stood in the door; he made the moments light even for Miss Schaeffer. But at length the bell sounded to recall all ivan- derers, who, coming laden with the wild and pulpy things they had pulled, hastily crowded the boat, and when the larger float pushed off Miss Schaeffer was left standing oa the bank. I have hurried them home, said Mr. Roa- noke to the overseerwho was about riding away, for he did not sleep on the place, as the slaves are the only ones who can remain there over- night, and they not with entire impunity be- cause, continued Mr. Roanoke, in a voice very much as if he were soliloquizing, since although it was necessary for these people to have the in- formation, it would be sufficient for them to hear him give it to himself, because the day has been so hot that the mists will rise early and fall heavy. But here the man paused for a few last wordslast words that took a half hourand then Mr. Roanoke impatiently cut them short, ran up the little sail, and the two went skimming down the creek, and neither of them speaking, for Mr. Roanoke did not choose, Miss Schaeffer did not wish it. As they sailed, Miss Schaeffer leaned idly hack in the boat and tried to forget herself. She watched the sky, cloudless and just beginning to give an answering glow from the horizon; the overhanging banks that threw such green glooms upon their shining way; the trailers that every here and there sent out a shoot of resplendent blossom, a lasso of tough cord to delay them; the dark water that gently parted beneath them; the flaws that sailed slowly on before them; the faint and tiny threads of vapor, laden with fragile beauty, that, rising half im- perceptibly from the stream, faded away into the burning air; watched these elfin wreaths that breathing up and curling tendril-like on the skirts of the shadow of the shores, already streaked that burning air with coolness, nor knew that each cool waft could pierce the brain like bladcs. What do you see, Miss Schaeffer? asked Mr. Roanoke, condescendingly breaking at length his haughty silence, as if her ways amused him. Little bubbles, Sir, little balloons of white air rising like sprites, Mr. Roanoke. Can they Accursed sprites! Twice cursed if the wind should fall And the wind did fall. Mr. Roanoke got out the oars, bent above them, and shot on with sweeping strokes, and without a word. Fine and thin particles grained the air. The sun had not yet set, but the sky began to haze, and they saw him through a dun golden veil that seemed all at once to be steaming every where about them; they went breast-high through long-roll- ing waves of cloud combed white as wool. The veil thickened and clung to them, the thwarts were already dripping from it. The sun was neither to be seen nor felt; they were chilled to the soul and reeking with the foul leaden mists. Those sprites had grown and towered and thrown off disguise, and stalked along beside them and before them like giants walking the water, col- umns of white vapor. It became rapidly darker, they could only dimly discern the writhing, twist- ing forms of shadow that mounted on either side, the air they breathed stifled with heavy clogging MADELEINE SCIIAEFFER. 43 clamminess; there was ringing in their ears as if they had been fathoms deep under the sea. So cold, so wet, they seemed to he rowing into the mouth of an icy hell. Once or twice they had passed the confluence of the countless water- ways among these islandsthey took their course by instinct. But as it darkened currents of mist seemed to he hranch streams, the channels dis- appeared. They should long since have reached the sea and been in safe and clear night sky. Mr. Geoffrey felt ohscurely for a hank; the heads were condensing on his forehead in hlisters. I have lost the way, he said, hoarsely. It will be better to walk, find the house, and build fires, than to stay here all night. It is doubtful, he muttered to himselg if we either of us ever see sunshine again! And making foothold, he handed her to the shore. As damp, as dank, as dark. They plunged under roofing of black, poison-dripping boughs, through thickets that crouched beneath the with- ering mildew, and all the while they breathed this curdling cloud of miasm and decay. We are under the oaks ! at length ex- claimed Mr. Roanoke. We have rowed round the island and passed every sea-opening! Fools! We were mad to come! But in a moment he had opened the hall-door and clanged it behind them. The thick air returned only an answer- ing thud. We will have a fire in the school- room. The mists may not mount so high. By closing every shutter we may escape, providing we be not already done for ! In a few sec- onds he had thrown heaping armfuls of wood on the hearth there, and a great blaze leaped up the chimney. Then Mr. Roanoke seated Miss Schacifer. She was tired and pale, but had not after all endured such transition as he when he dropped the heated oars. It was plain that from her Northern birth and her but partial ac- climation he expected at every breath to see her drop. Yet sitting thereand since sleep was death they each shook off the drowsy weight upon them; began to sparkle by mere force of will; to laugh, and jest, and talk blithe- ly; to relate, to invent; and Mr. iRoanoke opened hoards of unsuspected learning, and be- came fired as he imparted it. They talked of the hooks they liked, and his criticisms were in- alterable as crystals; they spoke og music, and he described to her a concert, with the Midsum- mer-Nights Dream, in such words that the strains seemed repeated in the air; they spoke of the drama, and he gave her sudden and swift imper- sonations of a great actor so vividly that she would have said there was a third person in the room; he fell to telling her of the region and its soil; it seemed to her that the earth had opened and she were plucking chemical secrets from the pictured depths. Once or twice as he spoke he gave her, so to say, an almost impalpa- ble touch with a hand as cold as her own. Was it possible that this was Mr. Roanoke; the cold, unsympathetic, silent manthe cynical master? Miss Schaeffer leaned hack in her chair, in a measure fascinated, in a measure irate. This airy grace, she knew, was like the cloud on some bald mountains browthe rock was under- neath. Ah yes, Miss Schaeffer, said he, rising and lighting a cigar; this does not offend you, I hope? That Midsummer-Nights Dream touch- es some very curious facts in our l)sycholOgy, moreover. As much so as if Shakspeare were making very sl)ort of human nature. Do you knowyou must have had chances enough to learn this summer, if never before, since before you were one of the phantasmagoria, this sum- mer one of the spectators (I)rovided, as I say, that your own eyes were open at those Springs to lcarn)that the juice of that flower called Love-in-idleness is tossed about on folks eyelids to-day by sonic cal)ricions Puck as resistlessly as ever in that old Grecian forest ? Mr. Roanoke, it never struck me as Grecian before. Exactly. It isnt. It is universal. World wide over; having once sat down beside Bottom on that flowery hank, and stuck musk-roses in his sleek, smooth head, the knave of hearts may lay traps for you; Apollo descend with lyre, and lute, and pipe, and flute; Cupid riddle you with arrowsand all in vain, because your blind eyes first opened on that clown with the asss head. Is it so? God! But this is a ghastly Midsum- mer-Nights Dream! A very nightmare! Ab, what a chill! Miss Schaeffer, where are von ? his hand, that a moment since had been ice, seized hers with a grasp of fire, and he fell his length upon the floor insensible. Miss Schaeffer sprang to her feet and had re- course to a vinaigrette, to a carafe of water, to hot friction. She drew him nearer the hearth; she piled the logs Ul)Ofl the blaze; she found his flask and poured the brandy between his teeth; she heaped upon him all the blankets to be found. But the malaria had done its work: he lay in statue-like immobility, and if his stupor broke at all, it was only from one swoon into another. 4 In the mean while her very endeavors fortified herself, and she hoped, as indeed it proved, that her constitution was one of those few which are proof against all the envenomed missiles of the nightly swamps. She was worn enough to have all her senses dissolve in sleep, when, suddenly, a long, red ray slanted through a chink of the shutters; she darted forward and threw them open. It was morningfresh, jubilant morn- ingblue sky, and golden light, and such hoary weight of dew loading the dripping branches and showering from them, in prismed rain-flash- es, as they frolicked with the glad, free wind; such song, such color, such radiance! She heard the galloping hoofs that sped the overseer along, bethought herself of the alarm- bell, and summoned him to her aid; and ere long, having been borne there on a litter, Mr. Roanoke rested among the cushions heaped on the boats floor, and, with his head held by Miss Schaeffcr, was swiftly flying down the creeks and up to the city with the overseer at the helm. Finally at home, Miss Schneffer answered Mrs. 44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Edistons queries as she could, and the whole house trembled round the point of Mr. Roanokes life. It was the intermittent fever, too general- ly fatal, hut with his iron frame there was hope. And so in a few weeks it appeared. The subtle foe had only taken the outposts, the citadel re- mained intact. And at length Mr. Roanoke caine down stairs and once more sat among them; silent as ever, quiet, languid, paler but gentler, and looking up with a somewhat grate- ful smile at the slight and unexpected attentions which every one hastens to pay a convalescent. Mrs. Ediston had fhithfully performed her duty; and now, as she again went out in evening dress, she thought him well provided with company in the children and Miss Schaeffer and stray visit- ors. But it was little society that he suffered Miss Schaeffer to be to him; and so coldly dis- treit was his behavior that one might have fan- cied him endeavoring to annul some influence of hers. Mr. lionnoke was not so omnipotent but that he must make an ambitions marriage. In fact, it was evident that lie was struggling with hiniself; but to Miss Schacifer it rend only like an attempt to obliterate memory of any past condescension. Nevertheless he was yet ill, yet weak, and in these things the battle is to the strong. The children had all been taken away, and the last caller had made adieux, as they sat there one night with the lighted windows opening on the ga.y city street. Ab, Miss Schaeffer, said Mr. Roanoke, im- pulsively, looking up at her as she remained dis- entangling the errors of Claras work. Calm little automaton, are you never lonely, never sad ? I? Why should I be? True. You have a great deal of self-re- spect. It must be pleasant to live with a per- son whom you respect so much. You enjoy these evenings better than the last one I had the pleasure of spending ~ith you ? I dont regret that experience, Sir, she re- plied, except I understand, he said, and bowed. I am very glad then. For certainly what life crawls through this very narrow chance is due to you. Not at all, responded Miss Schacifer. I did nothing. And should have done the same for any mortal being. Very equivocal, said Mr. Roanoke, with a smile, but then remained silent for a while, his head resting on his hand. As they sat Miss Schacifer was at first recalling the conversation of that plague-stricken night, and remembering how through it all in his manner there had gleamed only an effect of willa will to be fascinating, that he might kindle her into in- terest for the moment, and make her as fascina- ting in return, since he needed to find that charm in her in order to be roused and alert himself against the insidious enemy of the air, in order himself to battle off drowsiness and death. He was sweet then, and genial, and full of courteous grace; he treated her as his equal, his friend, simply through an instinct of self-preservation. Nevertheless (she had not felt it at the time, but now as she remembered it), all that glitter had only heen like the cold sparkle round the peaks of icebergs. He had made a foil of her, and his brilliance of air and speech was no more than the gaudy beauty with which one trims ones salmon-flies. He would have conducted himself the same had she been a ghoul or a gorgon. And then Miss Schaeffer dismissed the subject, and ~vent wandering back and away to remember happier scenes. At length, however, Mr. Roanoke, who had sat pale and rapt, raised his glance again, dark and piercing, and rested it on her. She sat absorb- ed in the work, the red on her cheek, the light in her eye, one long tress of hair fallen in slight disorder, and an abandon about her, a forget- fulness of his presence that made her seem more like a picture than a woman. Madeleine, said Mr. Roanoke, half in a dream, do you suppose I do not remember that night when we danced together, the light dazzling back again from a dazzling raiment; the lonely salt-scented sea-breeze blo~ving in to lift that same tress, to trouble the topazes, to fan the carmine in the cheekthose imperious feet beating out the measure of the music ? You are asleep, Mr. Roanoke. Mr. Roanoke laughed. If I am may I never wake, said he. Why do you not an- swer me? Do you forget it yourself? Have you danced with too many? Are you sorry to afford me a pleasant memory, as you were just now to afford me a pleasant debt? Sit down. Should she lie? lie was choosing to remem- ber it now, only to ignore it to-morrow, and ac- custom her to his old superciliousness. Why not? Madeleines hand was raised upon the door, her face turned in his direction. I can not say what made such a rage surge in her heart. You must have taken your coffee too strong, Sir, this morning, said she. If I had ever danced with a Southern satrap I should cer- tainly recall the fact! and was gone. If Madeleine had not lost every ether thought in her indignant feeling she would scarcely have begun to call Mr. Roanoke names. As it was, from that day he proved his right to the satrapy. His sentences tb Miss Schaefferfrequent as a racked ingenuity could devisewere brief as re- quests could be modeled, and had that freedom from the rising inflection which rendered them commands. Miss Schaeffer was summoned without ceremony to open the morning papers. Miss Schaeffer aired the evening papers. Miss Schacifer was called to drop the wax upon his folded letters. Miss Schacifer broke the seals and read aloud his business dispatches. Miss Schaeffer was sent to sketch any desired view. Miss Sehacifer was told to find the book and read till forbidden, and when the auditors eyes closed, instead of dropping the page where she found it, Miss Sehaeffer had the sublime re- venge of reading on with the completest indiffer. MADELEINE SCHAEFFER. 45 ence as to whether he slept or whether he waked, until his voice dismissed her. If he enjoyed his tyranny is uncertain; but certainly Madeleine liked it better than any ones condescension. It left her on firm ground, and she hasped her purse with a less vindictive snap. But when it grew beyond further endurance, having been summoned one morning from lessons a dozen trifling times, she appeared in the door-way, and said: Am I hired as the childrens governess, Mr. Roanoke, or as a companion for you ? You may go, Miss Schacifer, said her ty- rant, and was from that moment as innocent of her existence as the master of a house could well be. The season was so late, the city so gay, and Mr. Roanokes health so precarious, that they did not return to the plantation till orange-pick- ing. And once re-established there, Madeleine forgot that she had ever heen away; the placc seemed like home; and if Mr. Roanoke remem- bered that other time of their mutual experience he said nothing, and she banished it. So they used life. Great preparations were toward. Dr. Develin had returned, and the holidays were to be kept this time at the island of Roanoke Fields. Mr. Geoffrey was little in the house, was care- lessly cold to Miss Schacifer when he was, and as carelessly cordial to the others. The last week ~vent slipping by; every one waited gayly for the expected chimes, and the two days be- fore Christmas began to bring guests in clusters. II. It was the first Christmas for some years that Mrs. Ediston had entertained. There were fine folks from Charleston, and gay folks from Sa- vannah, and the Sea Islands sent tribute. There were the Hunts from the Cross Roads, the Pinek- neys from Red Hill, the Prestons from the Ledge. They and their servants filled the house with cheery clamor. Last of all came the Develins. Miss Schacifer had been out with the children gathering clumps of glossy foliage that should give finishing touches to the decorations, since Mrs. Ediston had pressed her into the service. She sat now, resting for an instant, at the foot of an oak in that great wood of the open spaces through which the avenue was cut, and the chil- dren were busying themselves about her like bees round a flower. They had woven a crown of the dark and prickly holly leaves, and hover- ing on tip-toe, were trying to adjust clusters of the scarlet berries therein, while their bright sprays were scattered countlessly about her, clinging to her shawl and nestling in her skirts. Slightly inclining her head to their touch, and vet oblivious of it, Miss Schaeffer sat, when a clatter of hoofs beat the ground, and a brilliant train swept by. One face and form only met Miss Schacifers gazeand both, it seemed to her, were perfection. The full round shape hid half its voluptuous curves in the shade of the dark-green riding-suit, the face was softened by its floating veil into a vision of the night wind that came rising behind them. They passed like the creation of that careering wind; and as Miss Schneffer looked she saw another figure followinga gentleman slowly walking beside his horse, his arm thrown across the creatures bending neck. As he caught sight of the gay group glinting in there among the trees he half paused, with an intent and startled eye, and then stepped in their direction. But the light there was uncertain, the wizard mingling of suns~t and moonrise, and he resumed his way. It is Dr. Develin ! cried Essie; and the three fled in full chorus after him. Miss Schacifer, left to herself gathered up her armful, and, still under the shelter of the oaks, turned her feet houseward. It was growing cool and damp; she would be glad when the home lamps blazed up across her path; the shadows already fell thick athwart her, and all the orange had died out of the air. Thus stepping swiftly, she heard a voice calling Rob! and paused a moment to listen. Rob! was repeated. Ju- lius ! and then the same voice executed a rapid roll of all the house-servants, accompanied by execrations obligato. It was plainly Mr. Ron- noke, and in want of some assistance. Miss Schacifer had half the umind to let him continue to want; then, by a natural impulse, retraced her steps, and following the frequent sound, her shawl falling about her, her arms heaped with the wild growth, the points of the leaves and the berries shining like gems in her hair, she came out into the rising ray of the full moon, and upon the bank of the creek, down which the wild wind was blowing the faint mist in ribbons. You need help, Mr. Roanoke ? she asked, sweetly. The servants must be engaged. Can I answer? Mr. Roanoke did not reply, but stood gazing at her a moment. Oh I Miss Schacifer! said he then, coolly. Have the goodness to catch this rope. I do not care to lose a boat-load of game. Orders were left that Fez and Rocco should await me, for Master Robert went ashore at Spray Rocks. That will do. I thank you. And Mr. Roa- noke leaped upon the bank. Look dowathere a moment, Miss Schacifer, he said; but the governess was flitting on, a twinkling form in the shade. Miss Schacifer was not the person with whom he could caprice to-day attend, to-morrow rebuff; she under- stood, moreover, or thought she did, that his seldom condescensions were made not to her, but to the accidental instant in which something had heightened her appearance into an object of pleasure. Such condescension she ~vould not receive. But with a bound and a long stride Mr. Geoffrey Roanoke was beside her. Why didnt you wait for me ? he said, half imperiously. There was nothing more that I could do, Sir, she replied, statelily. A voice from the North Pole, that has ~ighed through the fissures of an iceberg. Yes, maam, there was, if you will allow it. 46 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. And what, Mr. Roanoke? she said, paus- ing, and slightly turning, as if she wished to leave no duty unfulfilled. I wished you to look down into the boat and have a pretty sight: the great antlered thing lying there on heaps and meshes of bright-scaled fish, and surrounded with those soft-feathered birds that I shot between wind and water as they rose to skim awaythe whole part smitten with moonbeams, part wrapped in the ragged mist. I did, Mr. Roanoke. It was very pictur- esque. And what part did Iplay ? You looked, Mr. Roanoke Like the purveyor to Michael Scott ? Or like one of those genii who brought the basket to the Sultans cook. Or, better yet, like the fisherman Kureem, who washed his nets at the foot of the Caliphs Garden of Delight. Eh ? Very like. Permit me, said Mr. Roanoke, bending to relieve her of her armful. What had taken possession of him? He, who had for so long scarcely showu her a civility! She could not refuse herself the malicious pleas- ure of turning and saying, I think, Mr. Roanoke, you forget that I am Miss Schaeffer. Indeed, I am unlikely to! he replied, bit- ing his lip; and Miss Schacifer fled on. Entering the house by a side-door, she hast- ened to finish the task in the dining-room for which her shining leaves and berries were de- signed; then went to seek Mrs. Ediston. As she left the dining-room and was crossing the ball a gentleman slowly and listlessly descend- ed, lightly leaning on the baluster and looking about himthe same person who led his horse up the avenue an hour previously. A slender man, who appeared taller than he was, but with a shape and manner of careful elegance; his face very white, with delicate but pronounced features, made yet whiter by a blazing contrast of black and brilliant eyes, whose lids had a habit of drooping, and by fine soft hair, that, parting on the forehead, swept away at either side in bending lines of raven tint; a counte- nance like a mobile mask over a bronze purpose, that made you remember the hand of iron in the glove of velvet; always somewhat melancholy in repose, and that now, as his glance fell side- long on Miss Schaeffer, suddenly lighted up like a torch. He faced about, bent over the balus- ters, then went leaping down, swift and word- less. But Miss Schacifer had disappeared. An ignis fatues, said the gentleman, and returned to the contemplation of certain Ron- nokes impanneled along the hall to give verdict on posterity. The next morning the governess, running down, contrived to procure a tray, which she brought into the school-room, and there made her breakfast, the novelty of the occasion tempt- ing even Essie and Ally to join her, at which she allowed them to dress the table with leaves and flowers, and procure, through the hands of Venus, several dainty additions to the feast. In at the gay little scene which followed Master Rob chose to peer. It did not look unpleasant- lythe bright sunshine, the fragrant blossoms, the fire sparkling on the hearth, the bird-song pouring in at the open window. After his head, Master Rob inserted the rest of him. There was, moreover, a certain savory suggestion of delectation; Miss Schacifer had cooked a strange little dish at the fire therea fire which he had heard his brother Geoffrey say Miss Schaeffer kept only in deference to the old Yule log. Why need he go down and face all those strangers? He knew he deserved nothing, yet Rob drew near the table, and was received with acclaim, while Ally covered his confusion by plunging retrospectively into the depths of her stocking and bringing up its contents anew for his edifi- cation. Before Rob had finished his repast Miss Schacifer had seized the handle of this golden opportunity, and leading the three on and on, was soon deep in the King Arthur legends, to which Rob listened with open mouth, while she concluded by repeating to them, with a dramatic vivacity, the Lady of Shalott. Rising at this point, Miss Schaeffer brought upon the table a small, square, shagreen port-folio, and, complet- ing her rarefaction, placed it before Rob. Bit and bridle were in his mouth. He opened it with speedy fingers, and there lay a score of ex- quisite water-colors, each one the pictured phan- tasm of some verse, brilliant and beautiful. The three heads were bent over it in pretty grouping, when there came a tap, and Mrs. Ediston enter- ed, for that lady had instinct enough to know the tap to be necessary. Oh, mamma! cried the three in chorus; and she bent with them. Mrs. Ediston would have been a much harsher person than she was had she refused to be pleased; and only looking in through curiosity in the first place, she now threw herself into a chair by the fireside, and took a moments rest. Breakfast is over down stairs, said she. Why didnt you come down, Miss Schacifer? Did you wish for me ? asked Madeleine, in sweeter tones than ordinary. Oh no; I didnt remember you till I saw the childrens places. However, its a very good plan. I had quite as lief they would breakfast and lunch up here. You can bring them down to dinner though, and that will answer for them. I do really wish that Dr. Develin should have some peace at this visit, and Essie devours him! No, mammaonly his sugar-plums, inter- polated the third person. You mustnt take me up so, child. Ally dont. Robert, did you thank Miss Schaeffer? I dont see what theyre all about. Did you do them yourself, Miss Schacifer? Very prettily done. They put me in mind of my own at school. Theres Clara following Miss Develin do~vn the avenue like a poodle, Im morally sure! Shes perfectly fascinated by her, and no won- der! Here Mrs. Edistons monologue was in- terrupted by Julius, who brought a note. The MADELEINE SCIIAEFFER. 47 lady took it with sparkling eyes, broke the seal, and the sparkle fell. Whatever shall I do ? cried Mrs. Ediston. The note dropped into her lap, and she buried her face in her hands. Madeleine sprang to her side. She cant come! She ruptured a blood-ves- sel at the concert in the city last night! I had depended on her ! Miss Schaeffer smiled, and drew back. Who, mamma ? asked the children. Dont bother me! The prima donnaMa- dame Cichi. Dear me! dear! dear! I had en- gaged her for to-night under immense difficulties. It is irremediable. What is to be done, Miss Schaeffer ? About Cichi? Oh, I dont think you have lost much, said Madeleine, thoughtlessly, ex- cept in ~clat. She is a miserable singer. I could do as well myself. You, Miss Schaeffer ? An idea suddenly filled Mrs. Edistons blank countenance. There, children, take your pic- tures and run away. Quick! do you hear me? Ive to talk with Miss Schaeffer. And Mrs. Ediston bustled up, threw open the door, seized Allys shoulders, and set her on her feet outside, brushed the other two along and shoved them through, shut and locked the door with a tri- umphant snap, and came back to the fire. Do you really mean to say, Miss Schaeffer, said she then, breathlessly, that you can sing as well as Madame Cichi ? I should think hut poorly of myself if I could not. Well, we all know that you dont think poorly of yourself, said Mrs. Ediston. And yet, I dont think youre vainIll allow that. Clara has certainly improved nuder your hands. Juliet Develin was astonished at hearing her play last night. I do hope she will turn out as handsome a girl as Juliet Develin; I shall be perfectly satisfied. Nobody dresses more stylish- ly in all the country. But bless me! thats not Cichi. Miss Schaeffer, theyre all out under the oaks now. Close the window and sing to me any little thing you remember. Make haste. I havent much time. Miss Schaeffer wonderingly obeyed. That will answer, said Mrs. Ediston, be- fore she was well through a single measure. You must enact Cichi for to-night, Miss Schaeffer. There hasnt a soul of them ever seen her. I will take care that you are properly dressed. You neednt sing but three songs; and the higher and mightier you are the better theyll be imposed upon! But, Mrs. Ediston No huts about it, Miss Schacifer. It must be done. It is iml)ossible ! said Madeleine, drawing in her breath. Mrs. Ediston began to walk hurriedly about the room. Pa using at length, she said: You can do as you please, of course, Miss Schaeffer. And so can I. Only if you can not obey my orders, I can not have you in my service There rose before Madeleine the vision that had hung before her that night on the church- yard step, a gaunt vision of starvation and of death. This little taste of luxury had sweetened life too much despite the blows of pride. To go out alone into the world again? The thought was madness. She stood there, pale and like marble. Well, Miss Schaeffer ? was the impatient question. I would sing for you with pleasure if I might do so without deceit and such charlatanry. Oh, said Mrs. Ediston, with a long breath, and scarcely noticing the hard words, Ill see to all that. Thank you very much. Now Venus or France shall sew for you all day long Ill make Christmas up some other time. You couldnt wear any of my dressesyoure too tall. But there are some of Mr. Geoffreys mothers up garret packed in flannels, and if theres a de- cent one leftwe cant keep silks from spotting on these rice-plantationsyou shall have it. Ill see directly. Venus can fit it, and you must wear my jewels and make as splendid a toilet as possible There was no help for it. Madeleine had to endure Venuss refitting, and she took a needle herself, that the girl need not sew more than all the morning, and thus the preparations were complete at noon. But to wear the dress of his mother! The humiliation was hateful to her; and the angry pride that had for once yielded to terror tormented her very soul. Before Mrs. Edis- ton descended to the late dinner she knocked again at Madeleines door and left on her table a jewel casket, a great blaze of diamonds, cold emeralds, and glowing garnets, softened by masses of threaded pearls. She was excused from dinner, and sat looking through her win- dow into the already hare and misting oak-wood. This was not the Christmas of Madeleines re- membrances; this gayety and pomp were not the broad and genial cheer with which her fa- thers hall had beamed. Ab, at this moment how she missed that smile upon a tender lip that warm, close clasp about her wrist! So ut- terly lonelyher heart ached for a little of the affection of those old days. The harsh stroke of a bell struck across her reverie; Madeleine dragged herself up, for it was time that she should dress. There lay the ar- ray, and briefly she stood before her glass wrapped in its heavy drapery. All of Miss Schaeffers soft bloom was on her cheek to- night; much of the pristine roundness had al- ready returned to her form; gradually enough to be unconscious both to herself and others, she had been becoming lovelier every day. Now standing at the little table, white shoulders rising out of the deep tints of the ruby-colored silk that fell about her in perfumed folds, white arms half veiled in falls of old and creamy point, her hair dropping once more in its abandon and wreathed with long sprays of snowy jasmine flowers that trailed along her brow and cheek massed themselves among the coils behind, and 48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. lay in fresh and fragrant cluster on her bosom never had that glass reflected so gorgeous a picture. She moved with half a sigh, and took up the little gloves awaiting her, and her eyes fell on Mrs. Edistons casket. Impossible to tell what passed in her mind; but plainly at one conclusion had she arrived. This was not the dress for a governess. Off it slipped, as a tree might rustle down its crimson leaves. There hung in the closet an old gown of her o~vnthe one thing retained by hera silk unglossed and black; and no one need know it had been turned, nor in the lamplight would suspect its court-plasters. This indued, she shaded throat and wrists with ruffles of soft lace that had been scarcely worth offering at a pawnbrokers in those dire days of need. Her hair yet fell about her face, but dark and unadorned with other than its own lustre; and stripping the breast knot of half its blossoms and all its green, she placed it where a brooch would have lain had she owned one. Thus enshadowed, it seemed as if Miss Schaeffers beauty ~vere only encap- tived and disguised and ready at any moment to break bonds. Miss Schaeffer listened. They had long since come in from the dining-room, been joined by the gentlemen; the evening guests had all ar- rived; there was no cessation in the continuous murmur and rippling laughter; there was only, above it all, the quick, sharp tinkle of a bell, by which she kne~v that a servaut was to be sent for her. Miss Schaeffer left her niche, slipped noiselessly down another stairway, entered at a side-door, crossed the crowded room to the piano with swift grace, drew off her gloves, sat down, and broadly struck a full, deep chord that, run- ning up the keys in climbing arpeggios, lightly blossomed atop in another. Silence fell upon the circles, the clusters, the lovers, all but a few remote dowagers who yet hummed, a few butter- flies who needs must flutter. And then, every one turning with suspended breath, the first notes of a Christmas Hymn stole softly out on the slow pastorale of accompaniment: While shepherds watched their flocks hy night, All seated en the ground, The angel of the Lord came down And glory shone around. Mrs. Ediston could have boxed her ears. But to those who listened, that deep, clear voice was like the crystal of some slow stream that mir- rored the high hebrew heaven full of glad, solemn stars; the wide darkness over a hilly land; the wandering flocks; the obscure group of a thought- less vigil; and all about the singer there seemed to float the breath of the night wind, of the dew, of the heavy-hanging full-blown blossoms, till her voice soared higher and fuller and rested, with outspread wings, on the triumphal glory of the shining throng. A momentary pause, as if to break the chain of all connection, and easi- ly from that the voice slid into recitative and the Infelice of the Zauberfiote, with the pathos of its adagio. Here was bravura enough. Ladies laid their white-gloved hands together, gentle- men.turned an awaiting earroulade, trill, ca- denza, what not, all iridescent fioriture, and a shake, sweet and clear as distant bell-notes sprinkled on the wind, was half-drowned in a rapture of applause. There followed a little serenade, without ornament, without accompani- ment, a melody borne along by its own impas- sioned strength; as if the rose should sing, or some great heavy-petaled flower had sent all its fragrance curling out upon the strainthe strain of dewy alleys, of whispering shrubs, of sliding starbeams, and freighted love. Then the hands flashed upon the keys once more, and through the singers lips bubbled up the Brindisi, with all the sparkle and foam of rosiest Champagne. There ~vas an intoxication of enthusiastic greet- ing; the crowd surged up around the piano-forte where Geoffrey Roanoke, one knee in an antique chair, his arms across its top, had all the time stood facing her. Dr. Develin darted forward, saying, in semitone, Madeleine! Miss Schaef- fer! Do I see you here! But the long case- ment on the other side of the piano was open, and Miss Schaeffer had vanished. So Develin, said Mr. Geoffrey Roanoke, unbending himself from his position, and his voice well shrouded in the universal hum of de- light, I believe if I brought here an angel out of heaven you would have a previous acquaint- ance! Ah, I see. A proposition just demon- strated,is it ? I have met Miss Schaeffer at Newport, and It is true then? asked Mrs. Ediston, join- ing them. What is true, Madame? The fallen fortunes. Geoffrey was say- ing I presume so. Mr. Schaeffer was a mag- nate. They lived in great splendor. Their hospitality exceeded every thingbut Mrs. Edis- tons, he concluded, bowing to that lady, for he had been speaking with difficulty. Really! But she hasnt the first idea of style ! exclaimed Mrs. Ediston. I was never more provoked than when I saw her come in to- night Except when you saw her go out, mamma But the mamma had already turned to another corner. You wish to speak with Miss Sehaeffer, Doctor? I will find her for you! with the air of an obliging man. On no account! Dont trouble yourself, Roanoke. No trouble, and Roanoke in turn disap- peared through the easement. But Miss Schaeffer was not outside. Neither was she in her own apartment. She had taken refuge by the school-room fire, and there, after a half hours search, Mr. Roanoke discovered her, sitting on the rug just without the fender, her arms folded whitely across the crimson-cushioned seat of an easy-chair, and her head pillowed thereon, the firelight playing over all, tinging the dark lustre of her hair, lingering on the soft MADELEINE SCHAEFFER. 49 peach-bloom of the cheek, touching up the curve of the lip, sparkling and glancing and flickering again in the tears that hung on the points of those fallen eyelashes, for Miss Schaeffer was asleep. How long Mr. Roanoke staid to con- template this picture is none of our affair; but at length he lifted the little silver school-bell and struck three or four fairy peals close at her ear. The dark eyes opened in a moments fright, then Miss Schacifer rose as if nothing had happen- ed, and confronted Mr. iRoanoke, disappointingly void of surprise. Did you wish for me, Sir? she asked. I? No, Miss Schacifer. I am sent. A friend of yours, not to speak of Is that all? she replied, with a weary tone. I thought Mrs. Ediston Mrs. Ediston lays her commands, said Mr. Roanoke, unblushingly, as well as this ador- ing host below. Ah, Miss Schacifer, you will have all Charleston at your feet to-morrow; they will carry you off, and we shall lose our Governess. I was not about to nse that word. Well, it makes no difference. I will come down. But you neednt wait, Mr. Roanoke. Mr. Roanokes brows contracted and darkened. Miss Schaeffer, how long is this devil of pride that rules your heart going to rule this house? he said, and strode toward the door. In an instant, ho~vever, he returned, and this time beamingas well he might be, after having relieved himself of an ugly sentiment; but if Miss Schaeffer had shrunk in any sudden pain thereat, lie was none the wiser. I beg your pardon, he said. I beg your pardon. But certainly I have chimed with that pride long enough, and given insult for insult till I can no longer. Seal friendship with your hand. I am not your friend, Mr. Roanoke, she said, with a firm, grave face, but her gaze upon the floor. What then? Ah, I recollectmy servant. I wish you were my servant ! he exclahned, ~vith a savage accent as he leaned against the wainscot. I would soon bring that haughty spirit to terms! Unfortunately, my skin is white ! And Miss Schaeffer would have passed him. But, springing forward, he drew her arm within his own, and led her down unfrequented passages and out once more under the leafless oaks. If ever there were hate in your heart it flash- ed in your eyes on that moment, he murmured. Truly, I can not blame you. I, too, should hate if Suddenly he lifted her hand to his lips, and drew her into the lamplight and through the open casement. The guests were just going out to supper. Mr. Roanokes gesture arrested two of them, and he presented Miss Develin and her brother to Miss Schaeffer. A frank smile parted her lips and deepened her dimples as Miss Schaeffer took Juliet Develins hand. She had heard of her before. Short bright hair, curling closely to her head in rings of gold; eyes purpler than the pansy, and to-night as velvet-soft as if they had never known the fire; other features rather piquant than classic: a childs face, capable of little but a childs expression and a childs wild freaks of passion. But her brother Miss Schaeffcr met differentlydowncast eyes, and heightened color, and an inflcxihle something in her mien. Plainly there was a bit of recollection between the two. Mr. Roanoke surveyed them, swift at conclusions. lie had heard Dr. Develins smothered Madeleine, this is Fate! But whether Dr. Develin were indeed a rejected lover of Miss Sehaeffers there is no record other than that engraved on Mr. Roanokes conscious- ness. Thereat, transposed, the four followed the defiling pageant. It was pretty to see the change which these others wrought in Miss Schaeffers manner. She met them on terms of equality. For the nonce she ignored Mr. Roanokethat is, as munch as he allowed any one to dobut toward the Dcv- elms wore all her ancient courtesy, and that which had ever distinguished her, a gracious condescension, not from the heights of rank, but from the heights of womanhood. She forgot herself and became happy, and bloomed and sparkled as only happy people can. Then, too, she was at home in the house, or much more so than they ~vere, and therefore attended to their ease in trifling ways, till all that was taken out of her hands by Mr. Roanoke, who, with a cer- tain half-sarcastic grace, seated her, and thence- forth let her find herself surrounded and met at all points by the most careless care that ever frustrated any womans attempts at independ- ence. The supper-room was cool; Mr. Roanoke brought from an ante-room a black lace shawl and laid it on Miss Schaeffers hair; it caught in the comb, and, rather than attend to this matter of toilet, she suffered it to remain man- tilla-wise, and was soon glad to draw the light drapery about her throat. It is Spain ! he said, as he stood bending over his plate toward her. Sweet Spain, and stately. Do not make it Spain inquisitorial, Spain of the torture. What has Miss Schaeffer to.do with that re- gion of the round earth ? asked l)r. Develin. Miss Schacffers veil has a great deal to do with italso Miss Schaeffers eyes, he added, aside: 0 metteutrional vedovo site, Pot che privato set di mirar queue! Miss Schaeffer, said tIme Doctor, you have learned ere this that one of Mr. Roanokes choic- est rdles is to evoke spirits ? Spiriting of blue spirits and gray? An ~quivoqee, remarked Juliet. Nothing of the kind, Miss Schaeffer, said Mr. Geoffrey. Being interpreted, he says I raise Satan in every bodys soul, and do not cast out devils. Madeleines indrawn breath gave mute ac- quiescence; and Mr. Roanoke, turning on his heel, went down the table to exchange a flirting sentence with all whose eyes lie caught. 50 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. What possesses Mr. Roanoke ? asked Miss you did not seem to hate me; now I have a Juliet then. He has been just this way every right to know why so suddenly I lost you there. time weve seen him for Miss Schaeffer, how Nor did I seem to love, said she. long have you been here ? she asked, archly. And now, Madeleine? You regret ? Oh my being herc has nothing to do with I regret nothing, Dr. Develin. Mr. Roanoke. I rarely see him. He was silent a moment, looking down as one Yes, he is changed, said the Doctor. If looks after a stone thrown into some deep well, you had known him in those days when he lived and waits for the ripple to ascend; then lifting in Louisiana, and, buried in books, seemed to his glance he watched the dancers, who whirled have no more life than any waif of the great by them like a storm of colored snow-flakes. river there, you would find it so. We all have Roanoke dances well, Miss Schacifer, said our phases. Roanoke woke up at last to his im- he, quite as if nothing else had been said. So portance as a unit at the head of a great many he does every thing. Some day, perhaps, he ciphers. One day he will blaze, a great and will confide to you the secret of his success. shining light, to show the country its ways. Mr. Roanoke and I have nothing in coin- Spontaneous combustion ? said Juliet, mon. over her shoulder. Except the mounting devil in the heart, Parties and politics have long been laying a said a voice at her shoulder, and he glided along. train, continued the Doctor, obliviously; but Am I ambitious? she asked, facing the who is applying the spark ? Doctor, and half laughing. Are you talking of the divine spark, Doe- No, child; you look as if you wanted no- tor ? asked the person spoken of, rejoining thing but peace. them, and hanging some spray of glowing fruit A change came over Madeleines facefloated over a salvers edge, and before Miss Schaeffers there on a flood of remembrances. She sudden- eyes. ly grew pale and still. Almost before she knew Cela se peat. it she was seated and half-curtained in the ~vin- Mr. Roanoke seated himself on a foot-stool dow, and the Doctor stood beside her, and she as conveniently as he was able, heard his voice rippling on till she was able to Trying to fan a breeze! Treason in a catch the words. The minutes flew by; and at man s own household! The penalty of treason,. length an audacious hand lifted the curtain. you know, is a ropes-end. Deep in the charms of some Oriental city, With a noose in it ! laughed Miss Juliet, where roses and nightingales and fountains make turning a moment from her hovering devotees divine melancholy all night long! Very cozy (a throng of whose ilk Mr. Roanokes last move- indeed ! said Mr. Roanoke. But if Miss meat had barred away from Miss Schaeffer), for Schueffer is going to sing me that little song she which words, while her brother bent to reprove promised her, Mr. Roanoke unbent his lips again. I beg pardon. What little song ? That is what-my mamma calls style, I sup- It seems that I am not to be allowed to pose. A saucy miax, is she not, Miss Schaeffer? finish a sentence to-night. You promised me Yet one forgives every thing to such a face. the Du meine Seele. But Miss Schaeffer not choosing to humor his You forget, Sir. It must have been some fancy and prolong the subject by a reply, looked other young lady. up with a smile at Dr. Develin, who offered her The music is put out, and half the can- a glass of wine that seemed like a bubble full of dles rosy sunlight. And you are very near being so ! exclaimed Yes, Miss Schaeffer, continued Mr. Ron- Miss Juliet, coming to bid her brother good- noke, in his frequent demi-voice, it is very true night. Every one has gone home, or gone to that I can not cast out devils, since I have lived bed, or I wish they had, and here you sit moon- so long in the house with you and ing with Develin. Has he not reached the end You take pains to be rude, she responded, of his rope yet? What occult arts has he been holding the glass away from her lips and pre- teaching you? How to make a witch of your- venting him from qualifying his sentence, self? Ah, Miss Schaeffer, it is very plain that Not at all. It is perfectly natural. Miss he neednt teach you how to bewitch Mr. Ron- Juliet, allow me? And he had flashed off noke! with the brilliant little thing upon his armhis Mr. Roanoke turned upon Miss Juliet a look head bent toward hers, his face wreathed with that made her eyes drop, then gave his arm to smilesto open the dancing in the hall, as the Madeleine and led her away. At the foot of the first strains of the strings became audihle~ staircase he paused, and said, But you will yet Miss Schacifer moved away with Dr. Develin; sing it to meDu ineine Seelethat I swear I declined dancing; and a moment after was sorry Good-night, Ruiseriora ! for it. At dinner next day, Mrs. Ediston having put Madeleine, murmured her companion, the length of the table between the governess three years ago do you remember such a night and Dr. Develin, Mr. Roanoke found himself in in Venice ? one of his lordly moods again, and treated his She ventured no reply. quiet neighbor to items of ancient supercilious- Madeleine, he murmured yet lower, then ness. Perhaps he remembered too sharply that 51 MADELEINE SCHAEFFER. last night had turned the tables upon him; per- had done what she thought best and half for- haps it was not best all at once and so suddenly gotten it. to change his tactics; perhaps he had been too Coffee having been served in the drawing- dJvote; perhaps he was incensed at her indiffer- room, Miss Schaeffer sat in a window sipping ence; perhaps he would suggest to her the dis- her own, and her eye fell on Mr. Roanoke lean- tance between his love and his hate. In short, ing carelessly against a bracket and looking down there were a thousand perhapses, not one of which abstractedly, while he held his saucer in one occurred to the quiet neighbors mind; for as it hand and his cup with the uplifted fingers of the wasan instant surprised at such renewal of other. It was a great glow on one of those up- arroganceMiss Schaeffer then listened to the lifted fingers which had caught Miss Schaeffers table-talk, and took no further notice than that eye anewas often beforea coal of fire it evinced by a little spot of scarlet in the cheek, seemed, burning with inward and intense light. that spread into a joyous flush when the truant All the cynical darkness had left Mr. Geoffreys Rob, in an extremely soiled and briery condi- face; there was shadow there yet, but it was of tion, came in and laid a spray of wild Christ- a softer and sadder thing. As he raised his mas roses beside her hand. Mr. Roanoke sat cup now he suffered his glance to sweep round, with his arms folded on the mahogany, sending under the half fallen lids, in her direction. Im- shafts here and there, and upsetting every bodys mediately afterward he stood before her and held arguments with one solid thrust of some briefer the resplendent carhuncle heneath her eyes. sentence. Miss Schaeffer took up her roses and It is the Roanoke ring, Miss Schaeffer, he turned to thank Rob, who had been beckoned to said. You refused my pin; will you wear my his mamma, and through a series of vindictive ring? Will you wear the Roanoke ring, Miss whispers sent away for repairs. Schaeffer ? Ab, Rob ! cried Mr. Roanoke, after the re- Madeleine looked at it, calmly enough; its tiring hero. Abjure the salic law? Con- flame did not touch her; she only saw engraven quered at last ! and thereupon fell suddenly on it singular and ghastly emblematic linesthe into his last nights caprice and sparkle. deaths head and cross-bones. Juliet Develin left her nuts, slipped round to It is fearful ! she said, without looking up, Madeleine, and telling her she had forgotten her and dra~ving in her breath as she was wont. pin, fastened the blossoms in her bosom. Do you always wear that, Mr. Roanoke ? It was the following morning that Miss Schaef- From mother to son, from son to mother, fer found, upon .her toilet-table, a kid case in- always. It is our escutcheondust and ashes. closing a tiny diamond spraystem and leaf Then you will not wear it, Miss Schaeffer? and half-blown blossomthe diamonds looking I wear no jewels, Mr. Roanoke. up at her, in their immortal freshness, and seem- A fire like the spark imbedded in that stone ing to hang on their thread of fihigrane like the shot into Mr. Roanokes eye; he bent lower to very dew of the morning: she almost expected speak, when Dr. Develins hand was laid upon that they would shake before her breath, blow his shoulder. away, and vanish into the great reservoir of Come, Roanoke, said the Doctor. Heres vapor, and light, and color. Yet Miss Scliaeffer Mrs. Ediston wants your help, and Miss Schaef- did not give these embodied atoms of lustre a fer mine. To your post, man second glance, but passing Mrs. Edistons apart- Mr. Roanoke stepped away in his masterful meat, and finding the door ajar, she slipped in manner, and stopping to place his cup on the and laid them beside the restored jewel-casket, bracket against which he had been leaning, cer- as if they had been overlooked. At the table, tainly no one would have supposed that it were then, Miss Schaeffers throat seemed snow above aught but the sorriest accident, through which its knot of roses; but Mr. Geoffrey Roanoke had that bronze statue of Will fell shattered to the the pleasure, so soon as he was at liberty to look floor, having crushed the delicate cup to dust. about him, of seeing Mrs. Edistons purple blaz- Dr. Develin sprung to arrest its fall. Never ing with the diamond spray, like a constellation mind, said Mr. Roanoke, in that semitone of on the violet velvet of heavenwhile she dis- his, the servants will remove it. Julius! played it to the lady below Dr. Develin as one Certainly there are enough bronzes in the house of dear Geoffreys graceful gifts. Mr. Geoffrey without it I and proceeded toward Mrs. Ediston, bit his lip and bent his gaze full upon their while Julius and his subsidiaries obeyed orders; rightful owner, but Miss Schaeffer was carving for though Mr. Roanoke never raised his voice, her rice-bird and answering Mr. St. Pierres re- the person to whom he addressed himself could marks with the unconcern of innocence. There- scarcely have lost a syllable had horizons been upon a quick frown darkened Mr. Roanokes between them. brows; silent and waiting beforenow a cold The hours wore on, and Madeleine had been wit began to scatter its prisms about; satire playing some singular murmuring music of Cho- pointed his spears; keen, and polished, and gilt- pins, music that was like the talk of flower- tering as an icicle, he once or twice dazzled, roots and fibres below the damp, rich, fragrant but never warmed the unconscious object about earth. As she sat now idly twirling out little whom all his lightuings played. For Miss silvery runs from the twinkling fingers of one Schaeffer had not troubled herself to consider hand, Mrs. Edistons demi-voice in Juliets ear how her action would affect Mr. Roanoke; she came also to her own. Really, if Id have 52 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. known what a fuss it was going to make I once saw him look in her direction. At length wouldnt have let her sing a note! I never can came the bed-candles. As Miss Schaeffer light. keep such a fine lady in service, Im sure! How ed hers, while a dozen moths hovered about to can you give orders to a person that takes them take the office on themselves, they were put to like a horn duchess? Theres the blessing of flibht by something in the mien of o~e who ap- having ones servants black. It would be the proached, and the hand that gleamed with the greatest relief in the world if that languishing great engraven carbuncle passed hefore her eyes, hair of hers would turn as crisp as chain light- took away the candle, and kindled it at leisure. ning! Madeleine, said Mr. Roanoke, suddenly Mrs. Ediston ! lifting the little blaze close before her face, as It was Mr. Geoffrey Roanoke who spoke, as if he would inspect her very soul, did you un- he stood at no great distance, with folded arms derstand me this evening ? and looking down. Whether it was because Ycs, Mr. Roanoke. his eyes were flashing to such extent that he And did I understand you I feared lest they should wither the woman if he Yes, Mr. Roanoke. glanced up, I can not say; but though they were And it is he, then, who receives you; who so resolutely bent below, some subtle rays must is to be the wall between you and the world; have darted through the very lids, for Mrs. Edis- who is to be allowed to love you! he exclaim- ton bleached before them. ed, with an intensity of suppressed tone to make The chorus of fiends in some demoniacal opera one tremble. I love you ! he muttered. I clanged up, and resounded, echoed, and died love you, and all the Devehins in creation can under the players hands. Then Miss Schacifer not love you more! By the God iii heaven rose, her face pale as any marble masque that above us, you shah leave this house to-morrow, ever hung upon a statuarys wall. She ~vent or you shall stay in it my wife! herself and sat down beside Dr. Develin. But Mr. Iloanokes proud and insolent pas- I must leave Roanoke, she said. sion was like a rushing tract of shallow sea; it A light leaped into his glance; his face grew broke on the pride of a firmer spirit. For all luminous as a cloud under which the sun sheathes answer, Miss Schacifer drew from her reticule a himself. He dared not ask if it were to Spray card, carefully inscribed: Rocks she would go; any where, any where away from here was one step nearer there. lie bent ~ ~ to listen, to assist, to arrange; a city chart and DAY Scuooa. 7 STREET, directory were opened, pocket-book and pencil required; animated words, promises, smiles, References: cheer, counsel; the two heads bowed together D~. CHARIKS nEVELSN. for a while over a side-table. Then the future w. GILLS~ORE Rnnvns, Es~. His EXCELLENCY CHENEVIX HYTLER. ~vas lapped to rest, and the present moment rose uppermost once more. So, passing into lighter It was one of those paper missiles which the talk, Madeleine stood playing carelessly with her Church of Rome declares thunder-bolts. Mr. fi2awoven out of wild grasses and the pearly Roanoke stood stricken, with the card trembling spires of rice by Essies little fingersand forgot in his hand. Miss Schacifer passed on. herself into all the old ways with which she once -______________________________________________ qucened it by sea-shore and mountain: the soft GEORGE BANCROFT. flush upon the cheek; the eye suffused with light; the laughthat thing so seldom heard JN 1834 Bancroft published the first volume of from her at Roanoke Fieldschiming like the I his history of the United States, the last fringe of the surf in the silvery shells: oth- mature fruit of a long-cherished purpose. He ers besides Dr. Develin were drawn about her. had indeed, as early as 1818, while a student at She was glad, confident, beautiful. She held Gdttingen, determined to devote himself to his- again a court, and all men crowned her. torical pursuits, and for this purpose had marked Looking into Mr. Roanokes haggard eyes, out a course of study admirably adapted to the what sprite then possessed Juliet Devehin to dare development of the lofty object to which he in- break out in singingto sing in a weird, little, tended to devote his life. murmuring voice like the bees in a blossom? After graduating at Cambridge in 1817, he But one, one wish. It can net ceme too soon, went to Germany for the purpose of prosecuting, Alike to me the sunshine or the rain, in the universities of that country, a comprehen- Alike the gibbous and the waning moon sive range of studies, contemplated by fesv, and All vacant and in vain, prosecuted to a successful teramination by a still One wish. Whether the sky burn blue at noon, more limited number of his countrymen. This Or the cold stars shine on my dreamless bed, scheme included nothing short of the whole One wish whose answer can not come too soon range of ancient and modern literature, both That I were dead. sacred and profane. In the development of this But the evening went, and Mr. Geoffrey Ron- plan he remained at the University of Giittingen noke could have known nothing of how it ~vent for two years. He studied German literature ~vith her, except by his happy faculty of seeing under Benecke; French amid Italian under Ar- through the back of his head, since she never taud and Bunsen; the Oriental languages under

James Wynne Wynne, James George Bancroft 52-58

52 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. known what a fuss it was going to make I once saw him look in her direction. At length wouldnt have let her sing a note! I never can came the bed-candles. As Miss Schaeffer light. keep such a fine lady in service, Im sure! How ed hers, while a dozen moths hovered about to can you give orders to a person that takes them take the office on themselves, they were put to like a horn duchess? Theres the blessing of flibht by something in the mien of o~e who ap- having ones servants black. It would be the proached, and the hand that gleamed with the greatest relief in the world if that languishing great engraven carbuncle passed hefore her eyes, hair of hers would turn as crisp as chain light- took away the candle, and kindled it at leisure. ning! Madeleine, said Mr. Roanoke, suddenly Mrs. Ediston ! lifting the little blaze close before her face, as It was Mr. Geoffrey Roanoke who spoke, as if he would inspect her very soul, did you un- he stood at no great distance, with folded arms derstand me this evening ? and looking down. Whether it was because Ycs, Mr. Roanoke. his eyes were flashing to such extent that he And did I understand you I feared lest they should wither the woman if he Yes, Mr. Roanoke. glanced up, I can not say; but though they were And it is he, then, who receives you; who so resolutely bent below, some subtle rays must is to be the wall between you and the world; have darted through the very lids, for Mrs. Edis- who is to be allowed to love you! he exclaim- ton bleached before them. ed, with an intensity of suppressed tone to make The chorus of fiends in some demoniacal opera one tremble. I love you ! he muttered. I clanged up, and resounded, echoed, and died love you, and all the Devehins in creation can under the players hands. Then Miss Schacifer not love you more! By the God iii heaven rose, her face pale as any marble masque that above us, you shah leave this house to-morrow, ever hung upon a statuarys wall. She ~vent or you shall stay in it my wife! herself and sat down beside Dr. Develin. But Mr. Iloanokes proud and insolent pas- I must leave Roanoke, she said. sion was like a rushing tract of shallow sea; it A light leaped into his glance; his face grew broke on the pride of a firmer spirit. For all luminous as a cloud under which the sun sheathes answer, Miss Schacifer drew from her reticule a himself. He dared not ask if it were to Spray card, carefully inscribed: Rocks she would go; any where, any where away from here was one step nearer there. lie bent ~ ~ to listen, to assist, to arrange; a city chart and DAY Scuooa. 7 STREET, directory were opened, pocket-book and pencil required; animated words, promises, smiles, References: cheer, counsel; the two heads bowed together D~. CHARIKS nEVELSN. for a while over a side-table. Then the future w. GILLS~ORE Rnnvns, Es~. His EXCELLENCY CHENEVIX HYTLER. ~vas lapped to rest, and the present moment rose uppermost once more. So, passing into lighter It was one of those paper missiles which the talk, Madeleine stood playing carelessly with her Church of Rome declares thunder-bolts. Mr. fi2awoven out of wild grasses and the pearly Roanoke stood stricken, with the card trembling spires of rice by Essies little fingersand forgot in his hand. Miss Schacifer passed on. herself into all the old ways with which she once -______________________________________________ qucened it by sea-shore and mountain: the soft GEORGE BANCROFT. flush upon the cheek; the eye suffused with light; the laughthat thing so seldom heard JN 1834 Bancroft published the first volume of from her at Roanoke Fieldschiming like the I his history of the United States, the last fringe of the surf in the silvery shells: oth- mature fruit of a long-cherished purpose. He ers besides Dr. Develin were drawn about her. had indeed, as early as 1818, while a student at She was glad, confident, beautiful. She held Gdttingen, determined to devote himself to his- again a court, and all men crowned her. torical pursuits, and for this purpose had marked Looking into Mr. Roanokes haggard eyes, out a course of study admirably adapted to the what sprite then possessed Juliet Devehin to dare development of the lofty object to which he in- break out in singingto sing in a weird, little, tended to devote his life. murmuring voice like the bees in a blossom? After graduating at Cambridge in 1817, he But one, one wish. It can net ceme too soon, went to Germany for the purpose of prosecuting, Alike to me the sunshine or the rain, in the universities of that country, a comprehen- Alike the gibbous and the waning moon sive range of studies, contemplated by fesv, and All vacant and in vain, prosecuted to a successful teramination by a still One wish. Whether the sky burn blue at noon, more limited number of his countrymen. This Or the cold stars shine on my dreamless bed, scheme included nothing short of the whole One wish whose answer can not come too soon range of ancient and modern literature, both That I were dead. sacred and profane. In the development of this But the evening went, and Mr. Geoffrey Ron- plan he remained at the University of Giittingen noke could have known nothing of how it ~vent for two years. He studied German literature ~vith her, except by his happy faculty of seeing under Benecke; French amid Italian under Ar- through the back of his head, since she never taud and Bunsen; the Oriental languages under GEORGE BANCROFT. 53 Eichhorn; Natural HistorynnderBlumenbach ~ and with Dissen, who was an enthusiastic ad- mirer of Plato, prosecuted a thorough course of Greek philosophy, including nearly all the writ- ings of Plato. While pursuing his philosophic studies at Giittingen he resolved to devote him- self to historical composition, in the prosecution of which object his comprehensive range of studies could be made directly available. In 1820 he received the degree of Doctor of Philosophy from the University of G6ttingen, and soon after went to Berlin, where he was kindly received by William von Humboldt, Varuhagen von Ense, Lappenberg, Savigny, and Schleiermacher. Here he listened to the lec- tures of Wolf, of Schleiermacher, and of Hegel. At Heidelberg he spent several hours each day with the historian Schlosser. In Italy he formed the acquaintance of Mauzoni at Milan, and a life-long one with Chevalier Bunsen at Rome. In Paris he made the acquaintance of Benjamin Constant, Cousin, and Alexander von Hum- boldt. He returned to the United States in 1822, and although for a portion of the time engaged in other pursuits, yet he never lost sight of his original intention, and in 1834 gave to the public the first volume of that history with which his name is now so intimately asso- ciated. In the prosecution of his histurical studies and in the composition of his works he has al- ways acted upon the 3uggestion that facts would clear up theories and assist in getting out the true one. With what success his carefully arranged and systematic labors have been pros- ecuted is evinced by the reception which has been given to his works, and the l)osition which they have secured for their author as a man of letters and a calm, thoughtful, and philosophic historian. A History of the United States by an Amer- ican writer, says Edward Everett, in an able article in the Nortls American Review in the year following th~ appearance of Bancrofts first vol- ume, possesses a claim upon our attention of the strongest character. It would do so under any circumstances; but when we add that the work of Mr. Bancroft is one of the ablest of the class which has for years appeared in the En- glish language; that it compares advantageously with the standard British historians; that, as far as it goes, it does such justice to its noble subject as to supersede the necessity of any future work of the same kind, and if completed as corn- menced will unquestionably be regarded both as an American and as an English classic, our readers would justly think us unpardonable if we failed to offer our humble tribute to its merit. Humboldt, when about twenty years of age, was a student of Natural history with Blumenbacli, and there first learned the progress Zoology was making in advance of the great development of Osivier, since continued by Agassiz, by means of which this branch of science is placed upon a new basis; for Blumenbach was unquestionably the first who presented a classification of the animal king- dom based on a knowledge of its structure. With the exception of occasional iistermis- sions, induced by his appointment to offices of high political trust, Bancroft has devoted him- self almost exclusively to the great work he has undertaken. Although nearly thirty years Isave elapsed since the appearance of the first volume, yet the zeal with which he prosecutes Isis self-al- lotted task never falters, nor does he weary in subjecting, over and over again, each fact to the most rigid scrutiny and philosophic deductions before it is admitted into the chain of evidence by which the future will judge of the acts of the founders of the Government of the United States. The separate volumes have appeared at irreg- ular intervals. The second was published in 1838, the third in 1840, the fourth and fifth in 1852, the sixth in 1854, the seventh in 1858, the eighth in 1860, and the ninth will probably appear in 1863. The completion of the third volume formed an important epoch in the pro- gress of this work, inasmuch as it terminated the History of the Colonization of the United States. The colonies, which for a century had been struggling through the first feeble steps of existence, had now become firmly established and prosperous. From this epoch a new order of things was to take place; and these colonies, hitherto the dependencies of a great nation, were to hecosne the integral parts of a great nation themselves. Prescott, already eminent as a historian, seized this opportunity to write a re- view of the work as thus far advanced for the North American Review, in ~vhich he thus al- ludes to this important epoch. What Mr. Bancroft lsas done for the colonial history is after all but the preparation for a richer theme the History of the War of Independence: a subject which finds its origin in the remote past, its results in the infinite future; which finds a central point of unity in the ennobling principle of independence that gives dignity and grandeur to the most petty details of the conflict; and which has its fore-ground occupied by a single character toward which all the others converge as to a centrethe character of Washington in ~var, in l)eace, in private life, the most sublime on historical record. Happy the writer who shall exhibit this theme worthily to the eyes of his countrymen. TIle best evidence that Bancroft has performed his labor in such a manner as to find acceptance in the eyes of his countrymen, is to be found in the numerous editions of his works absorbed by the public. In 1840, when Prescotts review appeared, the three volumes then published had already reached their ninth edition, and the de- mand has since continued unabated. We have before us the eighteenth edition, and are not sure if this is the latest. My first acquaintance with Bancroft began in 1832, while the American Medical Association, in its various wanderings, was assembled at New York. Among the entertainments to which, as a member, I was invited was a breakfast at Dr. Kissams. The greater part of the guests were niedical men, and included Doctors Warren of HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Boston, Parsons of Providence, and Delafield and Francis of New York. Of those who were not attached to the medical profession was Ban- croft. There were in all some fifteen guests, and among them many of varied intellectual at- tainments and much conversational ability; but in regard to colloquial powers the rest were left far in the back-ground by Dr. Francis and Ban- croft. Dr. Francis had the reputation of being the most facetious and pleasant dinner-table companion in the city; and I must acknowl- edge my great surprise in discovering that the grave historian, whom I had expected to find a sedate if not a taciturn man, was fully the equal of the humorous Doctor in his power to engage the attention of the company. We left the house together, and, as our path- way lay in the same direction, we continued to walk, chatting pleasantly upon such topics as presented themselves. Bancroft remarked that our association was not devoid of interest to him, as in the course of his studies he had become particularly interested in physiology, which he considered a vast field for contemplation. While at G6ttingen he had received instruction in nat- ural sciences from Blumenbach, whose physio- logical researches gave to him an exalted position in his day. The advance of science, which had largely affected physiology, had rendered many of the views of Blumenbach obsolete; yetit must be confessed that, from the lights in which he was enabled to view these facts, fe~v minds were more acute or logical than his. I remarked that New York, by its enlarged facilities, was attracting not only business men, but those who were devoted to literary pursuits, as well as men of leisure. He replied that on his return from abroad he found New York taking it all togethera pleasanter place for a residence than any other city, but that he had for a long time made himself independent of external aid, in the prosecution of his historical researches, by taking care to possess himself of every work bearing on his particular pursuits. I fully realized the force of this remark, a few years after, when I came to see his collection, which in certain departments, and those in which he most requires its aid, far surpasses any pub- lic library in the country, not excluding the As- tor Library. Bancrofts habits are essentially those of a stu- dent. He rises early, and his morning hours are devoted to literary labor. In the later part of the day, if the weather is at all favorable, he takes a ride on horseback, and returns in time for dinner. The evening is devoted to the so- ciety of his friends, either in accepting invita- tions or in receptions at his own residence. Fol- lowing the custom of his early friend Schleier- macher, he is at home on Sunday evening, and in the simplest and most unostentatious manner receives those who from personal friendship, or attracted by his reputation as a writer, fill his saloons. While preparing a work on Private Libraries, I frequently saw Bancroft in his library, which occupies the entire third story of his residence. On such occasions he was always surrounded by papers and hooks, and deeply immersed in doc- umentary examinations, historical composition, or the revisal of proof-sheets. At this time he very rarely allows himself to be interrupted, and almost invariably declines to receive visitors un- til a later hour in the day. The library contains not only every work he can prc~cure bearing upon the history of the United States, and their early colonization, but also some of the best authors in each of the de- partments of knowledge; so that few questions can arise that he has not the means of answer- ing in his own collection, which has already at- tained to the number of from twelve to fifteen thousand volumes, and, from the accessions con- stantly being made, promises to be much larger in the future. The department of Philosophy, which is par- ticularly rich, contains the complete works of his early instructors, Hegel and Schleiermacher. Reference to these naturally led the conversa- tion to their authors, and his personal acquaint- ance with them. Of all the great German phi- losophers, he was, while in Berlin, upon the best terms with Schleiermacher, and a pretty constant attendant upon his Sunday evening receptions, where he was almost certain to meet a number of the most brilliant literary lights in Berlin. Upon the foundation of the University of Berlin in 1810, Schleiermacher was elected as the head of the Theological Faculty. He had already eminently distinguished himself as a writer on theology, as well as by his translation of Plato, which he had originally undertaken in connec- tion with Frederick Schlegel, but had finally completed alone. As a pulpit orator he had great renown. Short and almost deformed in stature, with a remarkable conformation of body, and a sickly and delicate constitution, and an almost habitual sufferer from nervous maladies, he bore up against these infirmities with the he- roism of a philosopher and the equanimity of a Christian. I have known him, says Dr. Lticke, while suffering from spasm of the stomach, not only to deliver lectures, hut to preach to large and attentive audiences, who did not perceive that he was not in the most perfect bodily health. He never wrote his ser- mons before delivering them, and those which are in print are from notes taken by others while he was speaking. His plan was arranged in his own mind by previous reflection; and on Sat- urday evening he made out what he termed his bill, consisting of the text and a few divi- sions of his subject, which was all he carried into the pulpit. It has been facetiously said of him that he composed his sermons while drawing on his boots. So too in his lecturessuch as those on the History of Philosophya small scrap of paper answered for his memoranda. But so ex- act and logical were the sequences of his ideas, so clear his comprehension of the subject, and so great his mastery over it, that he never fal- tered in delivery or failed to infuse his own fer GEORGE BANCROFT. 55 vor into the minds of his auditory; and fre- quently, when under the influence of extreme bodily pain, rose to a point of pathos that swept through his audience like a strong wind through a forest of slender reeds, bowing down their judg- ments in obedience to his own superior will. In those pedestrian excursions in which the Ger- man professor as well as student, during the long vacations, is accustomed to lay up a stock of health for future use, he was usually the most active. He was fond of the society of his friends, and always received them with a cordial wel- come. His eye, bright and sparkling, ever seemed to be lit up with a pleasant smile; and however stoutly he might be called on to defend his own particular views of philosophy or relig- ion, or combat those which he deemed false or pernicious, he always did so without personal animosity, and often with much good feeling for his opponent. Toward such a man it is not sur- prising that the enthusiastic student of philoso- phy should have been warmly attracted; nor is it at all remarkable that the distinguished Pro- fessor should have warmly welcomed to his cir- cle his young transatlantic friend. Nor was Bancroft less kindly received by Sn- vigny, who occupied the position of chief of the Law Department of the University, and ranked among the ablest jurists of Germany. His masterly production on The Vocation of our Age for Legislation and Jurisprudence, orig- inally published in 1814, is oue of the clearest and most logical expositions of the nature of the law necessary to regulate Germany that was ever written, and is alone sufficient to entitle him to a distinguished place among liberal writers on jurisprudence, had he never written his his- tory of Roman Law in the Middle Ages and System of Roman Law at the Present Day, through which he obtained such celebrity. Sa- vigny was likewise the intimate friend and corre- spondent of Niebuhr, at that time the Prussian Minister at the Court of Rome; and it is pos- sible that the friendly reception Bancroft met with from him on his visit to Rome soon after may have been partly induced by the high re- gard which Savigny entertained for him. Niebuhr, although strictly engaged in the diplomatic service, had been at intervals of leis- ure a close and profitable student of Philology. Upon the foundation of the University of TIer- ha, with Buttmann, and HerndorW and others, who made Berlin the centre of literary life in Germany, he was appointed a Professor, and, as such, delivered those lectures on Roman History which formed the basis of his great work. The success of his lectures was such, that, although in the beginning he had only intended to pre- pare a course of lectures on the subject of Ro- man History without undertaking to write a history, which, to use his own language, he con- sidered a less rash undertaking, he almost in- sensibly commenced the latter, and devoted to it the best part of the several following years. The first volume appeared in 1811; the second in 1812; and when, several years after, Bancroft met l~n at Rome, he not only occupied a dis- tinguished position as a diplomatist but had established a world-wide reputation as a his- torian. Bancrofts acquaintance with Niebuhr was, however, far less intimate than with his Secre- tary of Legation, Chevalier Bunsen, who was at that time possessed of much reputation as a phi- lologist; and, moreover, was a proficient in the language and maxims of Plato, which served as a still additional bond to draw the young Amer- ican admirer of this great Grecian philosopher more closely toward him. Bunsen occupied a residence separate from that of Niebnhr; but the two were on terms of the warmest friend. ship. Indeed Bunsen was indebted to this source for his present position; and afterward, on the retirement of Niebnhr from the mission, to his elevation to the post of embassador. Among the acquaintances of Bancroft in Ber- lin was Wolf, who was perhaps the most thor- oughly conversant with the Greek language of any one in Germany. He told Bancroft on one occasion that he could read Aristophanes in Greek with the same facility as he could his prayer-book in his native language. Bancroft afterward repeated this remark to Foss, who re- plied that he did not believe it to be possible. For my own part, said he, whenever I am anxious to find a passage in Homer with facility I take my own translation of the work in prefer- ence to the original. Certain it is that Wolf translated one hundred lines of the Odyssey into German, dactyl for dactyl, spondee for spon- dee, and even cusura for cusura, and, stopping short in the middle of a line, defied all Germany to complete the translationa challenge never accepted. Bancroft, while a student at G6ttingen, met Goethe at Jena, and afterwards at Weimar. He bore a note of introduction to him at Jena, where he was temporarily occupying apartments in a public edifice belonging to the Grand Duke. Goethe received his visitor in the garden, where he happened to bc, and here they continued to walk and talk for an hour or two. He was care- lessly appareled, but his carriage was majestic, and his manner stately and dignified. He was quite frank in the utterance of his thoughts, and conversed upon many topics; but most about Byron, who was then at the height of his fame. He said that he eagerly devoured every thing that Byron wrote. Don Juan, of which two cantos were then published, he considered as evincing the most genius of any of his works, although he greatly admired Manfred ; prob- ably the more, because he believed it to be an imitation from his own Faust. In this, how- ever, he was mistaken. In an interview with Byron a few years later Bancroft mentioned Goethes criticisms, and particularly that relat- ing to his imitation of Faust. Byron replied that he was, much to his re- gret, unacquainted with the German language; and the only knowledge he had of Goethes Faust at the time of writing Manfred was 56 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. derived from Monk Lewis, who had tra~slated to l]im some of the scenes, and had given him a general idea of the plot some time before he thought of writing Manfred. It was, he de- clared, honor enough for Manfred to be men- tioned by the side of Faust. This conversation occurred during a visit which Bancroft paid to Byron in May, 1822. In his rambles through Italy, after having spent three weeks of spring in Florence and its environs, and mounted the peaks of the Apennines to ob- tain a view of the Adriatic and the Tuscan sea, as well as to follow, with becoming reverence, the footsteps of Milton among the shades of Vallom- brosa, Bancroft reached Leghorn while a squad- ron of United States vessels, under the pennant of Commodore Jones, in the flag-ship Coast ito- tioa, lay off the harbor. In company with the other Americans who chanced to be in Leghorn, he was invited to be present on board the 6~oa- stitation, which was to be visited the day after his arrival by Lord Byron. He had, however, on this occasion but little opportunity for con- versation with Byron. On that day an incident occurred which is worth relating. A lady of great personal beau- ty approached Byron with the remark that, un- less she bore some memento hack to Philadel- phia, no one would believe that she had seen him, and asked permission to appropriate the rose he wore in the button-hole of his coat. The poet not only yielded up the flower, but on the fol- lowing day sent a charming note, accompanied by a copy of the 0 utlines to Faust, as a more enduriu~ memento of the occasion. I was curious to know the kind of deformity under which Byron labored, as many versions of it had been giventhe last and most unpardona- ble being that by Captain Medwin, who, accord- ing to his own account, had taken advantage of the temporary absence of the faithful Fletcher not only to uncover the feet of his deceased friend as he lay stretched on his bier, to satisfy his own curiosity, but had given the result of his observations to the worldI therefore asked a gentleman who was present on this occasion concerning it. I can not say, replied he, in what his lameness consisted. When he made his first appearance on the deck of the Goastitution he did so with an unsteady gait, which gave an apparent embarrassment to his motions. This was at the time attributed to the fact that he supposed a group of ladies, whom he observed on the deck, to be English; but it was afterward thought that it was occasioned by his lameness, or perhaps his attempt to conceal it. I remarked that he was by some thought to have had a club-foot; but I hardly thought that could have been the case, because the lameness, from a deformity of this kind, is so uncompro- mising and ungraceful as at once to detect its source, and I had been informed that Byrons movements in walking were far from being un- graceful. I certainly did not consider them graceful, said my friend; and there was nothing in his movements, as I casually observed them, to put the idea of a club-foot out of question. In the absence of any positive testimony on this point, I am inclined to the belief that the limb was slightly shortened, and the ankle-joint perama- nently anchylosed or stiffened. On the morning of the day following Byrons visit to the national ships in the harbor of Leg- horn, Bancroft accepted an invitation given him by the poet to visit him at Monte Nero, where he was then residing. The dwelling, which was of brick and of a flaming red, stood in the midst of a landscape of well-cultivated grounds, with no unusual attractions for a summer residence except its proximity to the Mediterranean, which lay some three miles distant, and was visible from the house. At eleven Bancroft sent a note to Byron de- siring to know when it would be convenient for him to ~vait on him. The answer promptly re- turned was, that he should he most happy to see him an hour hence, as he was lazy and was not dressed. At the time appointed he repaired to the residence, and was shown into a spacious apartment, where he was at once joined by Byron, who immediately began the conversatiou by a number of questions about the squadron he had just visited, and the ships of war and naval battles of the United States; with all of ~vhich subjects he was conversant, as also with most of the minutho connected with the affairs of hon- or which had taken place among distinguished American naval officers. In politics he professed himself on the Liberal or Democratic side, and cherished the hope that he might visit the United States, and give, what he confessed had not been done, an impartial view of the country, its progress, and political institutions. It was at this period that he had his famous liaison with the Countess Guiccioli; who was, in fact, at that moment an inmate of his establishment, and was at a later hour in the day presented to his young American visitor. The embarrassments into which this connectioa involved him, on account of the political relations of her father and brothers, and in which he was made to share a part, rendered his continued residence in Italy soon after not only unpleas- ant, but absolutely impossible, except at a sac- rifice of his interest in the Countess and her family. That his intention to visit America was some- thing more than a passing thought is evident from the circumstance that soon after this visit, ~vhen he apprehended the alternative of surren- dering the Countess or sharing her fate in sonic other land than Italy, he wrote to a friend that he had determined to take up his residence with her in America. With the character and productions of the literary men of the United States Byron was ~vell acquainted, and spoke with great respect of Edward Everett and Washington Irving. Of the latter he had most to say, and expressed himself highly pleased with all his works, but GEORGE BANCROFT. 57 most of all with Knickerbockers History of New York. Bancroft expressed his acknowledgments for the high appreciation in which he held the fa- vorite author of America. I esteem Irving, replied Byron, only in common with all my countrymen, among whom there is but one opinion concerning his genius. Byron, who at this time was smarting under the fancied or real wrongs imposed upon him by his countrymen, separated, against his own voli- tion, from her who might have rekindled the better nature within him, and, expatriated from his native land, still spoke and acted as an En- glishman. He alluded to the clamor that had been raised against him on all sides, and ap- peared to view it with indifference. But it wa~ plain to see that under all this assumed careless gayety he was deeply wounded, and that the scorn he sometimes professed for English opin- ion was, after all, but a proof how highly he would have valued the good opinion of the best and noblest in his native land, had be had the good fortune to have secured it. Byron was in excellent spirits, and, under one pleasant suggestion after another, managed to de- tain his visitor long after politeness had induced him to offer to take leave. On one of these oc- casions, while looking out of a window which commanded a view of the sea and Napoleons prison at Elba, they found, on leaving it, that a lady had noiselessly entered and taken a scat on the sofa. This was the Countess Guiccioli. She was about twenty-five, of fair complexion, rosy cheeks, light auburn hair, and fine large dark eyes, expressive of gentleness. While the visitor was not particularly impressed with the high order of her beauty, he at the same time attributed to her a manner of uncommon gen- tleness and amiability. This description corre- sponds much better with my conception at least of this ladys personal appearance than many of those which invest her with remarkable personal charms. A lady who saw much of her in Paris long after Byrons death, and when she had grown to be a middle-aged woman, has often described her to me as somewhat short, rather fleshy, and on the whole what Byron would have denominated a dumpy woman ; without much beauty, but gentle in manner and agreeable in conversation. Bancroft has, from time to time, quitted the seclusion of the study to mingle in the more active arena of politics, and always with great effect. The question of a National currency, which largely occupied the public mind about the period of the election of Andrew Jackson to the office of President of the United States, called forth some able suggestions from his pen, which personally gave him a high position with the chief executive, and probably led to his se- lection, as collector of the port of Boston, by Van Buren, at a later period, without solicitation on his part. During Mr. Polks administration he occupied, for about eighteen months, the post of Secretary of the Navy, which he exchanged VOL. XXV.No. 145.E for that of Embassador to the Court of Saint James. His administration of the Navy Department was signalized by the most rigid economy in ex- penditure consistent with its successful working; and he is probably the only Secretary of his day whose estimates were allowed to pass without cavil by the Committee of Ways and Means of the House of Representatives. During his administration of the Department the Naval School, whose importance and efficiency is now generally admitted, was established at Annapo- lis. Its site is now temporarily removed, but its value in the early training of naval officers is so universally acknowledged that its perma- nent continuance can scarcely be doubted. The commercial knowledge gained as Collect- or of the port of Boston enabled him, while in charge of the Embassy to St. James, to aid very materially these interests in both countries. Among his public acts in this capacity is the negotiation of a postal treaty between England and the United States, which was duly ratified by both Governments. This treaty places this important service upon the most liberal footing for both nations, and is conceived and executed in a spirit of candor that renders it alike popu- lar to the people of both countries. The twen- tieth clause of this treaty, which, in view of our present disturbed relations, is of great sig- nificance, stipulates that, in the event of a war between England and the United States, those vessels connected with the Isthmus of Panama, belonging to either country, and engaged in the mail service, shall be free from molestation for six weeks after a notification shall have been given by either Government to the effect that their trips must be discontinued. While occupying the position of Minister in England Mr. Bancroft availed himself of the opportunity to add largely to his collection of manuscripts by liberal extracts from the public archives of both England and France, which were freely thrown open to him for this purpose, as were also the private collections of many per- sons whose ancestors occupied distinguished po- sitions in America. The whole collection of documents relating to America thus obtained is handsomely bound in about two hundred folio and quarto volumes, which are justly regarded by him as the most valuable, as it is undoubted- ly the most expensive, portion of his collection. His time is now almost exclusively devoted to the completion of that history which has been the chief occupation of a life now far advanced toward that period which usually bounds the span of human existence. Whatever may be the disadvantages of this epoch in life in other pursuits, it certainly favors the historian in the circumstance that it enables him to see the worth of great men, who can not see the worth of each other ; to cast aside party prejudice and personal feeling; and to do justice to those who by the force of circumstances were made the victims of combinations too mighty for them to control. hiS HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. MISTRESS AND MAID. A HOUSEHOLD STORY. BY THE AUTHOR OF JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. CHAPTER IX. of the Grand Hegira came. member, said Miss Leag as they rum- bled for the last time through the empty morn- ing streets of poor old Stowbury I remember my grandmother telling me that when my grand- father was courting her, and she out of coquetry refused him, he set off on horseback to London, and she was so wretched to think of all the dan- gers he ran on the journey, and in London itself, that she never rested till she got him back, and then immediately married him. No such catastrophe is likely to happen to any of us, except, perhaps, to Elizabeth, said Miss Ililary, trying to get up a little feeble mirth, any thing to pass away the time and less- en the pain of parting, which was almost too much for Johanna. What do you say? Do you mean to get married in London, Elizabeth ? But Elizabeth could make no answer even to kind Miss Hilary. They had not imagined she felt the leaving her native place so much. She had watched intently the last glimpse of Stow- bury church tower, and now sat with reddened eyes, staring blankly out of the carriage window, Silent as a stone. Once or twice a large slow tear gathered on each of her eyes, but it was shaken off angrily from the high cheek-bones, and never settled into absolute crying. They thought it best to take no notice of her. Only, when reaching the new small station, where the resonant steam- eagles were, for the first time, beheld by the innocent Stowbury ladies, there arose a discus- sion as to the manner of traveling. Miss Leaf said decidedly Second-class; and then we can keep Elizabeth with us. Upon which Eliza- beths mouth melted into something between a quiver and a smile. Soon it was all over, and the little household was compressed into the humble second-class car- riage, cheerless and cushionless, whirling through indefinite England in a way that confounded all their geography and topography. Gradually as the day darkened into heavy, chilly July rain, the scarcely kept-up spirits of the four passen- gers began to sink. Johanna grew very white and worn, Selina became, to use Ascotts phrase, as cross as two sticks, and even Hilary, turn- ing her eyes from the gray sodden-looking land- scape without, could find no spot of comfort to rest on within the carriage, except that round rosy face of Elizabeth Hands. Whether it was from the spirit of contradic- tion existing in most such natures, which, es- pecially in yonth, are more strong than sweet or from a better feeling, the fact was noticeable, that when every one elses spirits went down Elizabeths went up. Nothing could bring her out of a grumpy fit so satisfactorily as her mistresses falling into one. When Miss Seli- na now began to fidget hither and thither, each tone of her fretful voice seeming to go through her eldest sisters every nerve, till even Hilary said, impatiently, Oh, Selina, cant you be quiet ? then Flizabeth rose from her depth of gloomy discontent up to the surface immediately. She was only a servant; but Nature bestows that strange vague thing that we term force of character independently of position. Hilary often remembered afterward how much more comfortable the end of the journey was than she had expectedhow Johanna lay at ease, with her feet on Elizabeths lap, wrapped in Eliza- beths best woolen shawl; and how, when Seli- an s whole attention ~vns turned to an ingenious contrivance with a towel and fork and Eliza- beths basket, for stopping the rain out of the carriage-roofshe became far less disagreeable, and even a little proud of her own cleverness. And so there was a temporary lull in Hilarys cares, and she could sit quiet, with her eyes fixed on the rainy landscape, which she did not see, and her thoughts wandering toward that unknown place and unknown life into which they were sweeping, as we all sweep, ignorant-. ly, unresistingly, almost unconsciously, into new destinies. Hilary, for the first time, began to doubt of theirs. Anxious as she had been to go to London, and ~vise as the proceeding ap- peared, now that the die was cast and the cable cut, the old, simple, peaceful life at Stowburv grew strangely dear. I wonder if we shall ever go back again, or what is to happen to us before we do go hack, she thought, and turned, ~vith a half-defined fear, toward her eldest sister, who looked so old and fragile beside that sturdy, healthy servant-girl. Elizabeth! Elizabeth, rubbing Miss Leafs feet, started at the unwonted sharpness of Miss Hilarys tone. There; Ill do that for my sister. Go and look out of the window at Lon- don. For the great smoky cloud which began to rise in the rainy horizon was indeed London. Soon through the thickening nebula of houses they converged to what was then the nucleus of all railway traveling, the Euston Terminus, and were hustled on to the platform, and jostled helplessly to and frothese poor country ladies! Anxiously they scanned the crowd of strange faces for the one only face they knew in the great metropoliswhich did not appear. It is very strangevery wrong of Ascott. Hilary, you surely told him the hour correctly. For once, at least, he might have been in time. So chafed Miss Selina, while Elizabeth, who by some miraculous effort of intuitive genius had succeeded in collecting the luggage, was now

Dinah Maria Mulock Mulock, Dinah Maria Mistress And Maid 58-69

hiS HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. MISTRESS AND MAID. A HOUSEHOLD STORY. BY THE AUTHOR OF JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. CHAPTER IX. of the Grand Hegira came. member, said Miss Leag as they rum- bled for the last time through the empty morn- ing streets of poor old Stowbury I remember my grandmother telling me that when my grand- father was courting her, and she out of coquetry refused him, he set off on horseback to London, and she was so wretched to think of all the dan- gers he ran on the journey, and in London itself, that she never rested till she got him back, and then immediately married him. No such catastrophe is likely to happen to any of us, except, perhaps, to Elizabeth, said Miss Ililary, trying to get up a little feeble mirth, any thing to pass away the time and less- en the pain of parting, which was almost too much for Johanna. What do you say? Do you mean to get married in London, Elizabeth ? But Elizabeth could make no answer even to kind Miss Hilary. They had not imagined she felt the leaving her native place so much. She had watched intently the last glimpse of Stow- bury church tower, and now sat with reddened eyes, staring blankly out of the carriage window, Silent as a stone. Once or twice a large slow tear gathered on each of her eyes, but it was shaken off angrily from the high cheek-bones, and never settled into absolute crying. They thought it best to take no notice of her. Only, when reaching the new small station, where the resonant steam- eagles were, for the first time, beheld by the innocent Stowbury ladies, there arose a discus- sion as to the manner of traveling. Miss Leaf said decidedly Second-class; and then we can keep Elizabeth with us. Upon which Eliza- beths mouth melted into something between a quiver and a smile. Soon it was all over, and the little household was compressed into the humble second-class car- riage, cheerless and cushionless, whirling through indefinite England in a way that confounded all their geography and topography. Gradually as the day darkened into heavy, chilly July rain, the scarcely kept-up spirits of the four passen- gers began to sink. Johanna grew very white and worn, Selina became, to use Ascotts phrase, as cross as two sticks, and even Hilary, turn- ing her eyes from the gray sodden-looking land- scape without, could find no spot of comfort to rest on within the carriage, except that round rosy face of Elizabeth Hands. Whether it was from the spirit of contradic- tion existing in most such natures, which, es- pecially in yonth, are more strong than sweet or from a better feeling, the fact was noticeable, that when every one elses spirits went down Elizabeths went up. Nothing could bring her out of a grumpy fit so satisfactorily as her mistresses falling into one. When Miss Seli- na now began to fidget hither and thither, each tone of her fretful voice seeming to go through her eldest sisters every nerve, till even Hilary said, impatiently, Oh, Selina, cant you be quiet ? then Flizabeth rose from her depth of gloomy discontent up to the surface immediately. She was only a servant; but Nature bestows that strange vague thing that we term force of character independently of position. Hilary often remembered afterward how much more comfortable the end of the journey was than she had expectedhow Johanna lay at ease, with her feet on Elizabeths lap, wrapped in Eliza- beths best woolen shawl; and how, when Seli- an s whole attention ~vns turned to an ingenious contrivance with a towel and fork and Eliza- beths basket, for stopping the rain out of the carriage-roofshe became far less disagreeable, and even a little proud of her own cleverness. And so there was a temporary lull in Hilarys cares, and she could sit quiet, with her eyes fixed on the rainy landscape, which she did not see, and her thoughts wandering toward that unknown place and unknown life into which they were sweeping, as we all sweep, ignorant-. ly, unresistingly, almost unconsciously, into new destinies. Hilary, for the first time, began to doubt of theirs. Anxious as she had been to go to London, and ~vise as the proceeding ap- peared, now that the die was cast and the cable cut, the old, simple, peaceful life at Stowburv grew strangely dear. I wonder if we shall ever go back again, or what is to happen to us before we do go hack, she thought, and turned, ~vith a half-defined fear, toward her eldest sister, who looked so old and fragile beside that sturdy, healthy servant-girl. Elizabeth! Elizabeth, rubbing Miss Leafs feet, started at the unwonted sharpness of Miss Hilarys tone. There; Ill do that for my sister. Go and look out of the window at Lon- don. For the great smoky cloud which began to rise in the rainy horizon was indeed London. Soon through the thickening nebula of houses they converged to what was then the nucleus of all railway traveling, the Euston Terminus, and were hustled on to the platform, and jostled helplessly to and frothese poor country ladies! Anxiously they scanned the crowd of strange faces for the one only face they knew in the great metropoliswhich did not appear. It is very strangevery wrong of Ascott. Hilary, you surely told him the hour correctly. For once, at least, he might have been in time. So chafed Miss Selina, while Elizabeth, who by some miraculous effort of intuitive genius had succeeded in collecting the luggage, was now MISTRESS AND MAID. 59 engaged ,in defending it from all corners, es- pecially porters, and making of it a comfortable seat for Miss Leaf. Nay, have patience, Selina. We will give him just five minutes more, Hilary. And Johanna sat down, ~vith her sweet, calm, long-suffering face turned upward to that youn- ger one, which was, as youth is apt to be, hot, and worried, and angry. And so they waited till the terminus was almost deserted, and the last cab had driven off, when, suddenly, dashing up the station-yard out of another, came Ascott. He was so sorry, so very sorry, downright grieved, at having kept his aunts waiting. But his watch was wrongsome fellows at dinner detained himthe train was before its time sure ly. In fact, his aunts never quite made out what the excuse was; but they looked into his bright handsome face, and their wrath melted like clouds before the sun. He was so gentle- manly, so well-dressed much better dressed than even at Stowburyand he seemed so un- feignedly glad to see them. He handed them all into the cabeven Elizabeth, though whis- pering meanwhile to his Aunt Hilary, What on earth did you bring her for ?and then was just going to leap on to the box himselg when he stopped to ask Where he should tell cabby to drive to ? Where to ? repeated his aunts in undis- guised astonishment. They had never thought of any thing but of being taken home at once by their boy. You see, Ascott said, in a little confusion, you wouldnt be comfortable with me. A young fellows lodgings are not like a house of ones own, and, besides Besides, when a young fellow is ashamed of his old aunts, he can easily find reasons. Hush, Selina ! interposed Miss Leaf. My dear boy, your old aunts would never let you in- convenience yourself for them. Take us to an inn for the night, and to-morrow we will find lodgings for ourselves. Ascott looked greatly re~licved. And you are not vexed with me, Aunt Jo- hanna ? said he, with something of his old child- ish tone of compunction, as he sawhe could not help seeingthe utter weariness which Jo- hanna tried so hard to hide. No, my dear, not vexed. Only I wish we had known this a little sooner, that we might have made arrangements. No~v, where shall we go? Ascott mentioned a dozen hotels, but they found he only knew them by name. At last Miss Leaf remembered one, which her father used to go to, on his frequent journeys to Lon- don, and whence, indeed, he had been brought home to die. And though all the recollections about it were sad enough, still it felt less strange than the rest, in this dreariness of London. So she proposed going to the Old Bell, Hol- born. A capital place! exclaimed Ascott, eager- ly. And Ill take and settle you there; and well order supper, and make a jolly night of it. All right. Drive on, cabby He jumped on the box, and then looked in mischievously, flourishing his lit cigar, and shak- ing his long hairhis Aunt Selinas two great abominationsright in her indignant face: but withal looking so merry and good-tempered that she shortly softened into a smile. How handsome the boy is growing I Yes, said Johanna, with a slight sigh; and, did you notice? how cxceedingly like his The sentence was left unfinished. Alas! if every young man, who believes his faults and follies injure himself alone, could feel what it must be, years afterward, to have his nearest kindred shrink from saying, as the saddest, most ominous thing they could say of his son, that the lad is growing so like his father! It might have beenthey assured each other that it ~vasonly the incessant roll, roll of the street sounds below their windows which kept the Misses Leaf awake half the night of this their first night in London. And ~vhen they sat down to breakfasthaving waited an hour vain- ly for their nephewit might have been only the gloom of the little parlor ~vhich cast a slight shadow over theni all. Still the shadow was there. It deepened, despite the sunshiny morning into which the last nights rain had brightened, till Holborn Bars looked cheerful, and Holborn pavement actually clean, so that, as Elizabeth said, you might eat your dinner off it ; which was the one only thing she condescended to ap- prove in London. She had sat all evening mute in her corner, for Miss Leaf would not send her away into the terra incognita of a London hotel. Ascott, at first considerably annoyed at the pres- ence of what he called a skeleton at the feast, had afterward got over it, and run on ~vith a mixture of childish glee and mannish pomposity about his plans and intentionshow he meant to take a house, he thought, in one of the squares, or a street leading out of them; how he would put up the biggest of brass plates, with Mr. Leag surgeon, and soon get an extensive practice, and have all his aunts to live with him. And his aunts had smiled and listened, forgetting all about the silent figure in the corner, who perhaps had gone to sleep, or had also listened. Elizabeth, come and look out at London. So she and Miss Hilary whiled away another heavy three-quarters of an hour in watching and commenting on the incessantly shifting crowd which swept past Holborn Bars. Miss Selina sometimes looked out too, but more often sat fidgeting and wondering why Ascott did not come; while Miss Leaf, who never fidgeted, became gradually more and more silent. Her eyes were fixed on the door, with an expression which, if Hilary could have remembered so far back, would have been to her something not painfully new, but still more painfully olda look branded into her face by many an hours anxious listening for the footstep that never 60 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. came, or only came to bring distress. It was the ineffaceable token of that long, long struggle between affection and conscience, pity and scarce- ly repressible contempt, which, for more than one generation, had been the appointed burden of this familyat least the women of ittill sometimes it seemed to hang over them almost like a fate. About noon Miss Leaf proposed calling for the hotel bill. Its length so alarmed the coun- try ladies that Hilary suggested not staying to dine, but going immediately in search of lodg- ings. What, without a gentleman! Impossible! I always understood ladies could go nowhere in London without a gentleman! We shall come very ill off then, Selina. But any how I mean to try. You know the region where, we have heard, lodgings are cheapest and bestthat is, best for us. It can not be far from here. Suppose I start at once? What, alone ? cried Johannn, anxiously. No, dear. Ill take the map with me, and Elizabeth. She is not afraid. Elizabeth smiled, and rose, with that air of dogged devotedness with which she would have prepared to follow Miss Hilary to the North Pole, if necessary. So, after a fe~v minutes of arguing with Selina, who did not press her point overmuch, since she herself had not t~o commit the impropriety of the expedition. After a few minutes more of hopeless lingering abouttill even Miss Leaf said they had better wait no longermistress and maid took a farewell near- ly as pathetic as if they had been in reality Arctic voyagers, and plunged right into the dusty glare and hurrying crowd of the sunny side of Holborn in July. A strange sensation, and yet there was some- thing exhilarating in it. The intense solitude that there is in a London crowd these country girlsfor Miss Hilary herself was no more than a girlcould not as yet realize. They only felt the life of it; stirring, active, incessantly mov- ing lifeeven though it was of a kind that they knew as little of it as the crowd did of them. Nothing struck Hilary more than the self-ab- sorbed look of passers-by; each so busy on his own affairs, that, in spite of Selinas alarm, for all notice taken of them, they might as well be walking among the cows and horses in Stowbury field. Poor old Stowbury! They felt how far a~vay they were from it when a ragged, dirty, vicious- looking girl offered them a moss rose-bud for one penny, only one penny; which Ylizabeth, lagging behind, bought, and found it only a broken-off bud stuck on to a bit of wire. Thats London ways, I suppose, said she, severely, and became so misanthropic that she would hardly vouchsafe a glance to the hand- some square they turned into, and merely ob- served of the tall houses, taller than any Hilary had ever seen, that she wouldnt fancy running up a~nd down them stairs. But Hilary was cheerful in spite of all. She was glad to be in this region, which, theoretic.. ally, she knew by heartglad to find herself in the body, where in the spirit she had come so many a time. The mere consciousness of this seemed to refresh her. She thought she would be much happier in London; that in the long years to come that must be borne, it would be good for her to have something to do as well as to hope for; something to fight with as well as to endure. Now more than ever came pulsing in and out of her memory a line once repeated in her hearing, with an observation of how true it was. And though originally it was applied by a man to a woman, and she smiled sometimes to think how unfeminine some peopleSelina for instancewould consider her turning it the other way, still she did so. She believed, that, for woman as for man, that is the purest and noblest love which is the most self- existent, most independent of love returned; and which can say, each to the other equally on both sides, that the whole solemn purpose of life is, under Gods service, If not to win, to feel more worthy thee. Such thoughts made her step firmer and her heart lighter; so that she hardly noticed the dis- tance they must have walked till the close Lon- don air began to oppress her, and the smooth glaring London pavements made her Stowbury feet ache sorely. Are you tired, Elizabeth? Well, well rest soon. There must he lodgings near here. Only I cant quite make out As Miss Hilary looked up to the name of the street the maid noticed what a glow came into her mistresss face, pale and tired as it was. Just then a church clock struck the quarter- hour. That must be St. Pancras. And this yes, this is Burton Street, Burton Crescent. Im sure missis wouldnt like to live there, observed Elizabeth, eying uneasily the gloomy rez-de-chauss~e, familiar to many a generation of struggling respectability, where, in the de- cadence of the seasofi, every second house bore the announcement apartments furnished. No, Miss Hilary replied, absently. Yet she continued to walk up and down the whole length of the street; then passed out into the dreary, deserted-looking Crescent, where the trees were already beginning to fade; not, however, into the bright autumn tint of country woods, but into a premature withering, ugly and sad to behold. I am glad he is not hereglad, glad I thought Hilary, as she realized the unutterable dreariness of those years when Robert Lyon lived and studied in his garret from months end to months endthese few dusty trees being the sole memento of the green country life in which he had been brought up, and which she knew he so passionately loved. Now she could un- derstand that calenture which he had some- times jestingly alluded to, as coming upon him at times, when he felt literally sick for the sight of a green field or a hedge full of birds. She MISTRESS AND MAID. 61 wondered whether the same feeling would ever come upon her in this strange deert of Lon- don, the vastness of which grew upon her every hour. She was glad he was away; yes, heart-glad! And vet, if this minute she could only have seen him coming round the Crescent, have met his smile, and the firm, warm clasp of his hand For an instant there rose up in her one of those wild, rebellious outcries against fate, when to have to waste years of this brief life of ours in the sort of semi-existence that living is, apart from the treasure of the heart and delight of the eyes, seems so cruelly, cruelly hard! Miss Hilary. She started, and put herself under lock and key immediately. Miss Hilary; you do look so tired ! Do I? Then we will go and sit down in this bakers shop, and get rested and fed. We can not afford to wear ourselves out, you know. We have a great deal to do to-day. More indeed than she calculated, for they walked up one street and down another, investi- gating at least twenty lodgings before any ap- peared which seemed fit for them. Yet some place must be found where Johannas poor, tired head could rest that night. At last, completely exhausted, with that oppressive exhaustion which seems to crush mind as well as body after a days wandering in London, Hilarys courage began to ebb. Oh for an arm to lean on, a voice to list- en for, a brave heart to come to her side, say- ing, Do not be afraid, there are two of us! And she yearned, with an absolutely sick yearn- ing such as only a woman who now and then feels the utter helplessness of her womanhood can know, for the only arm she cared to lean on, the only voice dear enough to bring her comfort, the only heart that she felt she could trust. Poor Hilary! And yet why pity her? To her three alternatives could but happen: were Robert Lyon true to her she would be his, en- tirely and devotedly, to the end of her days; did he forsake her, she would forgive him; should he die, she would be faithful to him eternally. Love of this kind may know anguish, but not the sort of anguish that lesser and weaker loves do. If it is certain of nothing else, it can al- ways be certain of itself. Its will is strong: It suffers; but it can not suffer long. And even in its utmost pangs is an underlying peace which often approaches to absolute joy. Hilary roused herself; and hent her mind stead- ily on lodgings till she discovered one, from tlle parlor of which you could see the trees of Bur- ton Crescent and hear the sound of Saint Pan- crass clock. I think we may do hereat least for a while, said she, cheerfully; and then Eliza- beth heard her inquiring if an extra bedroom could be had if necessary. There uas only one small attic. Ascott never could put up with that, said Hilary, half to herself. Thea suddenly I t1~ink I will see Ascott before I decide. Elizabeth, will you go with me, or remain here ? Ill go with you if you please, Miss Hilary. If you please, sounded not unlike if I please, and Elizabeth had gloomed over a lit- tle. Is Mr. Ascott to live with us I suppose so.,~ No more words were interchanged till they reached Gower Street, when Miss Hilary ob- served, with evident surprise, what a handsome street it was. I must have made some mistake. Still we will find out Mr. Ascotts number, and inquire. No, there was no mistake. Mr. Ascott Leaf had lodged there for three months, hut had giv- en up his rooms that very morning. Where had he gone to? The servanta London lodging-house servant all overdidnt know; but she fetched the land- lady, who was after the same pattern of the dozen London landladies with whom ililary had that day made acquaintance, only a little more Cock- ney, smirking, dirty, and tawdrily fine. Yes, Mr. Leaf had gone, and he hadnt left no address. Young college gentlemen often found it convenient to leave no address. Praps he would if hed known there would be a young lady a-calling to see him. I am Mr. Leafs aunt, said Hilary, turning as hot as fire. Oh, in-deed, was the answer, with civil in- credulousness. But the woman was sharp of perceptionas often-cheated London landladies learn to be. After looking keenly at mistress and maid, she changed her tone; nay, even launched out into praises of her late lodger: what a pleasant gen- tleman he was; what good company he kept, and how he had promised to recommend her apartments to his friends. And as for the little someat of rent, Miss tell him it makes no matter, he can pay me when he likes. If he dont call soon, praps I might make bold to send his trunk and his books over to Mr. Ascotts ofdear me, I forget the number and the square. Hilary unsuspiciously supplied both. Yes, thats itthe old genleman as Mr. Leaf went to dine with every other Sunday, a very rich old gentleman, who, he says, is to leave him all his money. Maybe a relation of yours, Miss? No, said Hilary; and adding something about the landladys hearing from Mr. Leaf very soon, she hurried out of the house, Eliza- beth following. Wont you be tired if you walk so fast, Miss Hilary? Hilary stopped, choking. Helplessly she look- ed up and down the forlorn, wide, glaring, dusty street; now sinking into the dull shadow of a London afternoon. Let us go home! And at the word a sob burst outjust one passionate pent-up sob. No more. She could not afford to waste strength in crying. 62 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. As you say, Elizabeth, I am getting tired; and that will not do. Let me see; something must be decided. And she stood still, passing her hand over her hot brow and eyes. I will go back and take the lodgings, leave you there to make all comfortable, and then fetch my sis- ters from the hotel. But stay first, I have for- gotten something. She returned to the house in Go~ver Street, and wrote on one of her cards an addressthe only permanent address she could think ofthat of the city broker who was in the habit of paying them their yearly income of 50. If any creditors inquire for Mr. Leaf give them this. His friends may always hear of him at the London University. Thank you, maam, replied the now civil landlady. Indeed, I wasnt afraid of the young gentleman giving us the slip. For though he was careless in his bills he was every inch the gentleman. And I wouldnt object to take him in again. Or praps you yourself, maam, might be a-~vanting rooms. No, I thank you. Good-morning. And Hilary hurried away. Not a word did she say to Elizabeth, or Eliza- beth to her, till they got into the dull, dingy parlorhenceforth to be their sole apology for home: and then she only talked about domes- tic arrangementstalked fast and eagerly, and tried to escape the affectionate eyes which she knew were so sharp and keen. Only to escape themnot to blind them; she had long ngo found out that Elizabeth was too quickwitted for that, especially in any thing that concerned the family. She felt convinced the girl had heard every syllable that passed at Ascotts lodg- ings: that she knew all that was to be known, and guessed what was to be feared as well as Hilary herself. Elizabethshe hesitated long, and doubted whether she should say the thing before she did say it remember we are all strangers in Lon- don, and family matters are best kept within the family. Do not mention either in writing home, or to any body here aboutabout She could not name Ascott; she felt so hor- ribly ashamed. CHAPTER X. LIVING in lodgings, not temporarily, but per- manently, sitting down to make ones only home in Mrs. Joness parlor or Mrs. Smiths first-floor, of which not a stick or a stone that one looks at is ones own, and whence one may be evicted or evade, with a weeks notice or a weeks rent, any daythis sort of life is natural and even delightful to some people. There are those who, like strawberry-plants, are of such an errant disposition, that grow them where you will, they will soon absorb all the pleasantness of their habitat, and begin casting out runners elsewhere; nay, if not frequently transplanted, would actually wither and die. Of such are the pioneers of ~cietythe emigrants, the tourists, the travelers round the world; and great is the advantage the world derives from them, active, energetic, and impulsive as they are. Unless, indeed, their talent for incessant locomotion de- generates into rootless restlessness, and they re- main forever rolling-stones, gathering no moss, and acquiring gradually a smooth, hard surface, which adheres to nothing, and to which nobody dare venture to adhere. But there are others possessing in a painful degree this said quality of adhesiveness, to whom the smallest change is obnoxious; who like drink- ing out of a particular cup, and sitting in a par- ticular chair; to whom even a variation in the position of furniture is unpleasant. Of course, this peculiarity has its bad side, and yet it is not in itself mean or ignoble. For is not adhesive- ness, faithfulness, constancycall it what you will at the root of all citizenship, clanship, and family love? Is it not the same feeling which, granting they remain at all, makes old friendships dearer than any new? Nay, to go to the very sacredest and closest bond, is it not that which makes an old man see to the last in his old wifes faded face the beauty which per- haps nobody ever saw except himself, but which he sees and delights in still, simply because it is familiar and his own? To people who possess a large share of this rare shall 1 say fatal ?characteristic of adhesive- ness, living in lodgings is about the saddest life under the sun. Whether some dim foreboding of this fact crossed Elizabeths mind, as she stood at the window watching for her mistresses first arrival at home, it is impossible to say. She could feel, though she was not accustomed to analyze her feelings. But she looked dull and sad. Not cross, even Ascott could not have ac- cused her of savageness. And yet she had been somewhat tried. First, in going out what she termed marketing, she had traversed a waste of streets, got lost several times, and returned with light weight in her butter, and sand in her moist sugar; also with the conviction that London tradesmen were the greatest rogues alive. Secondly, a pottle of strawberries, which she had bought with her own money to grace the tea-table with the only fruit Miss Leaf cared for, had turned out a large de- lusion, big and beautiful at top, and all below small, crushed, and stale. She had thrown it indignantly, pottle and all, into the kitchen fire. Thirdly, she had a war with the landlady, partly on the subject of their firewhich, with her Stowbury notions on the subject of coals, seemed wretchedly mean and smalland partly on the question of table-cloths at tea, which Mrs. Jones had never heard of, especially when the use of plate and linen was included in the rent. And the dinginess of the article pro- duced at last out of an omnium-gatherum sort of kitchen-cupboard, made an ominous impres- sion upon the country girl, accustomed to clean, tidy country wayswhere the kitchen was kept MISTRESS AND MAID. 63 as neat as the parlor, and the bedrooms were not a ~vhit behind the sitting-rooms in comfort and orderliness. here it seemed as if, supposing people could show a few respectable living- rooms, they were content to sleep any where, and cook any how, out of any thing, in the midst of any quantity of confusion and dirt. Eliza- beth set all this down as London, and bated it accordingly. She had tried to ease her mind by arranging and rearranging the furnitureregular lodging- house furniture table, six chairs, horse-hair sofa, a what-not, and the chiffonnier, with a tea-caddy upon it, of which the respective keys had been solemnly presented to Miss Hilary. But still the parlor looked homeless and bare; and the yellowish paper on the walls, the large patterned, many-colored Kidderminster on the floor, gave an involuntary sense of discomfort and dreariness. Besides, No. 15 was on the shady side of the streetcheap lodgings always are; and no one who has not lived in the like lodgingsnot a housecan imagine what it is to inhabit perpetually one room where the sun- shine just peeps in for an hour a day, and van- ishes by eleven A .ilt., leavin~, behind in winter a chill dampness, and in summer a heavy, dusty atmosphere, that weighs like lead on the spirits in spite of ones self. No wonder that, as is statistically known and proved, cholera stalks, fever rages, and the registrars list is always swelled, along the shady side of a London street. Elizabeth felt this, though she had not the dimmest idea why. She stood watching the sunset light fade out of the topmost windows of the opposite houseghostly reflection of some sunset over fields and trees far away; nnd she listened to the long monotonous cry melting away round the crescent, and beginnin,, again at the other end of the street Stra~v-berries straw-ber-ries ! Also, with an eye to to-mor- rows Sunday dinner, she investigated the cart of the tired costermonger, who crawled along beside his equally tired donkey, reiterating at times, in tones hoarse with a days bawling, his dreary Cauli-flow-er! Cauli-flow-er! Fine new pease, sixpence peck But, alas! the pease were neither fine nor new; and the cauliflowers were regular Satur- day nights cauliflowers. Besides, Elizabeth suddenly doubted whether she had any right, unordered, to buy these things which, from be- ing common garden necessaries, had become luxuries. This thought, with some others that it occasioned, her unwonted state of idleness, and the dullness of every thing about herwhat is so dull as a quiet London street on a sum- mer evening ?actually made Elizabeth stand, motionless and meditative, for a quarter of an hour. Then she started to hear two cabs drive up to the door; the family had at length arrived. Ascott was there too. Two new portman- teaus and a splendid hat-box cast either igno- miny or glory upon the poor Stowbury luggage; andElizabeths sharp eyes noticedthere was also his trunk which she had seen lying detained for rent in his Grower Street lodgings. But he looked quite easy and comfortable; handed out his Aunt Johanna, commanded the luggage about, and paid the cabmen with such a mag- nificent air that they touched their hats to him, and winked at one another as much as to say, Thats a real gentleman In which statement the landlady evidently coincided, and courtesied low, when Miss Leaf introducing him as my nephew, hoped that a room could be found for him. Which at last there was, by his appropriating Miss Leafs, while she and Hilary took that at the top of the house. But they agreed, Ascott must have a good airy room to study in. You know, my dear boy, said his Aunt Johanna to himand at her tender tone he looked a little downcast, as when he was a small fellow and had been forgiven something you know you will have to work very hard. All right, aunt! Im your man for that! This will be a jolly room; and I can smoke up the chimney capitally. So they came down stairs quite cheerfully, and Ascott applied himself with the best of ap- petites to what he called a hungry tea. True, the hum, which Elizabeth had to fetch from an eatiub-house some streets oft; cost two shillings a pound, and the eggs, which caused her anoth- er war below over the rehighting of a fire to boil them, were dismissed by the young gentle- man as horrid stale. Still, woman-like, when there is a man in the question, his aunts let him have his way. It seemed as if they had resolved to try their ntmost to make the new home to which he came, or rather was driven, a pleasant home, and to bind him to it with cords of love, the only cords worth any thing, though some- timesHeaven knows whyeven they fail, and are snapped and thrown aside like straws. Whenever Elizabeth went in and out of the parlor she always heard lively talk going on among the family: Ascott making his jokes, telling about his college life, and planning his life to come, as a surgeon in full practice, on the most extensive scale. And when she brought in the chamber candles, she saw him kiss his aunts affectionately, and even help his Aunt Johannawho looked frightfully pale and tired,. but smiling stillto her bedroom door. Youll not sit up long, my dear? No read- ing to-night ? said she, anxiously. Not a bit of it. And Ill be up with. the lark to-morrow morning. I really will, auntie. Im going to turn over a new leaf, you know.. She smiled again at the immemorial jpke, kissed and blessed him, and the door shut upon her and Hilary. Ascott descended to the parlor,. thre~v himself on the sofa with an air of great relief, and an exclamation of satisfaction that the ~vomen were all gone. He did not perceive Elizabeth, who, hidden behind, was kneeling to arrange something in the chiffonnier, till she rose up and proceeded to fasten the parlor shutters. 64 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. bib! are you there? Come, Ill do that when I go to bed. You may slope, if you like. Eli, Sir? Slope, mizzle, cut your stick; dont you un- derstaud? Any how, dont stop here bothering me. I dont mean to, replied Elizabeth; grave- ly, rather than gruffly, as if she had made up her mind to things as they were, and was determ- ined to be a belligerent party no longer. Be- sides, she was older nowtoo old to have things forgiven to her that might he overlooked in a child; and she had received a long lecture from Miss flilary on the necessity of showing respect to Mr. Ascott, or Mr. Leaf, as it was now de- cided he was to be called, in his dignity and re- sponsibility as the only masculine bend of the family. As he lay and lounged there, with his eyes lazily shut, Elizabeth stood a minute gazing at him. Then, steadfast in her new good behav- ior, she inquired if he wanted any thing more tonight ? Confound you! no! Yes; stop. And the young man took a furtive investigation of the plain, honest face, and not over-graceful, ultra- provincial figure, which, still characterized his aunts South-Sea Islander. I say, Elizabeth, I want you to do some- thing for me. He spoke so civilly, almost coaxingly, that Elizabeth turned round surprised. Would you just go and ask the landlady if she has got such a thing as a latch-key? A ~vhat, Sir? A latch-keyaoh, she knows. Every London house has it. Tell her Ill take care of it, and lock the front-door all right. She neednt. be afraid of thieves. Very ~vell, Sir. Elizabeth ~vent, but shortly reappeared with the information that Mrs. Jones bad gone to bed: in the kitchen, she supposed, as she could not get in. But she laid on the table the large street- door key. Perhaps thats what you wanted, Mr. Leaf. Though I think you neednt be the least afraid of robbers, for theres three bolts, and a chain besides. All right ! cried Ascott, smothering down a laugh. Thank you! Thats for you, throw- ing a half-crown across the table. Elizabeth took it up demurely, and put it down again. Perhaps she did not like him enough to receive presents from him; perhaps she thonght, being an honest-minded girl, that a young man who could not pay his rent bad no business to be giving away half-crowns; or else she herself had not been so much as many serv- ants are, in the habit of taking them. For Miss Hilary had put into Elizabeth some of her own feeling as to this habit of paying an inferior with money for any little civility or kindness which, from an equal, would be accepted simply as kindness, and only requited with thanks. Any how, the coin remained on the table, and , There was a strong feeling that the principal the door was just shutting upon Elizabeth, when the young gentleman turned round again. I say, since my aunts are so horridly timid of robbers and such like, youd better not tell theni any thing about the latch-key. Elizabeth stood a minute perplexed, and then replied briefly: Miss Hilarv isnt a bit timid; and I always tells Miss Hilary every thing. Nevertheless, though she was so ignorant as never to have heard of a latch-key, she had the wit to see that all was not right. She even lay awake, in her closet off Miss Leafs room, whence she could hear the murmur of her two mistresses talking together, long after they retiredlay broad awake for an hour or more, trying to put things togetherthe sad things that she felt cer- tain must have happened that day, and wonder- ing what Mr. Ascott could possibly want with the key. Also, why he had asked her about it, instead of telling his aunts at once; and why he had treated her in the matter with such aston- ishing civility. It may be said, a servant had no business to think about these things, to criticise her young masters proceedings, or wonder ~vhy her mis- tresses were sad: that she had only to go about her work like an automaton, and take no inter- est in any thing. I can only answer to those who like such service, let them have it; and as they sow they will assuredly reap. But long after Elizabeth, young and hearty, was soundly snoring on her bard, cramped bed, Jobanna and Hilary Leaf, after a brief mutual pretense of sleep, soon discovered by both, lay consulting together over ways and means. How could the family expenses, beginning with twen- ty-five shillings per week as rent, possibly be met by the only actual certain family income, their 50 per annum from a mortgage? For the Misses Leaf were of that old-fashioned stamp which believed that to reckon an income by mere probabilities is either insanity or dishon- esty. Common arithmetic soon proved that this 50 a year could not maintain them; in fact they must soon draw on the little sumalready dipped into to-day, for Ascottwhich had been produced by the sale of the Stowbury furniture. That sale, they now found, had been a mistake; and they half feared whether the whole change from Stowbury to London had not been a mistake one of tbose sad errors in judgment which we all commit sometimes, and have to abide by, and make the best of, and learn from if we can. Happy those to whom Dinna greet ower spilt milka proverb wise as cheerful, which Hilary, knowing well who it came from, repeated to Jo- hanna to comfort herteaches a second brave lesson, how to avoid spilling the milk a second time. And then they consulted anxiously about what was to be done to earn money. Teaching presented itself as the only resource. In those days womens work and womens rights bad not been discussed so freely as at present. MISTRESS AND MAID. 65 thing required was our dutiesowed to our- selves, our home, our family and friends. There was a deep convictionnow, alas! slowly disap- pearingthat a woman, single or married, should never throw herself out of the safe circle of do- mestic life till the last extremity of necessity; that it is wiser to keep or help to keep a home, by learning how to expend its income, cook its dinners, make and mend its clothes, and, by the law that prevention is better than cure, study- ing all those preservative means of holding a family togetheras women, and women alone, canthan to dash into mens sphere of trades and professions, thereby, in most instances, fight- ing an unequal battle, and coming out of it maimed, broken, unsexed; turned into beings that are neither men nor women, with the faults and corresponding sufferings of both, and the compensations of neither. I dont see, said poor Hilary, what I can do but teach. And oh, if I could only get daily pupils, so that I might come home of nights, and creep into the fireside; and have time to mend the stockings and look after Ascotts lin- en, so that he need not be so awfully extrava- gant It is Ascott who ought to earn the family income, and have his aunt to keep house for him, observed Johanna. That was the way in my time, and I believe it is the right way. The man ought to go out into the world and earn the money; the woman ought to stay at home and wisely expend it. And yet that way is not always possible. We know, of ourselves, instances where it was not. Ah, yes! assented Johanna, sighing. For she, far more than Hilary, viewed the family circumstances in the light of its past historya light too sad almost to hear looking at. But in ours, as in most similar cases, was something not right, something which forced men and wo- men out of their natural places. It is a thing that may be sometimes a mournful, inevitable necessity; but I never can believe it a right thing, or a thing to be voluntarily imitated, that women should go knocking about the world like menand And I am not meaning to do any such thing, said Hilary, half laughing. lam only going to try every rational means of earning a little money to keep the family going till such time as Ascott can decide on his future, and find a suitable opportunity for establishing him- self in practice. In some of the new neighbor- hoods about London he says he has a capital chance; he will immediately set about inquiries. A good idea, dont you think ? Yes, said Johanna, briefly. But they did not discuss this as they had discussed their own plans; and, it was noticeable, they never even referred to, as a portion of the family finances, that pound a week which, with many regrets that it was so small, Ascott had insisted on pay- ing to his aunts as his contribution to the ex- penses of the household. And now the dawn was beginning to break, and the lively London sparrows to chirp in the chimneys. So Hilary insisted on their talking no more, but going to sleep like Christians. Very well. Good-night, my blessing ! said Johanna, softly. And perhaps indeed her blessing, with that strange, bright courage of her ownyears after, when Hilary looked back upon her old self, how utterly mad this courage seemed !had taken the weight of care from the elder and feebler heart, so that Johanna turned round and soon slept. But long after, till the dawn melted into per- fect daylight, did Hilary lie, open-eyed, listen- ing to quarter after quarter of the loud St. Pan- eras clock. Brave she was, this little woman, fully as brave and cheerful-hearted as, for Jo- hannas sake, she made herself out to be; and now that the paralyzed monotony of her Stow- bury life was gone, and that she was in the midst of the whirl of London, where he used to work and struggle, she felt doubly bribht and brave. The sense of resistance, of dogged perseverance, of fighting it out to the last, was strong in her, stronger than in most women, or else it was the reflection in her own of that nature which was her ideal of every thing great and good. No, she said to herself, after thinking over for the hundredth time every difficulty that lay before them allmeeting and looking in the face every wild beast in the way, even that terrible beast which, happily, had often approached but never yet visited the Leaf family, the wolf at the door No, I dont think I am afraid. I think I shall never be afraid of any thing in this world, if onlyonly If only he loves me. That was it, which broke off, unspoken; the helpless womans cry the cruel craving for the one deepest want of a womans lifedeeper than the same want in mans, or in most mens, because it is more in- dividualnot if only I am loved, but if only he loves me. And as Hilary resolutely shut her eyes, and forced her aching head into total stillness, sharper than ever, as always was the case when she felt weary, mentally or phys- ically, came her longing for the hand to cling to, the breast to lean againstthe heart at once strong and tender, which even the bravest wo- man feels at times she piteously needs. A heart which can comfort and uphold her, with the strength not of another woman like herself, but of a man, encouraging her, as perhaps her very weakness encourages him, to fight it out, the sore battle of life, a little longer. But this sup- port, in any shape, from any man, the women of the Leaf family had never known. The nearest approach to it were those letters from India, which had become, Johanna some- times jestingly said, a family institution. For they were family letters; there was no mystery about them; they were passed from one to the other, and commented on in perfect freedom, so freely, indeed? that Selina had never penetrated into the secret of them at all. But their punc- tuality, their faithful remembrance of the small- 66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. est things concerning the past, their strong in- terest in any thing and every thing belonging to the present of these his old friends, were to the other two sisters confirmation enough as to how they might believe in Rohert Lyon. Hilary did helieve, and in her perfect trust was perfect rest. Whether he ever married her or not, she felt suresurer and surer every day that to her had been sent that hest blessing the lot of so few womena thoroughly good man to love her, and to love. So with his face in her memory, and the sound of his voice in her ear, as distinctly as if it had been only yesterday that he said, You must trust me, Hilary, she whispered to herself, I do, Robert, I do! and went to sleep peacefully as a child. CHAPTER XI. WITh a sublime indifference to popular super- stition, or rather because they did not think of it till all their arrangements were completed, the Misses Leaf had accomplished their grand Hegira on a Friday. Consequently, their first day at No. 15 was Sunday. Sunday in London always strikes a provincial person considerably. It has two such distinct sides. First, the eminently respectable, deco- rous, religious side, which Hilary and Selina ob- served, when, about eleven A.M., they joined the stream of ~vell-dressed, well-to-do-looking people, solitary or in families, who poured forth from handsome houses in streets or squares, to form the crowded congregation of St. Pancrass Church. The opposite side Hilary also saw, when Ascott, who, in spite of his declaration, had not risen in time for breakfast, penitently coaxed his pretty aunt to let him take her to the afternoon service in Westminster Abbey. They wended their way through Tottenham Court Road, Oxford Street, Regent Street, and across the Park, finding shops open, or half-open, vehicles plying, and people streaming down each side of the streets. Hilary did not quite like it, and yet her heart was tender over the poor, hardworked-looking Cockneys, who seemed so excessively to enjoy their Sunday stroll, their Sunday mouthful of fresh air; or the small Sunday treat their sick- ly, under-sized children had in lying on the grass, and feeding the ducks in St. Jamess Park. She tried to talk the matter out with Ascott, but though he listened politely for a minute or two, he evidently took no interest in such things. Nor did he even in the grand old Abbey, with its tree-like, arched avenues of immemorial stone, its painted windows, through ~vhich the colored sunshine made a sort of heavenly mist of light, and its innumerable graves of generations below. Hilary woke from her trance of solemn delight to find her nephew amusing himself with staring at the people about him, making sotto voce quiz- zical remarks upon them, in the intervals of the service, and, finally, the instant it was ended, starting up in extreme satisfaction, evidently feeling that he had done his duty, and that it had been, to use his own phrase, a confounded bore. Yet he meant to be kind to his pretty aunt told her he liked to walk with her, because she was so pretty, praised her dress, so neat and taMeful, though a little old-fashioned. But he would soon alter that, he said; he would dress all his aunts in silk and satin, and give them a carriage to ride in; there should be no end to their honor and prosperity. Nay, coming home, he took her a long way roundor she thought so, being tiredto show her the sort of house he meant to have. Very grand it seemed to her Stowbury eyes, with pillars and a flight of steps up to the doormore fit, she ventured to suggest, for a retired merchant than a struggling young surgeon. Oh, but we dare not show the struggle, or nobody would ever trust us, said Ascott, with a knowing look. Bless you, many a young fel- low sets up a house, and even a carriage, on tick, and drives and drives about till he drives him- self into a practice. The worlds all a make- believe, and you must meet humbug with hum- bug. Thats the way, I assure you, Aunt Hil- ary. Aunt Hilary fixed her honest eyes on the lads facethe lad, so little younger than herself, and yet who at times, when he let out sayings such as this, seemed so awfully, so l)itifully old; and she felt thankful that, at all risks and costs, they had come to London to be beside him, to help him, to save him, if he needed saving, as women only can. For, after all, he was but a boy. And though, as he walked by her side, stalwart and manly, the thought smote her painfully that many a young fellow of his age was the stay and bread-winner of some widowed mother or sister, nay, even of wife and child, still she repeated, cheerfully, What can one expect from him? He is only a boy. God help the women who, for those belonging to themhusbands, fathers, brothers, lovers, sons have ever so tenderly to apologize. When they came in sight of St. Pancrass Church, Ascott said, suddenly, I think youll know your way now, Aunt Hilary. Certainly. Why ? Becauseyou wouldnt be vexed if I left you? I have an engagement some fellows that I dine with, out at Hampstead or Rich- mond, or Blackwall, every Sunday. Nothing ~vicked, I assure you. And you know its cap- ital for ones health to get a Sunday in fresh air. Yes; but Aunt Johanna will be sorry to miss you. Will she? Oh, youll smooth her down. Stay! Tell her I shall be back to tea. We shall be having tea directly. I declare I had quite forgotten. Aunt Hil- ary, you must change your hours. They dont suit me at all. No men can ever stand early dinners. By, by! You are the very prettiest auntie. Be sure you get home safe. Hollo, there! Thats my omnibus. MISTRESS AND MAID. 67 He jumped on the top of it, and was off. Aunt Hilary stood, quite confounded, and with one of those strange sinkings of the heart which had come over her several times this day. It was not that Ascott showed any unkindness that there was any actual badness in his bright and handsome young face. Still there was a want therewant of earnestness, steadfastness, truthfulness, a something more discoverable as the lack of something else than as aught in it- self tangibly and perceptibly wrong. It made her sad; it caused her to look forward to his future with an anxious heart. It was so differ- ent from the kind of anxiety, and yet settled re- pose, with which she thought of the only other man in whose future she felt the smallest inter- est. Of Robert Lyon she was certain that what- cver misfortune visited him he would bear it in the best way it could be borne; whatever tempta- tion assailed him he would fight against it, as a brave and good Christian should fight. J3ut Ascott? Ascotts life was as yet an unanswered query. She could but leave it in Omnipotent hands. So she found her way home, askin~ it once or twice of civil policemen, and going a little dis- tance rounddare I make this romantic confes- sion about so sensible and practical a little ~vo- man ?that she might walk once up Burton Street and down again. But nobody knew the fact, and it did nobody any harm. Meantime at No. 15 the afternoon had passed heavily enough. Miss Selina had gone to lie downshe always did of Sundays, and Eliza- beth, after making her comfortable, by the little attentions the lady always required, had de- scended to the dreary wash-house, ~vhich had been appropriated to herself, under the name of a private kitchen, in the which, after all the cleanings and improvements she could achieve, she sat like Marius among the ruins of Carthage, and sighed for the tidy bright house-place at Stowbury. Already, from her brief experience, she had decided that London people were horrid shams, because they did not in the least care to have their kitchens comfortable. She wondered how she should ever exist in this one, and might have carried her sad and sullen face up stairs, if Miss Leaf had not come down stairs, and glanc- ing about, with that ever-gentle smile of hers, said kindly, Well, it is not very pleasant, but you have made the best of it, Elizabeth. We must all put up with something, you know. Now, as my eyes are not very good to-day, sup- pose you come up and read me a chapter. So, in the quiet parlor, the maid sat down op- posite her mistress, and read aloud out of that Book which says distinctly: Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters according to the flesh, ,aith fear and trembling, in singleness of heart, as unto Christ: knowing, that whatsoever good thing any man doeth, the same shall he receive of the Lord, wheth- er he be bond orfiee. And yet says immediately after: Ye masters, do the same things unto theni, forbearing threatening: knowing that your Mas- ter also is in heaven; neither is there respect of persons with him. And I think that Master whom Paul served, not in preaching only, but also in practice, when he sent back the slave Onesimus to Philemon, praying that ho might be received, not now as a servant, but above a servant, a brother be- loved, that Divine Master must have looked tenderly upon these two womenboth women, though of such different age and position, and taught them through His Spirit in His word, as only He can teach. The reading was disturbed by a carriage driv- ing up to the door, and a knock, a tremendously grand and forcible footmans knock, which made Miss Leaf start in her easy-chair. But it cant be visitors to us. We know no- body. Sit still, Elizabeth. It was a visitor, ho~vever, though by what in- genuity he found them out remained, when they came to think of it, a great puzzle. A card was sent in by the dirty servant of Mrs. Jones, speed- ily followed by a stout, bald-beaded, round-faced manI suppose I ought to write, gentleman in whom, though she had not seen him for years, Miss Lenf found no difficulty in recogniz- ing the grocers prentice boy, now Mr. Peter Ascott, of Russell Square. She rose to receive him: there was always a stateliness in Miss Leafs reception of strangers; a slight formality belonging to her own past generation, and to the time when the Leafs were a county family. Perhaps this extra dignity, graceful as it was, overpowered the little man; or else, being a bachelor, he was unaccustomed to ladies society: but he grew red in the face, twiddled his hat, and then cast a sharp inquisi- tive glance toward her. Miss Leaf, I presume, maam. The eld- est ? I am the eldest Miss Leaf, and very glad to have an opportunity of thanking you for your long kindness to my nephew. Elizabeth, give Mr. Ascott a chair. While doing so, and before her disappearance, Elizabeth took a rapid observation of the visitor, whose name and history ~vere perfectly familiar to her. Most small towns have their hero, and Sto~vburys was Peter Ascott, the grocers boy, the little fellow who had gone up to London to seek his fortune, and had, strange to say, found it. Whether by industry or luckexcept that industry is luck, and luck is only another word for industrylie had gradually risen to be a large city merchant, a drysalter I conclude it would be called, with a handsome house, car- riage, etc. He had never revisited his native place, which indeed could not be expected of him, as he had no relations, but, when asked, as was not seldom of course, he subscribed liberally to its charities. Altogether he was a decided hero in the place, and though people really knew very little about him, the less they knew the more they gossiped, holding him up to the rising generation as a 68 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. modern Dick Whittington, and reverencing him extremely as one who had shed glory on his na- tive town. Even Elizabeth had conceived a great idea of Mr. Ascott. When she saw this little fat man, coarse and common-looking in spite of his good clothes and diamond ring, and in manner a curious mixture of pomposity and awkwardness, she laughed to herself, thinking what a very uninteresting individual it was about whom Stowbury had told so many interesting stories. However, she went up to inform Miss Selina, and prevent her making her appearance before him in the usual Sunday dishabille in which she indulged when no visitors were expected. After the first awkwardness, Mr. Peter Ascott became quite at his ease with Miss Leaf. He began to talknot of Stowbury, that was tacitly ignored by bothhut of London, and then of my house in Russell Square, my carriage, my servantsthe inconvenience of keeping coachmen who would drink, and footmen who would not clean the plate properly; ending by what was a favorite moral axiom of his, that wealth and position are heavy responsibilities. He himself seemed, however, not to have been quite overwhelmed by them; he was fat and flourishingwith an acuteness and power in the upper half of his face which accounted for his having attained his present position. The lower halfsomehow Miss Leaf did not like it, she hardly knew why, though a physiognomist might have known. For Peter Ascott had the under- hanging, obstinate, sensual lip, the large throat bull-necked, as it has been calledindications of that essentially animal nature which may be born with the nobleman as with the clown; which no education can refine, and no talent, though it may co-exist with it, can ever entirely remove. He reminded one, perforce, of the rough old proverb: You cant make a silk purse out of a sow~s ear. Still, Mr. Ascott was not a bad man, though something deeper than his glorious indifference to grammar, and his dropped hswhich, to steal some ones joke, might have been swept up in bushels from Miss Leafs parlormade it im- possible for him ever to be, by any culture what- ever, a gentleman. They talked of Ascott, as being the most con- venient mutual subject; and Miss Leaf expressed the gratitude which her nephew felt, and she earnestly hoped would ever show, toward his kind godfather. Mr. Ascott looked pleased. Umyes, Ascotts not a bad fellowbe- lieve he means well: but weak, mnaam, Im afraid hes weak. Knows nothing of business has no business habits whatever. However, we must make the best of him; I dont repent any thing Ive done for him. I hope not, said Miss Leaf, gravely. And then there ensued an uncomfortable pause, which was happily broken by the opening of the door, and the sweeping in of a large, goodly figure. My sister, Mr. Ascott; my sister Selina. The little stout man actually started, and, as he bowed, blushed up to the eyes. Miss Selina was, as I have stated, the beauty of the family, and had once been an acknowl- edged Stowbury belle. Even now, though nigh upon forty, when carefully and becomingly dressed, her tall figure, and her well-featured, fair-complexioned, unwrinkled face, made her still appear a very personable woman. At any rate, she was not faded enough, nor the city magnates heart cold enough, to prevent a sud- den revival of the vision whichin what now seemed an almost antediluvian stage of exist- encehad dazzled, Sunday after Sunday, the eyes of the grocers lad. If there is one pure spot in a mans hearteven the very worldliest of menit is usually his boyish first love. So Peter Ascott looked hard at Miss Selina, then into his hat, then, as good luck would have it, out of the window, where he caught sight of his carriage and horses. These revived his spirits, and made him recognize what he was Mr. Ascott of Russell Square, addressing bins- self in the character of a benevolent patron to the fallen Leaf family. Glad to see you, Miss. Long time since we metneither of us so young as we have been but you do wear well, I must say. Miss Selina drew back; she was within an inch of being highly offended, when she too hap- pened to catch a glimpse of the carriage and horses. So she sat down and entered into con- versation with him; and when she liked, nobody could be more polite and agreeable than Miss Selina. So it happened that the handsome equipage crawled round and round the Crescent, or stood pawing the silent Sunday street before No. 15, for very nearly an hour, even till Hilary came home. It was vexatious to have to make excuses for Ascott; particularly as his godfather said with a laugh, that young fellows would be young fellows, they neednt expect to see the lad till midnight, or till to-morrow morning. But though in this, and other things, he some- what annoyed the ladies from Stowbury, no one could say he was not civil to themexceedingly civil. He offered them Botanical Garden tickets Zoological Garden tickets; he even, after some meditation and knitting of his shaggy gray eye- brows, bolted out with an invitation for the whole family to dinner at Russell Square the following Sunday. I always give my dinners on Sunday. Ive no time any other day, said be, when Miss Leaf gently hesitated. Come or not, just as you like. Miss Selina, to whom the remark was chiefly addressed, bowed the most gracious acceptance. The visitor took very little notice of Miss Hilary. Probably, if asked, he would have de- scribed her as a small, shabbily-dressed person, looking very like a governess. Indeed, the fact of her governess-ship seemed suddenly to recur BURRS CONSPIRACY. 69 to him; he asked her if she meant to set up an- other school, and being informed that she rather wished private pupils, promised largely that she should have the full benefit of his patronage among his friends. Then he departed, leaving a message for Ascott to call next day, as he wished to speak to him. For you must be aware, Miss Leaf, that though your nephews allowance is nothinga mere drop in the bucket out of my large income still, when it comes year after year, and no chance of his shifting for himself; the most benevolent man in the world feels inclined to stop the supplies. Not that I shall do thatat least not immediately: he is a fine young fellow, whom Im rather proud to have helped a step up the ladder, and Ive a great respecthere he bowed to Miss Selina a great respect for your family. Still there must come a time when I shall be obliged to shut up my purse-strings. You understand, maam. I do, Miss Leaf answered, trying to speak with dignity, and yet patience, for she saw Hil- arys face beginning to flame. And I trust, Mr. Ascott, my nephew will soon cease to be an expense to you. It was your own voluntary kindness that brought it upon yourself, and I hope you have not found, never will find, either him or us ungrateful. Oh, as to that, maam, I dont look for gratitude. Still, if Ascott does work his way into a good positionand hell be the first of his family that ever did, I reckonbut I beg your pardon, Miss Leaf. Ladies, Ill bid you good- day. Will your servant call my carriage ? The instant he was gone Ililary burst forth If I were Ascott, Id rather starve in a gar- ret, break stones in the high-road, or buy a broom and sweep a crossing, than Id be dependent on this man, this pompous, purse-proud, illiterate fool! No, not a fool, reproved Johanna. An acute, clear-headed, nor, I think, bad-hearted man. Coarse and common, certainly; but if we were to hate every thing coarse or common, we should find plenty to hate. Besides, though be does his kindness in an unpleasant way, think how very, very kind he has been to Ascott. Johanna, I think you would find a good word for the deil himself; as we used to say, cried Hilary, laughing. Well, Selina; and what is your opinion of our stout friend ? Miss Selina, bridling a little, declared that she did not see so much to complain of in Mr. As- cott. He was not educated certainly, but be was a most respectable person. And his calling upon them so soon was most civil and attentive. She thought, considering his present position, they should forgetindeed, as Christians they were bound to forgetthat he was once their grocers boy, and go to dine with him next Sunday. For my part, I shall go, though it is Sunday. I consider it quite a religious dutymy duty to- ward my neighbor. Which is to love him as yourself. I am sure, Selina, I have no objection. It would be a grand romantic wind-up to the story which Stowbury used to tellof how the prentice-boy stared his eyes out at the beautiful young lady; and you would get the advantage of my house in Russell Square, my carriage and servants, and be able to elevate your whole family. Do, now! set your cap at Peter Ascott. Here Hilary, breaking out into one of her childish fits of irrepressible laughter, was startled to see Selinas face in one blaze of indignation. Hold your tongue, you silly chit, and dont chatter about things you dont understand. And she swept majestically lrom the room. What have I done? Why, she is really vexed. If I had thought she would have taken it in earnest I would never have said a word. Who would have thought it! But Miss Selinas fits of annoyance were so common that the sisters rarely troubled them- selves long on the matter. And when at tea- time she came down in the best of spirits, they met her half-way, as they always did, thankful for these brief calms in the family atmosphere, which never lasted too long. It was a somewhat heavy evening. They waited supper till after ten; and yet Ascott did not appear. Miss Leaf read the chapter as usual; and Elizabeth was sent to bed, but still no sign of the absentee. I will sit up for him. He can not be many minutes now, said his Aunt Hilary, and settled herself in the solitary parlor, which one candle and no fire made as cheerless as could possibly be. There she waited till midnight before the young man came in. Perhaps he was struck with compunction by her weary white faceby her silent lighting of his candle, for he made her a thousand apologies. Pon my honor, Aunt Hilary, Ill never keep you up so late again. Poor dear auntie, how tired she looks ! and he kissed her affec- tionately. But if you were a young fellow, and got among other young fellows, and they over-persuaded you. You should learn to say, No. Ahwith a sigh so I ought, if I were as good as my Aunt Hilary. BURRS CONSPIRACY. ABOUT sixty years ago there was a pleas- ant mansion upon an eminence that over- looked the Hudson, with a few acres of cultivated land around it sloping to the brink of the river, and all within the immediate suburbs of New York. The owner of that beautiful seat was a small, fair-complexioned, brilliant-eyed, fasci- nating man, eight-and-forty years of age. He had seen some service in the old War for Inde- pendence. He was a wit, a beau, a good schol- ar, a polished gentleman, an unscrupulous poli- tician, a libertine in morals, and a heartless marauder on the domain of social life. He was also the Vice-President of the United States.

Benson J. Lossing Lossing, Benson J. Burr's Conspiracy 69-77

BURRS CONSPIRACY. 69 to him; he asked her if she meant to set up an- other school, and being informed that she rather wished private pupils, promised largely that she should have the full benefit of his patronage among his friends. Then he departed, leaving a message for Ascott to call next day, as he wished to speak to him. For you must be aware, Miss Leaf, that though your nephews allowance is nothinga mere drop in the bucket out of my large income still, when it comes year after year, and no chance of his shifting for himself; the most benevolent man in the world feels inclined to stop the supplies. Not that I shall do thatat least not immediately: he is a fine young fellow, whom Im rather proud to have helped a step up the ladder, and Ive a great respecthere he bowed to Miss Selina a great respect for your family. Still there must come a time when I shall be obliged to shut up my purse-strings. You understand, maam. I do, Miss Leaf answered, trying to speak with dignity, and yet patience, for she saw Hil- arys face beginning to flame. And I trust, Mr. Ascott, my nephew will soon cease to be an expense to you. It was your own voluntary kindness that brought it upon yourself, and I hope you have not found, never will find, either him or us ungrateful. Oh, as to that, maam, I dont look for gratitude. Still, if Ascott does work his way into a good positionand hell be the first of his family that ever did, I reckonbut I beg your pardon, Miss Leaf. Ladies, Ill bid you good- day. Will your servant call my carriage ? The instant he was gone Ililary burst forth If I were Ascott, Id rather starve in a gar- ret, break stones in the high-road, or buy a broom and sweep a crossing, than Id be dependent on this man, this pompous, purse-proud, illiterate fool! No, not a fool, reproved Johanna. An acute, clear-headed, nor, I think, bad-hearted man. Coarse and common, certainly; but if we were to hate every thing coarse or common, we should find plenty to hate. Besides, though be does his kindness in an unpleasant way, think how very, very kind he has been to Ascott. Johanna, I think you would find a good word for the deil himself; as we used to say, cried Hilary, laughing. Well, Selina; and what is your opinion of our stout friend ? Miss Selina, bridling a little, declared that she did not see so much to complain of in Mr. As- cott. He was not educated certainly, but be was a most respectable person. And his calling upon them so soon was most civil and attentive. She thought, considering his present position, they should forgetindeed, as Christians they were bound to forgetthat he was once their grocers boy, and go to dine with him next Sunday. For my part, I shall go, though it is Sunday. I consider it quite a religious dutymy duty to- ward my neighbor. Which is to love him as yourself. I am sure, Selina, I have no objection. It would be a grand romantic wind-up to the story which Stowbury used to tellof how the prentice-boy stared his eyes out at the beautiful young lady; and you would get the advantage of my house in Russell Square, my carriage and servants, and be able to elevate your whole family. Do, now! set your cap at Peter Ascott. Here Hilary, breaking out into one of her childish fits of irrepressible laughter, was startled to see Selinas face in one blaze of indignation. Hold your tongue, you silly chit, and dont chatter about things you dont understand. And she swept majestically lrom the room. What have I done? Why, she is really vexed. If I had thought she would have taken it in earnest I would never have said a word. Who would have thought it! But Miss Selinas fits of annoyance were so common that the sisters rarely troubled them- selves long on the matter. And when at tea- time she came down in the best of spirits, they met her half-way, as they always did, thankful for these brief calms in the family atmosphere, which never lasted too long. It was a somewhat heavy evening. They waited supper till after ten; and yet Ascott did not appear. Miss Leaf read the chapter as usual; and Elizabeth was sent to bed, but still no sign of the absentee. I will sit up for him. He can not be many minutes now, said his Aunt Hilary, and settled herself in the solitary parlor, which one candle and no fire made as cheerless as could possibly be. There she waited till midnight before the young man came in. Perhaps he was struck with compunction by her weary white faceby her silent lighting of his candle, for he made her a thousand apologies. Pon my honor, Aunt Hilary, Ill never keep you up so late again. Poor dear auntie, how tired she looks ! and he kissed her affec- tionately. But if you were a young fellow, and got among other young fellows, and they over-persuaded you. You should learn to say, No. Ahwith a sigh so I ought, if I were as good as my Aunt Hilary. BURRS CONSPIRACY. ABOUT sixty years ago there was a pleas- ant mansion upon an eminence that over- looked the Hudson, with a few acres of cultivated land around it sloping to the brink of the river, and all within the immediate suburbs of New York. The owner of that beautiful seat was a small, fair-complexioned, brilliant-eyed, fasci- nating man, eight-and-forty years of age. He had seen some service in the old War for Inde- pendence. He was a wit, a beau, a good schol- ar, a polished gentleman, an unscrupulous poli- tician, a libertine in morals, and a heartless marauder on the domain of social life. He was also the Vice-President of the United States. 70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Ambition was the god of his idolatry. his daughter and her child were the only objects of his pure love except himself; and Fame and Fortune were the spirits to whom he committed himself as to guardian angels. That suhurban country seat was Richmond Hill, and that pro- prietor was Aaron Burr. On the morning of the 11th of July, 1804, Aaron Burr murdered Alexander Hamilton in a duel, brought about by the combined agencies of political malice and private revenge. It was not justified by the requirements of the so-called Code of Honor. It was a cold-blooded murder; and ten days afterward the assassin was a fugi- tive, the States of New York and Ne~v Jersey being his accusers in the form of indictments for murder, while the execrations of all good men were ringing in his ears.. He fled from the pres- ence of an impending prison and scaffold, in an open boat and under the cover of night, from the foot of the river slope of Richmond Hill. He first found shelter with Commodore Truxtun, at Perth Amboy; and then fled in disguise to Phil- adelphia, where he renewed proposals of mar- riage to a young lady. There, too, with a hand red with the hlood of his victim and a heart as icy as an Alpine crest, he wrote in jesting mood to his daughter If any male friend of yours should be dying of ennui, recommend him to en- gage in a duel and a courtship at the same time. Burr heeded the warnings of the surges of public indignation that were rising higher and higher around him, and he left Philadelphia stealthily, and fled by sea to an island on the coast of Georgia, where personal and political friends received him with open arms. There men and women bowed obsequiously to the Vice- President of the United States, and felt proud of the privilege; and society, accustomed to the duello, transmutedby the subtle alchemy of opiniona branded fugitive from justice into an exiled hero. A planters fine mansion was made his own; he was serenaded by a band of music, was courted by the wealthy, caressed by the fair, and almost worshiped by the young; and when a month of festivities had passed away, he de- parted for the home of his daughter in South Carolina, under whose roof he was as secure from the grasp of Northern laws, and the frowns of Northern sentiment, as if he had been in China or on belted Jupiter. Ten days the fugitive tarried with his daugh- ter, who, with her husband, believed in and loved him. Then he started on a long and weary journey by land, Northward, to take his place at the head of the Senate of the United States, by virtue of his office. In Virginia he was surprised by ovations. He was greeted with every demonstration of partisan zeal as the slayer of the arch-enemy of Democracy. Fifty or sixty citizens of Petersburg sat do~vn with him to a public dinner given in his honor, and twen- ty of them accompanied him to the theatre, where the audience arose at his entrance and welcomed him with cheers. Among the officials and the best society at the National Capital Burr was treated with more than ordinary respect. The Presidents attentions were more pointed and cordial than usual. The Secretary of State took him out in his carriage. The Secretary of the Treasury frequently called upon him at his lodgings; and a leading partisan in the Lower House of Con- gress, from Maryland, said, in debate, The first duel lever read of was that of David killing Goliath. Our little David of the Republicans has killed the Goliath of Federalism, and for this I am willing to reward him. These things filled many virtuous men with ineffable disgust. Thiswrote a Senator from New Hampshire, on the 7th of November This is the first time, I believe, that ever a Vice-President appeared in the Senate on the first day of the session; certainly the first (God grant it may be the last!) that ever a man indicted for murder presided in the American Senate. That session of Congress was the last scene of Burrs political career. On the 4th of March, 1805, he descended from the step of official hon- or next to the highest in the land a ruined man ruined in fortune, honor, and the respect of his countrymen. During all that session that deep, dark gulf, impassable and inexorable, lay before bun. His ambition was as fierce and un- compromising as ever. His hope, sustained by an indomitable will, never failed him. Con- scious that every avenue to a retrieval of his for- tunes was forever shut, he turned his thoughts to new regions for action, toil, and triumph. With a boldness equaled only by his wickedness, he formed plans magnificent in proportions and brilliant in promised results. Notwithstanding his native and adopted States were closed against him by the stern ministers ofjustice, he lost none of his buoyancy of spirits; and he wrote to his son-in-law, saying, In New York I am to be disfranchised, and in New Jersey hanged. Hav- ing substantial objections to both, I shall not, for the present, hazard either, but shall seek another country. Where? Its boundaries were not on maps. Its outlines were floating in his fancy. Its government was fashioned by his imagina.- tion. It was a country of which he was to be the political creator. Louisiana, then a vast and undefined region in the immense basin of the Mississippi and its tributaries, was purchased of France by the Unit- ed States in 1803. At the close of that year the American flag was first unfurled over the city of New Orleans, as an emblem of sovereignty, where it floated undisturbed until 1861, when it was laid aside for a while during the passage of a violent hurricane of disloyalty to the Govern- ment it represented, that swept over the Gulf States and the neighboring provinces witli de- structive energy. That flag proclaimed the free- dom of the navigation of the Mississippi to the long-dissatisfied dwellers westward of the Apal- lachian and Alleghany ranges of lofty hills. For many years they had been agitated by ha- tred and jealousy of the Spaniards who held the BURRS CONSPIRACY. 71 mouth of the Great River, and exacted tribute of all voyagers upon it; and by disaffection to- ward the Government of the United States, which they accused of neglect in not opening that great aqueous highway for their produce, either by means of diplomacy or cannon. Toward tbat countryof uneasy people, in whose behalf his voice had ever been beard, Burr looked for a new field where his ambition might blos- som anew, and bear abundant fruits of ~vealth and honor. Thitherward he directed his steps in the spring of 1805. What were Burrs political schemes at that time will forever remain a sealed mystery. That he had political schemes, crude it may be, but positive, the student of contemporary history can not doubt. One of his oldest and most intimate friends was General James Wilkinson, his com- panion-in-arms in the Revolution, lie was then General-in-Chief of the armies of the United States, and had been recently appointed Gov- ernor of Louisianaan appointment procured through the influence of Burr. Wilkinson was a weak, vain man; poor, proud, and intemper- ate; of easy virtue, and eminently fitted to be the pliant, working instrument of conspirators. Ten years before, while ~vearing the epaulets of an officer of his countrys army, and honored with its confidence, he had secretly intrigued with the Spanish authorities at New Orleans in a scheme of disunion, and had furnished the Spanish Viceroy with a list of leading Virgin- ians in Kentucky who were disaffected to the Government, and who, he thought, would, like himself; engage in a conspiracy to separate the Western States and Territories from the Union for a pecuniary consideration. For a long time he and Burr had corresponded, frequently in ci- pher, so that the contents of their letters might not be known to a third party if discovered. During the winter and early spring of 1805 they had many long consultations at the National Capital; and no doubt the General-in-Chief was then admitted to an audience in Burrs heart of hearts, as far as the arch-conspirators prudence would allow. This man played an important part in the little drama we are considering. Burr went over the Alleghany Monntains on horseback, from Philadelphia to Pittsburg, in April, and late in that month he was floating down the Ohio in a huge flat-boat. The river was swollen and flowing rapidly, and he was soon far away toward the mysterious WEST. He had told his friends in Washington and Philadelphia that land speculations and other business operations led him to the Mississippi Valley, where he intended to settle, and in the midst of a fresh and sturdy population rear for himself another and more splendid structure of wealth and fame. Down the beautiful Ohio he glided in his rude bargeswiftly but almost noiselessly. He passed Wheeling on the 3d of May, and two .days after- ward he was at Marietta, where he enjoyed the hospitalities of the leading inhabitants. He was a fast traveler, and made short haltings. Ilis vessel was soon again upon the tide, but it was not long unmoored. Just below Marietta is a charming island of three hundred acres of fer- tile soil. There an Irish gentleman, with a beautiful and accomplished wife, had spent, dur- ing eight years, a considerable fortune in pre- paring a domestic retreat more elegant than any thing west of the mountains. He was a roman- tic and eccentric manaccomplished, imagina- tive, and confiding. In these qualities his wife was an equal sharer. His mansion was plain but tasteful in form and arrangement. his grounds were laid out by a skill that knew how to please; and the whole island presented to the eye a paradise in the midst of the wilderness. Books, paintings, statuary, musical and scientific instruments, found in the mansion, attested the culture of the inmates. Such was the home of Harman Blennerhassett. Burr had heard at Marietta vague rumors of this Eden. He entered it in the garb of an angel of light; he left it prepared for a curse. The Lord of the Isle was temporarily absent. The mistress, captivated by her visitor, with whose name she was familiar, urged lAin to dine with them. lie remained until almost midnight, charming the family with his conversation, and then by the light of a waning moon he embarked, leaving the enchanted pair to enjoy the fruits of the tree of knowledge ~vhich he had revealed to them. Down the beautiful Ohio Burr still floated. A week after leaving Blennerhassetts Island he was at the little village of Cincinnati. There he remained a day, and then voyaged on to the Falls of the Ohio (now Louisville), where lie met friends from the East. Then he left the water and rode on horseback to Nashvillea journey now made by railway in nine or ten hourswhere he was received with public dem- onstrations of respect. 1-Je became the guest of General Andrew Jackson, and his conversation completely captivated that sturdy hero of the West. After lingering there four days he took a boat, descended the Cumberland to its mouth, and at Fort Massac on the Ohio, sixteen miles below, he found Wilkinson on his way to St. Louis. That officer was about to send troops to New Orleans; so he fitted up a barge for Burr with sails, colors, and ten oars, and assigned to his use a sergeant and ten faithful men. In this state, bearing letters of introduction from Wilkinson to leading men in New Orleans, Burr entered that quaint French and Spanish city in the midst of the marshes of the Lower Missis- sippi. The principal person to whom Burr carried letters was Daniel Clark, father of Mrs. General Gaines, whose husband bore a part in this drama. Wilkinson assured Clark that Burr was worthy of the greatest attention, and that he would make communications to him which ~vere im- proper to letter. Clark received him cordially, introduced him into the best society of New Or- leans, and for three weeks the conspirator was feasted and toasted, and flattered and caressed 72 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. to his hearts content. During those three weeks Burr did something else than feasting and idling. He laid plans for the furtherance of his schemes, which now, doubtless, were tangibly fashioned in his mind; and he left New Orleans for the North filled with the contemplation of a great enterprise for his personal aggrandizement. He went up the Mississippi Valley to Natchez on horseback, and from there crossed the hroad wilderness to Nashville, where another public dinner awaited him; and the doors of Jacksons hospitabte mansion were again opened for his cordial reception. Burr remained a week with Jackson. After spending a fortnight among certain politicians of Kentucky, and forming the acquaintance of the then rising Henry Clay, he went to St. Louis, and became the guest of his friend and confi- dant, General Wilkinson. He doubtless reveal- ed much more of his grand scheme to that officer than he had ever before trusted him with; and when the plans were all discussed, he departed for Vincennes, the capital of Indiana, to visit Governor Harrison. From the Wabash he made his way to Cincinnati, Chilicothe, and Marietta, stopping at Blennerhnssetts Island on the way, but not finding the owner at home. He pressed forward to Philadelphia; and at the close of Oc- tober he was in Washington City, where he dined with the President, was honored by the members of the Cabinet and other distinguished men, and after remaining a week, started to meet his daughter in her Southern home. Burr returned to Washington in December, and began in earnest to put his great scheme in motion. During the entire winter he was en- gaged in the nefarious business. He wrote mysterious letters to Wilkinson (partly in ci- pher), and attempted to win to his support dis- satisfied officers of the army and navy. Among the army officers at Washington whom Burr approached was General William Eaton, who had lately returned from the Mediterranean, and was in very ill humor with his Govern- ment. He informed that officer that he was organizing a secret expedition against the Span- ish provinces of Mexico, and asked him to join him. War with Spain seemed to be impend- ing, and the favorable moment for the execu- tion of his projected enterprise was doubtless at hand. lie assured Eaton that great wealth and honors would be won by the participators in the conquest; and so much did Burrs eloquence in- flame his auditors imagination that he promised to think favorably of the proposition. This point gained, Burr commenced stimulating Eatons ir- ritation toward his own Government because of alleged wrongs. But there was so much disloy- alty of sentiment in the conspirators conversa- tion that the General began to suspect that the proposition to invade Mexico was only a cover- ing to wicked designs against his own country. He resolved to feign acquiescence, gain Burrs full confidence, and fathom his real intentions, if possible. Burr now grew bolder, and more and more communicative. Finally he told Eaton that he contemplated a revolution in the Western States for the purpose of separating them from the Union, and establishing a protectorate or a mon- archy in the Valley of the Mississippi, whose sceptre was to be held by himself. New Orleans was to be his capital; and he contemplated an extension of his dominions over most, if not all, of Mexico by means of an army which he ex- pected to organize in the West. Wilkinson, he said, was a party to the scheme, and he would carry with him, in the execution of his plan of revolution and conquest, the whole regular army beyond the mountains under the command of that officer. He had agents, he said, in the Spanish provinces who were ready to co-operate with him; and he justified his movement against the integrity of the Union by the plea that the Government lacked efficiency and was a failure; that the people of the West had the same right to separate from those of the East that the colo- nists had to withdraw from Great Britain; and that if he could (as he hoped to) secure the co- operation of the marine corps at Washington (the only troops there), and gain over to his interest Truxtun, Preble, Decatur, and other naval officers, he would turn Congress neck and heels out of doors, assassinate the Presi- dent, seize on the treasury and navy, and de- clare himself the chief of an energetic govern- ment. Eaton, who afterward related these facts un- der oath, was amazed. Colonel Burr, he said, one wordusurperwould destroy you. Within six weeks after your movement shall have commenced Yankee militiamen will cut your throat. Fearing to pit his own reputation and veracity against Colonel Burrs by denoun~. ing him, Eaton contented himself by advising the President to send Burr on a foreign embassy to prevent his doing mischief in the West. But Jefferson had, strong faith in the patriotism of the people, and regarding Burr as a chafing, dis- appointed politician, he believed him to be inca- pable of doing serious mischief any where. Burr, meanwhile, had written a seductive let- ter to Blennerhassett, telling him that he was wasting great abilities in ignoble seclusion; that be ought to aspire to a career in which all his rare po~vers might find expression; that his al- ready impaired fortune ~vould disappear and his children be left in poverty; and entreated him to go forth into the wide world in search of wealth and distinction. The flattered Irishmanthe silly fishcaught at the bait and became a vic- tim. His ambition and acquisitiveness were fully aroused, and he offered his services in any way Colonel Burr might command them, not for a moment dreaming that his accomplished guest a few months before had designs against the unity of the Government under whose protection he was safely reposing. Burr also approached Truxtun, Decatur, and other naval officers, with the solemn assurance that his plans contemplated only the seizure of Spanish domain and the es- tablishment of a new Government thereon. lie BURRS CONSPIRACY. 73 adroitly insinuated that the Cabinet tacitly fa- vored his enterprise; but those gentlemen knew better, and refused to entertain his proposals for a moment. The projects of the conspirator seemed hopeless, and he wrote to Wilkinson, in cipher, that the execution of their plans was postponed until the following December. Either in earnest, or as a cover to his schemes, Burr now applied to the President for a foreign em- bassy. During the early part of the summer of 1806 the Spaniards threatened an invasion of the Mis- sissippi Valley from Mexico. Quite a large body of their troops were marched up to the frontier, when Wilkinson, with all his available force, hastened to oppose them. Now was Burrs golden opportunity. The Western people were greatly excited, and ready to fly to arms to re- pel the invader. For several months rumors had spread all over the country beyond the mount- ains that Burr was at the bottom of a project for effecting a revolution in Mexico. It had been circulated industriously by Burrs friends, doubtless at his own instigation, his object being to cover up his real designs when he should be found making military preparations on the West- em waters. This threatened invasion was precisely the event most needed by the conspirator at this juncture for obvious reasons; and he set about with great energy making preparations for his pretended counter invasion. By the aid of his friends and relations, and a few persons like Blennerhasset, whom he had seduced by prom- ises of great gain, he purchased, for $40,000, four hundred thousand acres of land on the bor- ders of the Washita, a tributary of the Red River, whereon to build strong fortifications, make a secure refuge in the event of disaster, or to plant a settlement and await a favorable turn in the wheel of fortune. An invasion of Spanish terri- tory, and the establishment of a splendid empire in the far Southwest, was the grand scheme ~vhich he presented to his dupes. His purchase gave tangibility to the enterprise, and many in- fluential men embarked in it. His daughter and her husba~ d entered deeply into his plans, whose magniffl~ence grew.with the flight of the hours. The most gorgeous visions of wealth, power, aggrandizement, and solid enjoyment dazzled the minds of the deluded ones. A beau- tiful country, inexhaustible mines, and wealth of every kind, made more desirable by the pos- session of titular honors, were presented to their fancy as awaiting the coming of the conquering Burr and his friends. The visionary Blenner- hassett was filled with the greatest enthusiasm; and his hand, brain, heart, and purse were freely placed at the disposal of the conspirator. His island was to be the first rendezvous of the ex- peditionary troops, and he was engaged to con- tract for the construction of a flotilla of transport boats at the mouth of the Muskingum, near Marietta. His wife and Burrs daughter were to accompany the expedition as far as New Or- leans, there to await s~ summons to the capital VOL. XXV.Ncx 145.F of the embryo empire. The husband of the lat- ter was to follow soon afterward, to take a place near the throne of his father-in-law in the new kingdoma kingdom that would be established, it was confidently believed, over the broad do- main where Montezuma once bore sway, befo the next Christmas dawn. It is believed that at least five hundred persons in New York and New Orleans and the vast intervening country became directly interested in Burrs scheme; and yet so adroitly did he manage that not one of them could explain its exact character except Wilkinson and two or three others who had doubtless been admitted to his confidence, and knew the full import of his treasonable plans, such as were outlined to General Eaton. Early in August Burr, accompanied by his daughter and a few friends and servants, was again floating on the Ohio. He stopped fre- quently to feel the pulse of public sentiment and to enlist recruits. Success made him bold, and at times his proverbial caution seemed to slum- ber profoundly. On one of these occasions, at the house of Colonel Morgana gallant soldier of the West; living near Cannonsburg, in Ohio after dining and drinking freely, he cast off all disguise. He talked to his entertainer of the imbecility of the Government, the advantage to the West of separation from the old States, the probability of a speedy dissolution of the Union, and of his ability, with two hundred soldiers, to drive the Congress, with the President at their head, into the Potomac, and with five hundred to capture the city of New York. Much more that was treasonable fell from the lips of Burr that day; and when he had departed Colonel Mor- gan invited to his table two judges of a court then in session in his neighborhood. To them he repeated the conversation of Burr, and at his request they immediately, in a joint letter to the President, gave information of the fact. This letter, Jefferson said, was the first intimation he ever received of Burrs treasonable designs. His suspicions were fully aroused. He remembered Eatons warning, and at once communicated his suspicions to confidential persoi~in the West; among them the eloquei4 lawye~seph Hamil- ton Daviess, of Kentucky, who, five years later, gave his life to his country in the Ba.ttle of Tip- pecanoe. He also sent an agent to overtake Burr, and, if possible, ascertain what were his real designs. Burr halted at Marietta, and, with Blenner- bassett, completed a contract for fifteen batteaux, capable of bearing five hundred troops with necessary baggage and provisions. Here he reviewed the militia in admirable style, attended a ball in the evening, and fairly captivved all Mariettamen, women, and children. Young men flocked to his standard. Blennerhassetts heart and mind were all aglow with the grand scheme. His beautiful island had become a work-shop, and he labored incessantly for the early completion of preparations. Meanwhile Burrs daughter was the guest of Mrs. Blennerhas- sett, and they delighted each other with their day- 74 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. dreams of future glory, while the arch-conspira- tor himself was moving with wonderful celerity from place to place in Ohio, Kentucky, and Ten- nessee, every where augmenting the number and respectability of his adherents and followers by his strange fascination of voice and manner. At Nashville he caused four large boats to be placed upon the stocks, and deposited ,4000 in the hands of General Jackson for use in that region. October, with its brilliant skies, soft air, and gorgeous forests, had arrived. The West was alive with excitement concerning the great but still mysterious expedition. Wilkinson was on the Spanish frontier with his troops, ready to repel invasion or to make one; and a letter had been sent by Burr to apprise him of his success- ful preparations. Every thing appeared rose- color to all who were immediately interested in the scheme; and Burr, at the house of Gen- eral John Adam, of Kentucky, felt sure of abund- ant success. But the arch-conspirators dreams were sud- denly disturbed by the mutterings of thunder that boded a tempest. At first it was low and but slightly alarming, but it soon grew loud and appalling. A newspaper called the Western World, printed at Frankfort, Kentucky, first gave out mysterious hints of another disloyal plot in the land. Then it shadowed in dim out- line Burrs schemes for revolution, disunion, and conquest, and at length boldly denounced him as a traitor, together with the known leaders of the disunion plot in Kentucky ten years before. These were followed, on the 3d of November, by the rising in Court, sitting at Frankfort, of Mr. Daviess, already alluded to, then the United States Attorney for that district, and demand- ing, by regular motion, that Aaron Burr should be brought before the Court to answer to a charge of being engaged in an enterprise con- trary to the laws of the United States. Daviess being a leading Federalist his conduct was at- tributed to partisan malignity, and he found himself immediately struggling against an over- whelming current of public odium, with Henry Clay, who Burrs counsel, as its director. But Daviess~ras not a man to quail before a storm, and he persisted in his course. Burr ap- peared before the Court and deported himself with all the calm dignity of an innocent and misjudged man. Clay had agreed to defend him, only after Burr had given him pledges that his schemes were not inimical to the peace and welfare of the United States. These were given most solemnly, and, as Clay always believed, most falsely. The matter was finally brought before the grand jury, who, because of the ab- sence of important witnesses, failed to indict the accused, and for a while Clay, and Burrs friends, were jubilant and Daviess was in disgrace. With a triumphant march Burr proceeded to Nash. ville, where a grand ball was given in honor of his escape from Federal machinations. The same had been done at Frankfort, and the con- spirator felt that he had no more meshes of dis- appointment to fear. But a thunder-bolt soon fell from what seemed to be a clear sky. Burr had written to Wilkin- son in cipher, saying, I, A. Burr, have ob- tained funds, and have actually commenced the enterprise. Detachments from different points, and under different pretenses, will rendezvous on the Ohio 1st November. Every thing in- ternal and external favors views; protection of England is secured. T [Truxtun] is going to Jamaica to arrange with the admiral on that station; it will meet on the Mississippi; , England, , navy of the United States are ready to join, and final orders are given to my friends and followers: it will be a host of choice spirits. Wilkinson shall be second to Burr only. Wilkinson shall dictate the rank and promotion of his officers. Burr will proceed westward 1st of August, never more to return; with him goes his daughter; the husband will follow in Octo- ber with a corps of worthies. He assured Wilkinson that the people of the country to which they were going were ready to receive them; requested him to send an intelligent and confidential friend to confer personally with Burr; to furnish him with a list of all persons of note west of the mountains on whom they could rely, and desiring him to lend him the commissions of some of his officers, for an avow- edly fraudulent use. He also told him that from five hundred to a thousand men of the ex- pedition would move rapidly from the Falls of the Ohio at the middle of November, in light boats, to rendezvous at Natchez within a month thereafter, there to meet Wilkinson and consult upon future movements. This letter, borne by one who, Burr assured him, was faithful, and prepared to make disclosures if asked, was ac- companied by another from a distinguished Jer- seyman, which closed with the words Are you ready? Are your numerous associates ready? Wealth and glory! Louisiana a d Mexico! At this point in the drama WWinson sudden ly changed front. From b& ~~ an accomplice of Burr he became his accuser. His motive has been the subject of various conjectures. Some attribute his conduct to ip oral cowardice at the moment when he was calleanpon to strike. the conspirators first blow. Others suppose it to have been a genuine exhibition of patriotic emotion; and others believe that it was an act of counter-treasona betrayal of accomplices with the expectation of great personal gain. There is evidence to prove that he after~vard sent an agent to the Viceroy of Mexico, de- manding ~2OO,OOO as a reward for his services in defeating a plot for overturning his govern- ment and seizing his dominion. One thing is certain. On deciphering Burrs letter he dis- patched an officer to the seat of Government with a letter to the President, exposing the con- spirators scheme against Mexico and his 1)1 to revolutionize the Western States. He had received, at about the same time, a letter from a confidential friend in Natchez, which stated that a rumor was afloat .,in that region that a BURRS CONSPIRACY. 75 plan to revolutionize the Western country had versity among those supposed to be more friend- been formed, matured, and was ready to explode; ly to the cause in which they were engaged. and that Kentucky, Ohio, Tennessee, Orleans, At about this time a flotilla of the expedition, and Indiana, were combined to declare them- under Colonel Tyler, of Virginia, passed down selves independent on the 15th of November. the Ohio, and was joined at the Falls (Louis- Thiswouldjustifyhis denunciations of Burr; and ville) by another Virginian, named Floyd, then making arrangements with the Spaniards on the a member of the Territorial Legislature of Sabine, Wilkinson withdrew his troops, hastened Indiana. The Presidents secret agent had to New Orleans, and labored zealously to place awakened the authorities of Tennessee to the that city in a state of defense against the ex- impending danger, and Burr suddenly found pected insurgents under his old friend. He pro- himself to be an outlaw among those who hud claimed martial law, harangued a public meet- so recently and so warmly caressed him. He ing, and professed to expose every thing he fled down the Cumberlaud in an open boat, knew about the horrid conspiracy. For the joined his fellow-conspirators, and after trying moment he was regaz~ed as the Deliverer of his to draw into his service the little garrison at Country. P Fort Massac, who had not heard of his schemes, Wilkinsons dispatch reached the President on he pushed on toward New Orleans. The last the 25th of November. On the 27th Mr. Jeffer- military post on the Mississippi, in that direc- son issued a proclamation on the subject, and sent tion, was at the Chickasaw Bluffs (now Mem- it, with paralyzing effect upon Burrs schemes, phis), and there again he endeavored to win a upon the wings of the press all over the conutry, small garrison to his interests. He failed; and and by special messengers to the Governors of ~vhile at the house of a friend, a short distance States. It produced general alarm throughout below the Bluffs, he was informed, by a news- the land. Exaggeration followed exaggeration; paper, of the proceedings of Wilkinson and the and when General Eaton, emboldened by these fiery indignation of the people in New Orleans. public accusations of Burr, came forward and He at once perceived that a most unwelcome re- added his astounding deposition to the testimo- ception would await him there. ny against him, curses loud and long upon the In fear of immediate arrest by the authorities murderer of Hamilton and traitor to his coun- of Mississippi, Burr, now a branded fugitive, try ~vere invoked. Many of the more timid be- withdrew to the west side of the river, out of the lieved that the Union was actually toppling to jurisdiction of Governor Claiborne, and estab- its fall; and loyal men, who had been deceived lished a camp about twenty miles below Natchez. as to Burrs real intentions, hastened to desert There he ~vas visited by Poindexter, the Attor- the cause of a faithless and deceptive leader. ney-General of Mississippi, for the purpose of in- The sturdy Jackson was among the first of these ducing him to surrender. Burr received him when his suspicions ~vere a~oused, and he wrote conrteously, but spoke bitterly of Wilkinson. to Governor Claiborne, of Mississippi, warning As to any projects, he said, which may him that a plot against his Territory was doubt- have been formed between Geneml Wilkinson less on foot. He had the sagacity to perceive and myself heretofore, they are now completely that Wilkinson could not be trusted, and he frustrated by the perfidious conduct of Wilkin- warned the Governor to be on his guard against son; and the world must pronounce him a per- that commander as well as Burr. I hate the fidious villain. If I am sacrificed, my port-folio Dons, he wrote, and would delight to see will prove him to be such. And so the world, Mexico reduced; but I would die in the last acquainted with the history, believes. ditch before I would see the Union disunited. Burr agreed to surrender when he should re- Sustained by the Presidents proclamation ceive a written guarantee that his person should and the letter of General Jackson to Governor be unmolested. This was given; and he ac- Claiborne, Wilkinson manifested great patriotic companied Poindexter to Washington, the seat zeal by arresting several suspected confederates of the Mississippi Government. His case was of Burr, and suspending the privilege of the laid before the grand jury at the sitting of the writ of habeas corpus. Meanwhile the agent Court there in February, 1807. It was a re- sent to the West by the President was doing ef-. markable body of Mississippi planters. Instead feetive service on the Ohio and in Kentucky. of indicting the accused, they presented the act- He conferred with Blennerhassett at Marietta, ing Governor of the Territory as a culprit be- who supposed him to be one of the confederates cause he had called out the militia for the arrest of Burr, and then procured from the authorities of Burr and his accomplices, and denounced the of Ohio an order for the seizure of all the boats late proceedings at New Orleans! They did not at the mouth of the Muskingum and at Blenner- present the President of the United States as a bassetts Island. This duty was performed by mischievous alarmist because of his disturbing rough militiamen, who desolated the island, dis- proclamation. figured the house, paintings, and furniture, and Burr ~vithdrew to the house of a friend and so insulted and menaced the accomplished mis- sympathizer; but, informed of the approach of tress of the mansion that she fled in terror down officers sent by Wilkinson for his arrest, he sud- the Ohio in an open boat. Joined by her bus- denly disappeared. He visited his flotilla, in- band, they hastened toward the Mississippi, hop- formed his people (about sixty in number) of ing to find a refmi~c from the sudden storm of ad- what had transpired and the impending danger~ HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. told them he must fly for safety; directed them be very careful how he arrested travelers on sus- to divide the property in their possession among picion, and used his fascination of words and ! themselves, and advised them to go and settle manners freely, hut with no effect this time. on his Washita domain. He then left them. Gaines assured him that he knew his responsi- f Some were arrested, and others were scattered bilities and his duties, and said, with emphasis, and concealed in the Territory until the storm that he must go with him, a prisoner, to Fort was over, when, as Poindexter said, they fur- Stoddart, where he should be treated with all \ ~\ nished that region with an abundant supply of the consideration due to his late exalted rank as school-masters, singing-masters, dancing-inns- the second officer in the Government. t~rs, and doctors. Burrs arrest occurred on the 19th of February. b-nrr made his way through the wilderness to- On the 5th of March he commenced a journey, ward Pensacola, where lay a British man-of-war, as a prisoner, for the National Capital, under a on which he hoped to find a temporary refuge proper guard commanded by Colonel Perkins. until he could leave the country altogether. Not It was a tedious and perilous journey, through having been legally discharged, a reward of two immense wildernesses a sparse settlements. thousand dollars was offered by the Governor of At Peterburg, in Virgin~ they were met by an Mississippi for his arrest. That event was not order from the President directing the convey- long delayed. The fugitive traveled on horse- ance of the prisoner to Richmond. They ar- hack, with only a guide for a companion. Late rived in that city on the 26th of March, where, at night, just past the middle of February, he as speedily as possible, Burr had a hearing be- rode up to a lighted cabin in the hamlet of fore Chief Justice Marshall. Bonds were given Old Wakefield, Washington County, Alabama, for his appearance at court on the 22d of the en- not far from the Tombighee River, and inquired suing May, and he was set at liberty. for the tavern and the house of Colonel Hinson, A grand jury selected from among the leading a well-known resident, whose home was some citizens of Virginia, indicted Burr for high trea- miles below. Two lawyers were playing back- son, and he was put upon his trial on the 22d gammon in the cabin. One was Colonel Nicho- of May, 1807. It was one of the most remark- las Perkins, wh6 had rea~d the Presidents proc- able state trials ever held in America. Rodney, lamation, and had possibly heard of the recent- the United States Attorney-General of the Dis- ly-offered reward. The sparkling eyes and rare trict conducted the trial, assisted by Hay and intelligence of the stranger, so unusual among Wirt, then both eminent at the Virginia bar. the rustic population of that region, as Burrs Edmund Randolph of Virginia, Luther Martin dress indicated him to be, attracted Perkinss at- of Maryland, and other eminent counsel were tention, and awakened his suspicions. A glance employed for the defense. The trial lasted all it a tidy hoot on a small foot that protruded summer. An overt act of treason could not be from the coarse pantaloons of the rider (for the proved, and the jury were compelled by the law latter of hoofs had brought the two lawyers to and the testimony to acquit him. They cvi- the door with a light) confirmed his suspicions. dently did so with a full conviction of his guilty That is Colonel Burr, said Perkins to his intentions, for their verdict, rendered on the first companion when they re - entered the cabin, of September, was given in unusual formd Let us follow him to Hinsons, and arrest form which the prisoner felt keenly to be ar~ him. His incredulous companion ridiculed actual expression of their conviction of his moraI~ him; but Perkins, convinced of the correctness guiltiness. It was in these words: We, of~\ of his judgment, aroused the sheriff, and the the jury, say that Aaron Burr is not proved to two started after the traveler. Perkins remain- be guilty under the indictment by any evidencc\~ ed in the woods until the sheriff should perform submitted to us. We, therefore, find him not his official duty. That functionary was so guilty. charmed with Burr that he could not make the Burr vehemently protested against this form, arrest. Perkins waited long, and finally, sus- and demanded that the verdict should be ren- ~ecting the cause of the delay, he pushed for- dered in the usual way. The jury would not ward to the Tombighee River, descended it in a yield; but the clerk of the court took the re- canoe to Fort Stoddart, and communicated his sponsibility of entering u~ton the record only suspicions to Captain (afterward Major-General) words, not geilty. Gaines, the commandant there. That alert of- Prosecutions against Blennerhassett, Tyler, fleer was soon in his saddle, and the two, fol- Floyd, and others, resting upon the same cvi- lowed by a file of dragoons, hastened to the Pen- dence, were immediately abandoned, when all of sacola road. Within two miles of Colonel Hin- the accused (Burr included) were put upon their sons house they met the travelers. I pre- trial for a misdemeanor, in fitting out an expe- ~ume, said Captain Gaines, I have the honor dition against Mexico, a province of a friendly of addressing Colonel Burr. I am a travel- power. They were acquitted in October, on the or, said the culprit, with perfect composure, ground that the offense was not committed in and do not recognize your right to ask such a Virginia, but in Ohio. The prisoners were then question. Gaines immediately produced the ordered to give bail for their appearance for trial Presidents proclamation, and declared Burr to in the latter State. They did so, and all were he under arrest by order of the National Govern- released. The bail-bonds of all were forfeited. macnt. Burr warned him, as a young man, to Burr fled to Europe as soon as practicable; and ORLEY FARM. Blennerhassett, his deluded victim, after sting- rest. While the subject was pending at XVash- gling with ill-fortune in the United States and ington she lived upon the bounty of some be- Canada for ten years, went to England, and nevolent Irish females in New York. She soon finally died in the island of Guernsey. His sickened and died, and the remains of that ne- widow came to New York in 1842, and in Con- complished woman, the child of opulence, were gress, through henry Clay, sought, unsuccess- buried by the Sisters of Charity. Burr had then fully, for remuneration for losses of property sus- been in his grave, a few miles from New York. tamed by her husband in consequence of his ar- six years. ORLEY FARM. BY ANTHONY TROLLOPE.ILLUSTRATED BY J. E. MILLAIS. CHAPTER LIII. that another trial was necessary, but that the I unfortunate victim of Mr. Masons cupidity and LADY MASON RETURNS HOME. Mr. Dockwraths malice would be washed whitc T ADY MASON remained at The Cleeve for as snow when the day of that trial caine. The J..J something more than a week after that day chief performers on the present occasion were on which she made her confession, during which Round and Aram, and a stranger to such pro- time she was fully committed to take her trial at ceedings would have said that they were acting the next assizes at Alston on an indictment for in concert. Mr. Round pressed for the indict- perjury. This was done in a manner that ns- ment, and brought forward in a very short way toni~hed even herself by the absence of all pub- the evidence of Bolster and Torrington. Mr. licity or outward scandal. The matter was ar- Aram said that his client was advised to reserve ranged between Mr. Matthew Round and Mr. her defense, and was prepared ~vith bail to any Solomon Aram, and was so arranged in accord- amount. Mr. Round advised the magistrates ance with Mr. Furnivals wishes. Mr. Furnival that reasonable bail should be taken, and then wrote to say that at such a time he would call at the matter was settled. Mr. Furnival sat on a The Cleeve with a post-chaise. This he did, chair close to the elder of tbose two gentlemen, and took Lady Mason with him before two mag- and whispered a word to him now and then. istrates for the county who were sitting at Dod- Lady Mason was provided with an arm-chair dinghurst, a village five miles distant from Sir close to Mr. Furnivals right hand, and close to Peregrines house. Here by agreement they her right hand stood her son. Her face was were met by Lucius Mason, who was to act as covered by a deep veil, and she was not called one of the bailsmen for his mothers appearance upon during the whole proceeding to utter one at the trial. Sir Peregrine was the other, but audible word. A single question was put to her it was brought about by amicable management by the presiding magistrate before the committal between the lawyers that his appearance before was signed, and it was understood that some an- the magistrates was not required. There were swer was made to it; but this answer reached also there the two attorneys, Bridget Bolster the ears of those in the room by means of Mr. the witness, one Tornington from London, who Furnivals voice. brought with him the absolute deed executed on It was observed by most of those there that the 14th of July with reference to the then dis- during the whole of the sitting Lady Mason held solved partnership of Mason and Martock, and her sons hand; but it was observed also that there was Mr. Samuel Dockwrath. I must not though Lucius permitted this, he did not seem forget to say that there was also a reporter for to return the pressure. He stood there during the press, provided by the special care of the the entire proceedings, without motion or speech, latter-named gentleman. looking very stern, lie signed the bail-bond, The arrival in the village of four different ye- but even that he did without saying a word. hides, and the sight of such gentlemen as Mr. Mr. Dockwrath demanded that Lady Mason Furnival, Mr. Round, and Mr. Aram, of course should be kept in custody till the bond should aroused some excitement there; but this feeling also have been signed by Sir Peregrine; but was kept down as much as possible, and Lady upon this Mr. Round remarked that he believed Mason was very quickly allowed to return to the Mr. Jose ph Mason had intrusted to him the carriage. Mr. Dockwrath made one or two at- conduct of the case, and the elder magistrate tempts to get up a scene, and to rouse a feeling desired Mr. Dockwrath to abstain from further of public anger against the lady who was to be interference. All right, said he to a person tried; but the magistrates put him down. They standing close to him. But Ill be too many also seemed to be fully impressed with a sense for them yet, as you will see when she is brought of Lady Masons innocence, in the teeth of the before a judge and jury. And then Lady Ma- evidence which was given against her. This son stood committed to take her trial at the next was the general feeling on the minds of all peo- Alston assizes. pleexcept of those who knew most about it. When Lucius had come forward to hand her There was an idea that affairs had so been man- from the post-chaise in which she arrived Lady aged by Mr. Joseph Mason and Mr. Dockwrnth Mason had kissed him, but this was all the in~

Anthony Trollope Trollope, Anthony Orley Farm 77-93

ORLEY FARM. Blennerhassett, his deluded victim, after sting- rest. While the subject was pending at XVash- gling with ill-fortune in the United States and ington she lived upon the bounty of some be- Canada for ten years, went to England, and nevolent Irish females in New York. She soon finally died in the island of Guernsey. His sickened and died, and the remains of that ne- widow came to New York in 1842, and in Con- complished woman, the child of opulence, were gress, through henry Clay, sought, unsuccess- buried by the Sisters of Charity. Burr had then fully, for remuneration for losses of property sus- been in his grave, a few miles from New York. tamed by her husband in consequence of his ar- six years. ORLEY FARM. BY ANTHONY TROLLOPE.ILLUSTRATED BY J. E. MILLAIS. CHAPTER LIII. that another trial was necessary, but that the I unfortunate victim of Mr. Masons cupidity and LADY MASON RETURNS HOME. Mr. Dockwraths malice would be washed whitc T ADY MASON remained at The Cleeve for as snow when the day of that trial caine. The J..J something more than a week after that day chief performers on the present occasion were on which she made her confession, during which Round and Aram, and a stranger to such pro- time she was fully committed to take her trial at ceedings would have said that they were acting the next assizes at Alston on an indictment for in concert. Mr. Round pressed for the indict- perjury. This was done in a manner that ns- ment, and brought forward in a very short way toni~hed even herself by the absence of all pub- the evidence of Bolster and Torrington. Mr. licity or outward scandal. The matter was ar- Aram said that his client was advised to reserve ranged between Mr. Matthew Round and Mr. her defense, and was prepared ~vith bail to any Solomon Aram, and was so arranged in accord- amount. Mr. Round advised the magistrates ance with Mr. Furnivals wishes. Mr. Furnival that reasonable bail should be taken, and then wrote to say that at such a time he would call at the matter was settled. Mr. Furnival sat on a The Cleeve with a post-chaise. This he did, chair close to the elder of tbose two gentlemen, and took Lady Mason with him before two mag- and whispered a word to him now and then. istrates for the county who were sitting at Dod- Lady Mason was provided with an arm-chair dinghurst, a village five miles distant from Sir close to Mr. Furnivals right hand, and close to Peregrines house. Here by agreement they her right hand stood her son. Her face was were met by Lucius Mason, who was to act as covered by a deep veil, and she was not called one of the bailsmen for his mothers appearance upon during the whole proceeding to utter one at the trial. Sir Peregrine was the other, but audible word. A single question was put to her it was brought about by amicable management by the presiding magistrate before the committal between the lawyers that his appearance before was signed, and it was understood that some an- the magistrates was not required. There were swer was made to it; but this answer reached also there the two attorneys, Bridget Bolster the ears of those in the room by means of Mr. the witness, one Tornington from London, who Furnivals voice. brought with him the absolute deed executed on It was observed by most of those there that the 14th of July with reference to the then dis- during the whole of the sitting Lady Mason held solved partnership of Mason and Martock, and her sons hand; but it was observed also that there was Mr. Samuel Dockwrath. I must not though Lucius permitted this, he did not seem forget to say that there was also a reporter for to return the pressure. He stood there during the press, provided by the special care of the the entire proceedings, without motion or speech, latter-named gentleman. looking very stern, lie signed the bail-bond, The arrival in the village of four different ye- but even that he did without saying a word. hides, and the sight of such gentlemen as Mr. Mr. Dockwrath demanded that Lady Mason Furnival, Mr. Round, and Mr. Aram, of course should be kept in custody till the bond should aroused some excitement there; but this feeling also have been signed by Sir Peregrine; but was kept down as much as possible, and Lady upon this Mr. Round remarked that he believed Mason was very quickly allowed to return to the Mr. Jose ph Mason had intrusted to him the carriage. Mr. Dockwrath made one or two at- conduct of the case, and the elder magistrate tempts to get up a scene, and to rouse a feeling desired Mr. Dockwrath to abstain from further of public anger against the lady who was to be interference. All right, said he to a person tried; but the magistrates put him down. They standing close to him. But Ill be too many also seemed to be fully impressed with a sense for them yet, as you will see when she is brought of Lady Masons innocence, in the teeth of the before a judge and jury. And then Lady Ma- evidence which was given against her. This son stood committed to take her trial at the next was the general feeling on the minds of all peo- Alston assizes. pleexcept of those who knew most about it. When Lucius had come forward to hand her There was an idea that affairs had so been man- from the post-chaise in which she arrived Lady aged by Mr. Joseph Mason and Mr. Dockwrnth Mason had kissed him, but this was all the in~ 78 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tercourse that then passed between the mother and son. Mr. Furnival, however, informed him that his mother would return to Orley Farm on the next day hut one. She thinks it better that she should he at home from this time to the day of the trial, said Mr. Furnival; and, on the whole, Sir Peregrine is inclined to agree with her. I have thought so all through, said Lucius. But you are to understand that there is no disagreement between your mother and the fam- ily at The Cleeve. The idea of the marriage aas, as I think very properly, been laid aside. Of course it was proper that it should he laid aside. Yes; hut I must heg you to understand that there has been no quarrel. Indeed you will, I have no doubt, perceive that, as Mrs. Orme has assured me that she will see your mo- ther constantly till the time comes. She is very kind, said Lucius But it was evident from the tone of his voice that he would have preferred that all the Ormes should have remained away. In his mind this time of suf- fering to his mother and to him was a period of trial and prohationa period, if not of actual disgrace, yet of disgrace before the world; and he thought that it would have best become his mother to have abstained from all friendship out of her own family, and even from all expressed sympathy, till she had vindicated her own purity and innocence. And as he thought of this he declared to himself that he would have sacrificed every thing to her comfort and assistance if she would only have permitted it. He would have loved her, and been tender to her, receiving on his own shoulders all those blows which now fell so hardly upon hers. Every word should have been a word of kindness; every look should have been soft and full of affection. He would have treated her not only with all the love which a son could show to a mother, but with all the respect and sympathy which a gentleman could feel for a lady in distress. But then, in order that such a state of things as this should have existed, it would have been necessary that she should have trusted him. She should have leaned upon him, andthough he did not exactly say so in talking over the matter with himself, still he thought iton him, and on him only. But she had declined to lean upon him at all. She had gone away to strangersshe, who should hard- ly have spoken to a stranger during these sad months! She would not have his care; and under those circumstances he could only stand aloof, hold up his head, and look sternly. As for her innocence, that was a matter of course. He knew that she was innocent. He wanted no one to tell him that his own mother was not a thief, a forger, a castaway among the worlds worst wretches. He thanked no one for such an assurance. Every honest man must sympathize with a woman so injured. It would be a neces- sity of his manhood and of his honesty! But he would have valued most a sympathy which would have abstained from all expression till after that trial should be over. It should have been for him to act and for him to speak during this terrible period. But his mother, who was a free agent, had willed it otherwise. And there had been one other scene. Mr. Furnival had introduced Lady Mason to Mr. Solomon Aram, having explained to her that it would be indispensable that Mr. Aram should see her, probably once or twice before the trial came on. But can not it be done through you ? said Lady Mason. Though, of course, I should not expect that you can so sacrifice your valu- able time. Pray believe me that that is not the con- sideration, said Mr. Furnival. We have en- gaged the services of Mr. Aram because he is supposed to understand difficulties of this sort better than any other man in the profession, and his chance of rescuing you from this trouble will be much better if you can bring yourself to have confidence in himfull confidence. And Mr. Furnival looked into her face as he spoke with an expression of countenance that was very eloquent. You must not suppose that I shall not do all in my power. In my proper capacity I shall be acting for you with all the energy that I can use; but the case has now assumed an aspect which requires that it should be in an attorneys hands. And then Mr. Furnival in- troduced her to Mr. Solomon Aram. Mr. Solomon Aram was not, in outward ap- pearance, such a man as Lady Mason, Sir Pere- grine Orme, or others quite ignorant in such matters would have expected. He was not a dirty old Jew with a hooked nose and an imper- fect pronunciation of English consonants. Mr. Chaffanbrass, the barrister, bore more resem- blance to a Jew of that ancient type. Mr. Sol- omon Aram was a good - looking man about forty, perhaps rather over-dressed, but bearing about him no other sign of vulgarity. Nor at first sight would it probably have been discerned that he was of the Hebrew persuasion. He had black hair and a well-formed face; but his eyes were closer than is common with most of us, and his nose seemed to be somewhat swollen about the bridge. When one knew that he was a Jew one saw that he was a Jew; but in the absence of such previous knowledge he might have been taken for as good a Christian as any other attorney. Mr. Aram raised his hat and bowed as Mr. Furnival performed the ceremony of introduc- tion. This was done while she was still seated in the carriage, and as Lucius was waiting at the door to hand her down into the house where the magistrates were sitting. I am delighted to have the honor of making your acquaint- ance, said Mr. Aram. Lady Mason essayed to mutter some word; but no word was audible, nor was any necessary. I have no doubt, continued the attorney, that we shall pull through this little difficulty without any ultimate damage whatsoever. In the mean time it is of course disagreeable to a ORLEY FARM. 79 lady of your distinction. And then he made subject. He seemed too to be older than be had another bow. We are peculiarly happy in been, and less firm in his gait. That terrible having such a tower of strength as Mr. Furnival, sadness had already told greatly upon him. and then he bowed to the barrister. And my Those about him had observed that he had not old friend Mr. Chaffaubrass is another tower of once crossed the threshold of his hall-door since strength. Eb, Mr. Furnival ? And so the in- the morning on which Lady Mason had taken troduction was over, to her own room. Lady Mason had quite understood Mr. Fur- He has altered his mind, said the lawyer nival; had understood both his words and his to himself as he was driven back to the Ham- face, when he told her how indispensable it was worth station. He also now believes her to that she should have full. confidence in this at- be guilty. As to his own belief, Mr. Furnival torney. He had meant that she should tell held no argument within his own breast, but we him all. She must bring herself to confess ev- may say that he was no longer perplexed by much ery thing to this absolute stranger. And then doubt upon the matter. for the first timeshe felt sure that Mr. Fur- And then the morning came for Lady Masons nival had guessed her secret. He also knew it, departure. Sir Peregrine had not seen her since but it would not suit him that any one should she had left him in the library after her con- know that he knew it! Alas, alas! would it fession, although, as may be remembered, he had not be better that all the world should know it undertaken to do so. But he had not then and that there might be an end? Had not her known how Mrs. Orme might act when she doom been told to her? Even if the parapher- heard the story. As matters had turned out nalia of justicethe judge, and the jury, and the Mrs. Orme had taken upon herself the care of lawyerscould be induced to declare her inno- their guest, and all intercourse between Lady cent before all men, must she not confess her Mason and Sir Peregrine had passed through his guilt to himto that onefor whose verdict daughter-in-law. But now, on this morning, he alone she cared? If he knew her to be guilty declared that he would go to her up stairs in what matter who might think her innocent? Mrs. Ormes room, and himself hand her down And she had been told that all must be declared through the hall into the carriage. Against this to him. That property was hisbut his only Lady Mason had expostulated, but in vain. through her guilt; and that property must be It will be better so, dear, Mrs. Orme had restored to its owner! So much Sir Peregrine said. It will teach the servants and people to Orme had declared to be indispensable Sir think that he still respects and esteems you. Peregrine Orme, who in other matters concern- But he does not! said she, speaking almost ing this case was now dark enough in his judg- sharply. How would it be possible? Ah, ment. On that point, however, there need be merespect and esteem are gone from me for- no darkness. Though the heaven should fall ever ! on her devoted head, that tardy justice must be No, not forever, replied Mrs. Orme. You done! have much to bear, but no evil lasts forever. When this piece of business had been com- Will not sin last forever sin such as pleted at Doddinghurst, Lady Mason returned mine? to The Cleeve, whither Mr. Furnival accom- Not if you repentrepent and make such panied her. He had offered his seat in the restitution as is possible. Lady Mason, say that post-chaise to Lucius, but the young man had you have repented. Tell me that you have asked declared that he was unwilling to go to The Him to pardon you ! And then, as had been Cleeve, and consequently there was no oppor- so often the ease during these last days, Lady tunity for conversation between Lady Mason Mason sat silent, with hard, fixed eyes, with her and her son. On her arrival she ~vent at once hands clasped, and her lips compressed. Never to her room, and there she continued to live as as yet had Mrs. Orme induced her to say that she had done for the last few days till the morn- she had asked for pardon at the cost of telling ing of her departure came. To Mrs. Orme she her son that the property which he called his told all that had occurred, as Mr. Furnival did own had been procured for him by his mothers also to Sir Peregrine. On that occasion Sir fraud. That punishment, and that only, was Peregrine said very little to the barrister, mere- too heavy for her neck to bear. Her acquittal ly bowing his head courteously as each different in the law-court would be as nothing to her if it point was explained, in intimation of his having must be followed by an avowal of her guilt to heard and understood what was said to him. her own son! Mr. Furnival could not but see that his manner Sir Peregrine did come up stairs and handed was entirely altered. There was no enthusiasm her down through the hall as he had proposed. now, no violence of invective against that wretch When he came into the room she did not look at Groby 1ark, no positive assurance that his at him, but stood leaning against the table, with guests innocence must come out at the trial her eyes fixed upon the ground. bright as the day! He showed no inclination I hope you find yourself better, he said, as to desert Lady Masons cause, and indeed insist- he put out his hand to her. She did not even ed on hearing the particulars of all that had attempt to make a reply, but allowed him just to been done; but he said very little, and those touch her fingers. few words adverted to the terrible sndness of the Perhaps I had better not come down, said 80 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. LADY MASON GOING BEFORE TILE MAGISTRATES. Mis. Orme. It will he easier to say good-by Orme, and restore you to yous son. God will here. bless you if you ask him. No; you shall not Good-by! said Lady Mason, and her voice go without a kiss. And she put out her arms sounded in Sir Peregrines ears like a voice that Lady Mason might come to her. from the dead. The poor broken wretch stood for a moment God bless you and preserve you ! said Mrs. as though trying to determine what she would. I. \-~. I ---.---------.-------------- - . -- / ORLjY FARM. 81 do; and then, almost with a shriek, she threw herself on to the bosom of the other woman, and b~irst into a flood of tears. She had intended to ~stain from that embrace; she had resolved ~at she would do so, declaring to herself that Mie was not fit to be held against that pure heart; but the tenderness of the offer had over- come her, and now she pressed her friend con- vulsively in her arms, as though there might yet be comfort for her as long as she could remain close to one who was so good to her. I shall come and see you very often, said Mrs. Orme almost daily. No, no, no! exclaimed the other, hardly knowing the meaning of her own words. But I shall. My father is waiting now, dear, and you had hetter go. Sir Peregrine had turned to the window, where he stood shading his eyes with his hand. When he heard his daughter-in-laws last words he again came forward and offered Lady Mason his arm. Edith is right, he said. You had better go now. When you are at home you ~vill be more composed. And then he led her forth, and down the stairs, and across the hall, and with infinite courtesy put her into the car- riage. It was a moment dreadful to Lady Mason; bnt to Sir Peregrine, also, it was not pleasant. The servants were standing round, officiously offering their aidthose very serv- ants who had been told about ten days since that this lady was to become their masters wife and their mistress. They had been told so with no injunction as to secrecy, and the tidings had gone quickly through the whole country. Now it was known that the match was broken off that the lady had been living up stairs secluded for the last weekand that she was to leave the house this morning, having been committed dur- ing the last day or two to stand her trial at the assizes for some terrible offense! He succeeded in his task. He handed her into the carriage, and then walked back through his own servants to the library without betraying to them the depth of his sorrow; but he knew that the last task had been too heavy for him. When it was done he shut himself up and sat there for hours without moving. He also declared to himself that the world was too hard for him, and that it would be well for him that he should die. Nev- er till now had he come into close contact with crime, and now the criminal was one whom as a woman lie had learned to love, and whom he had proposed to the world as his wife! The criminal was one who had declared her crime in order to protect him, and whom therefore he was still bound in honor to protect. When Lady Mason arrived at Orley Farm her son Was waiting at the door to receive her. It should have been said that during the last two daysthat is, eve~- since the committalMrs. Orme had urged upon her very strongly that it would be well for her to tell every thing to her son. What! now, at once ? the poor wo- man had said. Yes, dear, at once, Mrs. Orme had answered. He will forgive you, for I know he is good. He will forgive you, and then the worst of your sorrow will be over. But toward doing this Lady Mason had made no progress even in her mind. In the violence of her own resolution she had brought herself to tell her guilt to Sir Peregrine. That effort had nearly destroyed her, and now she knew that she could not frame the words which should declare the truth to Lucius. What! tell him that tale; whereas her whole life had been spent in an ef- fort to conceal it from him? No. She knew that she could not do it. But the idea of doing so made her tremble at the prospect of meeting him. I am very glad you have come home, mo- ther, said Lucius, as lie received her. Be- lieve me that for the present this will be the best place for both of us, and then he led her into the house. Dear Lucius, it would al~vays be best for me to be with you, if it were possible. He did not accuse her of hypocrisy in saying this; but lie could not but think that had she really thought and felt as she now spoke nothing need have prevented her remaining with him. Had not his house ever been open to her? Had lie not been willing to make her defense the first object of his life? had be not longed to prove himself a good son? But she had gone from him directly that troubles came upon her; and now she said that she would fain be with hini alwaysif it were possible! Where had been the impediment? In what way had it been not possible? He thought of this with bitterness as he followed her into the house, hut he said not a word of it. He had resolved that he would be a pattern son, and even now he would not rebuke her. She had lived in this house for some four- and-twenty years, but it seemed to her in no ~ like her home. Was it not the property of her enemy, Joseph Mason? nnd did she not know that it must go back into that enemys hands? How then could it be to her like a home? The room in which her bed was laid was that very room in which her sin had been committed! There, in the silent hours of the night, while the old man lay near his death in the adjoining chamber, had she with infinite care and much slow preparation done that deed, to undo which, were it possible, she would now give away her ex- istenceay, her very body and soul. And yet for years she had slept in that room, if not happily at least tranquilly. It was matter of yonder to her now, as she looked back at her past life, that her guilt had sat so lightly on her shoulders. The black, unwelcome guest, the spectre of com- ing evil, had ever been present to her; but she had seen it indistinctly, and now and then the power had been hers to close her eyes. Never a~ain could she close them. Nearer to her, and still nearer, the spectre came; and now it sat upon her pillow, and put its claw upon her plate. it pressed upon her bosom with its fiendish strength, telling her that all was over for her in this worlday, and telling her worse even than 82 HARPERS NEW MON~HLY MAGAZINE. that. Her return to her old home brought with it but little comfort. And yet she was forced to make an effort at seeming glad that she had come therea terri- ble effort! He, her son, was not gay, or dis- posed to receive from her a show of happiness; hut he did think that she should compose her- self and be tranquil, and that she should resume the ordinary duties of her life in her ordinarily quiet way. In all this she was obliged to con- form herself to his wishesor to attempt so to conform herself, thongh her heart should break in the struggle. If he did but know it all, then he wonld suffer her to be quietsuffer her to lie motionless in her misery! Once or twice she almost said to herself that she would make the effort; hut then she thought of him and his suffering, of his pride, of the respect which he claimed from all the world as the honest son of an honest mother, of his stubborn will and stiff neck, which would not bend, but would break beneath the blow. She had done all for him to raise him in the world; and now she could not bring herself to undo the work that had cost her so dearly! That evening she went through the ceremony of dinner with him, and he was punctilious in waiting npon her, as though bread and meat could comfort her, or ~vine could warm her heart. There was no warmth for her in all the vintages of the south, no comfort though gods should bring to her their banquets. She was heavy- ladenladen to the breaking of her backand did not know where to lay her burden down. Mother, he said to her that night, lifting his head from the books over which he had been poring, there must be a few words between ns about this affair. They might as well be spoken now. Yes, Lucius; of courseif you desire it. There can be no doubt now that this trial will take place. No doubt, she said. There can be no doubt. Is it your wish that I should take any part in it? She remained silent for some moments before she answered him, thinkingstriving to think, how best she might do him pleasure. What part? she said at last. A mans part, and a sons part. Shall I see these lawyers and learn from them what they are at? Have I your leave to tell them that you want no subterfuge, no legal quibblesthat you stand firmly on your own clear innocence, and that you defy your enemies to sully it? Mo- ther, those who have sent you to such men as that cunning attorney have sent you wrong have counseled you wrong. It can not be changed now, Lucius. It can be changed, if you will tell me to change it. And then again she paused. Ah, think of her anguish as she sought for words to answer him! No, Lucius, she said, it can not be changed now. So be it, mother; I will not ask again and then he moodily returned to his books, while she returned to her thoughts. Ab, think of her misery! CHAPTER LIV. TELLING ALL THAT HAPPENED BENEATH THE LAMP-POST. WHEN Felix Graham left Noningsby, and made his way up to London, he came at least to one resolution which he intended to be an abiding one. That idea of a marriage with a moulded wife should at any rate be abandoned. Whether it might be his great destiny to be the husband of Madeline Staveley, or whether he might fail in achieving this purpose, he declared to himself that it would be impossible that he should ever now become the husband of Mary Snow. And the ease with which his conscience settled itself on this matter as soon as he had re- ceived from the Judge that gleam of hope aston- ished even himself. He immediately declared to himself that he could not marry Mary Snow without perjury! How could he stand with her before the altar and swear that he would love her, seeing that he did not love her at allsee- ing that he altogether loved some one else? He acknowledged that he had made an ass of him- self in this~affair of Mary Snow. This moulding of a wife had failed with him, he said, as it al- ways must fail with every man. But he would not carry his folly further. He would go to Mary Snow, tell her the truth, and then bear whatever injury her angry father might be able to inflict on him. Independently of that angry father, he would of course do for Mary Snow all that his circumstances would admit. Perhaps the gentleman of a poetic turn of mind, whom Mary had consented to meet be- neath the lamp-post, might assist him in his views; but whether this might be so or not, he would not throw that meeting ungenerously in her teeth. He would not have allowed that of- fense to turn him from his proposed marriage had there been nothing else to turn him, and therefore he would not plead that offense as the excuse for his broken troth. That the breaking of that troth would not deeply wound poorMarys heartso much he did permit himself to believe on the evidence of that lamp-post. He had written to Mrs. Thomas, telling her when he would be at Peckham; but in his letter he had not said a word as to those terrible tid- ings which she had communicated to him. He had written also to Mary, assuring her that he accused her of no injury against him, and al- most promising her forgiveness; but this letter Mary had not shown to Mrs. Thomas. In these days Marys anger against Mrs. Thomas was very strong. That Mrs. Thomas should have used all her vigilance to detect such goings on as those of the lamp-post was only natural. What woman in Mrs. Thomass positionor in any other positionwould not have done so? ORLEY FARM. 53 Mary Snow knew that had she herself been the duenna she would have left no corner of a box unturned but she would have found those letters. And having found them, she would have used her power over the poor girl. She knew that. But she would not have betrayed her to the man. Truth between woman and woman should have prevented that. Were not the stockings which she had darned for Mrs. Thomas legion in num- ber? Had she not consented to eat the veriest scraps of food in order that those three brats might be fed into sleekness to satisfy their mo- thers eyes? Had she not reported well of Mrs. Thomas to her lord, though that house of Peck- ham was naseous to her? Had she ever told to Mr. Graham any one of those little tricks which were carried on to allure him into a be- lief that things at Peckham were prosperous? Had she ever exposed the borrowing of those tea-cups when he came, and the fact that those knobs of white sugar were kept expressly on his behoof? No; she would have scorned to betray any woman; and that woman whom she had not betrayed should have shown the same feeling toward her. Therefore there was enmity at Peckham, and the stockings of those infants lay u~mended in the basket. Mary, I have done it all for the best, said Mrs. Thomas, driven to defend herself by the obdurate silence of her pupil. No, Mrs. Thomas, you didnt. You did it for the worst, said Mary. And then there was again silence between them. It was on the morning following this that Felix Graham was driven to the door in a cab. He still carried his arm in a sling, and was obliged to be somcwhat slow in his movements, but otherwise he was again well. His accident, however, was so far a godsend to both the wo- men at Peckham that it gave them a subject on which they were called upon to speak before that other subject was introduced. Mary was very tender in her inquiriesbut tender in a bashful, retiring way. To look at her one would have said that she was afraid to touch the wounded man lest he should be again broken. Oh, Im all right, said he, trying to as- sume a look of good-humor. I shant go hunt- ing again in a hurry; you may be sure of that. We have all great reason to be thankful that Providence interposed to save you, said Mrs. Thomas, in her most serious tone. Had Prov- idence interposed to break Mrs. Thomass collar- bone, or at least to do her some serious outward injury, what a comfort it would be, thought Mary Snow. Have you seen your father lately ? asked Graham. Not since I wrote to you about the money that heborrowed, said Mary. I told her that she should not have given it to him, said Mrs. Thomas. She was quite right, said Graham. Who could refuse assistance to a father in distress ? Whereupon Mary put her handkerchief up to her eyes and began to cry. Thats true, of course, said Mrs. Thomas; but it would never do that he should be a drain in that way. He should feel that if he had any feeling. So he has, said Mary. And you are driven close enough yourself sometimes, Mrs. Thomas. Theres days when youd like to bor- row nineteen and sixpence if any body woull lend it you. Very well, said Mrs. Thomas, crossing her hands over each other in her lap and assuming a look of resignation; I suppose all this will be changed now. I have endeavored to do my duty, and very hard it has been. Felix felt that the sooner he rushed into the middle of the subject which brought him there the better it would be for all parties. That the two ladies were not very happy together was ev- ident, and then he made a little comparison be- tween Madeline and Mary. Was it really the case that for the last three years he had contem- plated making that poor child his wife? Would it not be better for him to tie a millstone round his neck and cast himself into the sea? That was now his thought respecting Mary Snow. Mrs. Thomas, he said, I should like to speak to Mary alone for a few minutes, if you could allow it. Oh certainly; by all means. It will be quite proper. And gathering up a bundle of the unfortunate stockings she took herself out of the room. Mary, as soon as Graham had spoken, became almost pale, and sat perfectly still, with her eyes fixed on her betrothed husband. While Mrs. Thomas was there she was prepared for ~var, and her spirit was hot within her; but all that heat fled in a moment when she found herself alone with the man to whom it belonged to speak her doom. He had almost said that he would forgive her; but yet she had a feeling that that had been done which could not altogether be forgiven. If he asked her whether she loved the hero of the lamp-post what would she say? Had he asked her whether she loved him, Felix Graham, she would have sworn that she did, and have thought that she was swearing truly; but in answer to that other question, if it were asked, she felt that her answer must be false. She had no idea of giving up Felix of her own accord, if he were still willing to take her. She did not even wish that he would not take her. It had been the lesson of her life that she was to be his wife, and, by becoming so, provide for herself and for her wretched father. Neverthe- less a dream of something different from that had come across her young heart, and the dream had been so pleasant! How painfully, but yet with what a rapture, had her heart palpitated as she stood for those ten wicked minutes beneath the lamp-post! Mary, said Felix, as soon as they were aloneand as he spoke he came up to her and took her hand, I trust I may never be the cause to you of any unhappiness; that I may never be the means of making you sad. 84 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. Oh, Mr. Graham, I am sure that you never will. It is I that have beeu bad to you. No, Mary, I do not think you have been bad at all. I should have been sorry that that had happened, and that I should not have known it. I suppose she was right to tell, only In truth Mary did not at all understand what might be the nature of Grahams thoughts and feelings on such a subject. She had a strong woman s idea that the man whom she ought to love would not be gratified by her meeting another man at a private assignation, especially when that other man had written to her a love-letter; but she did not at all know how far such a sin might be regarded as pardonable according to the rules of the world recognized ou such subjects. At first, when the letters were discovcred and the copies of them sent off to Noningsby, she thought that all was over. According to her idcas, as existing at that moment, the crime was con- ceived to be one admitting of no pardon; and in the hours spent under that conviction all her consolation came from the feeling that there was still one who regarded her as an angel of light. But then she had received Grahams letter, and as she began to understand that pardon was possible, that other consolation ~vaxed feeble and dim. If Felix Graham chose to take her, of course she was there for him to take. It never for a moment occurred to her that she could rebel against such taking, even though she did shine as an angel of light to one dear pair of eyes. I suppose she was right to tell you, only Do not think, Mary, that I am going to scold you, or even that I am angry with you. Oh, but I know you must be angry. Indeed I am not. If I pledge myself to tell you the truth in every thing, will you be equally frank with me Yes, said Mary. But it was much easier for Felix to tell the truth than for Mary to be frank. I believe that schoolmasters often tell fibs to school-boys, although it would be so easy for them to tell the truth. But how difficult it is for the school-boy always to tell the truth to his master! Mary Snow was now as a school- boy before her tutor, and it may almost be said that the telling of the truth was to her impossi- ble. But of course she made the promise. Who ever said that she would not tell the truth when so asked? Have you ever thought, Mary, that you and I would not make each other happy if we were married ? No; I have never thought that, said Mary, innocently. She meant to say exactly that which she thought Graham would wish her to say, but she was slow in following his lead. It has never occurred to you that though wa might love each other very warmly as friends and so I am sure we always shallyet we might not suit each other in all respects as man and wife? I mean to do the very best I can; that is, ififif you are not too much offended with me now. But, Mary, it should not be a question of doing the best you can. Between man and wife there should be no need of such effort. It should be a labor of love. So it will; and Im sure Ill labor as hard as I can. Felix began to perceive that the line he had taken ~vould not answer the required purpose, and that he must he somewhat more abrupt with herperhaps a little less delicate, in coming to the desired point. Mary, he said, what is the name of that gentleman whomwhom you met out of doors you know ? . Albert Fitzallen, said Mary, hesitating very much as she pronounced the name, but never- theless rather proud of the sound. And you arefond of him? asked Graham. Poor girl! What was she to say? No Im not very fond of him. Are you not? Then why did you consent to that secret meeting? Oh, Mr. GrahamI didnt mean it; indeed I didnt. And I didnt tell him to write to me, nor yet to come looking after me. Upon my word I didnt. But then I thought when ~e sent me that letter that he didnt knowabout you I mean; and so I thought Id better tell him; and thats why I went. Indeed that was the reason. Mrs. Thomas could have told him that. But I dont like Mrs. Thomas, and I wouldnt for worlds that she should have had any thing to do with it. I think Mrs. Thomas has behaved very bad to me, so I do. And you dont half know herthat you dont. I will ask you one more question, Mary, and before answering it I want to make you be- lieve that my only object in asking it is to ascer- tain how I may make you happy. When you did meet Mr. this gentleman Albert Fitzallen. When you did meet Mr. Fitzallen, did you tell him nothing else except that you were en- gaged to Inc? Did you say nothing to him as to your feelings toward himself? I told him it was very wrong of him to write me that letter. And what more did you tell him ? Oh, Mr. Graham, I wont see him any more; indeed I wont. I give you my most solemn promise. Indeed I wont. And I will never write a line to him, or look at him. And if he sends any thing Ill send it to you. Indeed I will. There was never any thing of the kind before; upon my word there wasnt. I did let him take my hand, but I didnt know how to help it when I was there. And he kissed me only once. There; Ive told it all now, as though you were looking at me. And I aint a bad girl, whatever she may say of me. Indeed I aint! And then poor Mary Snow burst out into an agony of tears. Felix began to pgrceive that he had been too hard upon her. He had wished that the first ORLEY FARM. 85 overtures of a separation should come from her, and in wishing ~is he had been unreasonable. He walked for a ~h ile about the room, and then going up to her he stood close by her and took her hand. Mary, he said, Im sure youre not a bad girl.~ No, she said; no, I aint ; still sobbing convulsively. I didnt mean any thing wrong, and I couldnt help it. I am sure you did not, and nobody has said you did. Yes, they have. She has said so. She said that I was a bad girl. She told me so, up to my face. She was very wrong if she said so. She did, then, and I couldnt bear it. I have not said so, and I dont think so. Indeed, in all this matter I believe that I have been more to blame than you. No I know I was wrong. I know I shouldnt have gone to see him. I won~t even say as much as that, Mary. What you should have doneonly the task would have been too hard for any young girl was to have told me openly that you liked this young gentleman. Bnt I dont want ever to see him again. Look here, Mary, he said. But no~v he had dropped her hand and taken a chair oppo- site to her. He had begun to find that the task which he had proposed to himself was not so easy even for him. Look here, Mary. I take it that you do like this Young gentleman. Dont answer me till I have finished what I am going to say. I suppose von do like himand if so, it would be very wicked in you to marry me. Oh, Mr. Graham Wait a moment, Mary. But there is no- thing wicked in yonr liking him. It may be presumed that Mr. Graham would hold such an opinion as this, seeing that he had allowed him- self the same latitude of liking. It was per- haps only natural that you should learn to do so. You have been taught to regard me rather as a master than as a lover. Oh, Mr. Graham, Im sure Ive loved you. I have indeed. And I will. I wont even think of Al But I want you to think of himthat is, if he be worth thinking of. Hes a very good young man, and always lives with his mother. It shall be my business to find out that. And now, Mary, tell me truly. If he be a good young man, and if he loves you well enough to marry you, would you not be happier as his wife than you would as mine ? There! The question that he wished to ask her had got itself asked at last. But if the ask- ing had been difficult, how much more difficult must have been the answer! He had been thinking over all this for the last fortnight, and had hardly known how to come to a resolution. Now he put the matter before her without a mo- ments notice. and expected an instant decision. Speak the truth, Marywhat you think about itwithout minding what any body may say of you. But Mary could not say any thing, so she again burst into tears. Surely you know the state of your own heart, Mary ? I dont know, she answered. My only object is to secure your happiness the happiness of both of us, that is. Ill do any thing you please, said Mary. Well, then, Ill tell you what I think. I fear that a marriage between us would not make either of us contented with our lives. Im too old and too grave for you. Yet Mary Snow was not younger than Madeline Staveley. You have been told to love me; and you think that you do love me because you wish to do what you think to be your duty. But I believe that peo- ple can never really love each other merely be- cause they are told to do so. Of course I can not say what sort of a young man Mr. Fitzallen may be; but if I find that he is fit to take care of you, and that he has means to support you with such little help as I can giveI shall be very happy to promote such an arrangement. Every body will of course say that-Felix Gra- ham was base in not telling her that all this arose, not from her love aflutir with Albert Fitz- allen, but from his own love affair with Made- line Staveley. But I am inclined to think that every body will be wrong. Had he told her openly that he did not care for her, but did care for some one else, he would have left her no alternative. As it was, he did not mean that she should have any alternative. But he prob- ably consulted her feelings best in allowing her to think that she had a choice. And then, though he owed much to her, he owed nothing to her father; and had he openly declared his intention of breaking off the match because he had attached himself to some one else, he would have put himself terribly into her fathers power. He was willing to submit to such pecuniary bur- (len in the matter as his conscience told him that he ought to bear; but Mr. Snows ideas on the subject of recompense might he extravagant; and therefore, as regarded Snow the father, he thought that he might make some slight and delicate use of the meeting under the lamp-post. In doing so he would be very careful to guard Mary from her fathers anger. Indeed Mary would be surrendered, out of his own care, not to that of her father, hut to the fostering love of the gentleman in the medical line of life. Ill do any thing that you please, said Mary, upon whose mind and heart all these changes had come with a suddenness which pre- vented her from thinking, much less speaking her thoughts. Perhaps you had better mention it to Mrs. Thomas. Oh, Mr. Graham, Id rather not talk to her. I dont love her a bit. Well, I will not press it on you if you do not wish it. And have I your permission to speak to Mr. Fitzallen and if he approves, to speak to his mother ? 86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Ill do any thing you think best, Mr. Gra- ham, said poor Mary. She was poor Mary; for though she had consented to meet a lover beneath the lamp-post she had not been without ambition, and had looked forward to the glory of being wife to such a man as Felix Graham. She did not, however, for one moment, enter- tain any idea of resistance to his will. And then Felix left her, having of conrse an interview with Mrs. Thomas before he quitted the house. To her, however, he said nothing. When any thing is settled, Mrs. Thomas, I will let you know. The ~vords were so lacking in confidence that Mrs. Thomas, when she heard them, knew that the verdict had gone against her. Felix for many mouths had been accustomed to take leave of Mary Snow with a kiss. But on this day he omitted to kiss her, and then Mary knew that it was all over with her ambi- tion. But love still remained to her. There is some one else who will be proud to kiss me, she said to herself, as she stood alone in the room when he closed the door behind him. CHAPTER LV. WHAT TOOK PLACE IN HARLEY STREET. Tox, Ive come back again, said Mrs. Furnival, as soon as the dining-room door was closed behind her back. Im very glad to see you; I am indeed, said he, getting up and putting out his hand to her. But I really never knew why you ~vent away. Oh yes, you know. Im sure you know why I ~vent. But Ill be shot if I did then. I went away because I did not like Lady Mason going to your chambers. Pshaw Yes; I know I was wrong, Tom. That is, I was wrong about that. Of course you were, Kitty. Well; dont I say I was? And Ive come back again, and I beg your pardon; that is about the lady. Very well. Then theres an end of it. But, Tom~ you know Ive been provoked. Havent I now? How often have you been home to dinner since you have been member of Parliament for that place ? I shall he more at home now, Kitty. Shall you indeed? Then Ill not say an- other word to vex you. What on earth can I want, Tom, except just that you should sit at home with me sometimes on evenings, as you used to do always in the old days? And as for Martha Biggs Is she come back too ? Oh dear no. Shes in Red Lion Square. And Im sure, Tom, I never had her here except when you wouldnt dine at home. I wonder ~vhether you know how lonely it is to sit down to dinner all by ones self! Why, I do it every other day of my life. And I never think of sending~r Martha Biggs; I promise you that. She isnt very nice, I know, said Mrs. Fur- nival that is, for gentlemen. I should say not, said Mr. Furnival. Then the reconciliation had been effected, and Mrs. Furnival went up stairs to prepare for dinner, knowing that her husband would be present, and that Martha Biggs would not. And just as she was taking her accustomed place at the head of the table, almost ashamed to look up lest she should catch Spooners eye, who was standing behind his master, Rachel ~vent off in a cab to Orange Street, commissioned to pay what might he due for the lodgings, to bring back her mis- tresss boxes, and to convey the necessary tidings to Miss Biggs. Well I never ! said Martha, as she listened to Rachels story. And theyre quite loving, I can assure you, said Rachel. Itll never last, said Miss Biggs, triumph- antly, never. Its been done too sudden to last. So Ill say good-night, if you please, Miss Biggs, said Rachel, who was in a hurry to get hack to Harley Street. I think she might have come here before she went there; especially as it wasnt any thing out of her way. She couldnt have gone short- er than Bloomsbury Square, and Russell Square, and over Tottenham Court Road. Missus didnt think of that, I dare say. She used to know the way about these parts well enough. But give her my love, Rachel. Then Martha Biggs was again alone, and she sighed deeply. It was well that Mrs. Furnival came back so quickly to her own house, as it saved the scan- dal of any domestic quarrel before her daughter. On the following day Sophia returned, and as harmony was at that time reigning in Harley Street there was no necessity that she should be presumed to know any thing of what had oc- curred. That she did knowknow exactly what her mother had done, and why she had done it, and how she had come back, leaving Martha Biggs dumfounded by her returnis very prob- able; for Sophia Furnival was a clever girl, and one who professed to understand the ins and outs of her own familyand perhaps of some other families. But she behaved very prettily to her papa and mamma on the occasion, never dropping a word which could lead either of them to suppose that she had interrogated Rachel, been confidential with the housemaid, conversed on the subject even with Spooner, and made a morning call on Martha Biggs herself. There arose not unnaturally some conversa- tion between the mother and daughter as to Lady Mason; not as to Lady Masons visits to Lin- colns Inn, and their impropriety as formerly pre- sumednot at all as to that; but in respect to her present lamentable l)osition and that engage- ment which had for a time existed between her ORLEY FARM. 8i and Sir Peregrine Orme. On this latter subject Mrs. Furnival had of course heard nothing dur- ing her interview with Mrs. Orme at Noningsby. At that time Lady Mason had formed the sole subject of conversation; but in explaining to Mrs. Furnival that there certainly could be no unhallowed feeling between her husband and the lady, Mrs. Orme had not thought it neces- sary to allude to Sir Peregrines past intentions. Mrs. Furnival, however, had heard the whole matter discussed in the railway carriage, had since interrogated her husbandlearning, how- ever, notvery much from himand now inquired into all the details from her daughter. And she and Sir Peregrine were really to be married ? Mrs. Furnival, as she asked the question, thought with confusion of her own un- just accusations against, the poor woman. Un- der such circumstances as those Lady Mason must of course have been innocent as touching Mr. Furnival. Yes, said Sophia. There is no doubt whatsoever that they were engaged. Sir Pere- grine told Lady Staveley so himself. And now its all broken off again ? Oh yes; it is all broken off now. I believe the fact to be this: Lord Alston, who lives near Noningsby, is a very old friend of Sir Peregrines. When he heard of it he went to The CleeveI know for certainand I think he talked Sir Peregrir~ut of it. But, my conscience, Sophiaafter he had made her the offer ! I fancy that Mrs. Orme arranged it all. Whether Lord Alston saw her or not I dont know. My belief is that Lady Mason behaved very well all through, though they say very bit- ter things against her at Noningsby. Poor thing ! said Mrs. Furnival, the feel- ings of whose heart were quite changed as re- garded Lady Mason. I never knew a woman so badly treated. Sophia had her own reasons for wishing to make the best of Lady Masons case. And for my- self, I do not see why Sir Peregrine should not have married her if he pleased. He is rather old, my dear. People dont think so much about that now- adays as they used. If he liked it, and she too, who had a right to say any thing? My idea is that a man with any spirit would have turned Lord Alston out of the house. What business had he to inteifere? But about the trial, Sophia ? That will go on. Theres no doubt about that. But they all say that its the most unjust thing in the world, and that she must be proved innocent. I heard the judge say so myself. But why are they allowed to try her then ? Oh, papa will tell you that. I never like to bother your papa about law business. Particularly not, Mrs. Furnival, when he has a pretty woman for his client! Mv wonder is that she should make herself so unhappy about it, continued Sophia. It seems that she is quite broken down. But wont she have to go and sit in the courtwith all the people staring at her ? That wont kill her, said Sophia, who felt that she herself would not perish under any such process. If I was sure that I was in the right, I think that I could hold up my head against all that. But they say that she is crushed to the earth. Poor thing! said Mrs. Furnival. I wish that I could do any thing for her. And in this way they talked the matter over very comforta- bly. Two or three days after this Sophia Furnival was sitting alone in the drawing-room in Har- ley Street, when Spooner answered a double knock at the door, and Lucius Meson was shown up stairs. Mrs. Furuival had gone to make her peace in Red Lion Square, and there may per- haps be ground for supposing that Lucius had cause to expect that Miss Furnival might be seen at this hour without interruption. Be that as it may, she was found alone, and he was per. mitted to declare his purpose unmolested by fa- ther, mother, or family friends. You remember how we parted at Nonings- by, said he, when their first greetings were well over. Oh yes; I remember it very well. I do not easily forget words such as were spoken then. You said that you would never turn away from x~e. or will I; that is, with reference to the matter as to which we were speaking. Is our friendship, then, to be confined to one subject ? By no means. Friendship can not be so confined, Mr. Mason. Friendship between true friends must extend to all the affairs of life. What I meant to say was this But I am quite sure that you understand me without any explanation. He did understand her. She meant to say that she had promised to him her sympathy and friendship, but nothing more. But then he had asked for nothing more. The matter of doubt within his own heart was this: Should he or should he not ask for more? and if he resolved on answering this question in the affirmative, should he ask for it now? He had determined that morning that he would come to some fixed purpose on this matter before he reached Harley Street. As he cro~ssed out of Oxford Street from the omnibus he had determined that the present was no time for love-making. Walking up Re- gent Street, he had told himself that if he had one faithful heart to bear him company he could bear his troubles better; as he made his way along the north side of Cavendish Square he pictured to himself what ~vould be the wound to his pride if he were rejected; and in passing the ten or twelve houses which intervened in Harley Street between the corner of the square and the abode of his mistress, he told himself that the question must be answered by circumstances. Yes, I understand you, he said. And belicvc me in thisI would not for worlds en- 88 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. croach on your kindness. I knew that when I I make the most appropriate roplv to her friend. pressed your hand that night I pressed the hand What she did say was rather lame, hut it was of a friend, and nothing more. not dangerous. Quite so, said Sophia. Sophias wit was Since that I have suffered a great deal, said usually ready enough, hut at that moment she Lucius. Of course you know that my mother could not resolve with what words she might has heen staying at The Cleeve ? I!! L SIR PEREGRINE AND MR. ROUND.[5EE PAGE 93] ORLEY FARM. 89 love I would wait upon her as a mother does upon her infant. No labor would be too much for me; no care would be too close. But her desire is that this affair should never be men- tioned between us. We are living now in the same house, and though I see that this is killing her, yet I may not speak of it. Then he got up from his chair, and as he walked about the room he took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes. I wish I could comfort you, said she. And in saying so she spoke the truth. By nature she was not tender-hearted, but now she did sympa- thize with him. By nature, too, she was not given to any deep affection, but she did feel sonic spark of love for Lucius Mason. I wish I could comfort you. And as she spoke she also got up from her chair. And you can, said he, suddenly stopping himself and coming close to her. You can comfort mein some degree. You, and you only can do so. I know this is no time for declarations of love. Were it not that we are already so much to each other, I would not in- dulge myself at such a moment with such a wish. But I have no one whom I can love; andit is very hard to bear. And then he stood, waiting for her answer, as though he conceived that he had offered her his hand. But Miss Furnival well knew that she had re- ceived no offer. If my warmest sympathy can be of service to you It is your love I want, he said, taking her hand as she spoke. Your love, so that I may look on you as my wife; your acceptance of my love, so that we may be all in all to each other. There is my hand. I stand before you now as sad a man as there is in all London. But there is my handwill you take it and give me yours in pledge of your love ? I should be unjust to Lucius Mason were I to omit to say that he played his part with a becoming air. Unhappiness and a melancholy mood suited him perhaps better than the worlds ordinary good-humor. He was a man who look- ed his best when under a cloud, and shone the brightest when every thing about him was dark. And Sophia also was not unequal to the occa- sion. There was, however, this difference be- tween them. Lucius was quite honest in all that he said and did upon the occasion; whereas Miss Furnival was only half honest. Perhaps she was not capable of a higher pitch of honesty than that. There is my hand, said she; and they stood holding each other, palm to palm. And with it your heart? said Lucius. And with it my heart, answered Sophia. Nor as she spoke did she hesitate for a moment, or become embarrassed, or lose her command of feature. Had Augustus Staveley gone through as hers must be very dreadful. You must not the same ceremony at Noningsby in the same he hard upon her, Mr. Mason, because she is riot way I am inclined to think that she would have as strong as you might be. made the same answer. Had neither done so, Hard upon her! Ab, Miss Furnival, you she would not on that account have been un- do not know me. If she would only accept my happy. What a blessed woman would Lady VOL. XXV.No. 145.G Oh yes. I believe she left it only a day or two sinces And you heard, perhaps, of her I hard- ly know how to tell you, if you have not heard it. If you mean about Sir Peregrine, I have heard of that. Of course you have. All the world has heard of it. And Lucius Mason got up and walked about the room holding his hand to his brow. All the world are talking about it. Miss Furnival, you have never known what it is to blush for a parent. Miss Furnival at the moment felt a sincere hope that Mr. Mason might never hear of Mrs. Furnivals visit to the neighborhood of Orange St.reet and of the causes which led to it, and by no means thought it necessary to ask for her friends sympathy on that subject. No, said she, I never have; nor need you do so for yours. Why should not Lady Mason have mar- ried Sir Peregrine Orme, if they both thought such a marriage fitting ? What! at such a time as this, with these dreadful accusations running in her ears? Sure- ly this was no time for marrying! And what has come of it? People now say that he has rejected her, and sent her away. Oh no; they can not say that. But they do. It is reported that Sir Pere- grine has sent her away because he thinks her to be guilty. That I do not believe. No hon- est man, no gentleman, could think her guilty. But is it not dreadful that such things should be said? Will not the trial take place very shortly now? When that is once over all these trou- bles will be at an end. Miss Furnival, I sometimes think that my mother will hardly have strength to sustain the trial. She is so depressed that I almost fear her mind will give way; and the worst of it is that I am altogether unable to comfort her. Surely that at present should specially be your task. I can not do it. What should I say to her? I think that she is wrong in what she is doing; thoroughly, absolutely wrong. She has got about her a parcel of lawyers. I beg your pardon, Miss Furnival, but you know I do not mean such as your father. But has not he advised it ? If so, I can not but think he is wrong. They are the very scum of the jails; men who live by rescuing felons from the punishment they deserve. What can my mother require of such services as theirs? It is they that frighten her and make her dread all manner of evils. Why should a woman who knows herself to be good and just fear any thing that the law can do to her? I can easily understand that such a position 90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Staveley have been had she known what was herself to any thing rashly. It might be that being done in Harley Street at this moment! as her father was to defend Lady Mason, he In some short rhapsody of love it may be pre- might on that account object to his daughter sumed that Lucius indulged himself when he being in the court. Lucius declared that this found that the affair which he had in hand had would be unreasonable; unless indeed Mr. Fur- so far satisfactorily arranged itself. But he was nival should object to his daughters engage- in truth too wretched at heart for any true en- melt. And might he not do so? Sophia joyment of the delights of a favored suitor. They thought it very probable that he might. It were soon engaged again on that terrible subject, would make no difference in her, she said. Her seated side by side indeed and somewhat close, engagement would be equally bindingas per- but the tone of their voices and their very words manently binding, let who would object to it. were hardly different from what they might have And as she made this declaration there was of been had no troth been plighted between them, course a little love scene. But for the present, His present plan was that Sophia should visit it might be best that in this matter she should Orley Farm for a time, and take that place of obey her father. And then she pointed out dear and bosom friend which a woman circum- how fatal it might he to avert her father from stanced as was his mother must so urgently need, the cause while the trial was still pending. Upon We, my readers, know ~vell who was now that the whole she acted her part very prudently, and loving friend, and we know also which was best when Lucius left her she was pledged to nothing fitted for such a task, Sophia Furnival or Mrs. but that one simple fact of a marriage engage- Orme. But we have had, I trust, better means ment. of reading the characters of those ladies than had fallen to the lot of Lucius Mason, and should CHAPTER LVI. not he angry with him because his eyes were dark. ROW SIR PEREGRINE DID BUSINESS WITH Sophia hesitated a moment before she answer- MR. ROUND. ed this propositionnot as though she were slack IN the mean time Sir Peregrine was sitting in her love, or begrudged her services to his mo- at home trying to determine in what way he ther; but it behooved her to look carefully at should act under the present emergency, actu- the circumstances before she would pledge her- ated as he was on one side by friendship, and self to such an arrangement as that. If she on the other by dnty. For the first day or two went to Orley Farm on such a mission would it nay, for the first week after the confession had not be necessary to tell her father and mother; been made to himhe had been so astounded, nay, to tell all the world that she was engaged had been so knocked to the earth, and had re- to Lucius Mason; and would it be ~vise to make mained in such a state of bewilderment that it such a communication at the l)resent moment? had been impossible for him to form for himself Lucius said a word to her of going into court any line of conduct. His only counselor had with his mother, and sitting with her, hand in been Mrs. Orme; and though he could not ana- hand, while that ordeal was passing by. In the lyzo the matter, he felt that her womans ideas publicity of such sympathy there was something of honor and honesty were in some way different that suited the hearings of Miss Fornivals mind, from his ideas as a man. To her the sorrows The idea that Lady Mason was guilty had nev- and utter misery of Lady Mason seemed of great- er entered her head, and therefore, on this she er weight than her guilt. At least such was the thought there could be no disgrace in such a impression ~vhich her words left. Mrs. Ormes proceeding. But nevertheless, might it not be chief anxiety in the matter still was that Lady prudent to wait till that trial were over? Mason should be acquitted; as strongly so now If you are my wife you must be her daugh- as when they both believed her to be as guiltless ter; and how can you better take a daughters as themselves. But Sir Peregrine could not part ? pleaded Lucius. look at it in this light. He did not say that he No, no; and I would do it with my whole wished that she might be found guilty; nor did heart. But, Lucius, does she know me well he wish it. But he did announce his opinion to enough? It is of her that we must think, his daughter-in-law that the ends ofjustice would After all that you have told me, can we think so be host promoted, and that if the matter were that she would wish me to be there? driven to a trial it would not be for the honor It was his desire that his mother should learn of the court that a false verdict should be given. to have such a ~vish, and this he explained to Nor would he believe that such a false verdict her, lie himself could do but little at home could be obtained. An English judge and an because he could not yield his opinion on those English jury were to him the l~alladium of dis- matters of importance as to which he and his cerniag truth. In an English court of law such mother differed so vitally; but if she had a wo- a matter could not remain dark; nor ought it, man with her in the housesuch a woman as let whatever misery betide. It was strange how his own Sophia then he thought her heart that old man should have lived so near the world would be softened, and part of her sorrow might for seventy years, should have taken his place in be assuaged. Parliament and on the bench, should have rubbed Sophia at last said that she would think about his shoulders so constantly against those of his it. It would ha improper, she said, to pledge neighbors, and yet have retained so strong a ORLEY FARM. 91 reliance on the purity of the world in general. Here and there such a man may still be found, but the number is becoming very few. As for the property, that must of necessity be abandoned. Lady Mason had signified her agree- ment to this; and therefore he was so far willing that she should be saved from further outward punishment, if that were still possible. His plan was this; and to his thinking it was the only plan that was feasible. Let the estate be at once given up to the proper ownereven now, before the day of trial should come; and then let them trust, not to Joseph Mason, but to Joseph Ma- sons advisers to abstain from prosecuting the olThnder. Even this course he knew to be sur- rounded by a thousand difficulties; but it might he possible. Of Mr. Round, old Mr. Round, he had heard a good report. He was a kind man, and even in this very matter had behaved in a way that had shamed his client. Might it not be possible that Mr. Round would engage to drop the prosecution if the immediate return of the property were secured? But to effect this must he not tell Mr. Round of the womans guilt? And could he manage it himself? Must he not tell Mr. Furnival? And by so doing, would he not rob Lady Mason of her sole remaining tower of stren,th? for if Mr. Farnival knew that she was guilty, Mr. Furnival must of course abandon her cause. And then Sir Peregrine did not know how to turn himself, as he thus argued the matter within his own hosom. And then too his own disgrace sat very heavy on him. Whether or no the law might pro- nounce Lady Mason to have been guilty, all the world would know her guilt. When that prop- erty should be abandoned, and her wretched son turned out to earn his bread, it would be well understood that she had been guilty. And this was the woman, this midnight forger, whom he had taken to his bosom, and asked to he his wife! He bad asked her, and she had consent- ed, and then he had proclaimed the triumph of his love to all the world. When he stood there holding her to his breast he had been proud of her affection. When Lord Alston had come to him with his caution he had scorned his old friend and almost driven him from his door. When his grandson had spoken a word, not to him but to another, he had been full of wrath. He had let it be known widely that he would feel no shame in showing her to the world as Lady Orme. And now she was a forger, and a perjurer, and a thiefa thief who for long years had lived on the proceeds of her dextrous theft. And yet was he not under a deep obligation to herunder the very deepest? Had she not saved him from a worse disgrace; saved him at the cost of all that was left to herself? Was he not still bound to stand by her? And did he not still love her? Poor Sir Peregrine! May we not say that it would have heen well for him if the world and all its trouble could have now been ended so that he might have done with it? Mrs. Orme was his only counselor, and though she could not he brought to agree with him in all his feelings, yet she was of infinite comfort to him. had she not shared with him this ter- rible secret his mind would have given way be- neath the burden. On the day after Lady Ma- sons departure from The Cleeve he sat for an hour in the library considering what he would do, and then he sent for his daughter-in-law. If it behooved him to take any step to stay the trial he must take it at once. The matter had been pressed on by each side, and now the days might be counted up to that day on which the judges would arrive in Alston. That trial would be very terrible to him in every way. He had promised, during those pleasant hours of his love and sympathy in which he had felt no doubt as to his friends acquittal, that he would stand by her when she was arraigned. That was now impossible, and though he had not dared to mention it to Lady Mason he knew that she would not expect that he should do so. But to Mrs. Orme he had spoken on the matter and she had declared her purpose of taking the place which it would not now become him to fill! Sir Peregrine had started from his chair when she had so spoken. What! his daughter! She, the purest of the pure, to whom the very air of a court of law would be a contaminationshe, whose whiteness had never been sullied by con- tact with the worlds dustshe set by the side of that terrible criminal, hand in hand with her, present to all the world as her bosom friend! There had been but few words between them on the matter, but Sir Peregrine had felt strongly that that might not he permitted. Far better than that it would be that he should humble his gray hairs and sit there to be gazed at by the crowd. But on all accounts how much was it to be desired that there should be no trial! Sit down, Edith, he said, as with her soft step she came up to Imim. 1 find that the as- sizes will be heme, in Alston,, at the end of next month. So soon as that, father? Yes; look lmere: the judges will come in on the 25th of March. Ab methat is very sudden! But, father, will it not be best for her that it should be over? Mrs. Orme still thought, had always thommght, that the trial itself was unavoidable. Indeed she had thought, and she did think, that it af- forded to Lady Mason the only possible means of escape. Her mind on the subject, if it could have been analyzed, would probably have been this. As to the property, that question must for the present stand in abeyance. It is quite right that it should go to its detestable owners that it should be made over to them at some day not very distant. But for the present, the trial for that old, long-distant crime was time subject for them to consider. Could it be wrong to wish for an acquittal for the sinneran ac- quittal before this worlds bar, seeing that a true verdict had un(loubtedly been given before an- other bar? Mrs. Orme trusted that no jury would convict her friend. Let Lady Mason go 92 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. through that ordeal; and then, when the law constancy. But, nevertheless, they were very had declared her innocent, let restitution be hitter. How had it come to pass that he was made. thus indebted to so deep a criminal? What It will he very terrible to all if she be con- had he done for her hut good? demned, said Sir Peregrine. Do not go from me, she said, following Very terrible! But Mr. Furnival him. Do not think me unkind. Edith, if it comes to that, she will be con- No, no, no, he answered, striving almost demned. Mr. Furnival is a lawyer, and will ineffectually to repress a sob. You are not not say so; but from his countenance, when he unkind. speaks of her, I know that he expects it! For two days after that not a word was spoken Oh, father, do not say so. between them on the subject, and then he did go But if it is so My love, what is the pur- to Mr. Round. Not a word on the subject was port of these courts of law if it he not to discover spoken betwecn Sir Peregrine and Mrs. Orme; the truth and make it plain to the light of day ? but she was twice at Orley Farm during the Poor Sir Peregrine! His innocence in this re time, and told Lady Mason of the steps which spect was perhaps beautiful, but it was very sim- her father-in-law was taking. He wont be- ple. Mr. Aram, could he have been induced tray me! Lady Mason had said. Mrs. Orme to speak out his mind plainly, would have ex- had answered this with what best assurance she pressed, probably, a different opinion, should give; but in her heart of hearts she feared But she escaped before, said Mrs. Orme, that Sir Peregrine would betray the secret. who was clearly at present on the same side with It was not a pleasant journey for Sir Pere- Mr. Aram. grine. Indeed it may be said that no journeys Yes; she didhy perjury, Edith. And could any longer be pleasant for him. He was now the penalty of that further crime awaits her. old and worn and feeble; very much older and lhere was an old poet who said that the wicked much more worn than he had been at the period man rarely escapes at last. I believe in my spoken of in the commencement of this story, heart that he spoke the truth. though but a few months had passed over his head Father, that old poet knew nothing of our since that time. For him now it would have been faith. preferable to remain in the arm-chair by the fire- Sir Peregrine could not stop to explain, even side in his own library, receiving such comfort in if he knew how to do so, that the old poet spoke his old age as might come to him from the affec- of punishment in this world, whereas the faith tion of his daughter-in-law and grandson. But on which his daughter relied is efficacious for he thought that it behooved him to do this work; pardon beyond the grave. It would be much, and therefore, old and feeble as he was, he set ay, in one sense every thing, if Lady Mason himself to his task. He reached the station in could be brought to repent of the sin she had London, had himself driven to Bedford Row in committed; but no such repentance would stay a cab, and soon found biniseif in the presence the bitterness of Joseph Mason or of Samuel of Mr. Round. Dockwrath. If the property ~vere at once re- There was much ceremonial talk between stored, then repentance might commence. If them before Sir l~eregrine could bring himself the property were at once restored, then the trial to declare the purport which had brought him might be stayed. It might be possible that Mr. there. Mr. Round of course protested that he Round might so act. He felt all this, but he was very sorry for all this affair. The case was could not argue on it. I think, my dear, he not in his hands personally. He had hoped said, that I had better see Mr. Round. many years since that the matter was closed. But you will not tell him? said Mrs. Orme, His client, Mr. Mason of Groby Park, had in sharply. sisted that it should be reopened; and now he, No; I am not authorized to do that. Mr. Round, really hardly knew what to say But he will entice it from you! lie is a about it. lawyer, and he will wind any thing out from a But, Mr. Round, do you think it is quite plain, chivalrous man of truth and honor. impossible that the trial should even now be My dear, Mr. Round I believe is a good abandoned? asked Sir Peregrine, very care- man. fully. But if he asks you the question, what will Well, I fear it is. Mason thinks that the you say ? property is his, and is determined to make an- I ~vill tell him to ask me no such question. other struggle for it. I am imputing nothing Oh, father, be careful. For her sake be wrong to the lady. I really am net in a posi- careful. How is it that you know the truthor tion to have any opinion of my own that I know it? She told it here because in that No, no, no; I understand. Of course your way only could she save you from that marriage, firm is bound to do the best it can for its client. Father, she has sacrificed herself forfor us. But, Mr. RoundI know I am quite safe with Sir Peregrine, when this was said to him, got you. up from his chair and walked away to the win- Well; safe in one way I hope you are. dow. He was not angry with her that she so But, Sir Peregrine, you must of course reninem- spoke to him. Nay; he acknowledged inward- her that I am the attorney for the other side ly the truth of her words, and loved her for her for the side to which you arc opposed. CONCERNING LAUGHTER. 93 But stillall that you can want is your clients interest. Of course we desire to serve his interest. And with that view, Mr. Round, is it not possible that we might come to some compro- mise ? Whatby giving up part of the property ~ By giving up all the property, said Sir Peregrine, with considerable emphasis. Whewww! Mr. Round at the mo- ment made no other answer than this, which terminated in a low whistle. Better that at once than that she should die broken-hearted, said Sir Peregrine. There was then silence between them for a minute or t~vo, after which Mr. Round, turning himself round in his chair so as to face his visit- or more fully, spoke as follows: I told you just now, Sir Peregrine, that I was Mr. Masons attorney; and I must now tell you, that, as re- gards this interview between you and me, I will not hold myself as being in that position. What von have said shall be as though it had not been said; and as I am not myself taking any part in the proceedings, this may with absolute strict- ness be the case. But If I have said any thing that I ought not to have said began Sir Peregrine. Allow me for one moment, cQntinued Mr. Round. The fault is mine, if there be a fault, as I should have explained to you that the mat- ter could hardly be discussed witW propriety be- tween us. Mr. Round, I offer you my apology from the bottom of my heart. No, Sir Peregrine. You shall offer me no apology, nor will I accept any. I know no words strong enough to convey to you my es teem and respect for your character. Sir! But I will ask you to listen to me for a mo- ment. If any compromise be contemplated, it should he arranged by the advice of Mr. Fur- nival and of Mr. Chaffanbrass, and the terms should be settled between Mr. Aram and my son. But I can not myself say that I see any possibility of such a result. It is not, however, for me to advise. If on that matter you wish for advice, I think that you had better see Mr. Furnival. Ah! said Sir Peregrine, telling more and more of the story by every utterance he made. And now it only remains for me to assure you once more that the words which have been spoken in this room shall be as though they had not been spoken. And then Mr. Round made it very clear that there was nothing more to be said between them on the subject of Lady Ma- son. Sir Peregrine repeated his apology, col- lected his hat and gloves, and with slow step made his way down to his cab, while Mr. Round absolutely waited upon him till he saw him seat- ed within the vehicle. So Mat is right after all ! said the old at- torney to himself as he stood alone with his back to his own fire, thrusting his hands into his trowsers-pockets. So Mat is right after all The meaning of this exclamation will be plain to my readers. Mat had declared to his father his conviction that Lady Mason had forged the codicil in question, and the father was now also convinced that she had done so. Unfortunate woman ! he said; poor, wretched woman And then he began to calculate what might yet be her chances of escape. On the whole he thought that she would escape. Twenty years of possession, he said to himself; and so ex- cellent a character! But, nevertheless, he re- peated to himself over and over again that she was a wretched, miserable woman. We may say that all the persons most con- cerned were convinced, or nearly convinced, of Lady Masons guilt. Among her own friends Mr. Furnival had no doubt of it, and Mr. Chaff- aubrass and Mr. Aram but very little; whereas Sir Peregrine and Mrs. Orme of course had none. On the other side, Mr. Mason and Mr. I)ock- wrath were both fully sure of the truth, and the two Rounds, father and son, were quite of the same mind. And yet, except with Dockwrath and Sir Peregrine, the most honest and the most dishonest of the lot, the opinion was that she would escape. These were five lawyers con- cerned, not one of whom gave to the course of justice credit that it would ascertain the truth, and not one of whom wished that the truth should be ascertained. Surely had they been honest- minded in their profession they would have all so wishedhave so wished, or else have abstain- ed from all professional intercourse in the mat- ter. I can not understand how any gentleman can he willing to use his intellect for the propa- gation of untruth, and to be paid for so using it. As to Mr. Chaffaubrass and Mr. Solomon Aram to them the escape of a criminal under their auspices ~vould of course be a matter of triumph. To such work for many years had they applied their sharp intellects and legal knowledge. But of Mr. Furnivalwhat shall we say of him? Sir Peregrine went home very sad at heart, and crel)t silently back into his own library. In the evening, when he ~vas alone ~vith Mrs. Orme, he spoke one word to her. Edith, he said, I have seen Mr. Round. We can do nothing for her there. I feared not, said she. No~ we can do nothing for her there. After that Sir Peregrine took no step in the matter. What step could he take? But he sat over his fire in his library, day after day, think- ing over it all, and waiting till those terrible as- sizes should have come. CONCERNING LAUGHTER. LAUGHTER, sleep, and hope are the three bounties with which kind mother Nature compensates us for the troubles of a life which few, perhaps, would accept if they were asked be- forehand. Sancho blessed the man who invent- ed sleep, wherein the Hindoos are with him, who say it is better to sit than to stand; better

Charles Nordhoff Nordhoff, Charles Concerning Laughter 93-96

CONCERNING LAUGHTER. 93 But stillall that you can want is your clients interest. Of course we desire to serve his interest. And with that view, Mr. Round, is it not possible that we might come to some compro- mise ? Whatby giving up part of the property ~ By giving up all the property, said Sir Peregrine, with considerable emphasis. Whewww! Mr. Round at the mo- ment made no other answer than this, which terminated in a low whistle. Better that at once than that she should die broken-hearted, said Sir Peregrine. There was then silence between them for a minute or t~vo, after which Mr. Round, turning himself round in his chair so as to face his visit- or more fully, spoke as follows: I told you just now, Sir Peregrine, that I was Mr. Masons attorney; and I must now tell you, that, as re- gards this interview between you and me, I will not hold myself as being in that position. What von have said shall be as though it had not been said; and as I am not myself taking any part in the proceedings, this may with absolute strict- ness be the case. But If I have said any thing that I ought not to have said began Sir Peregrine. Allow me for one moment, cQntinued Mr. Round. The fault is mine, if there be a fault, as I should have explained to you that the mat- ter could hardly be discussed witW propriety be- tween us. Mr. Round, I offer you my apology from the bottom of my heart. No, Sir Peregrine. You shall offer me no apology, nor will I accept any. I know no words strong enough to convey to you my es teem and respect for your character. Sir! But I will ask you to listen to me for a mo- ment. If any compromise be contemplated, it should he arranged by the advice of Mr. Fur- nival and of Mr. Chaffanbrass, and the terms should be settled between Mr. Aram and my son. But I can not myself say that I see any possibility of such a result. It is not, however, for me to advise. If on that matter you wish for advice, I think that you had better see Mr. Furnival. Ah! said Sir Peregrine, telling more and more of the story by every utterance he made. And now it only remains for me to assure you once more that the words which have been spoken in this room shall be as though they had not been spoken. And then Mr. Round made it very clear that there was nothing more to be said between them on the subject of Lady Ma- son. Sir Peregrine repeated his apology, col- lected his hat and gloves, and with slow step made his way down to his cab, while Mr. Round absolutely waited upon him till he saw him seat- ed within the vehicle. So Mat is right after all ! said the old at- torney to himself as he stood alone with his back to his own fire, thrusting his hands into his trowsers-pockets. So Mat is right after all The meaning of this exclamation will be plain to my readers. Mat had declared to his father his conviction that Lady Mason had forged the codicil in question, and the father was now also convinced that she had done so. Unfortunate woman ! he said; poor, wretched woman And then he began to calculate what might yet be her chances of escape. On the whole he thought that she would escape. Twenty years of possession, he said to himself; and so ex- cellent a character! But, nevertheless, he re- peated to himself over and over again that she was a wretched, miserable woman. We may say that all the persons most con- cerned were convinced, or nearly convinced, of Lady Masons guilt. Among her own friends Mr. Furnival had no doubt of it, and Mr. Chaff- aubrass and Mr. Aram but very little; whereas Sir Peregrine and Mrs. Orme of course had none. On the other side, Mr. Mason and Mr. I)ock- wrath were both fully sure of the truth, and the two Rounds, father and son, were quite of the same mind. And yet, except with Dockwrath and Sir Peregrine, the most honest and the most dishonest of the lot, the opinion was that she would escape. These were five lawyers con- cerned, not one of whom gave to the course of justice credit that it would ascertain the truth, and not one of whom wished that the truth should be ascertained. Surely had they been honest- minded in their profession they would have all so wishedhave so wished, or else have abstain- ed from all professional intercourse in the mat- ter. I can not understand how any gentleman can he willing to use his intellect for the propa- gation of untruth, and to be paid for so using it. As to Mr. Chaffaubrass and Mr. Solomon Aram to them the escape of a criminal under their auspices ~vould of course be a matter of triumph. To such work for many years had they applied their sharp intellects and legal knowledge. But of Mr. Furnivalwhat shall we say of him? Sir Peregrine went home very sad at heart, and crel)t silently back into his own library. In the evening, when he ~vas alone ~vith Mrs. Orme, he spoke one word to her. Edith, he said, I have seen Mr. Round. We can do nothing for her there. I feared not, said she. No~ we can do nothing for her there. After that Sir Peregrine took no step in the matter. What step could he take? But he sat over his fire in his library, day after day, think- ing over it all, and waiting till those terrible as- sizes should have come. CONCERNING LAUGHTER. LAUGHTER, sleep, and hope are the three bounties with which kind mother Nature compensates us for the troubles of a life which few, perhaps, would accept if they were asked be- forehand. Sancho blessed the man who invent- ed sleep, wherein the Hindoos are with him, who say it is better to sit than to stand; better 94 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. to lie down than to sit; better to sleep than to wake ; but they go one step beyond the illustri- ous Governor of Barrataria, and add better to die than to live. The ancients seem to have set Hope before sleep, and left her as the one blessing in Pandoras box. Spirospero, say the Italians yet. The ancients, indeed, seem to have had but a poor notion of that blessing which the good Sancho enjoyed so thoroughly, in com- mon with other men of a good conscience and a healthy digestion. Zeno called sleep the image of death; and death to too many of the old p1 ilosophers meant annihilation. Anhnals sleepdogs even dream; and who shall say that the cat prowling for mice, or the young lions seeking their prey of God, are not animated by hope? But man alone laughs. There is, to be sure, a horse-laugh, but it is the explosion, not of the horse, but of the host- ler; and that curious Australian bird, called the lau~hing jackass, is not a jackass, and brays. Man is a laughing animal, and laugh- ter should be reckoned one of the four cardinal virtues. Platos featherless bipedproud, erect, reasoning, talkinghas perhaps but two great capacities to distinguish him from the plucked rooster which put Platos definition to blush: he laughs and he commits suicide. A cynical Frenchman remarks, on this head, that animals were not made capable of laughter, because they were created before man, and had therefore no- thing to laugh at! I should perhaps add another distinctive feat- ure of humanitywe alone are subject to nose- bleed. As for tears, we have them in common with the elephant and the crocodile; and Father Homer even lets the horses of Achilles shed tears at the death of Patroclus. The great moose, the camel, the seal, and even the common deer are capable of tears; and when we see how horses and dogs are ill-treated, one wishes that these dear companions could revenge themselves as easily as our womankind, with a good cry. It is an old proverb that laughter is akin to tears; and, according to Doctor Lemprihre, the one seems to have grown very naturally out of the other: When 1\Iomus was born he filled all Olympus with his lusty cries; all the goddesses hastened to appease the terrible child; and Jupi- ter, who could not look without inextinguislia- ble laughter at his last creatureManat once dedicated to him the weeping clown. Almost every philosopher has felt it his duty to attempt a dcfinition of Man. Franklin calls us tool-making animals; Boswell, who was a gourmand, said, Man is a cooking animal and, indeed, it would not be so far wrong to call most cooks animals. A Frenchman wrote: L/lomrne est an oninial qui cracl~e[Man is an animal that spits], a definition which applies l)erhaps more especially to our Southern breth- ren. But for a good solid definition, which will withstand all criticism, I here offer, Man is a laughin~ animal. It may be urged that monkeys grinbut a grin is not a laugh; and if it were, let us not forget that Linuiuus count- ed man and the long-armed ape (hoino Lw) as one species; while Dr. Darwin warns us not rashly to cast off our cousin Jacko. Rousseau saw in the West African Pongo the original of man; and though he continued in his sober mo- ments to walk upon his hind legs, urged the advantages of quadrupedal locomotion so elo- quently, that Voltaire writes him he was often moved by the reading to run about on all fours at Ferney. The Pavian physician, Moscati, ascribed to our upright carriage many of the dis- eases to which mankind is subject, particularly palpitation of the heart, hypochondria, consump- tion, swelled feet, liver complaint, and rupture, the happy exemption of animals from which he ascribes to their horizontal posture. It may be added that, like most physicians, he did not take his own prescriptions. It is undeniable that the surest footing is upon all fours, as you may see in a rickety table or a three.legged stool; but the fine art of walking upon the hind legs, which monkeys so unsuccessfully practice, has yetby long use, Mr. Darwin would saybecome sec- ond nature with us; and a close observer may find many points wherein our grinning cousin comes nearer to us than in thisas, for instance, in South America monkeys are trapped by peo- ple who expose in their haunts vessels filled with intoxicating liquor, which Jacko drinking falls victim to his imprudence, as happens sometimes to young gentlemen from the country making their firs, visit to the city. For the rest: Siieia hosao sine ceuda, pedibus posticis aei helens, greqarius, amnivorus, in quietus, mendax, furax, solar, pugnex, artiusu variararn caper, ansmnaliurn reliquoruin liostis, sei i])SiuS injinicus teterimus Laughter is a pleasing convulsive motion of the organs of breathing, a convulsion of the facial and abdominal muscles, and an expression of joy and comfort, as tears are the expression of grief and pain. Extremes meet; and as im- moderate laughter forces a flow of tears, so great grief often finds its expression in that unnatural laughter which we call hysterical. Novalis calls laughter venous and tears arterial. how near akin laughter is to tears was shown when Rn hens, with a single stroke of his brush, turned a laughing child in a painting to one crying; and our mothers, without being great painters, have often brought us, in like manner, from joy to grief by a single stroke. It has been noticed that children cry before they laugh. Aristotle maintains that they do not laugh before their fortieth day; and St. Cyprian asserts that they weep for the rite of baptism. The ancients held the laughter of young children to be a good omen; and it is related that Zoroaster laughed on the day of his birth, which is probably as true as that other story that the violent heating of his brain threw the nurses hand from his head. Gargautna, that he might not vex the philosophers who held with Aristotle, put off laughing till after his fortieth day ; hut, in revenge, cried out constantly, Au & oire[Give me to drink] 1 CONCERNING LAUGHTER. 95 The Rabbins maintained that the smiling infant ~vaS possessed of Lilis, that famous she - devil who led poor Adam such a life; we Christians have a fond faith that the whisper of angels causes the unconscious smile; but doctors, who are matter-of-fact beings, pretend that it is the effect of wind. If animals can not laugh, neither do they keep the world awake with their cries. They have other expressions for the joy they feel: dogs wag their tails, the cat purs, and birds the most joyous of creaturestwitter; old hens even sing. It is as true of laughter what the ancients said of tears, Lacrima nil cities cres- cit [Nothing comes quicker than tears]; and this is especially true of women, who are like a spring day, all rain and sunshine. It is odd that the physical causes of both are yet un- known; as also of that perhaps more mysterious phenomenonthe blush, concerning which a cynical Frenchman asked the puzzling question whether young ladies also blush in the dark? a question which I do not propose to answer. Aristotle and Pliny held that laughter was an affection of the skin, and French physiologists assigned it to the spleenas, indeed, the French yet say, Sipanouir la rate, d~sopiler la rate, as equivalents for to make merry. The English, on the other hand, speak of laughing heartily; and the Spaniards have a phrase, for forced mirth To laugh from the teeth outward which is not so far amiss, when we remember that there are not only musculi risorii, but dentes risorii. When we sigh we draw air into our lungs, bat laughter violently expels the air. Laughter draws backward the corners of the mouth, draws up the upper lipespecially in young women who have pretty teethwrinkles the cheeks, smooths the brow, causes the eyes to sparkle, and draws down the corners of the eye- brows, while the cheeks swell so that, in those fat persons who are given to laughter, one scarce sees the eyes. At the same time the veins of the neck swell, and the blood rushes with pleas- ant violence to the head, the heart, and the lungs. These are the phenomena of laughter, which, if unduly increased, are capable of en- dangering life. It is curious that we read only among the ancients and the French of people laughing themselves to death. We Americans have either more jokes, or a poorer appreciation of wit. Zeuxis is said to have died of laughing at a painting of an old woman, his own handi- work. Philemon expired of a donkey who so contentedly ate the philosophers figs that, with his last articulate breath, he sent out a glass of wine to the beast, who drank it with equal en- joyment, and thus proved himself, it seems to me, not such a donkey after all. Pomponius Mela has a story of a blessed island in which were two springs, at one of which mortals could imbibe till they laughed themselves to death, when a swallow of the other restored them to life again. To judge from the title of a book I once met in a French catalogue, many great men must have died of laughing; it was a list of famous men who have expired of laughter, by one R. Texter, whose name is less famous than doubt- less it deserves to be. I have never met with the book, but without it the catalogue of dis- sertations de riSC is sufficiently great. For the inquiring readers benefit I may say that the best I know on the subject is by a French physician, Roy, entitled Traite rnedico-philosophique le lire, Paris, 1810, in 950 pages octavo; and the worst and least interesting Bon~fizcii His- tone Ludicra, printed at Basle, in 1756. In an essay in the Guardian laughing is de- fined to be an agreeable kind of convulsion, a symptom of inward satisfaction ; and those who practice it are divided into dimplers, smilers, laughers, grinners, horse-laughers, and sneerers. This is to lay down a science of laughing, for which there might be need, if General MClellan or General Beauregard should take up the idea of old Bulow, who proposed to form troops, in face of the enemy, in line of battle, and order them to advance with their arms at a shoulder and salute the foe with ringing bursts of laugh- ter. Be sure, said Bulow, that your oppo- nents, surprised and dismayed at this astonish- ing salute, would turn about and run off. This plan, perhaps, would not do so well while the present long-range artillery is used; but as no- thing is too absurd to succeed once, it is related as matter of fact that the Mamelukes once turned tail from an assault upon the French in Egypt, on hearing the roar of laughter with which Na- poleons veterans greeted the command Un quarri, les ines et les sevens au ,nilieuForm in square, asses and men of science in the centre. Since Adam, who invented laughterdoubt- less when he awoke and saw Eve by his side no two men have laughed alike. The laugh is as distinct as the voice; perhaps more so, for the laugh of a full-bearded man is very different from that which he laughs when he has been clean shaven by a barber. Women laugh dif- ferently from men, children from women, and some writers even profess to detect national pe- culiarities in the laugh; as for instance, say they, the Frenchman laughs with his teeth, like the apes. The Abbd IJamasceni thought he had discovered, in the various enunciations of laughter, a sure guide to the temperaments of the laughers. Thus he said Ha ha ha belonged to a choleric man, lie he he to the phlegmatic, Hi hi hi to the melancholic, and Ho ho ho to the sanguine. It is true that men laugh com- monly in A and 0, and women in E and I; and it is singular that with all people, even the cock- neys, the aspirate, II, precedes the vo~vel. The old theologians held laughter to be one of the consequences of the first sin, and believed that Adam did not laugh till he was driven out of Paradise. They avoided laughter as unholy; but they forgot that it is written the Lord Sa- baoth laugheth them to scorn. The old liter- alists held to the words, Woe unto you who laugh ; and the second council of Carthage for- bade, with an anathema, all verbejoculetorza 96 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. risuin moventia. Pope Innocent III. wrote, New-born children cry, the boys in A, and the girls in E, mourning together over the sins of Adam and Eve. But, on the other hand, the Dominicans of Luthers time declared that they could hear the poor souls in purgatory laugh every time a coin rang in their begging dish. If we may believe Pliny and A~lian, there were even men among the ancients who abjured laugh- ter, as Phocion, Anaxagoras, Heraclitus, and Cnto. Lucilius Crnssus was called the never- laughing, because he laughed but once in his life, and then at a very silly conceit of his own: he saw a donkey eating thistles, and saying Rough lips, a rough salad, guffawed at this flimsy conceit. But father homer calls Venus the laughter-loving and Pluto the never-laugh- ing, and perhaps the loveliest passage in the Iliad is that where Hector and Andromache laugh at their hoy hiding his face in fear of his fathers nodding plumes. The old Greeks and Romans were laughers. The Greeks called the roar of angry waves the laughter of Neptune; Catullus says of the flowers, domus jucundo risit adore ; and Virgil speaks of Jove, risit peter optimus. Great men have often fancied it a part of greatness to refrain from hilarity. Philip IV. of Spain is said to have laughed outright but once in his life, when his bride, Anne of Aus- tria, wept at hearing that the Queens of Spain had no feet. She took with German literalness an old piece of overwrought Spanish courtesy. As she was journeying toward Spain some Ger- man nuns met her, and desired to present some stockings of their own knitting. The worthy princess was about to accept the gift when a Spanish grandee of her suite interfered, with the remark that it would be against etiquette, as the Queens of Spain were not supposed to have any use for stockings! whereat the princess began to weepunderstanding, poor lady, that on her ar- rival in Madrid her feet would be cut off. Lord Chesterfield said, Nobody has seen me laugh since I have come to use my reason; and Con- greve makes his Lord Froth, in the Double Dealer, say, When I laugh I always laugh alone. Nevertheless, the singer Robert gave lessons in laughter in Paris and London in 1805, and with considerable successso far as filling his own purse went. He held that men and women could not laugh decently and systematically without proper training; and said that a person who could laugh in but one tone seemed to him like one who could say only oni and non; but that a trained laugher could express many things without words, and would often thus be spared the utterance of unpleasant words. Young people and fools laugh easily, says an old proverb, which has often proved itself true; and with such, a great incentive to merriment is, that it is forbidden. Some young French naval officers once accompanied their captain to an audience of Pope Benedict XIV. When they came to kiss the sacred Pontifical toe they could not keep ia their mirth. The captain looked on with rage and embarrassment, but the good Benedict said, Never mind them; I am, to be sure, Pope, but I have not the power to keep Frenchmen from laughing. The Tyrinthians consulted an oracle for a cure for the incessant laughter which afflicted them. Throw an ox into the sea, in honor of Neptune, without laugh- ing, was the reply; but they found obedience impossible, for as they were leading the animal along a boy joined the procession, and when the grave elders drove him away, cried out, Do you fear that I want to eat your ox? Whereat the assembly roaredand returned home. However would-be-great men pretend to scorn laughter, it remains true that a good laugher is ever an honest fellow; and that laughter is good for the health we have an old proverb to prove: Laugh and grow fat. Think of honest Jack Fal- staff, of Sancho Panza, of Dr. Slopall fat, all dearly beloved. When a man smiles, and much more when he laughs, it adds something to his fragment of life, says Sternewho wished laughter enumerated in the materia medica, as an eminent English physician used to prescribe to his patients suffering from melancholy 34 pp. Peregrine Pickle ; and the great Syden- ham maintained that the arrival of a clown in a village was as wholesome as that of twenty donk- eys laden with drugs. Tissot, the famous French physician, cured consumptions and liver com- plaints by causing his patients to laugh; Eras- mus, through immoderate laughter at the rude Latin of Huttens Letters of Obscure Men, broke an internal abscess which had long plagued him; and one of the Abderites was so grateful for his health, restored by laughter at the whimseys of a donkey, that he took the name Onogelastes, and called his son Onobolus, and his grandson Onomemnon. Honest laughter is a curative of the same kind as coughing, sneezing, and per- haps vomitingonly pleasanter than any of these; and a cheerful frame of mind has kept many a traveler in sound health when his com- panions were dying around him. Stedman, the explorer of Surinam, says that he escaped all the diseases of that deadly climate by bathing, singing, laughing, and, God forgive me, he adds, cursing, which last I by no means rec- ommend. FAILING LOVE. 7 OUR face has lost something, Helen. I What is it ? There was a look of concern in the speakers inquiring eyes. Ten years have passed, dear friend! an- swered the lady. Ten years of sunshinefruitful years Helen, should give the heart an abundant store of corn and wine. Your hives are full of honey. The shade fell deeper on Helens face. I am pained at this, said the friend.. Your letters have not betrayed the existence of a secret trouble.

T. S. Arthur Arthur, T. S. Failing Love 96-99

96 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. risuin moventia. Pope Innocent III. wrote, New-born children cry, the boys in A, and the girls in E, mourning together over the sins of Adam and Eve. But, on the other hand, the Dominicans of Luthers time declared that they could hear the poor souls in purgatory laugh every time a coin rang in their begging dish. If we may believe Pliny and A~lian, there were even men among the ancients who abjured laugh- ter, as Phocion, Anaxagoras, Heraclitus, and Cnto. Lucilius Crnssus was called the never- laughing, because he laughed but once in his life, and then at a very silly conceit of his own: he saw a donkey eating thistles, and saying Rough lips, a rough salad, guffawed at this flimsy conceit. But father homer calls Venus the laughter-loving and Pluto the never-laugh- ing, and perhaps the loveliest passage in the Iliad is that where Hector and Andromache laugh at their hoy hiding his face in fear of his fathers nodding plumes. The old Greeks and Romans were laughers. The Greeks called the roar of angry waves the laughter of Neptune; Catullus says of the flowers, domus jucundo risit adore ; and Virgil speaks of Jove, risit peter optimus. Great men have often fancied it a part of greatness to refrain from hilarity. Philip IV. of Spain is said to have laughed outright but once in his life, when his bride, Anne of Aus- tria, wept at hearing that the Queens of Spain had no feet. She took with German literalness an old piece of overwrought Spanish courtesy. As she was journeying toward Spain some Ger- man nuns met her, and desired to present some stockings of their own knitting. The worthy princess was about to accept the gift when a Spanish grandee of her suite interfered, with the remark that it would be against etiquette, as the Queens of Spain were not supposed to have any use for stockings! whereat the princess began to weepunderstanding, poor lady, that on her ar- rival in Madrid her feet would be cut off. Lord Chesterfield said, Nobody has seen me laugh since I have come to use my reason; and Con- greve makes his Lord Froth, in the Double Dealer, say, When I laugh I always laugh alone. Nevertheless, the singer Robert gave lessons in laughter in Paris and London in 1805, and with considerable successso far as filling his own purse went. He held that men and women could not laugh decently and systematically without proper training; and said that a person who could laugh in but one tone seemed to him like one who could say only oni and non; but that a trained laugher could express many things without words, and would often thus be spared the utterance of unpleasant words. Young people and fools laugh easily, says an old proverb, which has often proved itself true; and with such, a great incentive to merriment is, that it is forbidden. Some young French naval officers once accompanied their captain to an audience of Pope Benedict XIV. When they came to kiss the sacred Pontifical toe they could not keep ia their mirth. The captain looked on with rage and embarrassment, but the good Benedict said, Never mind them; I am, to be sure, Pope, but I have not the power to keep Frenchmen from laughing. The Tyrinthians consulted an oracle for a cure for the incessant laughter which afflicted them. Throw an ox into the sea, in honor of Neptune, without laugh- ing, was the reply; but they found obedience impossible, for as they were leading the animal along a boy joined the procession, and when the grave elders drove him away, cried out, Do you fear that I want to eat your ox? Whereat the assembly roaredand returned home. However would-be-great men pretend to scorn laughter, it remains true that a good laugher is ever an honest fellow; and that laughter is good for the health we have an old proverb to prove: Laugh and grow fat. Think of honest Jack Fal- staff, of Sancho Panza, of Dr. Slopall fat, all dearly beloved. When a man smiles, and much more when he laughs, it adds something to his fragment of life, says Sternewho wished laughter enumerated in the materia medica, as an eminent English physician used to prescribe to his patients suffering from melancholy 34 pp. Peregrine Pickle ; and the great Syden- ham maintained that the arrival of a clown in a village was as wholesome as that of twenty donk- eys laden with drugs. Tissot, the famous French physician, cured consumptions and liver com- plaints by causing his patients to laugh; Eras- mus, through immoderate laughter at the rude Latin of Huttens Letters of Obscure Men, broke an internal abscess which had long plagued him; and one of the Abderites was so grateful for his health, restored by laughter at the whimseys of a donkey, that he took the name Onogelastes, and called his son Onobolus, and his grandson Onomemnon. Honest laughter is a curative of the same kind as coughing, sneezing, and per- haps vomitingonly pleasanter than any of these; and a cheerful frame of mind has kept many a traveler in sound health when his com- panions were dying around him. Stedman, the explorer of Surinam, says that he escaped all the diseases of that deadly climate by bathing, singing, laughing, and, God forgive me, he adds, cursing, which last I by no means rec- ommend. FAILING LOVE. 7 OUR face has lost something, Helen. I What is it ? There was a look of concern in the speakers inquiring eyes. Ten years have passed, dear friend! an- swered the lady. Ten years of sunshinefruitful years Helen, should give the heart an abundant store of corn and wine. Your hives are full of honey. The shade fell deeper on Helens face. I am pained at this, said the friend.. Your letters have not betrayed the existence of a secret trouble. FAILING LOVE. 97 I was guarded. Guarded! You know, answered Helen, rallying her- self, and affecting a lighter state of mind, that every house has its skeleton. Real or imaginary. Most of these skele- tons are but shadows. Mine is real. The two friends, met now for the first time in ten years, looked at each other in a strange way. The lightness of tone had died out in the sen- tence Mine is real. The best of husbands, good children, and a home like this! Where stands the skeleton? I can see no place for so unseemly an intruder. And yet, Margaret, the intruder is here, grinning at me all the while, and growing more and more ghastly. Dear friend, how you afflict me! Helen Ashbys face had become pale in this reference to a hidden sorrow which had never found voice before. It almost kills me to say it, Margaret; but Mrs. Ashby checked the sentence ere it found utterance. But what? Trust me, Helen. God gives wisdom to love. Through my love He may send healing to your soul. Let me look down into this haunted heart-chamber; let me see the ugly skeleton I am not loved as I once was, Margaret There was a cold shiver in Mrs. Ashbys voice. Not loved, Helen Not loved by my husband. Tears fell si- lently over Mrs. Ashbys face. You are under a dark delusion.~~ No. Love has been steadily failing for yearsslowly, almost imperceptibly, but surely. I shudder at the contrast, when I measure its height and depth, its length and breadth to-day, and then think how immeasurable it seemed ten years ago I am pained beyond expression, dear friend! Surely you are in a dream! My brief observa- tion of your husband since I came reveals no- thing like coldness or alienation. He is kind, gentle, and tranquil. As I watched his counte- nance last night, while he talked, and dwelt on the sentiments that fell from his lips, I could not help saying, He is fast growing to the stat- ure of a manthat is, of ~n angel! This could not be if he were getting cold toward the wife of his bosom. Oh, he is good, and trae, and excellent ! answered Mrs. Ashby. A purer, better man does not live. I reverence, I idolize him! He stands in my sight the embodiment of human perfection! But all the while I am conscious of an increasing distance between us. We are not so close together as we were one, two, three, four, or five years ago. My friend, this is terri- ble! Is it to go onthis widening of the space between usuntil he vanishes out of sight, and .1 am left shivering alone in a universe of dark. ness? Give me annihilation rather! This was the skeleton in Mrs. Ashbys house; no phantom of the imagination, but a real skel- eton. The friend sat long before replying. What Helen now said brought into light some things casually noted since her arrivalsome things which had been felt as inharmonious. Let us briefly refer to them An awkward or confused servant spilled some water on the table, at tea- time, in filling a glass. Mrs. Ashby, instead of passing the incident without notice, reproved her sharply. Mr. Ashby was talking at the time in a cheerful, animated voice. He became silent, but resumed in a few moments. The most or- dinary observer would have perceived a change of tone, marked by a certain depression of feel- ing. Soon after the conversation was resumed Mr. Ashby referred to a lady acquaintance, and spoke of her as an accomplished singer, when his wife threw in some remarks disparaging to her as a woman. To these Mr. Ashby offered a few mildly-spoken excuses; but his wife tore them away with an unseemly asperity of man- ner, that, to say the least of it, was unbeautifel. Her husband changed the subject. Again he mentioned with praise a lady friend; and again Mrs. Ashby came in with a but and an if, veiling the good and exposing the defects of her character. Two or three times during the meal Mrs. Ashby spoke impatiently to the children, and with a quality of tone that left on the ear an unpleasing impression. The friend now recalled these little inharmo- nious incidents. . They gave her a glimmer of light. Love is iiever constrained, she said, after long pause. Mrs. Ashby sighed deeply. True love is of the soul. Why do you love your husband ? Because, answered Mrs. Ashby, he is, in my eyes, the embodiment of all manlyperfections. He is just, pure, truthful, full of gentleness and goodness. And if such be his quality, Helen, can he love in a wife any thing that is not pure and gentle, truthful and good? Have you ever ask- ed yourself a question like this ? Mrs. Ashbys form was lifted to a sudden erectness. Her brow contracted slightly; her eyes lost something of their softened expression; her lips grew firm. Forgive me, Helen, if I have hurt or offend- ed. I love you too well to give fruitless pain, said the friend. I was only trying to lead your thought inward. If, as you seem to fear, your husband is receding from you, it must be in consequence of inharmonious states of mind of dissimilarities, or antagonisms. There must be affinities, or there can be no conjunc- tions. Our souls must be beautiful if we would be truly loved. Have you ever pondered these things? If not, the time has come when you should, in all faithfulness and all seriousness, do so. If your husband be indeed advancing to- ward all true manly excellences, be growing in spiritual stature, will he not, unless you also ad- vance and grow toward womanly excellence and 98 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. perfection, recede from youget so far beyond as to be out of sigbt? Are not spiritual laws as unfailing as natural laws ? Mrs. Asbbys face had already lost its gather- ing sternness. Her friend paused. Why bave you said this to me Because I love you, Helen, and desire your happiness. Mrs. Asliby sighed deeply, dropped her gaze, and sat looking inward for a long time. Then sighed again, and looked up into tile face of her friend. What have you seen, Margaret? Deal witb me honestly as a friend. A temper and disposition which your hus- band can not approve. Margaret! You have asked me to deal honestly, as with a friend. Shall I go on ? Yes, yes; speak of all that is in your mind. Your husband is gentle and considerate, ready to excuse faults, free from hardness and harshness. None more so. I saw that your impatient words, when a servant spilled water on the table last evening, jarred his feelings. He was talking cheerfully at the time; but the change in his tone that fol- lowed showed a depressed state. It was plain to me that you hurt him by your sharp reproof more than you hurt the servant. Thea I no- ticed that as often as he spoke in favor of certain persons you placed evil against their good, and not in the most amiable spirit. Once or twice he tried to defend the good, and then you set yourself against him with a degree of asperity that must have produced in his mind a sense of pain. He did not contend; though I fear, had he done so, you would have beea all ready for a sharp conflict. Before tea ivas ended your hus- band, who conversed at the beginning in an easy, cheerful way, was sitting almost silent. Evidentiy you had reacted upon him in a manner to depress his feelings. I did not comprehend this at the time, but it is plain enough now. I think, Margaret, said Mrs. Ashby as her friend ceased, that you had on magnifying glasses last evening. A stranger listening to your speech wouid set me down as ill-natured, if not quarrelsome. Henry would smiie to hear you. I am not perfect, I know; and my hus- band understands this, and makes all due allow- ance for infirmities of temper. Can he in spirit, Helen, conjoin himself to these or any other infirmities? Do their indulg- ence draw him nearer or away from you? Can he love them ? Mrs. Ashbys countenance changed. She did not reply. Would he choose to live forever conjoined to a disturbing and inharmonious spirit? No matter how feeble the disturbance or slight the lack of harmony, if conjunction must be eternal would not conjunction be avoided as a calamity? We can not bind the soul, my friend, by any laws bu~ its own. Love is drawn by likeness of qualityaffinities combine. If you and your husband are to reach an eternal union you must love and deiight in the same things. You must be of like quality. Your hearts must so beat that the flow of life is reciprocal, and the pulses move in unity. You must become like him, or lie must become like you. In which contingency lies the surer hope? Answer to your own soul, my friend. If he is receding from you, getting all the while to a farther distance, why is it? What does it mean? Is he rising or descend. ing? Growing better or worse? Which is it, Helen ? He is rising. He is growing better. And yet receding I have felt it for a long time, Margaret. Then gird your loinsbind sandals to your feetup, my friend, and press onward in the way you see him going, and draw once more close to his side. As you love him with a pure heart tenderly, seek for the graces of spirit, for the qualities of soul he loves. Cultivate all heavenly affections. Be gentle, kind, consider. ate, lovingin a word, seek all the Christian gracesand there will be no happier wife in all the land. With such a husband as yoursand I wiil take your own portraiture what can stand in the way of all felicities but an undisci- plined will ? If he will only love an angel, there is no hope for me, replied Mrs. Ashbv. I am but a woman, infirm of will, and stumbling aiong darkly in my path of life. Oh, Margaret! you are giving me light only to show me the hope. lessness of my case. Not so, replied the friend. Your hus- band is not very far away from you. If I were talking with him of his own state he would use language quite as strong as yours. The infirm will, the darkened way, the stumbling feetthey are his as well as yours and mine. Those who are in advance of us do not walk as serenely as we think. There are always difficulties in the way, and the farther advance we make, while in this world, the more of them we shall find; but for these a higher strength, with patience and humility, are given. Begin by shunning such things as, in the light of reason and Gods Word, you know to be wrong. Lay a tranquil hand on your temper, and hold back from utterance all harsh words that can do no good. Have char- ity for the weaknesses, the infirmities, and short. comings of others; and if you can not speak ap- provingly, say no ill. So shall you move onward in the way your beloved is going; so shall you draw near to him in spirit; so shall his soul re- flect your soul, and that unity of life be attained which makes of two one forever. And you think there is hope for me, Mar- garetHope of winning back the love that seems vanishing? said Mrs. Ashby. I see the way it has gone, as my eyes follow your pointing finger. The lovely are beloved, Helen. I must become lovelier then ? In spirit; for love is of the spirit. If you PHILIP. 99 indulge in passion, ill-nature, envies, evil-slicak- ing, and uncharitableness, can one who is trying to put these unclean things out of his heartwho turns from them as foul and hatefuldraw closer to you and take you as the embodiment of all perfection into his soul? It is simply impossi- ble, Helen. The good can not love us unless we are beautiful in spirit. To ask them to do so is to require an impossibility. More tban a minute passed. Then lifting her eyes from the floor, where they had been resting, Mrs. Ashby said, Whereas I was blind, now I see. Oh, my friend, you have come as an an- gel to lead me out of the wilderness into a plain way. If my husband is advancing while I stand still what wonder is it that he recedes? If I do not walk by his side as he ascends the mount- ain of spiritual perfection the necessity that di- vides us is of my own creation. As you have urged, my friend, so ~vill I dogird up my loins, bind sandals to my feet, and press onward in the way he is going. And sooner than you think for, Helen, was answered, will you be at his side. He is not very far in advance. The road to perfection of life is never passed over with rapid feet. Very slowly the steps are taken. Your husband loves you, but he can not love in you what is unlove ly. Put away, then, all the unbeautiful things that veil your attractions. Be in his eyes gen- tle, loving, charitable, and kind. Be more ready to see as he sees than to find ground of differ- ence. If you do not see in the light of his un- derstanding wait and reflect, but do not argue and oppose. To be truly nnited, as to the spirit, is to be one in affection and thought. If there is no harmony in your thoughts, the closer you draw together the more you will disturb each other. But why should I say more? Your eyes are open, and you see. The way is plain, walk in it and find peace and joy. You have a true man for a husband; be to him a true wife, and happiness beyond any thing conceivable now shall be yours in the ages of eternity. THE ADVENTURES OF PHILIP. BY W. M. THACKERAY. CHAPTER XXXV. RES ANGUSTA DOMI. To reconcile these two men was impossible after such a quarrel as that described in the last chapter. The only chance of peace was to keep the two men apart. If they met they would fly at each other. Mugford always per- sisted that he could have got the better of his great hulking sub-editor, who did not know the use of his fists. In Mugfords youthful time bruising was a fashionable art, and the old gen- tleman still believed in his own skill and prowess. Dont tell me, he would say; though the fellar is as big as a life-guardsman, I would have doubled him up in two minutes. I am very glad, for poor Charlottes sake and his own, that Philip did not undergo the doubling-up process. He himself felt such a wrath and surprise at his employer as, I suppose, a lion does when a little dog attacks him. I should not like to he that little dog, nor does my modest and peaceful na- ture at all prompt and impel me to combat with lions. It was mighty well Mr. Philip Firmin had shown his spirit and quarreled with his bread- and-butter; but when Saturday came what phi- lanthropist would hand four sovereigns and four shillings over to Mr. F., as Mr. Burjoyce, the publisher of the Pall Mall Gazette, had been ac- customed to do? I will say for my friend that a still keener remorse than that which he felt about money thrown away attended him when he found that Mrs. Woolsey, toward whom he had cast a sidelong stone of persecution, was a most respectable and honorable lady. I should like to go, Sir, and grovel, before her, Philip said, in his energetic way. If I see that tailor, I will request him to put his foot on my head and trample on me with his highlows. Oh, for shame! for shame! Shall I never learn charity toward my neighbors, and always go on believ- ing in the lies which people tell me? When I meet that scoundrel Trail at the club I must chastise him. How dared he take away the reputation of an honest. woman ? Philips friends besought him, for the sake of society and peace, not to carry this quarrel farther. If, we said, every woman whom Trail has ma- ligned had a champion who should box Trails ears at the club, what a vulgar, quarrelsome place that club would become! My dear Philip, did you ever know Mr. Trail say a good word of man or woman ? and by these or similar en- treaties and arguments we succeeded in keep- ing the Queens peace. Yes: but how find another PallMall Gazette?

W. M. Thackeray Thackeray, W. M. Adventures Of Philip 99-112

PHILIP. 99 indulge in passion, ill-nature, envies, evil-slicak- ing, and uncharitableness, can one who is trying to put these unclean things out of his heartwho turns from them as foul and hatefuldraw closer to you and take you as the embodiment of all perfection into his soul? It is simply impossi- ble, Helen. The good can not love us unless we are beautiful in spirit. To ask them to do so is to require an impossibility. More tban a minute passed. Then lifting her eyes from the floor, where they had been resting, Mrs. Ashby said, Whereas I was blind, now I see. Oh, my friend, you have come as an an- gel to lead me out of the wilderness into a plain way. If my husband is advancing while I stand still what wonder is it that he recedes? If I do not walk by his side as he ascends the mount- ain of spiritual perfection the necessity that di- vides us is of my own creation. As you have urged, my friend, so ~vill I dogird up my loins, bind sandals to my feet, and press onward in the way he is going. And sooner than you think for, Helen, was answered, will you be at his side. He is not very far in advance. The road to perfection of life is never passed over with rapid feet. Very slowly the steps are taken. Your husband loves you, but he can not love in you what is unlove ly. Put away, then, all the unbeautiful things that veil your attractions. Be in his eyes gen- tle, loving, charitable, and kind. Be more ready to see as he sees than to find ground of differ- ence. If you do not see in the light of his un- derstanding wait and reflect, but do not argue and oppose. To be truly nnited, as to the spirit, is to be one in affection and thought. If there is no harmony in your thoughts, the closer you draw together the more you will disturb each other. But why should I say more? Your eyes are open, and you see. The way is plain, walk in it and find peace and joy. You have a true man for a husband; be to him a true wife, and happiness beyond any thing conceivable now shall be yours in the ages of eternity. THE ADVENTURES OF PHILIP. BY W. M. THACKERAY. CHAPTER XXXV. RES ANGUSTA DOMI. To reconcile these two men was impossible after such a quarrel as that described in the last chapter. The only chance of peace was to keep the two men apart. If they met they would fly at each other. Mugford always per- sisted that he could have got the better of his great hulking sub-editor, who did not know the use of his fists. In Mugfords youthful time bruising was a fashionable art, and the old gen- tleman still believed in his own skill and prowess. Dont tell me, he would say; though the fellar is as big as a life-guardsman, I would have doubled him up in two minutes. I am very glad, for poor Charlottes sake and his own, that Philip did not undergo the doubling-up process. He himself felt such a wrath and surprise at his employer as, I suppose, a lion does when a little dog attacks him. I should not like to he that little dog, nor does my modest and peaceful na- ture at all prompt and impel me to combat with lions. It was mighty well Mr. Philip Firmin had shown his spirit and quarreled with his bread- and-butter; but when Saturday came what phi- lanthropist would hand four sovereigns and four shillings over to Mr. F., as Mr. Burjoyce, the publisher of the Pall Mall Gazette, had been ac- customed to do? I will say for my friend that a still keener remorse than that which he felt about money thrown away attended him when he found that Mrs. Woolsey, toward whom he had cast a sidelong stone of persecution, was a most respectable and honorable lady. I should like to go, Sir, and grovel, before her, Philip said, in his energetic way. If I see that tailor, I will request him to put his foot on my head and trample on me with his highlows. Oh, for shame! for shame! Shall I never learn charity toward my neighbors, and always go on believ- ing in the lies which people tell me? When I meet that scoundrel Trail at the club I must chastise him. How dared he take away the reputation of an honest. woman ? Philips friends besought him, for the sake of society and peace, not to carry this quarrel farther. If, we said, every woman whom Trail has ma- ligned had a champion who should box Trails ears at the club, what a vulgar, quarrelsome place that club would become! My dear Philip, did you ever know Mr. Trail say a good word of man or woman ? and by these or similar en- treaties and arguments we succeeded in keep- ing the Queens peace. Yes: but how find another PallMall Gazette? 100 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. had Philip possessed seven thousand pounds in sents money, I am lost in a respectful astonish- the three per cents., his income would have heen mont. A man takes his own case, as he says no greater than that which he drew from Mug his own prayers, on behalf of himself and his fords faithful hank. Ab! how wonderful ways family. I am paid, we will say, for the sake of and means are! When I think ho~v this very illustration, at the rate of sixpence per line. line, this very word, which I am writing repro- With the words Ah, how wonderful) to tho VI PATERFAMILLAS. PHILIP. 101 words per line, I can buy a loaf; a piece of butter, a jug of milk, a modicum of teaactu- ally enough to make breakfast for the family; and the servants of the house; and the char- woman, their servant, can shake up the tea-leaves with a fresh supply of water, sop the crusts, and get a meal, tant bien que mal. Wife, children, guests, servants, char-woman, we are all actu- ally making a meal off Philip Firmins bones as it were. And my next-door neighbor, whom I see spinning away to chambers, umbrella in band? And next door but one the city man? And next door but two the doctor ! I know the baker has left loaves at every one of their doors this morning, that all their chimneys are smok- ing, and they will all have breakfast. Ah, thank God for it! I hope, friend, you and I are not too proud to ask for our daily bread, and to be grateful for getting it? Mr. Philip had to work for his, in care and trouble, like otherchildren of men: to work for it, and I hope to pray for it too. It is a thought to me awful and beauti- ful, that of the daily prayer, and of the myriads of fellow-men uttering it, in care and in sickness, in doubt and in poverty, in health and in wealth. Panem nostrum da nobis hodie. Philip whispers it by the bedside where wife and child lie sleep- ing, and goes to his early labor with a stouter heart: as he creeps to his rest when the days labor is over, and the quotidian bread is earned, and breathes his hushed thanks to the bountiful Giver of the meal. All over this ~vorld what an endless chorus is singing of love, and thanks, and prayer! Day tells to day the wondrous story, and night recounts it into night. How do I come to think of a sunrise which I saw near twenty years ago on the Nile, when the river and sky flushed and glowed with the dawning light, and as the luminary appeared the boatmen knelt on the rosy deck and adored Allah? So, as thy sun rises, friend, over the humble housetops round about your home, shall you wake many and many a day to duty and labor. May the task have been honestly done when the night comes, and the steward deal kindly with the laborer! So two of Philips cables cracked and gave way after a very brief strain, and the poor fel- low held by nothing now but that wonderful European Review established by the mysterious Tregarvan. Actors, a people of superstitions and traditions, opine that Heaven, in some mys- terious way, makes managers for their benefit. In like manner, Review proprietors are sent to provide the pabulum for us men of letters. With what complacency did my wife listen to the somewhat long-winded and pompous oratory of Tregarvan! He pompous and commonplace? Mr. Tregarvan spoke with excellent good sense. That wily woman never showed she was tired of his conversation. She praised him to Philip be- hind his back, and would not allow a word in his disparagement. As a doctor will punch your chest, your liver, your heart, listen at your lungs, squeeze your pulse, and what not, so this wily woman studied, shampooed, auscultated Tregar van. Of course he allowed himself to he oper- ated upon. Of course he had no idea that the lady was flattering, wheedling, humbugging him; but thought that he was a very well-in- formed, eloquent man, who had seen and read a great deal, and had an agreeable method of im- parting his knowledge, and that the lady in question was a sensible woman, naturally eager for more information. Go, Dalilah! I under- stand your tricks! I know many another Om- phale in London who will coax Hercules away from his club to come and listen to her whee- dling talk. One great difficulty we had was to make Phil- ip read Tregarvans own articles in the Re- view. He at first said he could not, or that he could not remember them; so that there was no use in reading them. And Philips new master used to make artful allusions to his own writings in the course. of conversation, so that our unwary friend would find himself under examination in any casual interview with Tregarvan, whose opinions on free-trade, malt-tax, income-tax, designs of Russia, or what not, might be accept- ed or denied, but ought at least to be known. We actually made Philip get up his owner s ar- ticles. We put questions to him privily regard- ing them coached him, according to the university phrase. My wife humbugged that wretched Member of Parliament in a way which makes me shudder, when I think of what hy- pocrisy the sex is capable. Those arts and dissimulations with which she wheedles others suppose she exercised them on me? Horrible thought! No, angel! To others thou mayest be a coaxing hypocrite; to me thou art all can- dor. Other men may have been humbugged by other women; but I am not to be taken in by that sort of thing; and thou art all candor! We had then so much per annum as editor. We were paid, besides, for our articles. We had really a snug little pension out of this Re- view, and we prayed it might last forever. We might write a novel. We might contribute ar- ticles to a daily paper; get a little parliamenta- ry practice as a barrister. We actually did get Philip into a railway case or two, and my wife must be coaxing and hugging solicitors ladies, as she had whcedled and coaxed Members of Parliament. Why, I do believe my Dalilab set up a flirtation with old Bishop Crossticks, with an idea of getting her protege a living; and though the lady indignantly repudiates this charge, will she be pleased to explain how the bishops sermons were so outrageously praised in the Review? Philips roughness and frankness did not dis- please Tregarvan, to the wonder of us all, who trembled lest he should lose this, as he had lost his former place. Mr. Tregarvan had more country houses than one, and at these not only was the editor of the Review made welcome, but the editors wife and children, whom Tregarvans wife took in especial regard. In London Lady Mary had assemblies, where our little friend Charlotte made her appearance; and half a 102 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. dozen times in the course of the season the ~vealthy Cornish gentleman feasted his retain- ers of the Review. His wine was excellent and old; his jokes were old too; his table pompous, grave, plentiful. If Philip was to eat the bread of dependence, the loaf was here very kindly prepared for him, and he ate it hum- bly and with not too much grumbling. This diet chokes some proud stomacbs and disagrees with them; but Philip was very humble now, and of a nature grateful for kindness. He is one who requires the help of friends, and can accept benefits without losing independence not all mens gifts, but some mens, whom he repays not only with coin but with an immense affection and gratitude. How that man dick laugh at my witticisms! How he worshiped the ground on which my wife walked! He elected himself our champion. He quarreled with other people who found fault with our characters or would not see our perfections. There was something affecting in the way in which this big man took the humble place. We could do no wrong in his eyes; and woe betide the man who spoke disparagingly of us in his presence! One day, at his patrons table, Philip exer- cised his valor and championship in our behalf by defending us against the evil- speaking of that Mr. Trail, who has been mentioned before as a gentleman difficult to please and credulous of ill regarding his neighbor. The talk hap- pened to fall upon the character of the readers most humble servant, and Trail, as may be im- agined, spared me no more than the rest of man- kind. Would you like to be liked by all people? That would be a reason why Trail should hate you. Were you an angel fresh dropped from the skies he would espy dirt on your robe, aud a black feather or two in your wing. As for me, I know I am not angelical at all; and in walk- ing my native earth cant help a little mud on my trowsers. Well: Mr. Trail began to paint my portrait, laying on those dark shadows which that well-known master is in the habit of em- ploying. I was a parasite of the nobility; I was a heartless sycophant, house-breaker, drunkard, murderer, returned convict, etc., etc. With a little imagination Mrs. Candor can fill up the outline, and arrange the colors so as to suit her amiable fancy. Philip had come late to dinnerof tids fault, I must confess, he is guilty only too often. The company were at table; he took the only place vacant, and this happened to be at the side of Mr. Trail. On Trails other side was a portly individual, of a healthy and rosy countenance and voluminous white waistcoat, to whom Trail directed much of his amiable talk, and whom he addressed once or twice as Sir John. Once or twice already we have seen how Philip has quar- reled at table. He cried men culpa loudly and honestly enough. He made vows of reform in this particular. He succeeded, dearly beloved brethren, not much worse or better than you and I do, who confess our faults, and go on promis ing to improve, and stumbling and picking our- selves up every day. The pavement of life is strewed with orange-peel, and who has not slipped on the flags? He is the most conceited man in London, Trail was going on, and one of the most world ly. He will throw over a colonel to dine with a general. He wouldnt throw over you two baronetshe is a great deal too shrewd a fellow for that. He wouldnt give you up, perhaps, to dine with a lord, but any ordinary baronet he would. And why not us as well as the rest ? asks Tregarvan, who seemed amused at the speakers chatter. Because yon are not like common baronets at all. Because your estates are a great deal too large. Because, I suppose, yon might ei- ther of you go to the Upper House any day. Because, as an author, he may be supposed to be afraid of a certain Review, cries Trail, with a loud laugh. Trail is speaking of a friend of yours, cried Sir John, nodding and smiling to the new-coiner. Very lucky for my friend, growls Philip, and eats his soup in silence. By-the-way, that article of his on Madame do S6vignd is poor stuff. No knowledge of the period. Three gross blunders in French. A man cant write of French society unless be has lived in French society. What does Pendennis know of it? A man who makes blunders like those cant understand French. A man who can t speak French cant get on in French soci- ety. Therefore he cant write about French so- ciety. All these propositions are clear enough. Thank you. Dry Champagne, if you please. He is enormously overrated, I tell you; and so is his wife. They used to put her forward as a beauty; and she is only a dowdy woman out of a nursery. She has no style about her. She is only one of the best women in the world, Mr. Firmin called out, turning very red; and hereupon entered into a defense of our char- acters, and pronounced a eulogium upon both and each of us, in which I hope there was some little truth. however, he spoke with great en- thusiasm, and Mr. Trail found himself in a mi- noritv. You are right to stand up for your friends, Firmin! cried the host. Let me introduce you to Let me introduce myself, said the gentle- man on the other side of Mr. Trail. Mr. Fir- mm, you and I are kinsmenI am Sir John Ringwood. And Sir John reached a hand to Philip across Trails chair. They talked a great deal together in the course of the evening; and when Mr. Trail found that the great northern baronet was friendly and familiar with Philip, and claimed a relationship with him, his man- ner toward Firmin altered. He pronounced afterward a warm eulogy upon Sir John for his frankness and good-nature in recognizing his unfortunate relative, and charitably said, Phil- ip might not be like the doctor, and could not PhILIP. 103 help having a rogue for a father. In former Sir John Ringwood, who succeeded to the prin- days Trail had eaten and drunken freely at that cipal portion of the estates, hut not to the titles rogues table. But we must have truth, yon of the late earl, was descended from a mntual know, before all things; and if yonr own hroth- ancestor, a Sir John, whose elder son was en- er has committed a sin, common justice requires nobled (temp Geo. I.), while the second son, that you should stone him. following the legal profession, became a judge, In former days, and not long after Lord Ring- and had a son, who became a baronet, and who woods death, Philip had left his card at this begat that present Sir John who has just been kinsmans door, and Sir Johns hutler, driving shaking hands with Philip across Trails beck.* in his masters brougham, had left a card upon Thus the two men were cousins; and in ri5l~t Philip, who was not over well pleased by this of the heiress, his poor mother, Philip might acknowledgment of his civility, and, in fact, quarter the Ringwood arms on his carriage employed abusive epithets when he spoke of the whenever he drove out. These, you know, are transaction. But when the two gentlemen act- argent, a dexter sinople on a fesse wavy of the nally met, their intercourse was kindly and pleas- firstor pick out, my dear friend, any coat you ant enough. Sir John listened to his relatives like out of the whole heraldic wardrobe, and talkand it appears Philip comported himself accommodate it to our friend Firmin. with his usual free and easy mannerwith in- When he was a young man at college Philip terest and curiosity; and owned afterward that had dabbled a little in this queer science of her- evil tongues had previously been busy with the aldry, and used to try and believe the legends young mans character, and that slander and about his ancestry which his fond mother im- untruth had been spoken regarding him. In parted to him. He had a great book-plate made this respect, if Philip is worse off than his neigh- for himself with a prodigious number of quar- bors, I can only say his neighbors are fortunate. terings, and could recite the alliances by which Two days after the meeting of the cousins the such and such a quartering came into his shield. tranquillity of Thornhaugh Street ~vas disturbed His father rather confirmed these histories, and by the appearance of a magnificent yellow char- spoke of them and of his wifes noble family iot, with crests, hammer-cloths, a bewigged with much respect: and Philip, artlessly whis- coachman, and a powdered footman. Betsy, pering to a vulgar boy at school that he was de- the nurse, who was going to take baby out for a scended from King John, ~vas thrashed very un- walk, encountered this giant on the threshold of kindly by the vulgar upper boy, and nicknamed Mrs. Brandons door, and a lady within the char- King John for many a long day after. I dare iot delivered three cards to the tall menial, who say many other gentlemen who profess to trace transferred them to Betsy. And Betsy persisted their descent from ancient kings have no better in saying that the lady in the carriage admired or worse authority for their pedigree than friend baby very much, and asked its age, at which Philip. babys mamma was not in the least surprised. When our friend paid his second visit to Sir In due course an invitation to dinner followed, John Ringwood he was introduced to his kins- and our friends became acquainted with their mans library. A great family-tree hung over kinsfolk, the mantle-piece, surrounded by a whole gallery If you have a good memory for pedigrees of defunct Ringwoods, of whom the baronet was and in my youthful time every man de bonne now the representative. He quoted to Philip maison studied genealogies, and had his English the hackneyed old Horatian lines (some score families in his memory you know that this of years ago a great deal of that old coin was * Copied, by permission of P. Firmin, E~q., from the Genealogical Tree in his possession. Sir J. Ringwood, Bait., of Wingate and Whipham. h. 1649; oh. 1125. Sir J., Bart., Sir Philip, Knt., 1st Baron Ringwood. a Baron of the Exchequer. oh. 1170. John, 2nd Baron, Philip, Sir John, Bart., created Earl of Ringwood a Colonel in the Army. of the Hays. and Viact. Cinqhars. oh. 1808. Charle., Viset. ciuqbaro, Sir John of the Hays, b. 1802; oh. 1824. and now of Wingate and Whipham, has issue. Maria, Louisa, ireton, b. 1801, h. 1802. Oliver, md Talbot Twysden. md G. B. Firmin, Esq., M.D. Hanipden, Franklin, and had issue, and daughters. Psaran, h. 1825, suhject of ths present Memoir. 104 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. current in conversation). As for family, he said, and ancestors, and what we have not done ourselves, these things we can hardly call ours! Sir John gave Philip to understand that he was a stanch liberal. Sir John was for going with the age. Sir John had fired a shot from the Paris harricades. Sir John was for the rights of man every where all over the world. He had pictures of Franklin, Lafayette, Washington, and the first Consul Bonaparte on his walls along with his ancestors. He had lithograph copies of Magna Charta, the Declaration of American Independence, and the Signatures to the Death of Charles I. He did not scruple to own his preference for republican institutions. He wish- ed to know what right had any manthe late Lord Ringwood, for exampleto sit in a hered- itary House of Peers and legislate over him? That lord had had a son Cinqbars, who died many years before, a victim of his own follies and de- baucheries. Had Lord Cinqbars survived his father, he would now be sitting an earl in the House of Peersthe most ignorant young man, the most unprincipled young man, reckless, dis- solute, of the feeblest intellect and the worst life. Well, had he lived and inherited the Ring- wood property, that creature would have been an earl: whereas he, Sir John, his superior in morals, in character, in intellect, his equal in point of birth (for had they not both a common ancestor?) was Sir John still. The inequalities in mens chances in life were monstrous and ri- diculous. He was determined, henceforth, to look at a man for himself alone, and not esteem him for any of the absurd caprices of fortune. As the republican was talking to his relative a servant came into the room and whispered to his master that the plumber had come ~vith his bill as by appointment; upon which Sir John rose up in a fury, asked the servant how he dared to disturb him, and bade him tell the plumber to go to the lowest depths of Tartarus. Nothing could equal the insolence and rapacity of trades- men, he said, except the insolence and idleness of servants; and he called this one back, and asked him how he dared to leave the fire in that state ?stormed and raged at him with a volu- bility which astonished his new acquaintance; and, the man being gone, resumed his previous subject of conversation, viz., natural equality and the outrageous injustice of the present social system. After talking for half an hour, during which Philip found that he himself could hardly find an opportunity of uttering a word, Sir John took out his watch and got up from his chair; at which hint Philip too rose, not sorry to bring the interview to an end. And herewith Sir John accompanied his kinsman into the hall, and to the street door, before which the baronets groom was riding, leading his masters horse. And Philip heard the baronet using violent lan- guage to the groom, as he had done to the serv- ant within doors. Why, the army in Flanders did not swear more terribly than this admirer of republican institutions and advocate of the rights of man. Philip was not allowed to go away without appointing a day when he and his wife would partake of their kinsmans hospitality. On this occasion Mrs. Philip comported herself with so much grace and simplicity that Sir John and Lady Ringwood pronounced her to be a very pleasing and ladylike person, and I dare say wondered how a person in her rank of life could have acquired manners that were so refined and agreeable. Lady Riagwood asked after the child which she had seen, praised its beauty; of course, won the mothers heart, and there- by caused her to speak with perhaps more free- dom than she would otherwise have felt at a first interview. Mrs. Philip has a dainty touch on the piano, and a sweet singing voice that is charmingly true and neat. She performed after dinner some of the songs of her little repertoire, and pleased her audience. Lady Ringwood loved good music, and was herself a fine per- former of the ancient school, when she played Haydn and Mozart under the tuition of good old Sir George Thrum. The tall and handsome beneficed clergyman who acted as major-domo of Sir Johas establishment placed a parcel in the carriage when Mr. and Mrs. Philip took their leave, and announced with much respectful de- ference that the cab was paid. Our friends no doubt would have preferred to dispense with this ceremony; but it is ill looking even a gift cab- horse in the mouth, and so Philip was a gainer of some two shillings by his kinsmans liberality. When Charlotte came to open the parcel which major-domo, with his ladys compliments, had placed in the cab, I fear she did not exhibit that elation which we ought to feel for the favors of our friends. A couple of little frocks, of the cut of George IV., some little red shoes of the same period, some crumpled sashes, and other small articles of wearing apparel, by her lady- ships order by her ladyships ladys-maid; and Lady Ringwood kissing Charlotte at her depart- ure, told her that she had caused this little packet to be put away for her. Hm, says Philip, only half pleased. Suppose, Sir John had told his butler to put up one of his blue coats and brass buttons for me, as well as pay the cab ? If it was meant in kindness, Philip, we must not he angry, pleaded Philips wife; and I am sure if you had heard her and the Miss Ringwoods speak of baby you would like them, as I intend to do. But Mrs. Philip never put those mouldy old red shoes upon baby; and as for the little flocks, childrens frocks are made so much fuller now that Lady Ringwoods presents did not answer at all. Charlotte managed to furbish up a sash, and a pair of epaulets for her childepaulets are they called? Shoulder-knotswhat you will, ladies; and with these ornaments Miss Firmin was presented to Lady Ringwood and some of her family. The good-will of these new-found relatives of Philips was laborious, was evident, and yet I must say was not altogether agreeable. At the PHILIP. 105 first period of their intercoursefor this too, I am sorry to say, came to an end, or presently suffered interruptiontokens of affection in the shape of farm produce, country butter and poul- try, and actual butchers meat, came from Berk- eley Square to Thorahaugh Street. The Duke of Donblegloster, I know, is much richer than you are; but if he were to offer to make you a present of half-a-crown, I doubt whether you would be quite pleased. And so with Philip and his relatives. A hamper brought in the brougham, containing hot - house grapes and country butter, is very weU, but a leg of mutton I own was a gift that was rather tough to swal- low. It was tough. That point we ascer- tained and established among roars of laughter one day when we dined with our friends. Did Lady Ringwood send a sack of turnips in the brougham too? In a word, we ate Sir Johns mutton, and we laughed at him, and be sure many a man has done the same by you and me. Last Friday, for instance, as Jones and Brown go away after dining with your humble servant. Did you ever see such profusion and extrava- gance ? asks Brown. Profusion and extrava- gance ! cries Jones, that well-known epicure.. I never saw any thing so shabby in my life. What does the fellow mean by asking me to such a dinner ? True, says the other, it was an abominable dinner, Jones, as you justly say; but it was very profuse in him to give it. Dont you see ? and so both our good friends are agreed. Ere many days were over the great yellow chariot and its powdered attendants again made their appearance before Mrs. Brandons, modest door in Thornhaugh Street, and Lady Ringwood and two daughters descended from the carriage and made their way to Mr. Philips apartments in the second floor, just as that worthy gentle- man was sitting down to dinner with his wife. Lady Ringwood, bent upon being gracious, was in ecstasies with every thing she sawa clean housea nice little maidpretty picturesque roomsodd roomsand what charming pic- tures! Several of these were the work of the fond pencil of poor J. J., who, as has been told, had painted Philips beard and Charlottes eye- brow, and Charlottes baby a thousand and a thousand times. May we come in? Are we disturbing you? What dear little bits of china! What a beautiful mug, Mr. Firmin ! This was poor J. J.s present to his god-daughter. How nice the luncheon looks! Dinner, is it? How pleasant to dine at this hour I The ladies were determined to be charmed with every thing round about them. We are dining on your poultry. May we offer some to you and Miss Ringwood? says the master of the house. Why dont you dine in the dining-room? Why do you dine in a bedroom? asks Franklin Ringwood, the interesting young son of the Ba- ronte of Ringwood. Somebody else lives in the parlor, says Mrs. Philip. On which the boy remarks, We VOL. XXV.No. 145.H have two dining-rooms in Berkeley Square. I mean for us, besides papas study, which I mustnt go into. And the servants have two dining- rooms, and Hush! Here, cries mamma, with the usual remark regarding the beauty of silence iii little boys. But Franklin persists in spite of the Hush- es: And so we have at Ringwood; and at Whipham theres ever so many dining-rooms ever so manyand I like Whipham a great deal better than llingwood, because my pony is at Whipham. You have not got a pony. You are too poor. Franklin ! You said he was too poor; and you would not have had chickens if we had not given them to you. Mamma, you know you said they were very poor, and would like them. And here mamma looked red, and I dare say Philips cheeks and ears tingled, and for once Mrs. Philip was thankful at hearing her baby cry, for it gave her a pretext for leaving the room and flying to the nursery, whither the other two ladies accompanied her. Meanwhile Master Franklin ~vent on with his artless conversation. Mr. Philip, why do they say you are wicked? You do not look wicked; and I am sure Mrs. Philip does not look wicked she looks very good. Who says I am wicked ? asks Mr. Firmin of his candid young relative. Oh, ever so many! Cousin Taihot says so; and Blanche says so; and Woolcombe says so; only I dont like him, hes so very brown. And when they heard you had been to dinner, Has that beast been here? Talbot says. And I dont like him a bit. But I like youat least I think I do. You only have oranges for dessert. We always have lots of things for dessert at home. Yin& dont, I suppose, because youve got no moneyonly a very little. Well: I have got only a very little, says Philip. I have someever so much. And Ill buy something for your wife; and I shall like to have you better at home than Blanche, and Talbot, and that Woolcombe; and they never give me any thing. You cant, you know, because you are so very pooryou are; hut well often send you things, I dare say. A.nd Ill have an orange, pleasethank you. And theres a chap at our school, and his name is Suckling, and he ate eighteen oranges, and wouldnt give one away to any body. Wasnt he a greedy pig? And I have wine with my orangesI do: a glass of winethank you. Thats jolly. But you dont have it often, I suppose, because youre so very poor.~, I am glad that infant could not understand, being yet of too tender age, the compliments which Lady Ringwood and her daughter passed upon her. As it was, the compliments charmed the mother, for whom indeed they were intend- ed, and did not inflame the unconscious babys vanity. 106 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. What would the polite mamma and sister have said, if they had heard that unlucky Frank- lins prattle ? The hoys simplicity amused his tall cousin. Yes, says Philip, we are very poor, hut we are very happy, and dont mind thats the truth. Mademoiselle, thats the German governess, said she wondered how you could live at all; and I dont think you could if you ate as much as she did. You should see her eat; she is such a oner at eating. Fred, my brother, thats the one who is at college, one day tried to see how much Mademoiselle Wallfirch could eat, and she had twice of soup, and thcn she said sivoplay, and then twice of fish, and she said sivoplay for more; and then she had roast muttonno, I think roast beef it was; and she eats the pease with her knife, and then she had raspberry jam pudding, and ever so much beer, and then But what came then we never shall know; be- cause while young Franklin was choking with laughter (accompanied with a large piece of orange) at the ridiculous recollection of Miss Wallfirchs appetite, his mamma and sister came down stairs from Charlottes nursery, and brought the dear boys conversation to an end. The ladies chose to go home, delighted with Philip, baby, Charlotte. Every thing was so proper. Every thing was so nice; Mrs. Firmin was so ladylike. The fine ladies watched her and her behavior with that curiosity which the Brob-. dinguag ladies displayed when they held up lit- tle Gulliver on their palms, and saw him bow, smile, dance, draw his sword, and so forth, just like a man. CHAPTER XXXVI. IN wuicu PHILIP WEARS A WIG. Wa can not expect to be loved by a relative whom we have knocked into an illuminated pond, and whose coat-tails, pantaloons, nether limbs, and best feelings we have lacerated with ill-treatment and broken glass. A man whom you have so treated behind his back will not be sparing of his punishment behind yours. Of course all the Twysdens, male and female, and XVoolcombe, the dusky husband of Philips for- mer love, hated and feared, and maligned him; and were in the habit of speaking of him as a truculent and reckless savage and monster, coarse and brutal in his language and behavior, ragged, dirty, and reckless in his personal ap- pearance reeking with smoke, perpetually reel- ing in drink, indulging in oaths, actions, laugh- ter which rendered him intolerable in civilized society. The Twysdens, during Philips ab- sence abroad, had been ~ery respectful and as- siduous in courting the new head of the Ring- wood family. They had flattered Sir John, and paid court to my lady. They had been wel- comed at Sir Johns houses in town and country. They had adopted his politics in a great measure, as they had adopted the politics of the deceased Ringwood. They had never lost an opportunity of abusing poor Philip and of ingratiating them. selves. They had never refused any invitation from Sir John in town or country, and had end- ed by utterly boring him and Lady Ringwood and the Ringwood family in general. Lady Ringwood learned somewhere how pitilessly Mrs. Woolcombe had jilted her cousin when a richer suitor appeared in the person of the West Indian. Then news caine how Philip had ad- ministered a beating to Woolcombe, to Talbot Twysden, to a dozen who set on him. The early prejudices began to pass away. A friend or two of Philips told Ringwood how he was mistaken in the young man, and painted a por- trait of him in colors much more favorable than those which his kinsfolk employed. Indeed, dear relations, if the public wants to know our little faults and errors, I think I know who will not grudge the requisite information. Dear Aunt Candor, are you not still alive, and dont you know what we had for dinner yesterday, and the amount (monstrous extravagance!) of the washer-womans bill? Well, the Twysden family so bespattered poor Philip with abuse, and represented him as a monster of such hideous mien, that no wonder the Ringwoods avoided him. Then they began to grow utterly sick and tired of his detractors. And then Sir John, happening to talk with his brother Member of Parliament, Tregarvan, in the house of Commons, heard quite a different story regarding our friend to that with which the Twysdens had regaled him; and with no little surprise on Sir Johns part, was told by Tregar- van how honest, rough, worthy, affectionate, and gentle this poor maligned fellow was; how he had been sinned against by his wretch of a fa- ther, whom he had forgiven and actually helped out of his wretched means; and how he was mak- ing a brave battle against poverty, and had a PHILIP. 107 sweet little loving wife and child, whom every kind heart would willingly strive to help. Be- cause people are rich they are not of necessity ogres. Because they are born gentlemen and lales of good degree, are in easy circumstances, and have a generous education, it does not fol- low that they are heartless and will turn their back on a friend. lIfoi qui noes perleI have been in a great strait of sickness near to death, and the friends who came to help me with every comfort, succor, sympathy were actually gentle- men, who lived in good houses, who had a good education. They didnt turn away because I was sick, or fly from me because they thought I was poor; on the contrary, hand, purse, suc- cor, sympathy were ready, and praise be to Heaven. And so too did Philip find help when he needed it, and succor when he was in poverty. Tregarvan, we will o~vn, was a pompous little man, his House of Commons speeches were dull, and his written documents awfully slow; but he had a kind heart: he was touched by that pic- ture which Laura drew of the young mans poverty, and honesty, and simple hopefulness in the midst of hard times. and we have seen how the European Reaiew was thus intrusted to Mr. Philips management. Then some artful friends of Philips determined that he should be recon- ciled to his relations, who were well-to-do in the world, and might serve him. And I wish, dear reader, that your respectable relatives and mine would hear, this little paragraph in mind and leave us both handsome legacies. Then Tre- garvan spoke to Sir John Ringwood, and that meeting was brought about, where, for once at least, Mr. Philip quarreled with nobody. And now came another little piece of good luck, which, I suppose, must be attributed to the same kind friend who had been scheming for Philips benefit, and who is never so happy as when her little plots for her friends benefit can be made to succeed. Yes: when that arch- jobberdont tell meI never knew a woman worth a pin who wasntwhen that arch-jobber, I say, has achieved a job by which some friend is made happy, her eyes and cheeks brighten with triumph. Whether she has got a sick man into a hospital, or got a poor woman a familys washing, or made a sinner repent and return to wife, husband, or what not, that ~voman goes off and pays her thanks, where thanks are due, with such fervor, with such lightsomeness, with such happiness, that I assure you she is a sight to behold. Hush! When one sinner is saved, who are glad? Some of us know a woman or two pure as angelsknow, and are thankful. When the person about whom I have been prattling has one of her benevolent jobs in hand, or has completed it, there is a sort of triumph and mischief in her manner, which I dont know otherwise how to describe. She does not under- stand my best jokes at this period, or answer them at random, or laugh very absurdly and vacantly. She embraces her children wildly, and, at the most absurd moments, is utterly un- mindful when they are saying their lessons, prattling their little questions, and so forth. I recall all these symptoms (and put this and that together, as the saying is) as happening on one especial day, at the commencement of Easter Term, eighteen hundred and never mind what as happening on one especial morning when this lady had been astoundingly distruite and curi- ously excited. I now remember, how during her childrens dinner-time, she sat looking into the square out of our window, and scarcely at- tending to the little innocent cries for mutton which the children were offering up. At last there was a rapid clank over the pave- ment, a tall figure passed the parlor windows, which our kind friends know look into Queen Square, and then came a loud ring at the bell, and I thought the mistress of the house gave an aha sighas though her heart was relieved. The street door was presently opened, and then the dining-room door, and Philip walks in with his hat on, his blue eyes staring before him, his hair flaming about, and La, Uncle Philip cry the children. What have you done to yourself? You have shaved off your mustache. And so he had, I declare! I say, Pen, look here! This has been left at chambers; and Cassidy has sent it on by his clerk, our friend said. I forget whether it has been stated that Philips name still remained on the door of those chambers in Parchment Build- ings, where we once heard his song of Doctor Luther, and were present at his call-supper. The document which Philip produced was actually a brief. The papers were superscribed, In Parliament, Poiwbeedle and Tredyddlum Railway. To support bill, Mr. Firmin; re- tainer, five guineas; brief, fifty guineas; con- sultation, five guineas. With you Mr. Arm- strong, Sir J. Whitworth, Mr. Pinkerton. here ~vas a wonder of wonders! A shower of gold was poured out on my friend. A light dawned upon me. The proposed bill was for a Cornish line. Our friend Tregarvan was concerned in it, the line passing through his property, and my wife had canvassed him privately, and by her wheedling and blandishments had persuaded Tregarvan to use his interest with the agents and get Philip this welcome aid. Philip eyed the paper with a queer expression. He handled it as some men handle a baby. He looked a~ if he did not know what to do with it, and as if he should like to drop it. I believe I made some satirical remark to this effect as I looked at our friend with his paper. He holds a child beautifully, said my wife, with much enthusiasm; much better than some people who laugh at him. And he will hold this no doubt much to his credit. May this be the father of many briefs May you have bags full of them ! Philip had all our good wishes. They did not cost much, or avail much, but they ~vere sincere. I know men who cant for the lives of them give even that cheap coin of good-will, but hate their neighbors prosperity, and are angry with them when they cease to be dependent and poor. 108 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. We have saiti how Cassidys astonished clerk had brought the brief from chambers to Firmin at his lodgings at Mrs. Brandons in Thornhaugh Street. Had a bailiff served him with a writ Philip could not have been more surprised or in a greater tremor. A brief? Grands Dieux! What was he to do with a brief? He thought of going to bed, and being illof flying from home, country, family. Brief? Charlotte, of course, seeing her husband alarmed, began to quake too. Indeed, if his worships finger aches, does not her whole body suffer? But Char- lottes and Philips constant friend, the Little Sis- ter, felt no such fear. Now theres this open- ing, you must take it, my dear, she said. Sup- pose you dont know much about law Much! Nothing, interposed Philip. You might ask me to play the piano; but as I never happened to have learned Ladont tell me! You mustnt show a faint heart. Take the business and do it best you can. Youll do it better next time, and next. The Bars a gentlemans business. Dont I attend a judges lady, which I remember her with her first in a little bit of a house in Ber- nard Street, Russell Square; and now havent I been to her in Eaton Square, with a butler, and two footmen, and carriages ever so many? You may work on at your newspapers and get a crust, and when youre old, and if you quarrel and you have a knack of quarrelinghe has, Mrs. Firmin. I knew him before you did. Quarrelsome he is, and he will be, though you think him an angel, to be sure. Suppose you quarrel with your newspaper masters, and your reviews, and that, you lose your place. A gen- tleman like Mr. Philip oughtnt to have a mas- ter. I couldnt bear to think of your going down of a Saturday to the publishing office to get your wages like a workman. But I am a workman, interposes Philip. La! But do you mean to remain one for- ever? I would rise, if I was a man! said the intrepid little woman; I would rise, or Id know the reason why. Who knows how many in family youre going to be? Id have more siArit than to live in a second floorI would! And the little woman said this, though she clung round Philips child with a rapture of fondness which she tried in vain to conceal; though she felt that to part from it wopld be to part from her lifes chief happiness; though she loved Philip as her own son: and Charlotte well, Charlotte for Philips sakeas women love other women. Charlotte came to her friends in Queen Square, and told us of the resolute Little Sisters advice and conversation. She knew that Mrs. Bran- don only loved her as something belonging to Philip. She admired this Little Sister, and trusted her, and could afford to bear that little somewhat scornful domination which Brandon exercised. She does not love me, because Philip does, Charlotte said. Do you think I could like her, or any woman, if I thought Philip loved them? I could kill them, Laura, that I could! And at this sentiment I imagine dag- gers shooting out of a pair of eyes that were ordinarily very gentle and bright. Not having been engaged in the case in which Philip had the honor of first appearing, I an not enter into particulars regarding it, but am sure that case must have been uncommonly strong in itself which could survive such an ad- vocate. He passed a frightful night of torture before appearing in committee room. During that night, he says, his hair grew gray. His old college friend and comrade Pinkerton, who was with him in the case, coached him on the day previous; and indeed it must be owned that the work which he had to peiform was not of a nature to impair the inside or the outside of his skull. A great man was his leader; his friend Pinkerton followed; and all Mr. Philips business was to examine half a dozen witnesses by questions previously arranged between them and the agents. When you hear that, as a reward of his serv- ices in this case, Mr. Firmin received a sum of money sufficient to pay his modest family ex- penses for some four months, I am sure, dear and respected literary friends, that you will wish the lot of a parliamentary barrister had been yours, or that your immortal works could be paid with such a liberality as rewards the labors of these lawyers. Nimmer erscheiaen die Gutter alicia. After one agent had employed Philip, another came and secured his valuable services; him two or three others followed, anZl our friend positively had money in bank. Not only were apprehensions of poverty removed for the pres- ent, but we had every reason to hope that Fir- mm s prosperity would increase and continue. And when a little son and heir was born, which blessing was conferred upon Mr. Philip about a year after his daughter, our godchild, saw the light, we should have thought it shame to have any misgivings about the future, so cheerful did Philips prospects appear. Did I not tell you, said my wife, with her usual kindling romance, that comfort and succor would be found for these in the hour of their need ? Amen. We were grateful that comfort and succor should come. No one, I am sure, ~vas more humbly thankful than Philip himself for the fortunate chances which befell him. He was alarmed rather than elated by his sudden prosperity. It cant last, he said. Dont tell me. The attorneys must find me out before long. They can not continue to give their business to such an ignoramus; and I really think I must remonstrate with them. You should have seen the Little Sisters indigna- tion when Philip uttered this sentiment in her presence. Give up your business? Yes, do! she cried, tossing up Philips youngest born. Fling this baby out of window, why not in- deed, which Heaven has sent it you! You ought to go down on your knees and ask par- don for having thought any thing so wicked. Philips heir, by-the-way, immediately on his entrance into the world, had become the prime PHILIP. 109 favorite of this unreasoning woman. The little daughter was passed over as a little person of no account, and so began to entertain the passion of jealousy nt almost the ve~ earliest age at which even the female breast is capable of enjoy- ing it. And though this Little Sister loved all these people with an almost ferocious passion of love, and lay awake, I believe, hearing their infantine cries, or crept on stealthy feet in darkness to their mothers chamber door, behind which they lay sleeping; though she had, as it were, a rage for these infants, and was wretched out of their sight vet, when a third and a fourth brief came to Philip, and he was enabled to put a little money aside, nothing would content Mrs. Bran- don but that he should go into a house of his o~vn. A gentleman, she said, ought not to live in a two-pair lodging; he ought to have a house of his own. So, you see, she hastened on the preparations for her own execution. She trudged to the brokers shops and made wonder- ful bargains of furniture. She cut chintzes, and covered sofas, and sewed, and patched, and fit- ted. She found a house and took itMilman Street, Guildford Street, opposite the Fondling (os the dear little soul called it), a most gen- teal, quiet little street, and quite near for me to come, she said, to see my dears. Did she speak with dry eyes? Mine moisten some- times when I think of the faith, of the generosity, of the sacrifice, of that devoted, loving creature. I am very fond of Charlotte. Her sweetness and simplicity won all our hearts at home. No wife or mother ever was more attached and af- fectionate; but I own there was a time when I hated her, though of course that highly princi- pled woman, the wife of the author of the pres- ent memoirs, says that the statement I am mak- ing here is stuff and nonsense, not to say im- moral and irreligious. Well, then, I hated Charlotte for the horrible eagerness which she showed in getting away from this Little Sister, who clung round those children, whose first cries she had heard. I hated Charlotte for a cruel happiness which she felt as she hugged the chil- dren to her heart: her own children in their own room, whom she would dress, and watch, and wash, and tend; and for whom she wanted no aid. No aid, enteadez vousf Oh, it was a shame, a shame! In the new house, in the pleasant little trim new nursery (fitted up by whose fond hands we will not say), is the mo- ther glaring over the cot, where the little, soft, round cheeks are pillowed; and yonder in the rooms in Thoruhaugh Street, where she has tended them for two years, the Little Sister sits lonely as the moonlight streams in. God help4 thee, little, suffering, faithful heart! Never but once in her life before had she known so exqui- site a pain. Of course we had an entertainment in the new house; and Philips friends, old and new, came to the house-warming. The family coach of the Ringwoods blocked up that astonished little street. The powder on their footmen s heads nearly brushed the ceiling, as the mon- sters rose when the guests passed in and out of the hall The Little Sister merely took charge of the tea-room. Philips library was that usual little cupboard beyond the dining-room. The little drawing-room was dreadfully crowded by an ex-nursery piano, which the Ringwoods bestowed upon their friends; and somebody was in duty bound to play upon it on the evening of this soirie; though the Little Sister chafed down stairs at the music. In fact, her very words were, Rat that piano ! She ratted the in- strument, because the music would wake her little dears up stairs. And that music did wake them; and they howled melodiously, and the Little Sister, who was about to serve Lady Jane Tregarvan with some tea, dashed up stairs to the nursery: and Charlotte had reached the room already: and she looked angry when the Little Sister came in: and she said, I am sure, Mrs. Brandon, the people down stairs will be wanting their tea ; and she spoke with some asperity. And Mrs. Brandon wcnt down stairs without one word; and happening to be on the landing conversing with a friend, and a little out of the way of the duet which the Miss Ring- woods were performingriding their great old horse, as it were, and putting it through its paces in Mrs. Firmins little paddockhappening, I say, to be on the landing when Caroline passed, I took a hand as cold as stone, and never saw look of grief more tragic than that worn by her poor little face as it passed. My children cried, she said, and I went up to the nursery. But she dont want me there now. Poor Lit- tle Sister! She humbled herself and groveled before Charlotte. You could not help trampling npon her then, Madam; and I hated youand a great number of other women. Ridley and I went down to her tea-room, where Caroline re- sumed her place. She looked very nice and pretty, with her pale sweet face, and her neat cap and blue ribbon. Tortures I know she was suffering. Charlotte had been stabbing her. Women will use the edge sometimes, and drive the steel in. Charlotte said to me, some time afterward, I was jealous of her, and you were right; and a dearer, more faithful creature never lived. But who told Charlotte I said she was jealous? 0 treble bestia! I told Ridley, and Mr. Ridley told Mrs. Firmin. If Charlotte stabbed Caroline, Caroline could not help coming back again and again to the knife. On Sundays, when she was free, there was always a place for her at Philips modest table; and when Mrs. Philip went to church Caroline was allowed to reign in the nursery. Sometimes Charlotte was generous enough to give Mrs. Brandon this chance. When Philip took a housea whole house to himselfPhil- ips mother-in-law proposed to come and stay with him, and said that, wishing to be beholden to no one, she would pay for her board and lodg- ing. But Philip declined this treat, represent- ing, justly, that his present house was no bigger than his former lodgings. My poor love is 110 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. dying to have me, Mrs. Baynes remarked on the most astonishing success. A remedy was this. But her husband is so cruel to her, and discovered, the mere sale of which in Europe keeps her under such terror, that she dares not and America must bring an immense revenue call her life her own. Cruel to her! Charlotte to the fortunate ilwentors. For the ladies whom was the happiest of the happy in her little house. Mrs. Brandon attended the remedy was of price- In consequence of his parliamentary success less value. He would send her some. His Philip went regularly to chambers now, in the friend, Captain Morgan, of the Southampton fond hope that more briefs might come. At packet-ship, would bring her some of this aston- chambers he likewise conducted the chief busi- ishing medicine. Let her try it. Let her show ness of his Review: and, at the accustomed hour the accompanying cases to Doctor Goodenough of his return, that usual little procession of mo- to any of his brother physicians in London. ther and child and nurse would be seen on the Though himself an exile from his country, he watch for him; and the young womanthe hap- loved it, and was proud in being able to confer piest young woman in Christendomwould walk upon it one of the greatest blessings with which back clinging on her husbands arm, science had endowed mankind. All this while letters came from Philips dear Goodenough, I am sorry to say, had such a father at New York, where, it appeared, he was mistrust of his confr~re that he chose to disbe- engaged not only in his profession but in van- lieve any statement Firmin made. I dont ous speculations with which he was always about believe, my good Brandon, the fellow has noes to make his fortune. One day Philip got a enough to light upon any scientific discovery newspaper advertising a new insurance company, more useful than a new sauce for cutlets. He and saw, to his astonishment, the announcement invent any thing but fibs, never ! You see this of Counsel in London, Philip Firmin, Esq., Goodenough is an obstinate old heathen; and Parchment Buildings, Temple. A paternal when he has once found reason to mistrust a letter promised Philip great fees out of this in- man, he forever after declines to believe him. surance company, but I never heard that poor However, the doctor is a man forever on the Philip was any the richer. In fact, his friends look-out for more knowledge of his profession, advised him to have nothing to do with this in- and for more remedies to benefit mankind: he surance company, and to make no allusion to it hummed and had over the paml)hlet, as the in his letters. They feared the Danni, and Little Sister sat watcl4ng him in his study. He the gifts they hrought, as old Firmin would clapped it down after a while, and slapped his have said. They had to impress upon Philip hands on his little legs as his wont is. Bran- an abiding mistrust of that wily old Greek, his don, he says, I think there is a great deal in father. Firmin senior always wrote hopefully it, and I think so the more because it turns out and magnificently, and persisted in believing or that Firmia has nothing to do with the discov- declaring that ere very long he should have to ery, which has been made at Boston. In fact, announce to Philip that his fortune was made. Dr. Firmin, late of London, had only been He speculated in Wall Street, I dont know in present in the Boston hospital, where the experi- what shares, inventions, mines, railways. One meats were made with the new remedy. He day, some few months after his migration to had cried Halves, and proposed to sell it as a Milman Street, Philip, blushing and hanging secret remedy, and the bottle which he forward- down his head, had to tell me that his father ed to our friend the Little Sister was labeled had drawn upon him again. Had he not paid Firmins Anodyne. What Firmin did, in- up his shares in a certain mine they would have deed, was what he had been in the habit of do- been forfeited, and he and his son after him would ing. lie had taken another mans property, and have lost a certain fortune, old Danans said, was endeavoring to make a flourish with it. I fear an artful, a long-bow pulling Danaus. The Little Sister returned home, then, with her What, shall a man have birth, wealth, friends, bottle of chloroformfor this was what Dr. Fir- high position, and end so that we dare not leave mm chose to call his discovery, and he had sent him alone in the room with our spoons? And home a specimen of it; as he sent home a cask you have paid this bill which the old man drew? of petroleum from Virginia; as he sent proposals we asked. Yes, Philip had paid the bill. He for new railways upon which he promised Philip vowed he would pay no more. But it was not a munificent commission, if his son could but difficult to see that the doctor would draw more place the shares among his friends. bills upon this accommodating banker. I And with regard to these valuables, the san- dread the letters which begin with a flourish guine doctor got to believe that he really was about the fortune which he is just going to endowing his son with large sums of money. make, Philip said. He knew that the old My boy has set up a house, and has a wife and parent prefaced his demands for money in that wo children, the young jackanapes ! he would way. say to people in New York; as if he had not Mention has been made of a great medical been extravagant enough in former days! When discovery which he had announced to his corre- I married I had private means, and married a spondent, Mrs. Brandon, and by which the doe- noblemans niece with a large fortune. Neither tor declared, as usual, that he was about to make of these two young folks has a penny. Well, a fortune. In New York and Boston he had well, the old father must help them as well as tried experiments which had been attended with he can ! And I am told there were ladies PHILIP. 111 who dropped the tear of sensibility, and said, What a fond father this doctor is! How he sacrifices himself for that scape-grace of a son! Think of the dear doctor at his age, toiling cheer- fully for that young man, who helped to ruin him ! And Firmiu sighed; a ad passed a beau- tiful white handkerchief over his eyes with a heautiful white hand; and, I helieve, really cried; and thought himself quite a good, affec- tionate, injured man. He held the plate at Church; he looked very handsome and tall, and howed with a charming melancholy grace to the ladies as they put in their contributions. The dear man! His plate was fuller than other peoplesso a traveler told us who saw him in New York; and described a very choice dinner which the doctor gave to a few friends at one of the smartest hotels just then opened. With all the Little Sisters good management Mr. and Mrs. Philip were only able to install themselves in their new house at a considerable expense, and beyond that great Ringwood piano which swaggered in Philips little drawing-room, I am constrained to say that there was scarce any furniture at all. One of the railway ac- counts was not paid as yet, and poor Philip could not feed upon mere paper promises to pay. Nor was he inclined to accept the offers of l)ri- vate friends, who were willing enough to he his hankers. One in a family is enough for that kind of business, he said, gloomily; and it came out that again and again the interesting exile at New York who was deploring his sons extravagance and foolish marriage had drawn hills upon Philip which our friend accepted and paidbills, who knows to what amount? He has never told; and the engaging parent who robbed himmust I use a word so unpolite ? will never now tell to what extent he helped himself to Philips small means. This I know, that when autumn camewhen September was pastwe in our cozy little retreat at the sea-side received a letter from the Little Sister, in her dear little bad spelling (about which there used to be somehov a pathos which the very finest writing does not possess)there came, I say, a letter from the Little Sister in which she told us, with many dashes, that dear Mrs. Philip and the children were pining and sick in London, and that Philip, he had too much pride and spent to take money from any one; that Mr. Tregarvan was away traveling on the continent, and that ~vretch that monster, you know who have drawn upon Philip again for money, and again lie have paid, and the dear, dear children cant have fresh air. Did she tell you, said Philip, brushing his hands across his eyes when a friend came to re- monstrate with him did she tell you that she brought me money herself, but we would not use it? Look! I have her little marriage gift yonder in my desk, and pray God I shall he able to leave it to my children. The fact is, the doc- tor has drawn upon me, as usual; he is going to make a fortune next week. I have paid another bill of his. The parliamentary agents are out of town, at their moors in Scotland, I suppose. The air of Russell Square is uncommonly whole- some, and when the babies have had enough of that, why, they must change it for Brunswick Square. Talk about the country! what country can be more quiet than Guildford Street in Sep- tember? I stretch out of a morning and breathe the mountain-air on Ludgate Hill. And with these dismal pleasantries and jokes our friend chose to put a good face upon bad fortune.. The kinsmen of Ringwood offered hospitality kindly enough, but how was poor Philip to pay railway expenses for servants, babies, and wife? In this strait Tregarvan from abroad, haviiig found out some monstrous design of Russof the Great Power of which he stood in daily terror, and which, as we arc in strict amity with that Power, no other Power shall induce me to nameTre- garvan wrote to his editor, and communicated to him in confidence a most prodigious and ne- farious plot against the liberties of all the rest of Europe, in which the Power in question was engaged, and in a l)ostscript added, By-the- way, the Michnelmas quarter is due, and I send you a check, etc. etc. 0 l)recious postscript! Didnt I tell you it would be so? said my wife, with a selfsatisfied air. Was I not certain that succor would come And succor did come, sure enough; and a very happy little party went down to Brighton in a second-class carriage, and got an extraor- dinarily cheap lodging, and the roses came hack to the little pale cheeks, and mamma was won- derfully invigorated and refreshed, as all her friends could have seen when the little family~ came back to town, only there was such a thick dun fog that it was impossible to see complex- ions at all. When the shooting season was come to an end the parliamentary agents who had employed Philip came back to London, and, I am happy to say, gave him a check for his little account. My wife cried, Did I not tell you so ? more than ever. Is not every thing for the best? I knew dear Philip ~vould prosper Every thing was for the best, was it? Philip was sure to prosper, was he? What do you think of the next news which the poor fello~v brought to us? One night in December he came to us, and I saw by his face that some event of importance had befallen hini. I am almost heart-broken, he said, thump- ing on the table when the young ones had re- treated from it. I dont know what to do. I have not told you all. I have paid four bills for him already, and now he hashe has signed my name.~, Who has? He at New York. You know, said poor Philip. I tell you he has put my name on a bill, and without my authority. Gracious Heavens! You mean your father has for I could not say the word. Yes, groaned Philip. Here is a letter from him. And he handed a letter across the table in the doctors well-known handwriting. 112 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. DEAREST PuILsrthe father wrotea sad misfor- me was enorrssous, rascally; and not content with the im. tune has befallen me, which I had hoped to conceal, or, at mense interest which he extorted from me, the scoundrel any rate, to avert from my dear son. For you, Philip, are has passed the Liii away, and it is in Europe, in the hands a participator in that misfortune through the imprudence of an enemy. must I say ii ?of your father. Would I had struck off You remember Tufton Hunt? Yes. You most justly the hand which has done the deed ere it had been done! chastised him. The wretch lately made his detested ap- But the fault has taken wings and flown out of my reach. pearance in tisis city, associated with the lowest of the base, Immeritus, dear hey, you have to suffer for the clelicta and endeavored to resume his old practice of threats, co- rn joruns. Ah, that a father should have to own Isis joleries, and extortions! In a fatal hour the villain heard faultto kneel and ask pardon of Isis son! of tIme bill of which I have warned you. He purchased it I am engaged in many speculations. Some bays suc- from the gambler to whom it bad been passed. As New ceeded beyond my wildest hopes: some have taken in the York was speedily too hot to hold him (for the unhappy moot rlmtional, the moot prudent, the least sanguine of our mass has even left noe to pay isis hotel score), he has fled capitalists in Wall Street, and promising the gleatest re- and fled to Europetaking with him that fatal bill, which suits have ended in tIme most extreme failure! To meet a he says he knows you will pay. Ah! dear Philip, if tlsat call in an undertaking which seemed to offer the MOST bill were but once out of the wretchs hands! What sleep- CERTAIN I~RO5sEcT5 of success, which seemed to promise a less lsours of agony should I be spared! I pray you, I tin- fortune for me and my boy, and yossr dear clslidren, I psst plore you, make every sacrifice to meet it! You will not in among other securities which I had to realize on a sud- disown it? No. As you lsave children of your ownas den, a bill, on which I used your name. I dated it as you love thesnyou would not willingly let them leave a drawn six months back by me at New York, on you at dishonored FATLIER. Parchment Buildings, Teosple; and I wrote your accept- once as thoisgh the signature were yossrs. I give myself I have a share in a great onedical discovery, regarding ssp to you. I tell you wlsat I have done. Make the mat- which I have written to our friend Mrs. Brandon, and icr posbije. Give my confession to the world, as here I wlsicls is sssre to realize an immense profit, as introduced write, and sign it, and your father is branded forever to into England by a physician so welt knownmay I not the world as a . Spare me the word! say professionally? respected as myself. The very first As I live, as I hope for your forgivenesslong ere that profils resulting from that discovery I promise, on my bill became due. It is at five months date for 385 4s. 3d., honor, to devote to you. Tisey will very soon far osmose value received, and dated irons the Temple on the 4th of tlsan repay the loss which my imprudence has brought on July. I passed it to one who promised to keep it until I my dear boy. Farewell! Love to your wife and little myself should redeem it. The commission which Isecisarged ones.G. B. F. UNITED STATES. O 1712 Record closes on the 8th of May. The events of the mouth have been of time utmost importance, and we close in hourly anticipation o~ tidings of decisive character from our armies in Vir- ginia and the SouthwestThe Session of Congress is evidently opproacising its close. When it is con- cluded we intend to furnish a general resum~ of its proceedings, noting the leading measures proposed, adopted, and postponed. Apart from general discus- sions, time leading topics of the month have been the passa~e by both Houses, and the siunaturo by the President, of a bill for time abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia; the Tax bill, which, having passed the House, is still under considem~ation in the Senate; and the Confiscation bills now before the SenateFor the time, however, military proceed- ings take precedence of all others. Reports of the operations of our forces have been so carefully guard- ed that we must confine our statements to a few as- certained facts: Yorktown, where Coruwallis surrendered in 1781, virtually closing the war of the Revolution, was strongly fortified by the Confedes-ates. The attack upon this place was opened on the 5th of April by ossr forces, under the immediate direction of General MClellan. While our works were pushed forward several sharp skirmishes took place, the most nota- able of which was on the 16th, at Lees Mills, where the Vermont brigade charged one of the enemys en- trenchments, carried, and held it against overwhelm- ing odds, but were finally forced back, having suf- fered a loss of 35 killed and 120 wounded. The ap- proaches to the Confederate works were pssshed on until the 4th of May, when all was ready for a vigor- ous attack. But on the previous night the enemy evacuated the place, leaving behind 70 heavy guns, and a large asnount of stores and camp equipage. They fell back to Williamsburg, their rear hem,, closely pressed by our forces. Here they made a stand and a sharp encounter took place, resulting, according to the dispatch of General MClellan of the 6th, in their defeat, with considerable loss, and tIme abandonment of Williamsburg, which had, like York- town, been elaborately fortified. General MDowells division has been in the mean time pressing forward toward Richmond. The latest dispatches leave him in possession of the important town of Fredericksburg. The battle of Pittsburg, or Shiloh, as it will prob- ably be named, from a church standing near where it was fossgbt, was hardly as decisive as our first re- ports indicated. On time first day, April 6, the re- sult seemed to be wholly in favor of the Confederates, who, with greatly superior forces, attacked our lines, captured General Prentiss, with a large part of his command, and appeared to have won a decisive vic- tory. General Beauregard telegraphed this result to Richmond, where it was received with great re- joicing. The advance of the enemy was checked by our gun-boats, and the opportune arrival of rein- forcements under General Buell enabled us to assume the offensive on the following day, when the enemy ~vere driven back toward Corinth. General Albert Sidney Johnston, the Comnmander-in-chief of the Western Division of the Confederate army, was kill- ed in the action of the 6th. Our entire loss, as offi- cially given, amounts to 1735 killed, 7882 wounded, and 4044 missingthese including the prisoners cap- tured with General Prentissa total loss of 13,661 men. The loss of tIme enemy, in killed and wound- ed, probably exceeds our own; partial reports, glean- ed from the Southern papers, already bring it up very nearly to our numbers. This battle, though not decisive, is the most bloody ever fought upon this continent. We close our Record for the month

Monthly Record of Current Events Monthly Record of Current Events 112-114

112 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. DEAREST PuILsrthe father wrotea sad misfor- me was enorrssous, rascally; and not content with the im. tune has befallen me, which I had hoped to conceal, or, at mense interest which he extorted from me, the scoundrel any rate, to avert from my dear son. For you, Philip, are has passed the Liii away, and it is in Europe, in the hands a participator in that misfortune through the imprudence of an enemy. must I say ii ?of your father. Would I had struck off You remember Tufton Hunt? Yes. You most justly the hand which has done the deed ere it had been done! chastised him. The wretch lately made his detested ap- But the fault has taken wings and flown out of my reach. pearance in tisis city, associated with the lowest of the base, Immeritus, dear hey, you have to suffer for the clelicta and endeavored to resume his old practice of threats, co- rn joruns. Ah, that a father should have to own Isis joleries, and extortions! In a fatal hour the villain heard faultto kneel and ask pardon of Isis son! of tIme bill of which I have warned you. He purchased it I am engaged in many speculations. Some bays suc- from the gambler to whom it bad been passed. As New ceeded beyond my wildest hopes: some have taken in the York was speedily too hot to hold him (for the unhappy moot rlmtional, the moot prudent, the least sanguine of our mass has even left noe to pay isis hotel score), he has fled capitalists in Wall Street, and promising the gleatest re- and fled to Europetaking with him that fatal bill, which suits have ended in tIme most extreme failure! To meet a he says he knows you will pay. Ah! dear Philip, if tlsat call in an undertaking which seemed to offer the MOST bill were but once out of the wretchs hands! What sleep- CERTAIN I~RO5sEcT5 of success, which seemed to promise a less lsours of agony should I be spared! I pray you, I tin- fortune for me and my boy, and yossr dear clslidren, I psst plore you, make every sacrifice to meet it! You will not in among other securities which I had to realize on a sud- disown it? No. As you lsave children of your ownas den, a bill, on which I used your name. I dated it as you love thesnyou would not willingly let them leave a drawn six months back by me at New York, on you at dishonored FATLIER. Parchment Buildings, Teosple; and I wrote your accept- once as thoisgh the signature were yossrs. I give myself I have a share in a great onedical discovery, regarding ssp to you. I tell you wlsat I have done. Make the mat- which I have written to our friend Mrs. Brandon, and icr posbije. Give my confession to the world, as here I wlsicls is sssre to realize an immense profit, as introduced write, and sign it, and your father is branded forever to into England by a physician so welt knownmay I not the world as a . Spare me the word! say professionally? respected as myself. The very first As I live, as I hope for your forgivenesslong ere that profils resulting from that discovery I promise, on my bill became due. It is at five months date for 385 4s. 3d., honor, to devote to you. Tisey will very soon far osmose value received, and dated irons the Temple on the 4th of tlsan repay the loss which my imprudence has brought on July. I passed it to one who promised to keep it until I my dear boy. Farewell! Love to your wife and little myself should redeem it. The commission which Isecisarged ones.G. B. F. UNITED STATES. O 1712 Record closes on the 8th of May. The events of the mouth have been of time utmost importance, and we close in hourly anticipation o~ tidings of decisive character from our armies in Vir- ginia and the SouthwestThe Session of Congress is evidently opproacising its close. When it is con- cluded we intend to furnish a general resum~ of its proceedings, noting the leading measures proposed, adopted, and postponed. Apart from general discus- sions, time leading topics of the month have been the passa~e by both Houses, and the siunaturo by the President, of a bill for time abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia; the Tax bill, which, having passed the House, is still under considem~ation in the Senate; and the Confiscation bills now before the SenateFor the time, however, military proceed- ings take precedence of all others. Reports of the operations of our forces have been so carefully guard- ed that we must confine our statements to a few as- certained facts: Yorktown, where Coruwallis surrendered in 1781, virtually closing the war of the Revolution, was strongly fortified by the Confedes-ates. The attack upon this place was opened on the 5th of April by ossr forces, under the immediate direction of General MClellan. While our works were pushed forward several sharp skirmishes took place, the most nota- able of which was on the 16th, at Lees Mills, where the Vermont brigade charged one of the enemys en- trenchments, carried, and held it against overwhelm- ing odds, but were finally forced back, having suf- fered a loss of 35 killed and 120 wounded. The ap- proaches to the Confederate works were pssshed on until the 4th of May, when all was ready for a vigor- ous attack. But on the previous night the enemy evacuated the place, leaving behind 70 heavy guns, and a large asnount of stores and camp equipage. They fell back to Williamsburg, their rear hem,, closely pressed by our forces. Here they made a stand and a sharp encounter took place, resulting, according to the dispatch of General MClellan of the 6th, in their defeat, with considerable loss, and tIme abandonment of Williamsburg, which had, like York- town, been elaborately fortified. General MDowells division has been in the mean time pressing forward toward Richmond. The latest dispatches leave him in possession of the important town of Fredericksburg. The battle of Pittsburg, or Shiloh, as it will prob- ably be named, from a church standing near where it was fossgbt, was hardly as decisive as our first re- ports indicated. On time first day, April 6, the re- sult seemed to be wholly in favor of the Confederates, who, with greatly superior forces, attacked our lines, captured General Prentiss, with a large part of his command, and appeared to have won a decisive vic- tory. General Beauregard telegraphed this result to Richmond, where it was received with great re- joicing. The advance of the enemy was checked by our gun-boats, and the opportune arrival of rein- forcements under General Buell enabled us to assume the offensive on the following day, when the enemy ~vere driven back toward Corinth. General Albert Sidney Johnston, the Comnmander-in-chief of the Western Division of the Confederate army, was kill- ed in the action of the 6th. Our entire loss, as offi- cially given, amounts to 1735 killed, 7882 wounded, and 4044 missingthese including the prisoners cap- tured with General Prentissa total loss of 13,661 men. The loss of tIme enemy, in killed and wound- ed, probably exceeds our own; partial reports, glean- ed from the Southern papers, already bring it up very nearly to our numbers. This battle, though not decisive, is the most bloody ever fought upon this continent. We close our Record for the month MONTHLY RECORD OF CURRENT EVENTS. 113 in hourly anticipation of important tidings from this quarter. General 0. M. Mitchell, long known as one of the foremost astronomers of the day, who was the first to enter the Confederate strong-hold of Bowling Green, performed a brilliant exploit on the 10th of April. Making a sndden dash forward, he took by surprise the town of Huntsville, Alabama, an import- ant point on the line of the Memphis and Charles- ton Railroad, which connects Richmond with the Southwest. Two important fortifications seized hy the enemy at the outbreak of the rebellion have been recap- tured. Fort Pulaski, near Savannah, Georgia, has been for some time closely invested. It was gar- risoned by about 400 men, with abundant ammuni- tion and provisions for six months, and was believed by the enemy to be able to resist any force that could be brought against it. Our batteries were placed on Tyhee Island, at distances varying from 1700 to 3500 yards from the forta greater distance than has ever before heen found available against strong fortifications. These were completed on the 10th of April, and the fort was summoned to sur- render, and immediately on refusal fire was opened. At the end of 18 hours bombardment a breach was effected, but the resistance was kept up 12 hours longer. Every thing was in readiness for storming the fort, when, on the 11th, it was surrendered, with all its stores, ammunition, and garrison. Our loss in the capture was but one man, and only four were injured within the fort.Fort Macon, at Beaufort, North Carolina, surrendered on the 25th of April, after a bombardment of eleven hours. Of still greater importance is the capture of New Orleans, which took place on the 26th of April. The accounts which have reached us come indirectly through Southern sources, and embrace only the leading points. It had been constantly reported that the whole course of the Mississippi below New Orleans was so fortified that no fleet could possibly reach the city; which was also said to be occupied by a large force, abundantly armed. Forts Jackson and St. Philip, on opposite sides of the river, about twenty-five miles above its mouth, and seventy-five miles below New Orleans, were relied upon to pre- vent any passage. The National fleet, under com- mand of Commodore Farragut, approached these forts about the 20th of April, and opened a vigorous bombardment, which lasted for nearly a week. Be- sides the fire from the forts, our vessels were ex- posed to the assaults of fire-boats sent down against them, and gun-boats and steam batteries on the general plan of the Virginia. These proved un- availing, and at length the fire of the forts was si- lenced; but whether they were captured we are not as yet informed. But, in any case, the passage was forced, and our vessels made their way up to New Orleans on the 26th, with no further opposition. The city was now wholly at their mercy, and its surrender was demanded by Commodore Farragut. lie required that the flag of the United States should be raised on the City Hall, Mint, and Custom-house, and that all other emblems of sovereignty should be removed, promising that the rights of persons and property should be respected; but insisting that no persons should he molested for expressions of loyalty to the Government of the United States. He gave special notice to the Mayor, to whom his demand was addressed, that he should speedily and se- verely punish any person or persons who shall com- mit such outrages as were witnessed yesterday by armed men firing upon helpless women and children for giving expression to their pleasure at witnessing the old flag. The Mayor, Mr. John F. Monroe, replied that out of regard to the lives of women and children who crowded the city, General Lovell had evacuated* it, and given back to him the admin- istration of the government. The city was wholly without means of defense. To surrender such a place would be an unmeaning ceremony; it was at the disposal of the assailants by brute force, and not by the choice or consent of the inhabitants. But no man was to be found there who would hoist a flag not of their own adoption. The people, he said, were sensitive to all that could affect their dignity and self-respect, and he asked that their susceptibilities should be respected; they would not allow themselves to be insulted by the inter- ference of such as have rendered themselves odious and contemptible by their dastardly desertion of our cause in the mighty struggle in which we are en- gaged, or such as might remind them too forcibly that they are the conquered and you are the con- querors Your occupation of the city, con- cludes this singular document, does not transfer allegiance from the Government of their choice to one which they have deliberately repudiated, and they yield the obedience which the conqueror is en- titled to extort from the conquered. MEXICO. The latest intelligence from Mexico indicates that the coalition between Spain, France, and Great Brit- ain is at an end. The Spanish part of tlas expedi- tion has been withdrawn; that of England was too small to have any virtual influence; but the French commander, General Lorencez, intimating that he acts under the direct authority of the Emperor, an- nounces that he will not recognize the existing Gov- ernment, and has in effect declared war against it, with the purpose of subverting the Republican form of Government, and replacing it with a European monarch. Maximilian of Austria is the name still put forward, although it is more than likely that this is a mere pretense and that the real design is to provide, if possible, a throne for some member of the Napoleon family. President Juarez and his Min- ister, General Doblado, meanwhile, announce their determination to resist by every means the French projects, while they offer to continue the negotia- tions with the Spanish and British plenipotentiaries. EUROPE. The leading features in our European intelligence relate to the reception of the tidings of the exploits of the 2lioeitor and the Merrisaac. It is universal- ly admitted that a complete revolution has been wrought in the naval afihirs of the world; that henceforth for all offensive purposes wooden vessels are worthless; and that, moreover, immense ves- sels like the Warrior and Gloire are failures. Bat- teries embodying the general principles which have been tested in~merica are the only reliance. In every dock-~ar~ in England the work upon wood- enimen-of-war has been suspended, and all the re- sources of the establishments are employed in for- warding iron-clad vessels. Experiments, however, have been made under the direction of Sir William Armstrong, the inventor of the gun which bears his name, which are thought to demonstrate that ves- sels clothed with iron in the manner of the Afanitor are perfectly vulnerable to round shot, fired from smooth bores at short range from guns of large cali- bre, although they are proof against elongated shot from rifled guns at long range. 9 The City of the Saints, by RICHARD H. BURTON, in public he begins slowly, word creeping after word, author of The Lake Regions of Central Africa. the opening phrases being hardly audible. As he (Published by Harper and Brothers.) Captain Bar- warms up his voice rises high and sonorous, the ton, having visited the sacred cities of I~indoos and words pouring out with great fluency. I-us gestures Jews, Mohammedans and Christians, was natural- are easy and rounded, and not ungraceful. Such, ly anxious to see the Holy City of the Mormons. according to Mr. Burton, is the outward aspect of He is a veteran traveler, knowing how to gather His Excellency Brigham Young, once painter and facts from his own observation and from that of glazier, now prophet, revelator, translator, and seer; others and was well prepared to describe the Saints the man who is revered as king or kaiser, pope or and their famous city. Bein~ an Englishman, he pontiff never was; who, like the Old Man of the was not liable to the prejudice which exists amon~ Mountain, by holding up his hand, could cause the the Mormons against Americans. Still, he does not death of any one within his reach. He is indeed pretend that his stay of twenty-four days enabled the brain and heart of the Mormon theocracy. What him to penetrate into those secrets of the faith which form this will take, and by whose hands it will be are revealed only to the initiated. He undertakes guided when lie is gone, no man can say. Mormons to tell only what he saw and heard. He takes, themselves profess no anxiety upon these points. moreover the attitude of a philosophical observer, The Lord, they say, who raised up Brigham to whom the manners of any people, however when Joseph was taken, will provide a leader when strange, afford no cause of wonder. Thus he coolly he is wanted. Mr. Burton gives humorous but not sums up the advantages and disadvantages of poly~- unfavorable sketches of the other Mormon digni- amy, and calmly decides that though not adapted taries; but not one of them seems likely to be able to a thickly -settled country, yet for the Mormons it to fill the place of the Prophet. Life in Salt Lake is a very natural, and probably a desirable institu City presents, at least among the Mormons, few lu- tion. We of course dissent wholly from Mr. Bar- dicrous asp3cts. Brother and Sister take the tons conclusion; but it is worth while to examine place of the Mr. and Mrs. of the Gentiles. Ask the arguments by which lie supports it. They en- a boy what is his name, and he will reply, I am lighten us as to the process by which men and wo- Brother So-and-Sos son. To distinguish the sons men, not deficient in intelligence, and with no spe- of one father by different mothers, the name of the cial vicious proclivities, may hold a tenet so abhor- mother is pretixed to that of the father. Brother rent to our feelings. But the special value of the Smiths sons by Sisters Brown, Jones, and Robinson, book is its picture of Mormon life and manners, as will be Brother Brown Smith, Brother Jones Smith, the) presented themselves to an impartial observer, and Brother Robinson Smith. Mr. Burtons repre- Mr. Burtons representations are much more favor- sentation of the Mormon doctrines has the merit of able than those to which we are accustomed. To being faithfully compiled from their own recognized him the Mormons appear a peaceful, industrious, authorities, without being colored by the opinions of law-abiding people. He saw no traces of the rude- the writer, and on this account is well worthy of ness and profligacy of which we have been so often careful perusal. Even in his brief visit Mr. Burton told; respectability, decorum, dullness even, is the was forcibly impressed with the disaffection of the law of the land. A Moslem gloom, the result of Mormons toward the United States. The harangues austere morals and manners, and of the semi-secla- in the tabernacle, the columns of the Deserit News sion of the sex, hangs over society. He utterly and the talk of the people all show it. They re- discredits the accounts so often repeated of obscene gard the States as the States regarded England after orgies said to be practiced in the secrecy of the En- the War of Independence, and hate them as the dowment House. Mr. Burton was introduced to Mexican Criolles hate the Gachupinsand much Brigham Young by Governor Cummings. The de- for the same reason. Mr. Burton believes that ab- scription of the Prophet is interesting. Though solute independence will be, until attained, the aim verging upon threescore scarcely a silver thread ap- of the Mormon leaders; and that Deserdt will in the pears in his light hair. His forehead is narrow; end become a sovereign and independent State, as eyes of a bluish-gray, with one drooping lid; eye- exclusive as Thibet arid Northern China, where the brows thin ; nose fine, sharp-pointed, set a little ri,,ors of the Mosaic code will be reenacted, polyg- awry; lips close; teeth imperfect; form large, amy legalized, fornication punished with stripes and broad-shouldered, somewhat stooping. His dress imprisonment, and adultery with death. As a whole, was of gray homespun, cut large and ba~gy, with Mr. Burtons book is the most valuable as well as black satin vest, and a cravat knotted loosely around the most readable one which has been published an unstarched fall-over collar. His whole appear- concerning this peculiar people, and will amply re- ance was that of a well-to-do Yankee farmer. Con- pay careful perusal. trary to what is so often said, he is temperate almost The Rebellion Record, edited by FRANK MOORE. to asceticism, abstaining from hiq~s and tobacco, The design and execution of this work are alike ad- and indifferent to the luxuries of~e table, baked mirable. Its object is to furnish, in a digested and potatoes and butter-milk forming his favorite f~d. systematic shape, the materials from which is to be His mauner is calm and quiet, though even in con- constructed a history of the great struggle through versation he impresses one with an air of conscious which the nation is now passing. Keeping some- power. He said nothing to his visitor on religious what behind the march of events, the editor selects or political topics, hut came out strong on agricul- from the mass of statements and documents which ture and cattle-breeding. Mr. Burton, of course, fill this columns of the newspapers of the day every made no inquiries as to the number of his family, thing the preservation of which will elucidate the though a casual remark of the Prophet intimated varying aspects of the war. It comprises a diary that he was a patriarch as well. That, sai(l he, of events as they occur in order of time, the ascer- pointing to a building of considerable size, is a tamed facts being carefully sifted from the mass of private school for my children. When he speaks floating rumors; all the important documents and

Literary Notices Literary Notices 114-116

The City of the Saints, by RICHARD H. BURTON, in public he begins slowly, word creeping after word, author of The Lake Regions of Central Africa. the opening phrases being hardly audible. As he (Published by Harper and Brothers.) Captain Bar- warms up his voice rises high and sonorous, the ton, having visited the sacred cities of I~indoos and words pouring out with great fluency. I-us gestures Jews, Mohammedans and Christians, was natural- are easy and rounded, and not ungraceful. Such, ly anxious to see the Holy City of the Mormons. according to Mr. Burton, is the outward aspect of He is a veteran traveler, knowing how to gather His Excellency Brigham Young, once painter and facts from his own observation and from that of glazier, now prophet, revelator, translator, and seer; others and was well prepared to describe the Saints the man who is revered as king or kaiser, pope or and their famous city. Bein~ an Englishman, he pontiff never was; who, like the Old Man of the was not liable to the prejudice which exists amon~ Mountain, by holding up his hand, could cause the the Mormons against Americans. Still, he does not death of any one within his reach. He is indeed pretend that his stay of twenty-four days enabled the brain and heart of the Mormon theocracy. What him to penetrate into those secrets of the faith which form this will take, and by whose hands it will be are revealed only to the initiated. He undertakes guided when lie is gone, no man can say. Mormons to tell only what he saw and heard. He takes, themselves profess no anxiety upon these points. moreover the attitude of a philosophical observer, The Lord, they say, who raised up Brigham to whom the manners of any people, however when Joseph was taken, will provide a leader when strange, afford no cause of wonder. Thus he coolly he is wanted. Mr. Burton gives humorous but not sums up the advantages and disadvantages of poly~- unfavorable sketches of the other Mormon digni- amy, and calmly decides that though not adapted taries; but not one of them seems likely to be able to a thickly -settled country, yet for the Mormons it to fill the place of the Prophet. Life in Salt Lake is a very natural, and probably a desirable institu City presents, at least among the Mormons, few lu- tion. We of course dissent wholly from Mr. Bar- dicrous asp3cts. Brother and Sister take the tons conclusion; but it is worth while to examine place of the Mr. and Mrs. of the Gentiles. Ask the arguments by which lie supports it. They en- a boy what is his name, and he will reply, I am lighten us as to the process by which men and wo- Brother So-and-Sos son. To distinguish the sons men, not deficient in intelligence, and with no spe- of one father by different mothers, the name of the cial vicious proclivities, may hold a tenet so abhor- mother is pretixed to that of the father. Brother rent to our feelings. But the special value of the Smiths sons by Sisters Brown, Jones, and Robinson, book is its picture of Mormon life and manners, as will be Brother Brown Smith, Brother Jones Smith, the) presented themselves to an impartial observer, and Brother Robinson Smith. Mr. Burtons repre- Mr. Burtons representations are much more favor- sentation of the Mormon doctrines has the merit of able than those to which we are accustomed. To being faithfully compiled from their own recognized him the Mormons appear a peaceful, industrious, authorities, without being colored by the opinions of law-abiding people. He saw no traces of the rude- the writer, and on this account is well worthy of ness and profligacy of which we have been so often careful perusal. Even in his brief visit Mr. Burton told; respectability, decorum, dullness even, is the was forcibly impressed with the disaffection of the law of the land. A Moslem gloom, the result of Mormons toward the United States. The harangues austere morals and manners, and of the semi-secla- in the tabernacle, the columns of the Deserit News sion of the sex, hangs over society. He utterly and the talk of the people all show it. They re- discredits the accounts so often repeated of obscene gard the States as the States regarded England after orgies said to be practiced in the secrecy of the En- the War of Independence, and hate them as the dowment House. Mr. Burton was introduced to Mexican Criolles hate the Gachupinsand much Brigham Young by Governor Cummings. The de- for the same reason. Mr. Burton believes that ab- scription of the Prophet is interesting. Though solute independence will be, until attained, the aim verging upon threescore scarcely a silver thread ap- of the Mormon leaders; and that Deserdt will in the pears in his light hair. His forehead is narrow; end become a sovereign and independent State, as eyes of a bluish-gray, with one drooping lid; eye- exclusive as Thibet arid Northern China, where the brows thin ; nose fine, sharp-pointed, set a little ri,,ors of the Mosaic code will be reenacted, polyg- awry; lips close; teeth imperfect; form large, amy legalized, fornication punished with stripes and broad-shouldered, somewhat stooping. His dress imprisonment, and adultery with death. As a whole, was of gray homespun, cut large and ba~gy, with Mr. Burtons book is the most valuable as well as black satin vest, and a cravat knotted loosely around the most readable one which has been published an unstarched fall-over collar. His whole appear- concerning this peculiar people, and will amply re- ance was that of a well-to-do Yankee farmer. Con- pay careful perusal. trary to what is so often said, he is temperate almost The Rebellion Record, edited by FRANK MOORE. to asceticism, abstaining from hiq~s and tobacco, The design and execution of this work are alike ad- and indifferent to the luxuries of~e table, baked mirable. Its object is to furnish, in a digested and potatoes and butter-milk forming his favorite f~d. systematic shape, the materials from which is to be His mauner is calm and quiet, though even in con- constructed a history of the great struggle through versation he impresses one with an air of conscious which the nation is now passing. Keeping some- power. He said nothing to his visitor on religious what behind the march of events, the editor selects or political topics, hut came out strong on agricul- from the mass of statements and documents which ture and cattle-breeding. Mr. Burton, of course, fill this columns of the newspapers of the day every made no inquiries as to the number of his family, thing the preservation of which will elucidate the though a casual remark of the Prophet intimated varying aspects of the war. It comprises a diary that he was a patriarch as well. That, sai(l he, of events as they occur in order of time, the ascer- pointing to a building of considerable size, is a tamed facts being carefully sifted from the mass of private school for my children. When he speaks floating rumors; all the important documents and LITERARY NOTICES. 115 narratives faithfully reproduced, upon both sides; with the lighter incidents, poetry, anecdotes, and ad- ventures, which serve to make up the picture of the times. We have had almost daily occasion to con- sult this work, and have never failed to find any im- portant document or fact duly noted. To the future historian this Record will he for this war what the archives of Simancas were to Mr. Motley in elabora- ting his history of the Dutch Republic. The Rec- ord is issued in weekly numbers, and afterward col- lected into volumes. The first, to which is prefixed as an introduction Edward Everetts nohle address, contains the events to the middle of June, 1861; the second, those to the close of August; and the third, which has just been completed, brings the history down to February, 1862. A copious index to each volume gives every facility for referring to any in- cident or docament. (G. P. Putnam, publisher.) considerations on Representative Government, by JOHN STUART MILL. (Published by harper and Brothers.) Mr. Mill is the author of the article on the Contest in America, which appeared in the April Number of this Magazinathe only well-con- sidered paper on this subject which has yet been written by any Englishman. He is beyond doubt the ablest political thinker of Great Britain. In this treatise he discusses the whole theory of gov- ernment, shows that a representative form is the best for any people who are prepared for it; points out the special dangers to which it is exposed, and suggests the means of obviating them. The argu- ment in favor of universal suffrage, and the mode which he proposes for securing to minorities their appropriate share in the government, are especially worthy of attention. Although his scheme to pro~ vide for this latter object embraces details which will render it too cumbrous to be carried into prac- tical effect, vet his observations are of great value. As a whole, his work is the ablest contribution made to political science since the publication of the Fed- eralist ; and it will command the attention of all American statesmen, at a time when it is probable that some modifications in the form of our institu- tions is likely to be demanded by the new posture of our affairs. The Household Editionof the Works OfCHARLES DICKENS, published by Sheldon and Company is by far the most attractive form in which the works of Boz have been issued, either in this country or in England. Martin Chuzzlewit, which commences the series, is comprised in four neat volumes of con- venient size, beautifully printed, and illustrated with original sketches by Danny and Gilbert, who stand unquestionably at the head of the American and En- glish schools of illustrators. The Last of the Afortim~rs is the latest novel by MRS. OLIPHANT, the author of Margaret Mait- land, The Laird of Norlaw, and other capital tales. This is one of the best of her works, charac- terized by a delicate vein of thought, with a larger element of incident and dramatic power than ap- pears in most of her previous productions. (Harper and Brothers.) The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson is an amusing story from the facile pen of Mr. AN- THONY TROLLOPE. The heroesquite different per- sonages from the trio of the same names whose for- eign tour was immortalized by Doyleare a firm of London shopkeepers, who, with little capital and small credit, attempt to do a smashing business by dint of enormous advertising ~d humbug. Their Magenta House career, ending in most deserved bankruptcy, is detailed with infinite humor. It is just the book to while away the tedium of a railway ride on a summers day. (harper and Brothers.) Mr. D. Van Nostrand has made the publication of military books a specialty. Among the more im- portant of his recent issues is the Military Dictionary of Colonel H. L. ScoTT, late Inspector-General of the United States Army. This is a complete Ency- clopMdia of military science, comprising not merely definitions of technical terms, but profound and ex- haustive treatises upon all the important subjects pertaining to the art of war and the duties of offi- cers.The New Infantry Tactics, by General SILAS CASEY, has received the approval of General MClel- Ian, and may therefore safely be assumed to possess decided value. GIBBONS A rtillerists Manual is recognized as the standard authority for this import- ant arm of the national forcesBENTONS Ordnance and Gunnery, compiled for the use of the Military Academy at West Point; and SImPsoNs Treatise en Ordnance and Navel Gunnery, prepared as a text- book for the Naval Academy, appear in flew edi- tions, bringing the information down to the present time. So also does tlle treatise on American 2Jfili- tesT Bridges, by General GRo. W. CULLUM, Chief of the Staff of General Halleck. harpers Iland-Bocsk for Travelers in Europe and the East, by W. PEMBROKE FETRIDGE. The au- thor of this comprehensive book has performed a labor which will insure him the gratitude of all tourists. Within the compass of a single volume, so compact that it may be carried in the pocket, he has given a condensation of all the essential information which the traveler needs to guide him through France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Great Britain, E~,ypt, Syria, and Palestine; tile substance, in fact, of all that is contained in more than a score of Guide-Books, which every tourist has heretofore found an essential though cumbrous part of his ins- pedmmenta. Mr. Fetridge lays down a series of routes for different classes of tourists. Making Paris his startiug-point, he conducts the traveler who has only three or four mouths to spare through France, Holland, the most interesting portions of Germany, into Switzerland and Italy, and through Great Brit- ain and Ireland. If he has two months more, in addition to these, he is taken still farther into Ger- many and Italy. If he has a year, his tour is ex- tended to Egypt, up the Nile, through Syria and Palestine, visiting Jerusalem, the Dead Sea, Baal- beck, and Damascus. If he has an additional two months, they are spent in Spain and on the Mediter- ranean islands. lIe gives minute directions as to all the details of travel; tells where to go, and how; what to see, and what to avoid; what to pay, and what to refuse to pay, down to the minuthe of rail- road fares and the proper fees for a cicerone or custo- dian of a gallery. The work is based upon a prac- tical experience of the precise wants of the American tourist, and is no less valuable for what it omits than for what it eontains. It is so compact in form, so clear in arrangement, so thoroughly practical in all points of detail, that it can not fail to be the recog- nized vade mecune of American tourists; while those who have already traveled will find in it an admira- ble resunmi of what they have seen, or ought to have seen. Its value is greatly enhanced by an admira- ble map, in which all the main routes are clearly laid down in a separate color. (Published by Har- per and Brothers.) AND ADOPTION OF THE THE UNITED STATES. On the 11th of June, 1776, the day on which the Committee for preparing the Declaration of Inde- pendence was appointed, Congress resolved that a Committee be appointed to prepare and digest a form of Confederation to he entered into between the col- onies. This Committee, which consisted of one member from each colony, was appointed on the following day. In about a month this Committee reported to Congress a draft, which was debated for several days in the Committee of the Whole, who reported a new draft, which was ordered to be print- ed. It was not finally acted upon by Congress till November, 1777more than two years after the Declaration of Independencewhen the Articles of Confederation were agreed upon by Congress. Con- gress then addressed a circular to the Legislatures of the States, requesting theist to authorize their Delegates in Congress to subscribe to the Articles of Confedepetion in behalf of their respective States. With this request the Legislatures were by no means prompt in complying. Many objections were made to the Articles, and they were not ratified by all the States till March, l78lnearly five years after the Declaration of Independence. The Articles were not binding till they were adopted by all the States. Up to the time of their adoption Congress had, by common consent, exercised the powers of a General Government. The States were now united by written articles of agreement. Each State was to reserve its sover- eignty, independence, and every power, jurisdiction, and right which were not by the Articles of Confeder- ation expressly delegated to the United States in Con- gress assembled. The Delegates to Congresswhich was to consist of a single Housewere to be appoint- ed annually in such a manner as the Legislatures of each State should direct; each State to have not less than two nor more than seven Delegates; each State to pay its own Delegates; each State to have one vote, which was to he determined by a majority of its Delegates. Congress was to have power to declare war and make peace; to enter into treaties and alliances; to appoint courts for the trial of pira- cies and felonies on the high seas; to fix the standard of weights and measures; to establish post-offices; to coin money and emit bills on the credit of the United States; to ascertain and apportion among the States the sums necessary for defraying the pub- lic expenses. For the exercise of the more important of these powers the assent of nine States was neces- sary. No provision was made for a national judicia- ry, or for an executive department distinct from the legislative. The acts of Congress were thus, in fact, mere recommendations, which the States complied with or not as they saw fit. The defects of the Confederation were soon apparent. The National Government had no efficiency. Washingtons per- sonal influence, and not the power of the Govern- ment, brought the Revolution to a successful issue. Washington said, The Confederation appears to me to be little more than a shadow withont the sub- stance; and Congress a nugatory body, their ordi- nances being little attended to. After the close of the war matters grew still worse. The entire prostration of public credit the dissen- sions between the States, and the utter neglect with which the resolves of Congress were treated, threat- ened the most alarming consequences. The time seemed rapidly approaching when, to use the lan- guage of Washington, it would seem to be a subject of regret that so much blood and treasure have been lavished to no purpose; that so many suffer- ings have been encountered without compensation, and that so many sacrifices have been made in vain. In this gloomy state of affairs James Madison made the first public legislative movement toward the es- tablishment of a better government. He became a member of the Legislature of Virginia in May, 1784, but was not able to secure the co-operation of a major- itv of the Legislature till June, 1786, and then only so far as to adopt the following resolution: Resolved, That Messrs. Randolph, Madison, Jones, Tucker, and Lewis be appointed Commissioners, who, or any three of whom, shall meet such Commissioners as may be appointed by other States in the Union to take into consideration the trade of the United States, to consider how far a uniform system in their com- mercial regulations may be necessary to their com- mon interests and their permanent harmony, and to report to the several States such an act relative to this great object as, when unanimously ratified by them, will enable the United States effectually to provide for the same. All the States, except Maryland, Connecticut, South Carolina, and Georgia, appointed Delegates to a Convention to meet at Annapolis, September, 1786. TheDelegatesof five States attended the Convention, viz., New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Dela- ware, and Virginia. During the interval between the passage of the above-mentioned resolution and the meeting of the Convention the state of the coun- try and the defects of the Confederation had formed the subject of earnest discussion throughout the States, and there had been an advance of public opinion in the direction of giving additional power to Congress. In consequence the Convention was led to decline the limited task assigned to it, and to recommend to the States the callin~ of a Convention with powers adequate to the occasion. A report containing this recommendation was drawn up by Alexander Hamilton. This recommendation was first acted upon by the Legislature of Virginia, where it met with a unanimous approval. New York was the next State that moved in the matter. Her Leg- islature instructed her Delegates in Congress to move a resolution recommending to the States the appoint- ment of delegates to meet in convention for the purpose of revising and proposing amendments to the Articles of Confederation. On the 21st of February, 1787, a resolution was adopted in Congress, recommending that the State Legislatures appoint Delegates to meet in Conven- tion at Philadelphia on the second Monday in May, 1787. Delegates were accordingly appointed by all the States except Rhode Island. On the day appointed for the meeting of the Con- vention (May 14) only a small number of the Dele- gates had arrived in Philadelphia. The Convention did not open till May 25, when there were present twenty- nine members, representing nine States. Others soon after came in, till the whole number amounted to fifty-five. Among them were Wash- ington, Hamilton, Madison, Franklin, Sherman, Ellsworth, King, Livingston, the Morrises, Piuck- ney, Wilson, and others scarcely less distinguished for talents and public services. Robert Morris, in behalf of the del~ation from Pennsylvania, nom- inated Washington to preside over the Convention.

Editor's Table Editor's Table 116

AND ADOPTION OF THE THE UNITED STATES. On the 11th of June, 1776, the day on which the Committee for preparing the Declaration of Inde- pendence was appointed, Congress resolved that a Committee be appointed to prepare and digest a form of Confederation to he entered into between the col- onies. This Committee, which consisted of one member from each colony, was appointed on the following day. In about a month this Committee reported to Congress a draft, which was debated for several days in the Committee of the Whole, who reported a new draft, which was ordered to be print- ed. It was not finally acted upon by Congress till November, 1777more than two years after the Declaration of Independencewhen the Articles of Confederation were agreed upon by Congress. Con- gress then addressed a circular to the Legislatures of the States, requesting theist to authorize their Delegates in Congress to subscribe to the Articles of Confedepetion in behalf of their respective States. With this request the Legislatures were by no means prompt in complying. Many objections were made to the Articles, and they were not ratified by all the States till March, l78lnearly five years after the Declaration of Independence. The Articles were not binding till they were adopted by all the States. Up to the time of their adoption Congress had, by common consent, exercised the powers of a General Government. The States were now united by written articles of agreement. Each State was to reserve its sover- eignty, independence, and every power, jurisdiction, and right which were not by the Articles of Confeder- ation expressly delegated to the United States in Con- gress assembled. The Delegates to Congresswhich was to consist of a single Housewere to be appoint- ed annually in such a manner as the Legislatures of each State should direct; each State to have not less than two nor more than seven Delegates; each State to pay its own Delegates; each State to have one vote, which was to he determined by a majority of its Delegates. Congress was to have power to declare war and make peace; to enter into treaties and alliances; to appoint courts for the trial of pira- cies and felonies on the high seas; to fix the standard of weights and measures; to establish post-offices; to coin money and emit bills on the credit of the United States; to ascertain and apportion among the States the sums necessary for defraying the pub- lic expenses. For the exercise of the more important of these powers the assent of nine States was neces- sary. No provision was made for a national judicia- ry, or for an executive department distinct from the legislative. The acts of Congress were thus, in fact, mere recommendations, which the States complied with or not as they saw fit. The defects of the Confederation were soon apparent. The National Government had no efficiency. Washingtons per- sonal influence, and not the power of the Govern- ment, brought the Revolution to a successful issue. Washington said, The Confederation appears to me to be little more than a shadow withont the sub- stance; and Congress a nugatory body, their ordi- nances being little attended to. After the close of the war matters grew still worse. The entire prostration of public credit the dissen- sions between the States, and the utter neglect with which the resolves of Congress were treated, threat- ened the most alarming consequences. The time seemed rapidly approaching when, to use the lan- guage of Washington, it would seem to be a subject of regret that so much blood and treasure have been lavished to no purpose; that so many suffer- ings have been encountered without compensation, and that so many sacrifices have been made in vain. In this gloomy state of affairs James Madison made the first public legislative movement toward the es- tablishment of a better government. He became a member of the Legislature of Virginia in May, 1784, but was not able to secure the co-operation of a major- itv of the Legislature till June, 1786, and then only so far as to adopt the following resolution: Resolved, That Messrs. Randolph, Madison, Jones, Tucker, and Lewis be appointed Commissioners, who, or any three of whom, shall meet such Commissioners as may be appointed by other States in the Union to take into consideration the trade of the United States, to consider how far a uniform system in their com- mercial regulations may be necessary to their com- mon interests and their permanent harmony, and to report to the several States such an act relative to this great object as, when unanimously ratified by them, will enable the United States effectually to provide for the same. All the States, except Maryland, Connecticut, South Carolina, and Georgia, appointed Delegates to a Convention to meet at Annapolis, September, 1786. TheDelegatesof five States attended the Convention, viz., New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Dela- ware, and Virginia. During the interval between the passage of the above-mentioned resolution and the meeting of the Convention the state of the coun- try and the defects of the Confederation had formed the subject of earnest discussion throughout the States, and there had been an advance of public opinion in the direction of giving additional power to Congress. In consequence the Convention was led to decline the limited task assigned to it, and to recommend to the States the callin~ of a Convention with powers adequate to the occasion. A report containing this recommendation was drawn up by Alexander Hamilton. This recommendation was first acted upon by the Legislature of Virginia, where it met with a unanimous approval. New York was the next State that moved in the matter. Her Leg- islature instructed her Delegates in Congress to move a resolution recommending to the States the appoint- ment of delegates to meet in convention for the purpose of revising and proposing amendments to the Articles of Confederation. On the 21st of February, 1787, a resolution was adopted in Congress, recommending that the State Legislatures appoint Delegates to meet in Conven- tion at Philadelphia on the second Monday in May, 1787. Delegates were accordingly appointed by all the States except Rhode Island. On the day appointed for the meeting of the Con- vention (May 14) only a small number of the Dele- gates had arrived in Philadelphia. The Convention did not open till May 25, when there were present twenty- nine members, representing nine States. Others soon after came in, till the whole number amounted to fifty-five. Among them were Wash- ington, Hamilton, Madison, Franklin, Sherman, Ellsworth, King, Livingston, the Morrises, Piuck- ney, Wilson, and others scarcely less distinguished for talents and public services. Robert Morris, in behalf of the del~ation from Pennsylvania, nom- inated Washington to preside over the Convention.

Joseph Alden Alden, Joseph Formation Of The Constitution 116-121

AND ADOPTION OF THE THE UNITED STATES. On the 11th of June, 1776, the day on which the Committee for preparing the Declaration of Inde- pendence was appointed, Congress resolved that a Committee be appointed to prepare and digest a form of Confederation to he entered into between the col- onies. This Committee, which consisted of one member from each colony, was appointed on the following day. In about a month this Committee reported to Congress a draft, which was debated for several days in the Committee of the Whole, who reported a new draft, which was ordered to be print- ed. It was not finally acted upon by Congress till November, 1777more than two years after the Declaration of Independencewhen the Articles of Confederation were agreed upon by Congress. Con- gress then addressed a circular to the Legislatures of the States, requesting theist to authorize their Delegates in Congress to subscribe to the Articles of Confedepetion in behalf of their respective States. With this request the Legislatures were by no means prompt in complying. Many objections were made to the Articles, and they were not ratified by all the States till March, l78lnearly five years after the Declaration of Independence. The Articles were not binding till they were adopted by all the States. Up to the time of their adoption Congress had, by common consent, exercised the powers of a General Government. The States were now united by written articles of agreement. Each State was to reserve its sover- eignty, independence, and every power, jurisdiction, and right which were not by the Articles of Confeder- ation expressly delegated to the United States in Con- gress assembled. The Delegates to Congresswhich was to consist of a single Housewere to be appoint- ed annually in such a manner as the Legislatures of each State should direct; each State to have not less than two nor more than seven Delegates; each State to pay its own Delegates; each State to have one vote, which was to he determined by a majority of its Delegates. Congress was to have power to declare war and make peace; to enter into treaties and alliances; to appoint courts for the trial of pira- cies and felonies on the high seas; to fix the standard of weights and measures; to establish post-offices; to coin money and emit bills on the credit of the United States; to ascertain and apportion among the States the sums necessary for defraying the pub- lic expenses. For the exercise of the more important of these powers the assent of nine States was neces- sary. No provision was made for a national judicia- ry, or for an executive department distinct from the legislative. The acts of Congress were thus, in fact, mere recommendations, which the States complied with or not as they saw fit. The defects of the Confederation were soon apparent. The National Government had no efficiency. Washingtons per- sonal influence, and not the power of the Govern- ment, brought the Revolution to a successful issue. Washington said, The Confederation appears to me to be little more than a shadow withont the sub- stance; and Congress a nugatory body, their ordi- nances being little attended to. After the close of the war matters grew still worse. The entire prostration of public credit the dissen- sions between the States, and the utter neglect with which the resolves of Congress were treated, threat- ened the most alarming consequences. The time seemed rapidly approaching when, to use the lan- guage of Washington, it would seem to be a subject of regret that so much blood and treasure have been lavished to no purpose; that so many suffer- ings have been encountered without compensation, and that so many sacrifices have been made in vain. In this gloomy state of affairs James Madison made the first public legislative movement toward the es- tablishment of a better government. He became a member of the Legislature of Virginia in May, 1784, but was not able to secure the co-operation of a major- itv of the Legislature till June, 1786, and then only so far as to adopt the following resolution: Resolved, That Messrs. Randolph, Madison, Jones, Tucker, and Lewis be appointed Commissioners, who, or any three of whom, shall meet such Commissioners as may be appointed by other States in the Union to take into consideration the trade of the United States, to consider how far a uniform system in their com- mercial regulations may be necessary to their com- mon interests and their permanent harmony, and to report to the several States such an act relative to this great object as, when unanimously ratified by them, will enable the United States effectually to provide for the same. All the States, except Maryland, Connecticut, South Carolina, and Georgia, appointed Delegates to a Convention to meet at Annapolis, September, 1786. TheDelegatesof five States attended the Convention, viz., New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Dela- ware, and Virginia. During the interval between the passage of the above-mentioned resolution and the meeting of the Convention the state of the coun- try and the defects of the Confederation had formed the subject of earnest discussion throughout the States, and there had been an advance of public opinion in the direction of giving additional power to Congress. In consequence the Convention was led to decline the limited task assigned to it, and to recommend to the States the callin~ of a Convention with powers adequate to the occasion. A report containing this recommendation was drawn up by Alexander Hamilton. This recommendation was first acted upon by the Legislature of Virginia, where it met with a unanimous approval. New York was the next State that moved in the matter. Her Leg- islature instructed her Delegates in Congress to move a resolution recommending to the States the appoint- ment of delegates to meet in convention for the purpose of revising and proposing amendments to the Articles of Confederation. On the 21st of February, 1787, a resolution was adopted in Congress, recommending that the State Legislatures appoint Delegates to meet in Conven- tion at Philadelphia on the second Monday in May, 1787. Delegates were accordingly appointed by all the States except Rhode Island. On the day appointed for the meeting of the Con- vention (May 14) only a small number of the Dele- gates had arrived in Philadelphia. The Convention did not open till May 25, when there were present twenty- nine members, representing nine States. Others soon after came in, till the whole number amounted to fifty-five. Among them were Wash- ington, Hamilton, Madison, Franklin, Sherman, Ellsworth, King, Livingston, the Morrises, Piuck- ney, Wilson, and others scarcely less distinguished for talents and public services. Robert Morris, in behalf of the del~ation from Pennsylvania, nom- inated Washington to preside over the Convention. EDITORS TABLE. 117 Franklin was to have made the nomination, but was prevented by ill health from being present. The Convention having adopted their standing rules one of which was that nothing spoken in the House be printed or otherwise published without leave Mr. Randolph, of Virginia, opened the main business of the Convention. After a speech, in which he enumerated the defects of the Confederation, he of- fered fifteen resolutions, which embodied the sub- stance of a plan of Government which is the same as that contained in letters written by Mr. Madison to Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Randolph, and General Wash- ington a few months previous. The following is a brief outline of said plan: The National Legislature to consist of two branchesthe members of the first branch to be elected by the people of the several States; the members of the second branch to be elected by the first branch, out of a proper number nominated by the State Legis- latures; the National Legislature to have a nega- tive on all the State laws contravening the Articles of Union, and to have power to legislate in all cases where the States were incompetent; the right of suffrage in the Legislature to be proportioned to the quota of contribution, or to the number of free in- habitants; a National Executive to be chosen by the National Legislature; a National Judiciary, to consist of one or more supreme tribunals and infe- rior ones, the judges to be chosen by the National Legislature; the Executive and a convenient nuin- her of the National Judiciary to compose a council of revision to examine every act of the National Legislature before it should operate, and every act of a particular Legislature before a ne~ative thereon should be final; provision to be made for the admis- sion of new States to the Union; a republican form of government to be administered to each State; provision to be made for amendments to the articles of Union; the Legislative, Executive, and Judiciary powers of the several States to be bound by oath to support the Articles of Unien. Such was the plan of Government presented to the Convention by the resolutions of Mr. Randolph. The resolutions were referred to the Committee of the Whole. Mr. Pinckney, of South Carolina, then submitted a plan of Government with supreme Leg- islative, Judiciary, and Executive powers. This was also referred to the Committee of the Whole. The resolutions of Mr. Randolph were debated from day to day, in the Committee of the Whole, till the 13th of June. The Committee then reported to the Convention a series of nineteen resolutions founded upon those proposed by Mr. Randolph. The first of these, and the first adopted by the Committee, was: That a National Government ought to be estab- lished, consisting of a supreme Legislative, Execu- tive, and Judiciary. At the opening of the Convention the views of a large majority of the members were confined to amending the Articles of Confederation. The fu- tility of this soon became apparent, and the first resolution adopted was that a National Government ought to be established. The prime movers in call- ing the Convention had from the first the formation of such a government in view. The nineteen reso- lutions reported to the Convention contained the fol- lowing provisions: The Legislature to consist of two branchesthe first to be elected by the people for three years, the second by the State Legislatures for seven yearsto have powers superior to those of the Congress of the Confederation; the right of suffrage In the Legislature to be proportidned to the number of free persons and two-fifths of other persons; a National Execntive to be chosen for seven years. and to be ineligible for a second term; a National Judiciary, with suitable powers; the whole to be submitted for ratification to assemblies chosen by the people for that express purpose. Some progress had thus been madenot in the amendment of the Articles of Confederationnot in the formation of a League between the Statesbut in the formation of a Constitution for the United States. This progress was made not without great difficulty. There were some in the Convention who clung to the Confederation, and were unwilling that any considerable increase of power should be given to the Government of the Union. The small States were unwilling to surrender the equality of suffrage which they had hitherto enjoyed in Congress. From these and various other causes it seemed almost im- possible for the Convention to unite upon any plan. But, by patient discussion and mutual concession, progress was made. Resolutions were offered, de- bated, postponed, called up again, passed, reconsid- ered, amended, again postponed, and others perhaps proposed in their place, until at length a majority agreed upon the nineteen resolutions above-men- tioned. This was on the 13th of June. On the 15th of June Mr. Patterson, of New Jersey, laid before the Convention a plan which had been concerted by the Delegates of New Jersey and Dela- ware, and by some of the Delegates of New York. This plan proposed to revise the Articles of Confed- eration, to enlarge the powers of Congress with re- spect to the revenue and the regulation of com- merce; to empower Congress to appoint an Execu- tive to execute Federal acts, to appoint Federal officers, and to direct all military operations; to establish a Federal Judiciary; to make the acts of Congress passed hi accordance with the Articles of Confederation, and the treaties made and ratified under the authority of the United States the supreme law of the land. The plan of Mr. Patterson was re- ferred to the Committee of the Whole, to whom were also recommitted the resolutions reported on the 13th of June. The two plans were now fairly before the Conven- tion. It was admitted that the one aimed at per- petuating the League between the States; that the other aimed at forming a National Government act- ing upon individuals. The true question is, said Mr. Randolph, whether we shall adhere to the Federal plan, or introduce the National plan. A National Government alone, properly constituted, will answer the purpose. The two plans were de- bated for four days, when the Committee reported the nineteen resolutions without alteration. Massa- chusetts, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia voted in favor of the National plan. New York, New Jersey, and Delaware voted against it. The vote of Maryland was divided. It was daring this debate, while the two plans were before the Committee, that Alexander Hamil- ton addressed the Convention for the first time and gave the outline of a Government which he would prefer. He did not propose his plan with the hope that it would be adopted. He did not mean to offer the paper he had sketched as a proposition to the Committee. It was only meant to give a more correct view of his ideas, and to suggest the amend- ments which he should probably propose to the plan of l~Ir. Randolph in the proper stages of its future discussion. 115 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The following is an outline of Hamiltons plan which the reader will desire to know, though it had no marked influence upon the proceedings of the Con- vention: The Supreme Legislature to be vested in an Assembly and Senate; the members of the As- sembly to be chosen by the people for three years; the members of the Senate to be chosen by electors elected for that purpose by the people; the Senators to serve during good behavior; the Supreme Execis- tive Authority to be vested in a Governor holding office during good behavior; to be chosen by elect- ors, who were to be chosen by the people; the Governor to have an unqualified veto on all laws about to be passed; to have the sole appointment of the heads of departments; to have the appoint- ment of all other officers, subject to the advice and consent of the Senate; in most other respects to have the powers now possessed by the President of the United States; the Senate to have power of de- claring war and of advising and approving treaties; the judges of the Supreme Court to hold office during good behavior; the Governors of each State to be appointed by the General Government, said Gov- ernors to have a veto on all acts of the State Legis- latures; all laws of the States contrary to the Con- stitution and lawsof the United States to be null and void. The Convention had now, after much discussion, decided to form a Constitution for a National Gov- ernment. Much as they had done, they had only made a beginning. To agree upon the details of the general plan was a work of great difficulty. There were times when, it seemed impossible for the mem- bers to agree upon the details, when it was thought that the Convention must give up in despair. Even Washington said, in writing to a friend, I almost despair of seeing a favorable issue to the proceedings of the Convention, and do theref~re regret having had any agency in the business. But the patriots fainted not. They continued their discussions until the 23d of July, when Mr. Gerry, of Massachusetts, moved That the proceedings of the Convention for the establishment of a National Government (except- ing the part relating to the Executive) be referred to a committee to prepare and report a Constitution conformable thereunto. Messrs. Rutledge, Ran- dolph, Gorham, Ellsworth, and Wilson constituted this Committee of Detail. On the 26th of July the proceedings of the Con- vention respecting the Executive were referred to the Committee of Detail, and the Convention ad- journed to the 6th of August, that the Committee might havo time to prepare and report a Constitu- tion. On the 6th of August the Committee reported a Constitution in twenty-three articles, embodying the substance of the resolutions passed by the Conven- tion. On the 7th of August this report of the Com- mittee of Detail was referred to the Committee of the Whole. It was then debated, article after arti- cle, for about four weeks. During that time many amendments and modifications were made. On the 8th of September a committee was appointed to ar- range the articles which had been adopted, and to revise the style of the same. This committee con- sisted of Messrs. Johnson, Hamilton, Governeur Mor- ris, Madison, and King. The task was performed by Mr. Morris, who says in relation to it: Having rejected all redundant and equivocal terms, I be- lieved it to be as clear as our language would per- mit, excepting, nevertheless, a part of what relates to the judiciary. 0mm that subject conflicting opin ions had been maintained with so much professional astuteness that it became necessary to select phrases, which expressing my own notions would not alarm others or shock their self-love, and to the best of mv recollection this was the only part which passed without cavil. On the 12th of September this Committee re- ported the Constitution as arranged and revised, and the draft of a letter to Congress. The debates still continued till the 17th of September, when the last amendment was made. It was made at the sugges- tion of Washington. The Constitution as reported declared that the number of Representatives shall not exceed one for every 40,000. This point had occasioned great discussion; and on Mr. Gorhams motion to strike out 40,000 and insert 30,000, Wash. ington remarked, that although his situation bad hitherto restrained him from offering his sentiments on questions depending in the house, and it might be thought ought now to impose silence upon him, vet he could not forbear expressing his wish that the alteration pioposed might take place. It was munch to be desired that the objections to the plan recom- mended might be made as few as possible. The smallness of the proportion of Representatives had been considered by many members of the Convention as an insufficient security for the rights and interests of the people. He acknowledged that it had always appeared to himself among the exceptionable parts of the plan; and late as was the present moment for admitting amendments, he thought this of so much consequence that it would give him much satisfac- tion to see it adopted. The amendment was agreed to unanimously. The above were the only remarks made by Washington during the pro~,ress of the Con- vention. On the 17th of September the Constitution, as finally amended, was signed by all the members of the Convention, except by Messrs. Randolph and Mason, of Virginia, and Gerry, of Massachusetts. There was not, probably, a single member of the Convention who was fully satisfied with all the pro- visions of the Constitution; yet, with the above ex- ceptions, the members gave it their signature, be- lieving it to be the best that could be obtained. As they were about to affix their names Dr. Franklin remarked, I confess there are several parts of this Constitution which I do not at present approve; but I am not sure that I never shall ap- prove them: for having lived long, I have often been obliged, by better information or fuller consid- eration, to change opinions, even on important sub- jects, which I once thought right, but found to be otherwise. I doubt, too, whether any other Con- vention we can obtain may be able to make a better Constitution. For when von assemble a number of men to have the advantage of their joint wisdom, you inevitably assemble with those men all their prejudices, their passions, their errors of opinion, their local interests, and their selfish views. From such an assembly can a perfect production be ex- pected? It therefore astonishes me to find the sys- tema approaching so near to perfection as it does. Thus I consent to the Constitution, because I expect no better, and because I am not sure it is not the best. Mr. hamilton remarked, No mans ideas were more remote from the plan than his were known to he; but is it possible to deliberate hetween anarchy and convulsion on one side, and the chance of good to be expected on the other ? Again, It is tAo best which the present sitna EDITORS TABLE. 119 tion and circumstances of the country will per- mit. When the Convention was about to dissolve, it was resolved that the President retain the Journal and other papers, subject to the order of Congress, if ever formed under the Constitution. After the Constitution was adopted and the new Government organized, the Journal was deposited in the office of the Secretary of State. It was published in accord- ance with a resolution of Congress, adopted March 27, 1818. The Constitution was laid before Congress, then sitting in the city of New York. It was referred by that body to the Legislatures of the States, that they might call conventions chosen by the people to adopt or to reject it. As soon as it was published the Constitution was made the object of violent at- tacks, and it was for some time a matter of doubt whether it would be adopted by the people of any considerable number of States. In no State was the opposition greater than in New York. Hamilton and Jay were its earnest friends, and they were sup- ported by a majority of the inhabitants of the city and of the southern portion of the State; but Gov- ernor George Clinton, a majority of the Legislature, and of the people of the whole State were its earn- est opponents. The friends of the Constitution were called Federalists; its enemies, Anti-Federalists. To explain and defend the Constitution, a series of papers, under the head of The Federalist were published in the columns of a newspaper in New York. These papers were written by 1-lamilton, Madison, and Jaythe larger portion by Hamilton and exerted a strong influence i~ favor of the Con- stitution. They subsequently were collected into a volume, several editions of which have been pub- lished. Written, for the most part, by men who originated the Constitution and assisted in its forma- tion throughout, it forms the ablest and best com- mentary which has been written. The power to call conventions to consider the Constitution rested with the Legislatures of the States, and was, under various influences, exercised at different times. Delewere was the first State which moved in the matter of adopting the Constitution. It met with very little opposition on the part of any of her citi- zens, and was adopted by a unanimous vote by the Convention held for that purpose, on the 7th of December, 1787. Delaware was thus the banner- State. Pennsylcenia was the next State that wheeled into the Constitutional line. Wilson, who had been a member of the Federal Convention, was a member of the Convention of Pennsylvania. Washington pronounced him as honest candid, and able a mem- ber as the [Federal] Convention contained, and that Convention contained Franklin, Madison, and hamilton. Mr. Wilson was called upon by the Convention to explain the Constitution. lie did so, and his speeches in Convention form a very in- teresting and able commentary, second in value to the Federalist onlysurpassing it, perhaps, in inter- est. After Wilson, the most prominent advocate of the Constitution was Chief Justice MKean. He remarked, I have gone through the circle of office in the legislative, executive, and judicial depart- ments, and from all my study, observation, and ex- perience, I must declare that, from a full examina- tion and due consideration of this system~ it appears to me to be the best the world has vet seen. The opposition to the Constitution was chiefly confined to the members from the portion of the State lying west of the Susquehanna. It was adopted on the 12th of December, 1787, byavote of 46 to 23. The Convention of the State of New Jersey was in session at the same time with that of Pennsylvania, and adopted the Constitution by a unanimous vote on the 18th of December, 1787. The Convention of Georgie, with a like unanim- ity, adopted the Constitution on the 2d of January, 1788. Coneecticut was the fifth in the order of adoption. A large majority of the Delegates eleclEed to her Con- vention were friendly to the Constitution. The revenue s~~stem was the principal point objected to by the opposition. Oliver Ellsworth was the most prominent advocate of the Constitution in the Con- vention. He was aided by Oliver Wolcott, Gov- ernor huntington, and others. It was adopted by a large majority January 9, 1788. Massachusetts was the next State in order. Her Convention assembled on the 9th of January, 1788. A majority of the Delegates elected were opposed to the Constitution, and for a long time its fate, so far as Massachusetts was concerned, was doubtful. John Hancock was chosen president of the Conven- tion, and, on motion of Samuel Adams, daily prayers were attended. The opposition was strong in num- bers and in talent, though the most distinguished members of the Convention, Fisher Ames Rufus King, Theophilus Parsons, and others, were warm friends of the new system. Under their lead it was voted that the Convention consider each article of the Constitution in order, and that every member have an opportunity of expressing his views on each part before the vote should be taken to adopt or re- ject. This course of proceeding saved the Constitu- tion. The opinions of several members were changed in course of the discussions. The influence of I-Jan- cock was adroitly used to conciliate the opposition. Instead of a conditional adoption, which was strong- ly urged by some, it was proposed that the Consti- tution should be unconditionally adopted, and cer- tain amendments earnestly recommended. This course finally prevailed. When the vote was taken the adoption was carried by a majority of nineteen. This was on the 6th of February, 1788. Several members who had strenuously opposed the Consti- tution dunn,, the discussion, when the adoption was carried, rose and declared they would now give the Constitution their hearty support. For example, one remarked, Though I have opposed the adop- tion of the Constitution, yet, as a majority has seen fit to adopt it, I shall use my utmost exertions to in- duce my constituents to live in peace under, and cheerfully submit to it. Me7/laed adopted the Constitution by a vote of 63 to 11 on the 28th of April. The opposition made an unsuccessful effort to adjourn the Convention, in view of the anticipated rejection of the Constitution by Virginia. The chief point of objection was to the power given to Congress to regulate commerce. It was feared that it might be so exercised as to give an undue advantage to the Eastern States. In the Legislature of South Ceroliaa Rawlins Lowndes opposed the calling of a Convention to con- sider the Constitution. He had much to say against those articles of the Constitution which gave Con- gress power to regulate commerce and to abolish the slave-trade. He declared that he wished for his epitaph, Here lies the man who opposed the Con- stitution because it was ruinous to the liberties of America. The influence of the Piuckneys, the Rutledges, Barnwell, and others prevailed. A Con- 120 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. vention was called which adopted the Constitution on the 23d of May, 1788. New hampshire was the next State to adopt the Constitution. When the Convention assembled, in February, 1788, it was found that a large number of its members came bound by instructions to reject the Constitution. After discussing the matter, the Convention adjourned to the 18th of June, that such members as desired it might confer with their con- stituents, and get released from their instructions. When it reassembled the vote to adopt was carried, June 21, 1788. The Convention of Virginia met on the 9th of June, 1788. The opposition was very strong, and contained such men as Patrick Henry, George Ma- son, and James Monroe, afterward President of the United States. henrys great point was that the new Government was not a compact between Sov- ereign States, but a consolidated National Govern- ment. Speaking of the preamble, he said, Who authorized them to speak the language of We, the people, instead of We, the States? States are the characteristic and the soul of a Confederation. If the States be not the agents of this compact, it must he one great consolidated National Government of the people of all the States. Mason, who was also in the opposition, said, Whether the Constitution be good or bad, the present clause clearly discovers that it is a National Government, and no longer a Confederation. Madison and others answered these questions by showing the necessity of a National Government. He was supported by Pendleton, Marshall, afterward Chief Justice, Randolph, Nicho- las, and others. Henry introduced the authority of Jefferson as opposed to the Constitution. Jeffer- son had written: I wish with all my soul that the first nine States may accept the Constitution, be- cause this will secure to us the good it contains, which I think great and important; but I equally wish that the four latest Conventions may refuse to accede till a Declaration of Rights be annexed. This declaration he thought should contain freedom of religion, freedom of the press, freedom of commerce against monopolies, trial by jury in all cases, no sus- pension of the habeas corpus, and no standing ar- mies. Subsequently he wrote: The plan of Massa- chusetts is far preferable, and will, I hope, be fol- lowed by those who are yet to decide. That plan was, as we have seen, to adopt the Constitution un- conditionally, and to recommend that certain amend- ments be made. Nearly all the members from that part of Virginia west of the mountains and now con- stituting Kentucky, were opposed to the Constitu- tion, since, as they supposed, it would give to the Eastern and Middle States power to surrender the navigation of the Mississippi. After long-continued debates, during which the whole Constitution was considered by paragraphs, the vote for adoption was taken and stoodfor adopting 87, for rejecting 79. Previous to the vote Henry remarked, If I shall be in a minorityyet I will be a peaceable citizen I shall patiently wait in expectation of seeing this Government so changed as to be compatible with the safety, the liberty, and happiness of the people. In Virginia the issue was distinctly made between a conditional and unconditional adoption, and carried in favor of the latter. A long list of amendments to the Constitution were recommended by the Con- vention. As has been already remarked, a majority of the Legislature of New York were opposed to the Con- stitution. At one time it was thought that the Legislature would refuse to call a Convention, and the act for so doing had only a majority of three in the Senate, and of two in the House. Two-thirds of the members elected to the Convention were op- posed to the Constitution. The Convention met at Poughkeepsie, June 19, 1788. George Clinton was chosen President. The Convention was opened ev- ery morning with prayer. The leading advocates of the Constitution were Alexander Hamilton, Chan- cellor Livingston, and John Jay. The leading op- ponents were Governor Clinton and Messrs. Yates and Lansing, who had been members of the Federal Convention, and retired when the National plan was adopted by that body. For a time it seemed almost certain that the Convention would reject the Con- stitution. On the 24th of June Hamilton received news that New Hampshire adopted the Constitu- tion. Thus nine States had adopted it, and it would go into operation. The Confederation was in effect dissolved. This gave a new aspect to the state of affairs, and increased the hopes of the Federalists. Still the danger of rejection was so extreme that Hamilton was inclined to yield so far as to consent to an adoption with a reserved right to recede in case certain amendments should not be made. On the 12th of July he consulted Madison on the subject, who replied that such an act would not be an adop- tion at allthat the Constitution required an un- conditional adoption in tote and forever. The Anti-federates brought forward a bill on conditional adoption, but after much debate the words on con- dition were stricken out, and the words in full confidence inserted. The Act then read, In full confidence that Cengress will not exercise certain powers till a General Convention be called. A list of amendments was agreed upon, and a circular let- ter adopted to be sent to all the States, recommend- ing a General Convention. In this manner the Constitution was adopted, July 26, 1788, by a vote of 30 to 27. Thusthe Constitution was ratified by eleven States. When the ratifications of nine States had been re- ceived by Congress (the Congress of the Confedera- tion), they were referred to a Committee to examine them, and to report an Act for putting the said Con- stitution in force. This was on the 2d of July, 1788. On the 14th of July such an Act was reported, but it was not adopted till the 13th of September. Elec- tions for the new Government were directed to be held in January, 1789, and the first Wednesday of March, 1789, was designated as the time for com- mencing proceedings under the Constitution. The Constitution was rejected by Rhode Island and North Carolina. When the Legislature of Rhode Island received a copy of the Constitution, it was printed and circulated in the State. In February, 1788, the Legislature referred the question of its adoption, not to a Convention of the people, but to the freemen in their town meetings. Owing to a restricted suffrage there were only about four thou- sand votes in the State. It is said that the friends of the Constitution, being disgusted with the course pursued by the Legislature, refused to vote. The vote stood2708 against the Constitution, 232 in fa- vor. Rhode Island called a Convention, and adopt- ed the Constitution in May, 1790. North Carolina called a Convention, which met July 21, 1788. A conditional adoption was discussed, and a rejection voted, with the view of securing another General Convention, which might remove the objectionable features of the Constitution. North Carolina re- mained out of the Union till November, 1789. EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 121 The facts stated in this brief account of the ori- gin, formation, and adoption of the Constitution, show conclusively that it is not a League between Sovereign States, but the fundamental law of a Na- tional Government. The Southern Rebellion proceeds upon a view of the Constitution which has been zealously taught in the Southern States for many years. That view is, that the Constitution is a League of Sovereign States, from which each State may secede when in its own judgment its interests require it. We have seen that the Federal Convention assembled for the purpose of amending the Articles of Confederation, which were confessedly a league between the States. They were soon convinced that they had a inure important work to do, and the first resolution pass- ed by them was that a National Government ought to be established. Subsequently Mr. Patterson pro- posed a plan for amendin~ the Articles of Confedera- tion. His proposal received the respectful attention of the Convention. The League plan and the Na- tional plan were fairly before the Convention at the same time. A large majority voted to adhere to the National plan, and proceeded to agree upon the de- tails till they had completed the Constitution to he ordained amid established by the people of the United States. We have seen that a prominent objection to the Constitution, in the Convention of Virginia and elsewhere, was that it had departed from the League system and constituted a Govern- ment acting upon individuals. Time original framers of the Constitution did in in case deny the fact on which the objection was founded, but answered the objection by showing the necessity of a National Government and the right of the people to establish the same. The history of the Constitution shows that it was designed to form a National Government, that it was ordained and established by the People of tIme United States; hence it, as Washington says iii his Fare- well Address, UNTIL CHANGED DY AN EXPLICiT AND AUThENTIC ACT OF TuE WHOLE PEOPLE, iS SA- CREDLY OBLIGATORY UPON ALL.~~ while, as a personal favor to the Editor of this Maga- zine and to himself, the Easy Chair begs all corre- spondents to note the following hints: Write legibly, with such paper, ink, and pen that the writing may be read without a microscope. The eyes of editors and printers are valuable to them, at least. Punctuate properly, marking the paragraphs and quotations. Somebody must do tlmis, and the Editor will not. If you do not know how to do this, learn before writing for publication. No MS. which fails iii these points will be read. Jii~o not send a portion of an article, as a speci- men; nor any thing which you have written to amuse an idle hour. Do not send any translations, or stories of European life, or Indian legends, or long poems. Do not, above all things, send any verses, umiless you are sure that they arepoets-y, and contain something fresh in subject and expression. If your article is short~, retain a copy: it is easier for you to do this than for tIme Editor to register and return it. If you wish it returned, say so, and in- close the necessary stamps. If you wish an answer, inclose an envelope directed and stamped; and do not think it discourteous if the answer is a printed form. Do not expect a reply in the pages of the Magazine; communications between editors and correspondents are prie(mte the public have nothing to do with tlieni. Do not, in case your article is declined, ask for a detailed criticism, pointing out faults and suggest- ing corrections. It may seem a small thing to ask ami editor to spend a couple of hours in carefully crit- icising what has cost you weeks to prepare; but to comply with half a dozen such requests in a day would occupy all his time; and he has his own work to do. Direct all contributions to The Editor of liar- pers J/aqezinenot to the Easy Chair, within whose province it does not come to decida upon con- tributions. If the foregoing hints are complied with, the Editor will endeavor .hereafter to read and decide upon all manuscripts sent to him within the month in which they are received. I-Ic will also endeavor to return those for whose transmission the proper provision has been made; but he can not hold him- self responsible for them. They are at the risk of the authors. TO WRITERS OF TALES, EssAys, POEMS, AND ALL OTHER LITERARY MISCELLANIES. When, some time since, the Easy Chair said that justice THE Easy Chair prints the following note with was done to all offerings for this Magazine, he cer- pleasure. Of course lie has relinquished any cx- tainly did not mean to invite every body in the coun- pectation that John Bull will either understand or try who could hold a pen and write to semid themr try to understamid what we are or what we arc do- MSS. to the editor, with the expectation that he ing. A war that cuts off hiis cotton may happen to had nothing to do but decipher the various ortho- remind him that we are, and an iron ship that roots graphy, and send the manuscript to the printer, his whole navy three thousand mniles off, and rifled There has been such an avalanche of contributions siege-guns that breach fortifications at incredible not a few of them very goodthat fair notice must distarmees, may possibly suggest that we arc doing. now he given to every contributor that the chance But Bull is pachydermatous. The moral sense of of the acceptance of his or her contribution is great- fine gentlemen who blow rebels from the mouths of lv diminished. Each Number of the Magazine con- cannon is sadly vexed by savages who shut them up tains about a dozen articles, while the Editor re- to seclude them from mischief. Oh, John! we may ceives damly at least that number, whmch have more be bullies, and swaggerers, and loud talkersyes, or less merit. Of those that are absolutely worth- we may even spit upon the floorbut moral affecta- less the number passes count. When a paper is tion is not one of our vices: declined, it maust not be assumed that in the judg- ment of the Editor it is worthless; but only that he The Linden literary journals have been quite as much does not think it one of the two or three best out of exercised about the rebellion in this country as have the newspapers, and their dislike of time situation in America a hundred. But while the Magazine thus receives has manifested itself in mahiciommo criticisms upon Amen- twenty times as many good articles as it can use, it can authmors, actors, poets, and painters, whom they heart- is always in want of better; and those bette, articles ily praised a year age. A recent nmmmber of the Londosm will be gladly welcomed from any quarter. Mean- Revieme, in noticing the last-published volume of Mrs. Sig- VOL. XXV.No. 145.I

Editor's Easy Chair Editor's Easy Chair 121-127

EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 121 The facts stated in this brief account of the ori- gin, formation, and adoption of the Constitution, show conclusively that it is not a League between Sovereign States, but the fundamental law of a Na- tional Government. The Southern Rebellion proceeds upon a view of the Constitution which has been zealously taught in the Southern States for many years. That view is, that the Constitution is a League of Sovereign States, from which each State may secede when in its own judgment its interests require it. We have seen that the Federal Convention assembled for the purpose of amending the Articles of Confederation, which were confessedly a league between the States. They were soon convinced that they had a inure important work to do, and the first resolution pass- ed by them was that a National Government ought to be established. Subsequently Mr. Patterson pro- posed a plan for amendin~ the Articles of Confedera- tion. His proposal received the respectful attention of the Convention. The League plan and the Na- tional plan were fairly before the Convention at the same time. A large majority voted to adhere to the National plan, and proceeded to agree upon the de- tails till they had completed the Constitution to he ordained amid established by the people of the United States. We have seen that a prominent objection to the Constitution, in the Convention of Virginia and elsewhere, was that it had departed from the League system and constituted a Govern- ment acting upon individuals. Time original framers of the Constitution did in in case deny the fact on which the objection was founded, but answered the objection by showing the necessity of a National Government and the right of the people to establish the same. The history of the Constitution shows that it was designed to form a National Government, that it was ordained and established by the People of tIme United States; hence it, as Washington says iii his Fare- well Address, UNTIL CHANGED DY AN EXPLICiT AND AUThENTIC ACT OF TuE WHOLE PEOPLE, iS SA- CREDLY OBLIGATORY UPON ALL.~~ while, as a personal favor to the Editor of this Maga- zine and to himself, the Easy Chair begs all corre- spondents to note the following hints: Write legibly, with such paper, ink, and pen that the writing may be read without a microscope. The eyes of editors and printers are valuable to them, at least. Punctuate properly, marking the paragraphs and quotations. Somebody must do tlmis, and the Editor will not. If you do not know how to do this, learn before writing for publication. No MS. which fails iii these points will be read. Jii~o not send a portion of an article, as a speci- men; nor any thing which you have written to amuse an idle hour. Do not send any translations, or stories of European life, or Indian legends, or long poems. Do not, above all things, send any verses, umiless you are sure that they arepoets-y, and contain something fresh in subject and expression. If your article is short~, retain a copy: it is easier for you to do this than for tIme Editor to register and return it. If you wish it returned, say so, and in- close the necessary stamps. If you wish an answer, inclose an envelope directed and stamped; and do not think it discourteous if the answer is a printed form. Do not expect a reply in the pages of the Magazine; communications between editors and correspondents are prie(mte the public have nothing to do with tlieni. Do not, in case your article is declined, ask for a detailed criticism, pointing out faults and suggest- ing corrections. It may seem a small thing to ask ami editor to spend a couple of hours in carefully crit- icising what has cost you weeks to prepare; but to comply with half a dozen such requests in a day would occupy all his time; and he has his own work to do. Direct all contributions to The Editor of liar- pers J/aqezinenot to the Easy Chair, within whose province it does not come to decida upon con- tributions. If the foregoing hints are complied with, the Editor will endeavor .hereafter to read and decide upon all manuscripts sent to him within the month in which they are received. I-Ic will also endeavor to return those for whose transmission the proper provision has been made; but he can not hold him- self responsible for them. They are at the risk of the authors. TO WRITERS OF TALES, EssAys, POEMS, AND ALL OTHER LITERARY MISCELLANIES. When, some time since, the Easy Chair said that justice THE Easy Chair prints the following note with was done to all offerings for this Magazine, he cer- pleasure. Of course lie has relinquished any cx- tainly did not mean to invite every body in the coun- pectation that John Bull will either understand or try who could hold a pen and write to semid themr try to understamid what we are or what we arc do- MSS. to the editor, with the expectation that he ing. A war that cuts off hiis cotton may happen to had nothing to do but decipher the various ortho- remind him that we are, and an iron ship that roots graphy, and send the manuscript to the printer, his whole navy three thousand mniles off, and rifled There has been such an avalanche of contributions siege-guns that breach fortifications at incredible not a few of them very goodthat fair notice must distarmees, may possibly suggest that we arc doing. now he given to every contributor that the chance But Bull is pachydermatous. The moral sense of of the acceptance of his or her contribution is great- fine gentlemen who blow rebels from the mouths of lv diminished. Each Number of the Magazine con- cannon is sadly vexed by savages who shut them up tains about a dozen articles, while the Editor re- to seclude them from mischief. Oh, John! we may ceives damly at least that number, whmch have more be bullies, and swaggerers, and loud talkersyes, or less merit. Of those that are absolutely worth- we may even spit upon the floorbut moral affecta- less the number passes count. When a paper is tion is not one of our vices: declined, it maust not be assumed that in the judg- ment of the Editor it is worthless; but only that he The Linden literary journals have been quite as much does not think it one of the two or three best out of exercised about the rebellion in this country as have the newspapers, and their dislike of time situation in America a hundred. But while the Magazine thus receives has manifested itself in mahiciommo criticisms upon Amen- twenty times as many good articles as it can use, it can authmors, actors, poets, and painters, whom they heart- is always in want of better; and those bette, articles ily praised a year age. A recent nmmmber of the Londosm will be gladly welcomed from any quarter. Mean- Revieme, in noticing the last-published volume of Mrs. Sig- VOL. XXV.No. 145.I 122 HARPERS NEW ~LONTHLY MAGAZINE. ourneys poems, instituted a comparison between her and Mrs. Hemans, and says that there is a resemblance be- tween Mrs. Hemanss Treasures of the Deep and Mrs. Sigourneys lines to the Coral Insects, plain enough to swear to in a court ofjustice. In reply to tlsis insinuated plagiarism, it should he stated that the lines referred to were written before any of Mrs. Hemanss poetry had been seen on this side of the Atlantic, and that these and a lit- tle poem of Mrs. Sigourneys on the Death of an Infant, beginning, Deans found stmasee beauty, etc, which has been published among Mrs. Hemanss poems, and claimed as hers, were both written in journals of Mrs. S. in 1ie20, and were published in the Boston edition of 1S27. The Ret ew finds fault with the story of Oriska, and considers it imperfectforgetting that the poet is not re- sponsible for the narrative, which is derived from authen- tic sources. While thus captious, the Review candidly ad- mits that, with tha exception of Longfellow, no American poet is better known on that side of the Atlantic. Mrs. Sigourney has sometimes been called the Hemane of Americaimproperly, as Mrs. Hemane is but little known and less regarded in tisis country, while the poems of Mrs. Sigourney have been extensively reprinted and circulated in England, and are more widely known and read, per- haps, than those of any of the English female poets OR 10 more general terms, taking it for granted that nine out of every ten young writers produce insufferable nonsense, has the tenth one, who writes what is really worth reading, any chance of succeus. -- As there fair play for young writers 7 The friend who asks this question can answer it by a moments thinking. There is no secret in the reply. It does not require that a man should he a professional author to answer it. For what do ptmb- lishers aim at? Certainly at prosperity. Btst what does their prosperity depend upon? Certainly upon their publishing books that the public will want to read. Hence their business sagacity consists in time ability to understand what will be popular. Necessarily, therefore, they look upon every young and new author as a possible treasure, lie is a closed casket to them. He may hold the rarest gem with in. Do you think that they will throw the casket away until they have ascertained? Publishers are not the natural enemies of authors. They are natural allies. Viewed from this world, an author is a cipher until the publisher is prefixed to him like a numeral. Then he becomes a distinct- ly appreciable quantity. Nor, again, is there a certain limit of fame. It is as ample as the air. There is enough for all. The trophies of Miltiades would not let Themistocles sleep. But the fame of Themistocles does not ob scure the earlier name. The parent who Isas one child can not comprehend that he should love two or three quite as dearly. But the two and three are not less loved than the one, yet they do not rob him. Of course the possible fame as an author of a youth who brings a publisher his manuscript does not disturb the publishers mind. My dear Sir, said a shrewd publisher to the young man who with trembling fingers handed him the sacred roll, this may be a more immortal poem than Paradise Lost; but you understand that to us, as a matter of busi- ness, it is so much molasses and shirting. If we can do well by meddling with it, we will undertake it. If not, not. If, upon examination, they are not disposed to deal farther with the author, is that rudely slamming the door to fame in his face ? Is it not clear that, if it really be a work destined to great success, and the publisher declines it, he rudely slams the door to fortune in his own face? All publishers do sometimes decline such works, and those are the occasions upon which they fail in sagacity. In what, then, does fair play for young authors consist? Simply in submitting their manuscripts to a sagacious critic to decide if the publication prom- ieee any advantage to the publisher. This advant- age may be found in the subject, in the treatment. or in the circumstances of the authornot neces- sarily in the intrinsic value of the work. Twenty- five years ago a book upon Animal Magnetism would have been salable from the subject, but it woulil not be to-day. Yet a treatise upon that theme to- day might be so brilliantly treated that, for the rhetoric or the hunsor, the book would sell. Or, again, if Garibaldi should write a work upon that subject, however poorly he might write, the success would be sure. These are but a few of the points which a skillful reader considers. But if Garibaldi had never beets heard of, and his book, however well written and full of talent, had been declined by the critic of one house; and presently, when Garibaldis name was precious, and his story familiar in every home, an- other house should publish the book, could you say that the critic of tIme first had not been just to the unknown author, and that now the scales had fallen from publishing eyes? Clearly it is not the seer but the seen that has changed. His name has an independent value which it had not before, and which it now confers upon every thing it touches. I knew a young man of great gifts who was en- tirely unknown to tIme world. He was smitten with tIme old and sacred love of fame. He wroisgiet for it patiently and with the most delicate honor, biding his time and carefully completing the works into which lie put the vitality of his genius. Some of them he offered to publishers. They were all liked and praised. But one publisher wanted some change in tIme MS., slight but essential. Another feared tIme lowering aspect of tIme times. Still others had oth- er excuses. They saw excellence, they felt prom- ice, bttt they did not quite dare to risk the chances. Suddenly the name of the young author became famous in an utterly different direction. Circuns- stances gave his career a hue of heroic romance that fascinated and inspired. A noble and early death completed Isis life. A new name had been added to history. Is it surprising that the publishers, who liked, but did not venture to undertake the issue of his works before, now felt secure of their success? Had they rudely slammed the door of fame in his face ? lied lie not opened it for himself? You will say that this is a factitious and extrinsic reason for literary fame. Not ciecessarily. TIme oc- casion that gave him an audience was certainly not literary. But notIcing except the genius can give any man literary fame. The occasion opens the casket, but it did not create the jewel. The Easy Chair, then, can not see that young authors do not have as fair play as young lawyers or young merchants. IN his discourse at Dartmouth upon Webster, Rufus Choate personifies the college as a weeping mother bending over her great departed, and saying, with time proud parent of history, I would not ex- change my dead son for any living one of Christen- dom. When a great man dies and the world mourns, when his name is familiarly and lovingly and re- spectfully mentioned, when solemn institutions of EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 123 art or science or learning heap his grave with praise, when the newspapers recount every incident of his life, and paint as panegyrists paint the virtues and 5,races of the deadall seems done that sympathy can do; and the bereaved, as they survey the evi- dence of the worth and work of the departed, may find some small consolation in their grief. So in the dark year that ended in April many had passed from the full flush of happy and honorable life to death. Their heroic names and acts are re- peated and remembered with joy and pride, and are henceforth parts of our history. But ah! for those who lived before Agamemnon and who had no poet to sing them! In the sad details of battles we read of twenty killed, of a hundred killed, of a thousand killed; and each one of them all was the centre of hopes as high, perhaps, thou~,h all unknown, as those whose fame survives the field and the day. These are the unnamed heroes. They march often with no less lofty purpose and clear perception of the crisis than their leaders. They serve with the same heroism. They fight with the same bravery, and fall as nobly. There are, in our armies, of course, loose and bad men as in all armies; but how many of the whole, rough as they may be, are not also intelligent citizens, the very suhstance of the peo- ple, and the last reliance of a free popular govern- ment. These are the unnamed heroes; but it is no will- ful neglect that they are so: nor do those who achieve glory enviously aim to outstrip the rest. Only, when we count our treasures let us remember the unnamed, the devoted sons and brothers and husbands and lovers, who have obeyed the call of their country in the same spirit that Washington obeyed; who have suddenly turned from the quiet happiness of their lives, on which love and fortune smiled, and have marched to battle and to death knowing that their fall must be unknown to all but those whose homes it would darken and whose hearts it would break. If to-morrow the news of the final victory were to come and the next day dawn upon peace, and the towns and cities and villages through the land were to be asked to illuminate in national gratitude for our salvation, yet with the understandiug that all who sad lost a friend need not join, how sadly the dark- ened panes would remind us of the blighted hopes and grieving hearts that lie in the wake of war! There is a poem of Mrs. Brownings in the Last Poems, lately published, which is the most pathetic and passionate expression of the woe of a mother who loses both her boys in the Italian war of libera- tion. They were unnamed upon the roll of Italian heroes; but she !she had no others. They were her heroes. They were her Italy. They were her life and love and hope and heaven. If you do not happen to like Mrs. Brownings poems, as the Coun- try Parson says he can not read Carlyle, it is not necessary to read the stanzas I am going to quote. But dont for a moment imagine that you have said a fine thing in saying so, or that you have shown yourself to be downright common-sensible. You may not like Shakespeares music, the odor of mag- nolias hut they are good, nevertheless, and the other part is not of much consequence. Both the singers boys are dead, remember. Au, cli, ah! when Gaetas taken, what then? When the fair wicked Queen sits no more at her sport, Of the fire-halls of death crashing souls out of men? When the guns of Cavalli, with final retort, Have cut the game short? When Venice and Rome keep their new jubilee When your flag takes all heaven for its white, green, and red. When you have your country from mountain to sea When King Victor has Italys crown on his head (And 1 have my dead) What then? Do not mock me. Au, ring your bells low, And burn your lights faintly! My country is there, Above the star pricked by the last peak of snow; My Itslys there, with my brave civic pair, To disfranchise despair! Forgive sue! Some women bear children in strength, And bite back the cry of their pain in self-scorn; But the birth-pangs of nations will wring us at length Into ivail such as thisand we sit on forlorn When the man-child is born. Dead! One of them eliot by the sea in the east, And one of them shot in the west by the sea. Both! both my boys! If in keeping the feast You want a great song for your Italy free, Let none look at me! Doubtless it was the author of this poem who, had she lived, would have sung the great song for Italy free. The English poets have especially loved Italy. Milton is a part of Vallombrosa; Shelley, of the Tuscan shore; Byron, of Venice; Keats, of Rome, where he died. But the Brownings are very Ital- ians. Nowhere else shall we find a more perfect dramatic portraiture of Italian medieval life and thought than in Robert Brownings poems, or of its modern emotions than in his wifes. The little vol- ume called Last Poems, containing the very last strains of the strongest and sweetest singer among women, is prefaced, in the American edition, by an affectionate, sympathetic, and admirable biograph- ical and critical sketch by Theodore Tilton. KING GEORGE TIlE THIRD of England, if he had lived with us, might have wondered why it is that Easter, spring bonnets, and the Academy Exhibition all come together. But he could not have denied that they do. And if that gracious monarch, with whom it was our misfortune to differ, had taken that ever-increasing family of his, whose expenses our English friends have had the pleasure of paying, to see the sights of the metropolis, he must have stopped in the spacious and handsome gallery where the National Academy Exhibition is held this year. It is known as this Derby Gallery, and is just above Houston Street, in Broadway. As you go in the old difficulty presents itself. Shall you look at the pictures or at the spectators? The pictures are mainly portraits; but here are the originals without the impediment of paintexcept, indeed, in the case of that truly amiable lady of a high-colored complexion who stands looking at the difference in the manner of laying it on between Huntington, or Page, or flicks, or Baker, or Stone, or Elliott and herself. To see the seers is often more entertaining than to see the show. To hear them is not so delightful, if you chance to be an artist or the friend of one. Indeed, one of the first rules to be observed by every visitor to the National Academy Exhibition is abstinence from audible crit- icism. Dont say that the picture is a daub, be- cause the modest gentleman at your elbow prohably painted it, or is the brother, or cousin, or bosom friend of the painter. I went in the other day with a companion, and we were hastening to discover the best pictures. Halloa ! said companion, pulling me on; theres a Smith; I know it by the I 124 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. nudged him, for the man in the slouched hat and long hair, just before him, was Smith himself. by the exquisite grace of outline and richness of coloring, continued companion, who is one of the most adroit and accomplished of men. I thank you, he said, later, for cutting me short in my charge at that atrocious daub of Smiths. What on earth do they hang such things in the large gallery for? That little drawing of mine is tucked up out of sight in the entrance passage. I suppose that Mrs. Croker is the only person who has seen it. Why not have intelligent men upon the hanging committee, and not people who only fight for the best places for their own pictures ? Trekles motto for a quiet life is a good one speak well of every body and every tIming. Yet even that is not infallible as he found when praising Smiths pictures to Jones. The Exhibition this year has a few masterly por- traits; but besides those not many remarkable pic- tures. Page, Elliott, Hicks, and Huntington have very conspicuous and admirable works, and Staigg, Stone, Baker, and Wenzler very beautiful spoci- mens of their skill. Mr. Hickss full-length of Dr. Cogswell, the late Librarian of the Astor Library, is the first picture that challenges attentiom. It is an admirable portrait, and a work which shows both the skill and the power of the artist. The arrange- ment and choice of the details are most fit, and the execution is masterly. The wood of the chair in which the Doctor sits is one of the most real bits of painting in the Exhibition. The leather of the bind- ings of the hooks and the ranges of Library shelves beyond, which make up the hack-ground of the pic- ture, are studied and rendered with charming fidel- ity. The Doctor sits in a chair holding open in his lap an illuminated missal. His dress is scholarly blackthe regulation broadcloth of civilized society and his feet are clad in lo~v shoes or pumps. The likeness, as we said, is excellent. The whole pic- ture is most interesting, and from its subject and his connection with the Library it has a historical value. Its proper place is, of course, the Library itself; and as the trustees could not hope for a more satisfac- tory portrait, they will naturally be inclined to pos- sess this. And, indeed, the Astor Library ought to have this charming memorial of its first and famous Librarian. Mr. Page has three full-lengths upon the walls. His portrait of Collector Barney is a striking like- ness and a forcible painting, but it is very nupleas- ing. The accessories are ill chosen, and the whole effect of the details is patched and aimless. The portrait of Mr. Hopper is a most characteristic ~vork, showing great power, and skill, and daring. It is certainly not displeasing, however singular its im- pression may be; neither is it satisfactory. It is a curiously suggestive work: to some persons it is even exasperating. A kindly and noted and ac- complished painter with whom I talked, said that Page constantly piled up impediments in his own path, and did not always remove them. Perhaps the most unpleasant point of his works is, that each one seems to be an experiment. It may be very brilliant, very beautiful, very subtle, but you do not feel that the painter is sure of what he has done, or that he will not flout it to-morrow. Is all paint- ing an experiment? But why, more than writing? Greater excellence, naturally, will always be sought by truly ambitious, artistic souls, whether in one form or another, but not different fundamental prin- ciples nor various manners. Pages pictures are always most interesting. They allure the eye; they excite the mind; but they do notdo they ? satisfy the msthetic sense. Huntingtons full-length of Chancellor Ferris, of the New York University, is one of his happy por- t.raits. It is harmonious, vigorous, and rich. There is a luxuriance of color and treatment in hunting- ton which makes you feel that he ought to paint portraits of Creole beauties lying, jeweled and Ian- guid, under branching tropic leaves. his larger portraits have the pleasing, high-bred grace of Cop- leys; works to pause by and muse upon in ances- tral galleries. lie preserves and elaborates the cos- tume of to-day, yet in such a way that it shall only seem quaint to-morrow, and be an added charm. But here is another full-lengthGeorge Law, by Mr. Powell. This is not exactly a Creole beauty, nor is there litheness or languor in the form. It is the huge steamboat kingone of the marked men of the city. It is very large and very dark, and the Committee have put it in the most unhappy light. It is the only exile among the full-lengths, and the painter and his friends doubtless complain. Nor is it clear why it should not have bad an equal chance with the others of the same kind. But the Coin- mittee is a judicious Committee, and doubtless knows its own whys and wherefores. Of a picture, there- fore, as Dr. Johnson would say, which can not be distinctly seen little can be discriminatingly said. Mr. Elliott has at least one portrait upon the walls which he has not surpassed. It is marked in the Catalogue as No. 111. For vigor, brilliancy and reality this work is seldom equaled in portraiture. It is a remarkable reproduction of the characteristic personality of the subject. The clear, keen, con- centrated force; the quiet sagacity, the resolute challenge of persons and things, the repose and satis- faction of conscious executive skill, with a certain hidden pride of self - respect, and secret, steadfast kindliness, are all readily discerned in the portrait which Elliott has treated ~vith such mastery. It is evidently a work of sympathy. The portrait of a man whose powers are in full play, moulding the ex- pression of every feature and of the whole aspect, is sure to kindle the painter who has the capacity of appreciation and discrimination. So many faces are shellsso many masks: upon so many the character is so lightly printed, or half effaced, or quite illegi- ble, that a painter can hardly fail to be inspired by one which is an illuminated index of character. This. portrait has been universally recognized as one of the best that Elliott has painted. Among the other portraits is one of Huntingtons, a half or three-quarter length of a lady in full gala costume, but as we said, so painted that it will still be the portrait of a lady to her great-grandchildren. In contrast of costume to this is a very beautiful portrait by Staigg, the half-length of a lady draped in the simplest muslin. The richness and elegance and exquisite handling of this picture, like that of a portrait by the same artist two years since, place him among the most skillful and satisfactory of his brethren. Mr. Wenzler shows two or three of his works, one of them a most actual likeness of the poet Bryant. The painter must certainly have de- nounced the razor that lays waste the poets upper lip. With so fine a flowing and silvery beard how he must have longed to blend its natural companion! The execution has that smoothness and elaborate finish which mark all that Wenzler does. Every touch seems laid on with nervous care, but so affec- tionately that the critic is disarmed. This is a very EDITORS EASY ChAIR. 125 different style from that in which Mr. W. H. Furness has painted an admirable likeness of Hamilton Wild. It is broad, rich, and sunny, with masses of transpar- ent shadow, and a general ease and freedom which justify the promise of the artists portrait of his fa- ther, two years ago. There is great conscience in the treatmentnothing slurred or botched, and yet the whole effect is sweeping and vigorous and lumin- ous. Why do we not see Wilds pictures as well as his portrait in the gallery? Some strain of Venice he could have sung to us such as we have not heard. Some of us travel through Italy, some see it, some feel it. Wild has it in his heart, and when he holds a pencil it flows from his finger tips. Near by is one of Mr. lughams heads. This is the thirty-seventh annual exhibition, and in the first Mr. Ingham, if he exhibited any thing, showed the very counterpart of this portrait. Such uni- formity of execution, and indeed of excellence in his way, few painters achieve. But the way? Do people look so to Mr. lugham? Is human society such a collection of wax statuary in his eyes as his portraits indicate? It must be so, for so he has al- ways represented men and women. In what a curi- ous world, then, the artist must live! Here, for instance, to show what a different thing the same human flesh may seem to different eyes, is a picture of a Venus by Mr. Gray, The Apple of Dis- cord. Mr. Gray is a Venetian in school. He thinks as Lawrence did (who drew heads here eight years ago), and as Page does, that Titian knew more about painting than any body else. Whether he had more of the qualities that make a great artistwhether he were in art (not in painting) the peer of Michael An- gelo or Raphaelthey may or may not concede. But that he understood the limits of pigments, that he had a wonderful eve in discriminating and a mar- velous hand in executing, they would probably all agree. Then comes a difficulty. You may produce by glazing and scumbling and various processes a Titianesque surface upon your picture. But have you not superinduced that effect? Did not Titian produce it by simple, honest coloring? Or, indeed, is not what we call the Titian look partly the result of mingled time and dust, and would a new picture of Titians, if painted to-day, resemble those that we now see of his three hundred years old? Or still again, if you had found the Titian secret, why not use it in painting other subjects than he chose? The Apple of Discord is the pleasantest picture of Mr. Grays which we recall, yet it would be pleas- anter if the subject were different. If nothing were said to you, and you found it in a shop in Florence, or Paris, or Rome, you would say, Halloa! here is a most lovely copy of one of Titians Venuses ; which one you would not precisely remember, but you would have no doubt of the fact. Of course Mr. Gray does this by design. He knows it as well as any body. He has in view certain depths and har- monies, certain subtle qualities of form and color. The subject upon which he shall work them out is almost as indifferent to him, probably, as th~char- acters of the different models who mi,ht sit to him. Is not this in painting what rhetoric is in literature? The pearly quality of the flesh in this picture, the ripened, flexible, exquisite rounding of the forms, the luxuriance of voluptuous grace in which it is all steeped, and the prevailing sweetness of tone, are most striking and delightful. On the other hand, it is somewhat thinit is a surface rather than a depth of colorand that wonderful gradation of warmth and tint which it suggests by reminding you of the Venetian pictures, it does not quite accomplish. This, of course, is trying it by the highest standard. But toth the character and the excellence of the work suggest it. We can only have a word where we would will- ingly tarry for a talk; so we must chat of one or two pictures in the Exhibition that are not portraits, and chief among these are Bierstadts Sunlight and Shadow, and Kensetts Twilight. The former is a small picture, but it has the best effect of sunshine we ever saw. That was a famous beam in Churchs Heart of the Andes, striking the old tree; but such quivering, soft, warm, real sunlight as this upon the half-crumbling travertine balustrade and cathedral wall we have not seen in painting. It is marvel- ously realistic and poetic, yet not in the least Pre- Raphaelite, in the technical sense. The little pic- ture is like a happy thought of quiet. Mr. Kensetta larger landscape is very grand in its broad, solemn, twilight gloom. The great mountain dome muffled in dark verdure; the far-reaching, ample plain, in- finitely varied, stretching away under the last dy- ing red surfs of sunset, and the cool, tranquil heav- en, breathing peaceall compose a most impressive landscape. Mr. Kensett has not painted many finer pictures than this; yet it must be thoughtfully studied to be truly perceived. The very fidelity of the work will cause many a spectator to pass it by with but a single note of admiration. If you read this before the Exhibition closes, siste victor! Mr. Gifford has several pictures; two, at least, of subjects drawn from the ~vara Sermon in the Camp of the Seventh at Washington, and a Bivouac of the same Regiment. They are both charming souvenirs. The Terre di Schiave, a well-known ruin upon the Roman Campagna, is another small work of Giffords, which has all the clear brilliancy for which he is noted. It is almost too bright a portrait of the old tower, as the Easy Chair remem- bers it. It lacks that curious crust of dinginess which Time throws in Rome even over the gayest colors. But there is a delightful firmness and deli- cacy in the picture. Mr. Haseltines Coast near Amalfi is a gorgeous work. The peculiar glow of the moist, smooth sea - beach is so evanescent an effect that the spectator can hardly criticise it just ly. But the long lift of sea-water about to fall and slide up the shore is very fine, and every part of the picture is thought and treated with subtle sympa- thy and appreciatiOn. Mr. Casilear has several of his refined and visionary landscapes. A singular exquisiteness of touch gives them a vignette char- acter, while their rare tendernessand delicacy show how truly the painter is a lover of the scenes he draws. Mr. Suydam contributes some of his sea- perspectives, characterized by his customary open daylight effect and careful handling. Mr. Taits Birds and Spaniels are as good as ever; and so are Mr. Hayess Terrier and Trout. Upon the whole, the Academy Exhibition of this year is remarkable for a few very fine portraits, but not for a variety or great number of excellent pic- tures. The pleasantness of the hall and the con- venience of access have made it more than usual, and despite the war, a thronged resort. The pictures have been better seen than they could be in the series of cells in Tenth Street; and the only serious regret is that the space was so limited that there was no adequate room for the works of beginners. The en- trance passage has several interesting and admirable drawings upon the walls, such as Farrars pen-and- ink head of a Gentleman Writing, and a color sketch 126 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of a tangled mass of Wild-flowers and Weeds, and and when you say some simple word of praise to Charles Parsonss View from the Ramparts of Pana- him in the name of all who love their country, ho ma, and Entrance to Somes Sound, Mount Desert. hinshes and stammers like a woman, and tells you It would be curious and instructive if the pictures he tried to do his best: and when we get to Mound of the first Academy Exhibition could he collected City we shall find a man racked with pain, who will and seen. Cole and Inman would he among the forget to suffer in telling how this brave man you names upon the catalogue, and Vanderlyn might he have just spoken to not only stood by his own regi- found there. A few striking portraits, some poetic ment in a fierce storm of shot, but when he saw a landscapesin certain points not yet surpassed regiment near his own giving back because their of- would probably exhaust the memorabilia of the Ex- ficers showed the white feather, rode up to the regi- hibition. The evidence of an awakened taste, of ment, hurled a mighty curse at those who were giv- public interest, of enlarged artistic culture and cx- ing back, stood fast by the men in the thickest fight, perience, and of a variety of admirable talentall and saved them. And, says the sick man, with which characterize the present Exhibitionswould tears in his eyes, I would rather be a private under be wanting. him than a captain under any other man..... I no- And yet, doubtless, the wights who talked about tice one feature in this camp that I never saw before the pictures in print were a hundred-fold more capa- the men do not swear and use profane words as ble than their successors of to-day. 0! brothers of they used to do. There is a little touch of serious- the brush, if we of the pen seem unkind to you, it is ness about them. They are cheerful and hearty, a fault of knowledge, not of will, and in a few days they will mostly fall back into the old bad habit so painful to hear: but they have THE Reverend Robert Collyer, of Chicago, was been too near to the tremendous verities of hell and the pastor of many a brave man who marched to heaven on that battle-field to turn them into small the battle-field of Fort Donelson, and was brought change for every day use just yet I may not home only to be buried. On the day after the vie- judge harshly of what should be done in a time of tory Mr. Collyer was one of the Samaritans who war like this in the West: it is very easy to be un- hastened to carry succor and sympathy to the fair. I will simply tell you that had it not been for wounded, and upon his return the next Sunday he the things sent up by the Sanitary Commission in preached a sermon to his congregation upon the the way of linen, and things sent by our citizens Battle-Field of Donelson, which is one of the most in the way of nourishment, I see no possibility by pathetic tales which the war has inspired. It is a which those wounded men could have been lifted picture of the terrible other sidethe anguish, the out of their blood-stained woolen garments, satn- solitude, the far-scattered pangs that follow war, rated with wet and mud, or could have had any food The narrative is very brief and very simple, and drink except corn-mush, hard bread, arid the The day I spent there, he says, was like one turbid water of the river. of our sweetest May-days. As I stood in a bit of Here is one who has lost an arm, and secluded wood-land in the still morning the spring there one who has lost a leg. This old man of birds sang as sweetly and flitted about as merrily as sixty has been struck by a grape-shot, and that boy if no tempest of fire, and smoke, and terror had ever of eighteen has been shot through the lung. Here a driven them in mortal haste away. In one place noble man has lived through a fearful bullet-wound where the battle had raged I found a little bunch of just over the eye, and that poor German, who could sweet bergamot that had just put out its brown-blue never talk English so as to be readily understood, leaves, rejoicing in its first resurrection; and a bed has been hit in the mouth and has lost all hope of of daffodils ready to unfold their golden robes to the talking except by signs.... The doctor comes to this sun; and the green grass in sunny places was fair young man and says, quietly, I think, my boy, I to see. But where great woods had cast their shad- shall have to take your arm off; and he cries out in ows the necessities of attack and defense had made great agony Oh, dear doctor, do save my arm! and one haggard and almost universal ruintrees cut the doctor tells him he will try a little longer; and down into all sorts of wild confusion, torn and splin- when he has gone, the poor fellow says to me, What tered by cannon-ball, trampled by horses and men, shell I do if I lose my arm? I have a poor old mu- and crushed under the heavy wheels of artillery. ther at home, and there is no one to do any thing for One sad wreck covered all her but me. Almost a week had passed since the battle, and That man who has lost his arm is evidently most of the dead were buried. We heard of twos sinking. As I lay wet linen on the poor stump he and threes, and, in one place, of eleven, still lying tells me how he has a wife and two children at where they fell; and as we rode down a lonely pass home, and he has always tried to do right and live a we came to one waiting to be laid in the dust, and manly life. The good, simple heart is clearly trying stopped for a moment to note the sad sight. Pray to balance its accounts before it fares the great event look out from my eyes at him as he lies where he which it feels to be not far distant. As I go past fell. You see by his garb that he is one of the rebel him I see the face growing quieter; and at last army, and by the peculiar marks of that class that good Mr. Williams, who has watched him to the he is a city rough. There is little about him to end, Lells me he put up his one hand, gently closed soften the grim picture that rises up before you as his own eyes, and then laid the hand across his he rests in perfect stillness by that fallen tree: but breast and died. there is a shawl, coarse and homely, that must have That boy in the corner, alone, suffers agony belonged to some woman, and such as I may not tell. All day long we hear his His hands are folded on his breast; cries of pain through half the length of the boat; There is no other thing expressed far into the night the tide of anguish pours over But long disquiet merged in rest, him; but at last the pain is all gone, and he calls Will you still let me guide you through that one of our number to him, and says: I am going, I scene as it comes up before me~ Here you meet want you to please write a letter to my father, tell a man who has been in command and stood fast; him I owe such a man two dollars and a half and OUR FOREIGN BUREAU. 127 such a man owes me four dollars, and he must draw my pay and keep it all for himself. Then he lay silently a little while, and, as the nurse wet his lips, said: Oh, I should so like a drink out of my fathers well! and in a moment he had gone where angels gather immortality By lifes fair stream, fast by tbe throne of God. And so all day long, with cooling water and soft linen, with morsels of food and sips of wine, with words of cheer and tender pity to every one, and most of all to those that were in the sorest need, we tried to do some small service for those that had done and suffered so much for us. These are long extracts, but they are more profita- ble in these briglat but bitter days of early summer, when the murmur of distant battles is in the air, than the talk of this Easy Chair would be. The times have not occasioned a more graphic picture of the terrible episodes of war than the story of this practical Christian who, like his Master, goes about consoling the wounded and the weary. The most tender and thoughtful charity pervades the entire discourse. The rebels, in the pastors eyes, though they have slain his friends and brothers for maintaining the laws of their country, which are the security of liberty and peace for all citizens, are still fellow-men. Finally, he says, I came to feel a more tender pity for the delnded men on the other side, and a more unutterable hatred of that vile thing that has made them what they are. On all sides I found young men, with faces as sweet and ingenuous as the faces of our own children, as open to sympa- thy, and, according to their light, as ready to give all they had for their cause. ~Pttr ~Pnrrign 93um~. XA7TITH the whole Western world wrapped in the VVrcd flame of warwith those to whom our hearts are knit by such ties as death only breaks and sorrows only make strongerbusy at scoop of graves or tending woundedwith steamers that we knew once plying peacefully under shadow of over- hanging cotton-wood now burdened with the hu- man d~bris of battleit seems like mockery that we should give a thought, a line, a pen-stroke to the everyday, easy life of the European capital. So, when fierce cold is smiting with its white wand all the crops of the North, it seems but fatui- ty and heartlessness to record how balmy heats are making the fields bask in sunnier latitudes; how blossoms are bursting, and sweet fruit forming, and blithe workers going afield on the very day and the very hour when, in other lands, killing frosts are sowing famine. From the European stand-point what most sur- prises, perhaps, in regard to the American war, is the insouciance, the indifference, the calm with which all tidings of fierce battles are met. Twen- ty thousand wounded and killed carries no more stab to the public sensibility than, in other days,a blown-up steamer with its hundred of victims. We will venture to say that the news of the late Amer- ican battles, and the tale of killed and wounded, have startled to a quicker sense of the actual hor- rors involved the European public than even the neighbors of the sufferers at home. How is this? Do we Americans, as is alleged, put so small an es- timate on life and health? or have we, with phi- losophic calm, so reckoned the c~t from the begin ning as not to be stirred by the abounding justifica- tion of our estimates? To all who question and express amazement at the extraordinary result, we answer that both causes have their weight. A young people, battling with bears on the front- iers and risking all the hazards of climate in its un- controllable love of spread, must rate life at a far lower estimate than those who, these thousand years, have been multiplying every device to make it long and easy and luxurious. Keen sensibility to the horrors of war is the result of a mature civilization. If the pioneer were hampered by the refinements of cities he wonld never trample down the savagery of the border. The composure with which, as a people, we~ave received and forgotten each year our record of acci- dents by boat and rail demonstrates a comparative indifference to the value of life which astonishes European observers, but which, after all, is perhaps attributable, not so much to slaeer insensibility as to a conviction that our swift progress as a nation must have a commensurate waste of blood and life. We strike for grand results, and we pay the grand- est of prices. There is yet another explanation of the apparent coolness with which the American public digests its record of losses. The authorities commanding bat- tle are corporated authorities, and corporate bodies ignore sympathy. When Napoleon tracked his way over the bloody ground of Solferino, tlae groans and the stark corpses made an appeal to his heart whicla quickened tlae negotiations of Villafranca. But let a Republican general or cabinet officer declare the force of such appeal, and straightway his loyalty is questioned. No sympathies must stand in the way of duty to the state. The sheriff must not flinch. The law has no heart to be touched. Hence a Republican war, directed against Repub- lican subjects, must be the bitterest and most unre- lenting of all wars. The People alone, who are the authors of the Law, must temper its issues. YESTERDAY we read of battles in which our heart leaped to the story; and to-day the paper is full of the last masquerade at the hotel of the Count de Persigny. Who should care, in such times, if the Countess was beautiful in her white satin of a pies- rette, with diamonds to her buttons? Who should care if a diplomat plays the clown perfectly? These jollities of the mi-car~rne have a larger life than usual. Yet it is no indication that serious things are not engrossing the serious thought of France. Even in America, if we may believe the newspapers (which, indeed, involves something of hardihood), there was never more noisy and lawless pursuit of pleasure than in the great capitals. The concert saloonswhich are understood here to be a harsh re- production of the Mabille and the Montesquieuare represented as thriving upon the costs of the Repub- lican war. And in Paris, while the workers of Lv- ons and of Ronen are pinched with real want (grow- ing stronger every day), the balls have been brill- iant, the private theatricals have made their claqeerie heard upon the Boulevards, and a circle of admiring friends of an actress of the Vaudeville have made an *~meute at that theatre in decrying a play whose partition did injustice to their favorite. Yet again, this metropolitan worldwhose soberer citizens are anxious to learn what may become of the lingering Papal question or the sharp Mexican problemis all agog with the recent sale of the ef

Editor's Foreign Bureau Editor's Foreign Bureau 127-131

OUR FOREIGN BUREAU. 127 such a man owes me four dollars, and he must draw my pay and keep it all for himself. Then he lay silently a little while, and, as the nurse wet his lips, said: Oh, I should so like a drink out of my fathers well! and in a moment he had gone where angels gather immortality By lifes fair stream, fast by tbe throne of God. And so all day long, with cooling water and soft linen, with morsels of food and sips of wine, with words of cheer and tender pity to every one, and most of all to those that were in the sorest need, we tried to do some small service for those that had done and suffered so much for us. These are long extracts, but they are more profita- ble in these briglat but bitter days of early summer, when the murmur of distant battles is in the air, than the talk of this Easy Chair would be. The times have not occasioned a more graphic picture of the terrible episodes of war than the story of this practical Christian who, like his Master, goes about consoling the wounded and the weary. The most tender and thoughtful charity pervades the entire discourse. The rebels, in the pastors eyes, though they have slain his friends and brothers for maintaining the laws of their country, which are the security of liberty and peace for all citizens, are still fellow-men. Finally, he says, I came to feel a more tender pity for the delnded men on the other side, and a more unutterable hatred of that vile thing that has made them what they are. On all sides I found young men, with faces as sweet and ingenuous as the faces of our own children, as open to sympa- thy, and, according to their light, as ready to give all they had for their cause. ~Pttr ~Pnrrign 93um~. XA7TITH the whole Western world wrapped in the VVrcd flame of warwith those to whom our hearts are knit by such ties as death only breaks and sorrows only make strongerbusy at scoop of graves or tending woundedwith steamers that we knew once plying peacefully under shadow of over- hanging cotton-wood now burdened with the hu- man d~bris of battleit seems like mockery that we should give a thought, a line, a pen-stroke to the everyday, easy life of the European capital. So, when fierce cold is smiting with its white wand all the crops of the North, it seems but fatui- ty and heartlessness to record how balmy heats are making the fields bask in sunnier latitudes; how blossoms are bursting, and sweet fruit forming, and blithe workers going afield on the very day and the very hour when, in other lands, killing frosts are sowing famine. From the European stand-point what most sur- prises, perhaps, in regard to the American war, is the insouciance, the indifference, the calm with which all tidings of fierce battles are met. Twen- ty thousand wounded and killed carries no more stab to the public sensibility than, in other days,a blown-up steamer with its hundred of victims. We will venture to say that the news of the late Amer- ican battles, and the tale of killed and wounded, have startled to a quicker sense of the actual hor- rors involved the European public than even the neighbors of the sufferers at home. How is this? Do we Americans, as is alleged, put so small an es- timate on life and health? or have we, with phi- losophic calm, so reckoned the c~t from the begin ning as not to be stirred by the abounding justifica- tion of our estimates? To all who question and express amazement at the extraordinary result, we answer that both causes have their weight. A young people, battling with bears on the front- iers and risking all the hazards of climate in its un- controllable love of spread, must rate life at a far lower estimate than those who, these thousand years, have been multiplying every device to make it long and easy and luxurious. Keen sensibility to the horrors of war is the result of a mature civilization. If the pioneer were hampered by the refinements of cities he wonld never trample down the savagery of the border. The composure with which, as a people, we~ave received and forgotten each year our record of acci- dents by boat and rail demonstrates a comparative indifference to the value of life which astonishes European observers, but which, after all, is perhaps attributable, not so much to slaeer insensibility as to a conviction that our swift progress as a nation must have a commensurate waste of blood and life. We strike for grand results, and we pay the grand- est of prices. There is yet another explanation of the apparent coolness with which the American public digests its record of losses. The authorities commanding bat- tle are corporated authorities, and corporate bodies ignore sympathy. When Napoleon tracked his way over the bloody ground of Solferino, tlae groans and the stark corpses made an appeal to his heart whicla quickened tlae negotiations of Villafranca. But let a Republican general or cabinet officer declare the force of such appeal, and straightway his loyalty is questioned. No sympathies must stand in the way of duty to the state. The sheriff must not flinch. The law has no heart to be touched. Hence a Republican war, directed against Repub- lican subjects, must be the bitterest and most unre- lenting of all wars. The People alone, who are the authors of the Law, must temper its issues. YESTERDAY we read of battles in which our heart leaped to the story; and to-day the paper is full of the last masquerade at the hotel of the Count de Persigny. Who should care, in such times, if the Countess was beautiful in her white satin of a pies- rette, with diamonds to her buttons? Who should care if a diplomat plays the clown perfectly? These jollities of the mi-car~rne have a larger life than usual. Yet it is no indication that serious things are not engrossing the serious thought of France. Even in America, if we may believe the newspapers (which, indeed, involves something of hardihood), there was never more noisy and lawless pursuit of pleasure than in the great capitals. The concert saloonswhich are understood here to be a harsh re- production of the Mabille and the Montesquieuare represented as thriving upon the costs of the Repub- lican war. And in Paris, while the workers of Lv- ons and of Ronen are pinched with real want (grow- ing stronger every day), the balls have been brill- iant, the private theatricals have made their claqeerie heard upon the Boulevards, and a circle of admiring friends of an actress of the Vaudeville have made an *~meute at that theatre in decrying a play whose partition did injustice to their favorite. Yet again, this metropolitan worldwhose soberer citizens are anxious to learn what may become of the lingering Papal question or the sharp Mexican problemis all agog with the recent sale of the ef 128 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fectspaintings and otherof a distinguished and pretty member of the demi-monde Mademoiselle Anna Deslion. It appears an absurd thing to mention that a few weeks since all the furniture was sold from the rooms of a pretty unmarried lady of the Chaussde dAutin: and vet, when the sale came about, the streets were crowded with carriagessome coronetedall evidencing wealth. That there should be Aubusson tapestry, was looked for: every woman who lives in luxury at Paris possesses it. That there should be art of a certain kind, was looked for: since wealth can every where command it. But the singularity of this sale was the fact that its art was of the chiefest order, and its objects of vertu most severe in their class. A necklace of pearls which came to the hammer was regal; the report says it brought forty thou- sand francs. Other jewelry of various kinds sold for some seven hundred thousand francs. The paint- ings counted such names as Troyon, and Meissonnier as well as a crowd of amateurs. The very ink- stand was a rare copy from i~Iichael Angelo, mount- ed upon onyx, and its sale price was five thousand francs. And yet the Deslions is a name which good people do not talk of. You know she had wealth; you know she commanded the complimentary gifts of distinguished artists, princes; you hear she was witty, beautiful, young. Yet with this sale of her effects she disappears. An impropriety eclipses her splendor. She holds upon the brilliant round of Paris life by so frail a tenure that an impropriety makes the end. We shall never hear of her after this sale of her jewels. Perhaps, years hence, some haggard woman at the opera may offer us a footstool for a few centimes, or may crave a sons or two at the street-crossings in charity, and her name may be Mademoiselle Des- lion. For it is in this way such mock splendors vanish. Yet still the carriages buzz, and the princes make carnival of Easter. The sale, the splendor, the story call to min(l Victor Hugos new work of the Miserables. It is just now published in Paris, in Belgium, and (by translation) in half a dozen differ- ent capitals of Europe. It deals with the accidents and incidents of social life. It deals? in short, with larger problems than the author has ever dealt with before. But he brings more of age and experience to the discussion. We speak now only in view of a synopsis of its contents. We may return to it again. The son of the poet, Charles Hugo, is understood to be engaged upon a dramatic adaptation of the book. Tsiis mention leads us naturally to speak of the new election to the French Academy in place of M. Scribe. The successful candidate has been M. Octave Fenillet. His best opponent was M. Camille Doucet, who holds a position under Government in connec- tion with the theatrical rigime, and who received ten votes out of the thirty-one recorded. Octave Fenillet, the new Academician, is some fifty odd years of age, and his best known work is the Roman dun jeune kommepeuvre, which was orig- inally published in the Revue des Deux Macdes, and which has been translated in yarious countries. lie is also said to have contributed largely to the suc- cess of certain plays which bear the full imprint of Alexandre Dumas, author. ON the same column upon which we record the success of NI. Octave Fenillet, we are compelled to name the decease of a prominent man in the musical world of Paris; we speak of M. Fromental Ifalevy, a member (as well as perpetual secretary) of the Academy des beeux A stes, and author of La Juive, and of the Queen of Cyprus. These two were perhaps, his best compositions; but they never coin manded the admiration which made a brilliant suc- cess; and poor Halevy died without any adequate provision for his family. We have hardly the right to speak of him as pour Ilalevy ; the world can not count us ten names which have won a larger musical popularity. La Juite has had the larg- est placarding in the lar~est capitals of Europe. A great army of mediocre composers have envied the great Ilalevy; and yet we say, en connuissance de cuuse, poor Ilalevy ! And the brothers Pereire, in the spirit of true 1-Jebrew fellowship, have insti- tuted a subscription for the benefit of the family of the deceased. lie died at Nice; but the funeral oh- sequies in Paris were attended by many of first dis- tinction in art and literature, as well as by a large representation of the imperial authorities. Another French death of note has been that of M. henri Schaeffer, brother of the late Ary Schaeffer, and himself a painter of no mean distinction. The works best known of his perhaps are the Bible Reading and Joan of Arc on her Way to Execution. This mention of an artist leads us, naturally enough, to speak of sun-painting, and of the chances -for the speedy perfection of a polychrosnatic photo- graphy. For some time it has been known to ex- perimental chemists that certain colors could be seized and repeated upon chemically prepared plates. Latterly this number of colors has been largely ex- tended; but it was found that while a definite peri- od of exposure perfected certain colors, the same time was not sufficient to duplicate others. If, how- ever, the duration and intensity of light was extend- ed so as to repeat these latter, the first were destroy- ed by over-exposure. This difficulty, however, has been surmounted by an adroit use of screens, which shade the more sensitive colors while the others are being fixed. In this way a great variety of colors are caught; hut unfortunately they are found to fade after a certain period of exposure. It only re- mains to discover some sure means of fixing them, and /selio-chsousics are thenceforth certain. Meantime the beautiful art of polvchromic litho- graphy, which has made wonderful advance in deli- cacy and brilliancy, is almost filling the place of sun-paintin,,. There has just now been published at Paris, by Curmer, a singularly rich work, Les Eveugiles, which repeats with all the original bril- liancy of coloring some of the rarest missal illustra- tions of the early centuries of Christian art. Among others, the rare old breviary of Grimani, which is one of the chiefest manuscript treasures of the library of St. Mark at Venice, has been ccnpied to the last point of its delicate caligraphy; and the illustrative miniatures and borders have been rendered with a delicacy and grace that leave nothing to be desired. Several manuscript treasures of the Breda and Vati- can libraries are also laid under contribution for the adornment of Les Ecangiles. It is gratifying to know that the photographic re- ductions of the great paintings are not driving into neglect the good old art of line engraving. Even the sneers of Mr. Ruskin can not blind the world to an abiding faith in such conscientious and patient labor as belonged~p the burin of Raphael Morghen. 4- OUR FOREIGN BUREAU. 129 And now the great Madonna of Foligno is to have wortisy transcript at the hands of J05. Keller. A generous subscription has been raised among his friends to give him seven good years of leisure for devotion to the work. In that time he hopes to complete it; his drawing from which the engraving is to be made is represented to be every way ad- mirable. THE affairs of Italy do not promise a peaceful summer. Ratazzi may succeed in establishing a strong Government which shall have full legislative support; but it is doubtful if even thus early the extreme Garibaldi element of the population is not to a certain extent alienated. The General him- self has beenreceiving extravagant ovations through- out the cities of Lombardy, where he has gone nom- inally for the purpose of establishing rifle-clubs, of which Prince Humbert is chief patron. Every where the street crowds are excited to frenzy by the sight of the red-shirted patriot; and his speeches are of that abrupt, impulsive, unstudied, earnest cast which add fuel to the popular enthusiasm. There is no diplomacy about Garibaldi; aud he talks of the brother Venetians, and the brother Romans, and the tyrant Pope, in a way which must startle the French embassador. He proposes to extend his journeying into the old Sicilian kingdom; and it remains to be seen what effect his presence may have upon the now chronic brigandage of the south. All the official accounts of quietude in that re,~,ion have, it appears, been strangely exaggerated; and the Bourbon reactionists are now showing them- selves within cannon-shot of Naples. But aside from the Bourbon brigandage, and the possible extravagant action of the immediate follow- ers of Garibaldi, Italy is experiencing a new and growing danger in the persistent jealousies of the different provinces. An anti-Piedmont feeling of alarming significance is rapidly extending over the south of the peninsula, and has long been entertained in the island of Sicily. Tuscany, too, is feeling aggrieved by the slights which she.claims have been thrust upon her favorite Ricasoli. Emilia has its own sectional pride, and demands with some JierU its representation in the Government. Nor is Lom- bardy silent, but full of round and confident asser- tion of its traditional privileges and importance to the new State of Italy. In the midst of this conflict of jealousies, which we dare say the local papers may magnify unduly, it is pleasant to let the eye rest upon that little, serene, compact Republic of San Marino, which from its scarred mountain eyrie of the Apennines, has seen fourteen centuries of change sweep over the Italian plains, leaving its own in- tegrity and independence unscathed and almost un- challenged. From the Montanara gate of the mouldy old city of Rimini a carriage road runs south, winding up the pleasant and shaded hill of Covignano; beyond are abrupt ascents and descents, volcanic ravines, mossy and stunted olives, scarred and blighted oak-trees, a noisy brook which is leaped by a stout arch of stone; and midway of the arch a tablet bearing on its east face the tiara and keys of Rome, and on the west faceR. S. M., which means I?epublica Sancti Maeissi. It marks the border line of the little State which dates from the heroic times of Rome. There was never much wealth to tempt an ag- gressor; the soil is bare, broken, seamed with the track of torrents. A few grape-vines struggle for life; a few acorns feed the swine, and scanty fields of wheat make up the agricultural resources. Three little bourys or villages contain its population of some seven thousand. The chiefest of these bourgs, San Marino, crowns a rocky cliff in whose recesses the winter snows lie until late spring. From the walls of its miniature defensive castle one can see looking northward the Adriatic; and of a clear day catch glimpses of the hazy blue of the Dalmatian mount- ains. Faenza, Forli, Cervia, Cesenne, Rimini can all ha spotted on the plains. Westward the mount- ain lines are lashed together in inextricable confu- sion, and the eye follows their gray-brown peaks till they are lost in the purple distance of Tuscany. Every man of twenty-one in San Marino is a voter; legislative power rests in a General Assembly of some sixty members, and a lesser one (Senate) of twelve. Every six months these assemblies name two captains, who are charged with the executive power; one for the city, the other for the country. A judge is appointed from without the State, who holds office under salary for three years; and there is appeal from his decisions to the council of twelve. All other civic functionaries serve without remunera- tion. The little army of the State consists of some forty men, of wlsorn nearly half are musicians. The total State revenue reaches the sum of forty thou- sand francs. A plenipotentiary of this little republic is just now at Turin negotiating with Victor Emanuel a treaty of amity and commerce. The Count Cibrario, Minister of State, and patrician of San Marino, acts for the Republic, and the Chevalier Carutti for Italy. We trust the negotiations may come to a happy issue, and the wise little State carry its Republican gonfalon bravely down to the latest time. WE have for some time lost sight of the Suez Canal project of M. Lesseps, nor have the public jour- nals, in the engrossment with more important mat- ters, given it other than the most casual mention. Yet, notwithstanding British opposition and sneers, the work is bein~ pushed zealously forward. A steamer in the employ of the company runs regular- ly between Damietta and Samanhout. At the for- mer place is the present dbpC)t for the Mediterranean terminus of the canal, which is to enter the sea by Port Said. Some seventeen millions of francs are said to have been already expended. A private traveler makes the following report: On the morning of the 11th we took boats and, traversing the lake, soon came to the first station on the canal, sixteen kilometres (ten miles) from Port Said. We followed the line of dredging-boats which are deepening the passage, and in the evening reached Kantara-el-Kasub, 48 kilometres from Port Said. The channel through which we passed varied in width from 5 to 12 metres, but will soon have the latter width throughout. We had thus accomplish- ed in ten hours a journey which would have re- quired three days a year ago. The houses at Kan- tara are built of old bricks taken from the ruins of an ancient city about half a league distant. This town is likely to become a place of some importance, owing to its position on the road taken by the cara- vans between Syria and Arabia. The climate is healthy, and provisions are abundant. Next morn- ing we resumed our journey along a canal cut through the waterless lakes of Ballah; and at noon reached Ferdane, at the foot of the Threshold, where the canal ends for the present. Ferdane is 67 kilomnetres from Port Said. To give some idea of the result al- ready obtained, I need only state the carriage of 130 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. goods from Port Said to Ferdane, which used to cost 150 to 200 francs the 1000 kilogs., is now only 7 francs, and will soon be reduced to 3 francs. Ferdane is situated on one of the downs bearing that name, and the canal will there enter a cutting with rather high banks on each side. Here we were received by the engineer of the division and Ishmail Bey, the Governor of the Isthmus, who has a guard of one hundred black horsemen. We left Ferdane in the afternoon, the gentlemen on horses or drome- daries and the ladies in a carriage, and crossed the famous sands of Ferdane, which have been repre- sented as an insuperable obstacle, but which experi- ence will prove to be no obstacle at all. When we had journeyed about half a league we came within sight of a range of small acclivities on which we saw men at work, and were told that those heights were the threshold of Elguirs, where 20,000 men wcre cutting a passage for the canal. We found that these Arabs, notwithstanding the fast of the Rama- dan, when they usually refuse to work, were toiling away with all their might under the stimulus of regular pay in proportion to the work done. N. Lesseps expresses the utmost confidence that within two years ships will pass through from sea to sea. Twenty thousand laborers are at present engaged upon the work of cutting through the Threshold; and this number is shortly to be doubled under the somewhat despotic direction of the Viceroy. THE Greek Revolution engages the attention of Europe, only to a very limited degree. The insur- gents have been rashly importunate; and the King, with his advisers, rashly obstinate. The world seems content that both should pay the price of a small war without intervention or remark. All German sympathies are with the King; and Russian sympathies are with the revolutionists. France and England appear neither to entertain nor express sym- pathy on either side. A projected demonstration, however, of the Greek students in Paris, in honor of the insurgents of Nauplia, was recently checked by the Imperial Government, in obedienca to the wishes of the Greek chargi. THE late signal success of the new Turkish Loan upon the London Exchange has called out the eager antagonism of those Continental journals which are in the Russian interest. The color of the whole dis- cussion lies in these facts: Russia is waiting hope- fully and faithfully for Ottoman decay; Great Brit- ain is nervously apprehensive of the same result, and staves it off by her subsidies. Austria sympa- thizes with England, and coyly assists Turkey in her military repression of the Selavic insurgents along the Adriatic. France and Prussia are repre- sented to be on terms of agreement with Russia in all that relates to the slowly evolving problems of the Orient. A LITTLE on dit, which has almost the kindling matter in it for a romance, we pluck from the cur- rent talk and fling into our record. A poor shoemaker, with wife and one child, lived upon the fourth floor of a hotel in the Rue St. Mar- tin. A lodger upon the same floor, having only a solitary chamber and no ostensible means of support, attracted their attention and their sympathies. He was of middle age, lived poorly, had no companions, and had the bearing of a decayed gentleman. The kind cobbler and his wife continued to bestow upon him, in an unnoticed and quiet way, a great many little attentions, which they hoped might relieve his loneliness and contribute to his comfort. The single lodger accepted these graciously, cul- tivated familiarity with the little daughter of his fourth-floor neighbor, and ended by making engage- ment with the cobbler to furnish him his dinner each day at their own table. The sum proposed in pay- ment seemed larger to the humble couple than the unfortunate gentleman could afford. But he per- sisted in his generous offer, and a close intimacy was established. One day the postman left a letter for the single lodger, which was handed him as he sat with the little family of his host. It disturbed him grievous- lv: he thrust the letter in the firepaced up and down the chamber, kissed affectionately his protigie, the cobblers daughter, went out, and has never been seen by them since. A week thereafter the shoemaker received a letter post-marked at a village upon the extreme borders of France. It proved to be from the missing lodger. It hinted at family griefs which could never be re- paired, and at threats hanging over him which could only be escaped by the utmost seclusion. It begged the little family of the attic to forget himto forget his very appearance, if possible: it begged them to take possession of his furniture for their own benefit, and also of ten Bank of France notes of a thousand each, which would be found in one of his drawers hoping it might be enough to establish the shoe- maker in a little business of his own. That is all. The people of the village upon the French border, where the letter of the lodger was posted, knew no- thing of him. The police, to whom the grateful shoemaker made applicationfearing possible sui- cideknew no more. IT would be hard to overstate the degree of inter- est, which, since the demonstrations of the Monito,- and ilJerrimac, has attended the discussions, both public and private, concerniu~ iron-bound ships. The European mind is quick to detect the signifi- cance of such a war-lesson as that of Hampton Roads. British journals and Parliament will have made their own report to you; and if French. pub- licists have been less eager and demonstrative, as they certainly have been, you may be assured that those who hold the question of a possible French war in their hands are not idle or unobservant. It is not too much to say, that within two years time not an important harbor of France but will have its iron-bound, bomb-proof floating battery, and not another order will be issued to the Naval ddp6ts of France for the building of a wooden war- ship. Italy, Denmark, Russia are all astir in this business, and are occupied with schemes for the conversion of their old naval craft into iron-cased batteries. Nor must Americans commit the mis- take of thinking that England has only her Warrior and Black Prince in a state of readiness for the year to come. Besides the Achilles, of 50 guns and 6000 tons burden, building at Chatham dock-yard, there are now under contract with private builders, and in an advanced state, the Agincourt, of 6000 tons; the Northumberland, of equal capacity; the Valiant, of 4000; the Minotaur, of 6000; the Orontes, of 3000; the hector, of 4000. Some half dozen of the heaviest line-of-battle ships, of the class of the Duke of Wellington, are being cut down for equipment with the armed cu EDITORS DRAWER. 131 polas of Captain Coles. The character and success of Ericssons turret has given new favor to the de- vice of Captain Coles; and, in justice to the Cap- tain, we copy a brief notice of his cupola from a British paper of the date of July, 1861: One of the great advantages derived from the aid of the shield is found to he the port-hole, which is entirely closed by the gun, save the small space sufficient to permit an elevation of 10 and a depres- sion of 7 degrees. The horizontal motion, or train- ing, is effected by turning the shield itself, with the gun, crew, and platform on which they stand. The whole apparatus thus becomes, as it were, the gun- carriage, and, being placed on a common turn-table, is revolved to the greatest nicety of adjustment. The shield is provided with a hollow cylinder 3 feet in diameter, through which the powder is handed up from the magazine and communication obtained. A current of air is likewise kept up through the hollow pivot by means of a fan, which causes the smoke, directly it leaves the breech of the gun, to escape through the opening immediately above it. The exposed portion above the glacis of 3 fect 8 inches (the entiro shield being 7 feet high) is cov- ered with blocks of iron, and the lower part is sunk into the deck, and protected by an iron glacis. The face of the shield presents a slanting surface of 45 degrees elevation, on a solid substance of 4~-iuch plates of iron, backed up by 18-inch timber blocks. It is calculated that any amount of pounding from the enemys guns would produce no injurious effect, as no horizontal fire can strike this structure above the water-line except at an angle of 40 degrees. It is completely protected agains4 a vertical fire by its arched roof, and is supported on each side by stan- chions, or fore-and-aft bulkheads. AuoxG the more recent improvements in Paris which are deserving of notice we may name the final completion of the beautiful Park of Moncean, and its opening to the free enjoyment of the public. Old visitors to Paris will remember it only as a charming closed garden, of princely extent, of which one only caught straggling glimpses from the raised roadway of a portion of the exterior Boulevard. Unlike the gardens of the Tuileries and of the Lux- embourg, it does not depend for its attractions upon stately avenues, mossy statues, or its courtly rem- iniscences of the great gardener, Le N~tre. It is joyous with the free life of trees in all the abandon of wide-spread branches, trailing vines, and unfet- tered growth. It rivals and surpasses St. Jamess. Grottocs, fountains, nalads, charuling tufts of flow- ering shrubs delight the visitor with continued sur- prises. The great 113/el de la Paix, near the head of the regal street of that name, is soon to be opened for the reception of guests; and it will give some idea of its magnitude when we state that it contains no less than seven hundred bedchambers; twenty-five miles of wire have been ordered for the bells of serv- ice; there are to be within it thirty thousand square yards of inlaid oak-flooring, eighteen thousand yards of carpeting, and ten thousand square yards of mir- rors. Upon the decorations of its dining-hall one of the most successful sculptors of France has been em- ployed; while the contract price for the dinner centre and accompanying plate, of the noted plate manufacturer, Christople, is stated to be 240 000 francs. Its name is auspicious; may it long deserve it! TILE Japanese Embassadors have recently arrived in Paris, by the overland passage, and are exciting the same crowds of curious street-gazers they com- manded in America. Tile personnel of this diplo- matic convoy differs somewhat from that known to the New Yorkers, but many members are the same. The Emperor and officials generally have received them with great courtesy, and treated them with an exag~erated show of ceremonial calculated to make a deep impression on statesmen who wear golden girdles and half a dozen stilettos to their waistband. Not since the year 1652 has Japan been officially represented among the nationalities of the West. At that date a few princes converted to Christianity conceived the idea of paying personal homage to the Vicar of Christ at Rome. Three years of difficult and dangerous travel lay between their starting- point of Nangasaki and tile triple crown of the Pope. But the Christian-Pagans bravely surmounted all dangers and trials, did reverence to his Holiness, and in eight years were in their own city again, only to find tile Christian zeal they had left in such flame utterly gone out. It is understood that the present embassy will visit London and the Worlds Exhibi- tion before their return. THE Industrial Palace draws near to completion, and for a month past the various courts have been cumbered with goods. Englishmen are not proud of the architectural effect of the Palace; and if ru- mor respecting its appearance may be trusted, their nloderation in this regard is discreet. With the single exception, perhaps, of Barrys Houses of Parliament, all recent architecture in En- gland of a grandiose or monumental type is a failure. Their hospitals and union work-houses are admirable for convenience, for propriety, and units of effect; their parish churches are charming studies of grace; their country houses are models which all the world will copy and never excel; they give an air of sanc- tity to their little churches which beguiles one into reverence; and tlley add an indescribable tone of cileerful, cozy homeness to their domestic buildings which is quite unmatchable; but their public mon- uments, galleries, exchanges, tlleatres, are citiler repetitions of established classicism of line, or crude and ineffective enormities. W hAT part of the world where the English lan- guage is read does not enjoy the Drawer? Now and then a letter from China tells of the pleas- ure it carries to the Universal Nation whose wan- dering sons auddaughters dwell among tlleCelestials. We have had tidings from the interior of Africa, and here comes one from the middle of the Pacific Ocean, bringing testimony to the virtues of tile Drawer, and telling a story besides. A correspondent in Honolulu, Sandwich Islands, writes to us, and is pleased to say: Even here in these isles of the sea the Drawer of Ilorpees Magazine is an institution. We regard it a sovereign remedy for the blues, and we take it both whorl we have them and when we havent, so that it does us good all times. I send you a little story of our Governor. You know the old song: Three wise men of Gotham Went to sea in a bowl; If tile bowt had been stronger, My song had been longer.

Editor's Drawer Editor's Drawer 131-143

EDITORS DRAWER. 131 polas of Captain Coles. The character and success of Ericssons turret has given new favor to the de- vice of Captain Coles; and, in justice to the Cap- tain, we copy a brief notice of his cupola from a British paper of the date of July, 1861: One of the great advantages derived from the aid of the shield is found to he the port-hole, which is entirely closed by the gun, save the small space sufficient to permit an elevation of 10 and a depres- sion of 7 degrees. The horizontal motion, or train- ing, is effected by turning the shield itself, with the gun, crew, and platform on which they stand. The whole apparatus thus becomes, as it were, the gun- carriage, and, being placed on a common turn-table, is revolved to the greatest nicety of adjustment. The shield is provided with a hollow cylinder 3 feet in diameter, through which the powder is handed up from the magazine and communication obtained. A current of air is likewise kept up through the hollow pivot by means of a fan, which causes the smoke, directly it leaves the breech of the gun, to escape through the opening immediately above it. The exposed portion above the glacis of 3 fect 8 inches (the entiro shield being 7 feet high) is cov- ered with blocks of iron, and the lower part is sunk into the deck, and protected by an iron glacis. The face of the shield presents a slanting surface of 45 degrees elevation, on a solid substance of 4~-iuch plates of iron, backed up by 18-inch timber blocks. It is calculated that any amount of pounding from the enemys guns would produce no injurious effect, as no horizontal fire can strike this structure above the water-line except at an angle of 40 degrees. It is completely protected agains4 a vertical fire by its arched roof, and is supported on each side by stan- chions, or fore-and-aft bulkheads. AuoxG the more recent improvements in Paris which are deserving of notice we may name the final completion of the beautiful Park of Moncean, and its opening to the free enjoyment of the public. Old visitors to Paris will remember it only as a charming closed garden, of princely extent, of which one only caught straggling glimpses from the raised roadway of a portion of the exterior Boulevard. Unlike the gardens of the Tuileries and of the Lux- embourg, it does not depend for its attractions upon stately avenues, mossy statues, or its courtly rem- iniscences of the great gardener, Le N~tre. It is joyous with the free life of trees in all the abandon of wide-spread branches, trailing vines, and unfet- tered growth. It rivals and surpasses St. Jamess. Grottocs, fountains, nalads, charuling tufts of flow- ering shrubs delight the visitor with continued sur- prises. The great 113/el de la Paix, near the head of the regal street of that name, is soon to be opened for the reception of guests; and it will give some idea of its magnitude when we state that it contains no less than seven hundred bedchambers; twenty-five miles of wire have been ordered for the bells of serv- ice; there are to be within it thirty thousand square yards of inlaid oak-flooring, eighteen thousand yards of carpeting, and ten thousand square yards of mir- rors. Upon the decorations of its dining-hall one of the most successful sculptors of France has been em- ployed; while the contract price for the dinner centre and accompanying plate, of the noted plate manufacturer, Christople, is stated to be 240 000 francs. Its name is auspicious; may it long deserve it! TILE Japanese Embassadors have recently arrived in Paris, by the overland passage, and are exciting the same crowds of curious street-gazers they com- manded in America. Tile personnel of this diplo- matic convoy differs somewhat from that known to the New Yorkers, but many members are the same. The Emperor and officials generally have received them with great courtesy, and treated them with an exag~erated show of ceremonial calculated to make a deep impression on statesmen who wear golden girdles and half a dozen stilettos to their waistband. Not since the year 1652 has Japan been officially represented among the nationalities of the West. At that date a few princes converted to Christianity conceived the idea of paying personal homage to the Vicar of Christ at Rome. Three years of difficult and dangerous travel lay between their starting- point of Nangasaki and tile triple crown of the Pope. But the Christian-Pagans bravely surmounted all dangers and trials, did reverence to his Holiness, and in eight years were in their own city again, only to find tile Christian zeal they had left in such flame utterly gone out. It is understood that the present embassy will visit London and the Worlds Exhibi- tion before their return. THE Industrial Palace draws near to completion, and for a month past the various courts have been cumbered with goods. Englishmen are not proud of the architectural effect of the Palace; and if ru- mor respecting its appearance may be trusted, their nloderation in this regard is discreet. With the single exception, perhaps, of Barrys Houses of Parliament, all recent architecture in En- gland of a grandiose or monumental type is a failure. Their hospitals and union work-houses are admirable for convenience, for propriety, and units of effect; their parish churches are charming studies of grace; their country houses are models which all the world will copy and never excel; they give an air of sanc- tity to their little churches which beguiles one into reverence; and tlley add an indescribable tone of cileerful, cozy homeness to their domestic buildings which is quite unmatchable; but their public mon- uments, galleries, exchanges, tlleatres, are citiler repetitions of established classicism of line, or crude and ineffective enormities. W hAT part of the world where the English lan- guage is read does not enjoy the Drawer? Now and then a letter from China tells of the pleas- ure it carries to the Universal Nation whose wan- dering sons auddaughters dwell among tlleCelestials. We have had tidings from the interior of Africa, and here comes one from the middle of the Pacific Ocean, bringing testimony to the virtues of tile Drawer, and telling a story besides. A correspondent in Honolulu, Sandwich Islands, writes to us, and is pleased to say: Even here in these isles of the sea the Drawer of Ilorpees Magazine is an institution. We regard it a sovereign remedy for the blues, and we take it both whorl we have them and when we havent, so that it does us good all times. I send you a little story of our Governor. You know the old song: Three wise men of Gotham Went to sea in a bowl; If tile bowt had been stronger, My song had been longer. 132 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Two of our citizens, Judge B and Dr. N, had occasion to go to the island of Kaui, the land of sugar and coffee. They returned in a schooner, and among the passengers was the Governor of the isl- and, who was coming to visit the metropolisthis great city of Honolulu. The Governor is a native, and so was the Captain of the schoonera first-rate seaman as long as land is in sight. There came up a gale that blew them of; and having no compass, and a short supply of provision, they were soon in a sad plight indeed. On and on for nine days they sailed, when they ought to have been in port in two. The Judge and the Doctor thought it about time to take matters into their own hands or they would all be starved to death; for neither law nor physic would serve them without something to eat. They deemed it proper to ask the Governor what he thought best to be done. His Excellency took the subject into consideration, and, with great sagacity, remarked: Well, now, as we are lost, I think we had bet- ter go back to where we started from. The poor Captain would have been but too happy to comply with the Governors suggestion, had tWre been any such thing as knowing where that place was; hut that day a whaler hove in sight, and supplying them with provisions led them into port. They were actually on the way to America. Du. RADCLIFFE lived neighbor to Godfrey Knell- er. Kneller had a fine garden, and being a painter of fine taste delighted in ornamenting his grounds. The Doctor was so fond of his neighbor that he pro- posed to have a gate between the premises, through which he could readily pass into the painters gar: den. The servants, however, used it so much that it became a nuisance, and the painter sent word to the Doctor that he should have to brick up the wall. Tell him, said the Doctor, to do what he likes to the door so long as he does not paint it. When this was reported to the painter he said to the messenger, Go back to the Doctor, and tell him I will take any thing from him but his physic. ONE never wearies of the peculiar wit and repar- tee of the Irish. On one occasion Mr. F called his two serv- ants, Bridget and Patrick, to his aid; but they un- did, in their awkward zeal, faster than he could pnt things to~ether, which so annoyed him that he cried out, contemptuously, Oh, you Paddies And who is it ye are spaking to ? asked Bridg- et, indignantly. To you, for one And who else, if you plaze ? Isnt Patrick another ? Ah, yes; faith aed that makes jest three of us! ONCE upon a time Bridget complained that the nurse, who sat at the second table with her, ate and drank more than her share of the goodies. Well, Bridget, yon must give her a hint, in your pleasant way, that will secure your rights. The next day, when nurse monopolized, Bridget sat back in her chair very despairingly. Are you sick to-day ? asked nurse, helping herself to the last potato. Niver a bit of it; but me jaws are jist growing together intirely I Who ever heard of such a thing ? cried nurse, as she drained the tea-pot [Bridget adored tea]. Sure, and its not your jaws that will be after troublin ye in that way ! shouted Bridget, with her flaming eyes upon the exhausted tea-pot; for the divil of a chance have I had to open my own since ye entered the house! Bad luck to the like of ye Bridget used to boast that the way she snubbed thut nus was illegant ! DOMESTICS, as the reader may have had occasion to remember, are very tenacious in regard to their payments. The usual pay-day had been allowed to pass un- noticed, and Bridget had asked for her dues, which it had not been convenient to give her. In the even- ing I went below to see that the doors were secured for the night. Bridget, I said, you left the basement-door unlocked last night, and the thieves are unusually active just now. Such negligence is inexcusable. Faith, cried Bridget, with dilating nostrils, its not into this house a thaif would be after coming And why not into this as well as another? Sure theres niver a thaif in Ameriky but would know there was no money here THERE lives in a neighboring town a genuine son of the Emerald Isle, who, like too many of his countrymen, was much inclined to the use, and abuse too, of strong drink. During one of the tem- perance reforms Pat signed the pledge, and made himself quite useful to the cause in portraying at public meetings, with true Irish humor and pathos, his experience in the drunkards ways. Not long since he visited our city of B, when he was presently met by one of his old tem- perance friends carrying a very heavy brick in his hat, causing eccentric iuovements in his gyrations about town highly amusing to the young and rising generation, and truly astonishing to his cold water friend, who accosted him with, Why, Brother C, I am astonished to see you in this state! I thought yoa were lecturing on temperance! An shure, yer honor, so I be; but dye mind, me ould expariance was aboot worn out, and I thot Id jest take a bit of new to make me lectures more interesting! MRS. JONES has long been wanting to visit Green- wood Cemetery, and now in early summer she says to her husband, You have never yet taken me to Greenwood. No, dear, he replied, that is a pleasure I have yet had only in anticipation. EDMUND BURKES pun on Brocklesbys name is a good instance of the elaborate ingenuity with which the great orator adorned his conversation and his speeches. Pre - eminent among the advertising quacks of the day was Dr. Rock. It was therefore natural that Brocklesby slibuld express some sur- prise at being accosted by Mr. Burke as Dr. Pock, a title at once infamous and ridiculous. Dont be offended, said Burke, with a laugh: your name is Rock; Ill prove it algebraically: Brock less B equals Rock. IT is an old dodge for doctors who want to get into notice to have a servant come into church and call them out. But Dr. Mead, of London, rejoiced in a father who was the minister of a large congrega- tion, and whenever his medical son was summoned in church time, the good minister was wont to call EDITORS DRAWER. 133 on the people to unite in prayers for the body and soul of the sufferer to whom the physician had just been called. This was a grand advertisement and helped to set up his son rapidly. THE clerk of a county in Kentucky sends us the original of the following notice posted near his office: Stray Sture rather a brinel white beley crumpley home by Sholderd about 9 years old crooced hind legs wines hise hind legs verry mutch when travling the year mark not rectilected I AM a Yankee schoolmaster. Several years of my life were spent in teaching in a locality known as Away down East, though the past three years have been spent in the same avocation in the City of Brotherly Love. A class of half a dozen girls were analyzing and parsin~ Cowpers Alexander Selkirk, and all Isad acquitted themselves creditably, until this passage was presented to the favorite pupilfavorite, I say, for it is impossible for a teacher not to have favor- ites: My sorrows I then might assuage tn the ways of religion and truth; Might learn from the wisdom of age, And be cheered by the sallies of youth. The word sallies falling to the lot of our hero- ine, she cast an arch glance at the teacher, and then inquired, M~aht not Sallies have been a noun pr~per, in the plural, under the circunsstences, Sir? I thought so, and she parsed it. MR. EurroR,The contemplation of Tennysons Eagle, which I greatly admire, led sue to com- pose the following: THE EAGLE. a~ J. E. MURRAY. 0! thou noble, lofty bird, Of all the fowls thourt lord; Disdaining man and all his laws, And holding Earth within thy claws. * * * * 4 * An eagle soaring in the sky, Nearly to the blazing sun, Cast his keen, sun-glaring eye Far adown the vasty dun. And there an acorn he espied Swiftly through the ether wbirld; The sea a white spot on its side; lIe swooped, and graspedthe solid world. CINTaavILLE, CALIFoRNIA, April 15. JARRAD is a clever fellowrather too clever, in fact; and though he works hard, he seems to get behiudhand all the time. Jarred has a sister. She got married. Jarrad was asked how he liked his brother-in-law. Said he, I dont like him, Sir; hes a mean man. Being pressed for his reasons for not liking him, Well, I will tell you, said he, re- luctantly; he swindled me clean out of fifty dol- larsisnt that reason enough ? Jarrads friends wanted to know how he swindled him. Why, Sir, he promised to lend me fifty dollars, and he didnt do itthats how! and all who know Jarrad acknowledge that it was barefaced swindling. and nothing else. Fao~s a budget of clever stories sent us hy an obliging correspondent we take two for present use: A little girl of ours had been trying to learn the alphabet, and succeeded very well in remembering A, I, S (the crooked letter), and 0. Soon after having recited her lesson she came running to her papa with her book containing the alphabet, and, pointing to Q, said, See, papa! 0 has got a little tail! ON a Sabbath morning, feeling somewhat indis- posed to go to church, I determined to stay at home, and requested Dinah, my colored housemaid, to re- member the text and as much of the sermon as she could, and report to me on her return. After service Dinah came into the parlor to report; but her memory being rather a forgetters, all she could say of the text was that it was sothin bout dcv was weighed in do balance an come up missin. A MtcIsrGAxnEa writes to the Drawer of a brace of doctors: In one of tile many stump cities for which Mich- igan is somewhat noted live two individuals who put M.D. at the end of their names. They are bitter enemies, defamin,~ each oiliers character at every opportunity. Dr. A pretends to have the more classical education of the two, though for that matter both can use and have at their tongues end any quantity of unpronounceable words. Much ri- valry existed between them as to which should be the regular physician of a certain family, who, when any mom her was sick, called in the one first found. One day Dr. A was sent for to attend one of the children, lie and the old lads soon l)egan discussing the merits and demerits of Dr. B. Fin4y Dr. A said to the old lady, B is one of the most i~norant men von ever saw. ,The next time you see him ask him if he knows the modus ~pesandi, and if you aint satisfied then Ins a stoker. Soon after she saw Dr. B, and asked him the question. Moder sepperend4 says B; moder sop- prandi. Why, yes; theres lots of it grows wild right out here in the fields. The old lady was convinced. I SlAVE a little boy six years old, who is. in- clined to be pugnacious. One day at dinner the conversation turned upon the evil habit of lying. lie joined in by saying, I know a boy who never told a lie, because I asked him yesterday if he could lick me, and he said No! A fair inference from the premises, the Drawer decides. IN Memphis, Tennessee, a correspondent tells a story for the Drawer, of old election times, that is very rich and very true to the life. It is to show the candidate bef,re and after election. Jackson was the mans name who was running for Congress. lie was hale fellow well met with Thomas, Richard, and Henry, shaking hands with every body, and all that. He got in. Suddenly his manner changed. lie didnt know half tile p00- 1)10 ho methe was too big to speak to every body. A Dutchman by the name of Stoever came alonga rou~ls blacksmithand, holding out his black fist, said, How do, Mr. Jackson ? The Congressman, a crowd standing around, took hold of his hand reluctantly, and remarked, Your face is familiar, but for my life I cant recollect your name. The Dutchman, without giving his name, cried out: Jentlemans, I now tell you von goot story. 134 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Ven I live in Germany de lort-mayor of de down he die. Den dey have lection for von nudder lort- mayor. Now dere live in de down von man pie de name of Dinks. He pe von osler. Now von tay Dinks he come long de street vid his hack on his pack, and de beeples say, Spose ye maks Dinks lort- mayor! And sure nuff dey votes for Dinks and makes him mayor. Dey den takes Dinks up to de pig house, and buts de pig vite robe pon him, and buts do pig crown pon his head, and den huts him in do pig arm-cheer, and den Dinks set like von vool. After vile, Dinks vife she miss him. She run up and town de street look vor him; yen do beeples tell her Dinks pe lort-mayer. So she go to de pig house and beep in and jumb pack. Den she beeps in gin, an say, Dinks, 0 Dinks! Dinks say, Hoo dat call me? She say, Dis is your vife, Dinks; dont you know me? He say, You pe von vool! How you speck I know you, yen I no know myself now? The story made its own application. The crowd roared with laughter at the expense of Jackson, who sloped. I venture to say that Jackson never forgot the name of the Dutchman after that day. A KENTUCKY correspondent says: A little brother of mine, twelve years old, quar- reling with one of my negroes, who was about his own age, threw a rotten apple at him, which took effect between two very large-sized lips, and liber- ally bespattered the remainder of his face. The lit- tie contraband spit and sputtered for a moAent, and indignantly marched oW exclaiming, Mass Horace, I take dis countenance right in and show it to your father. A Ma. THOMAS OGDEN, having arrived in New York from England, went several successive morn- ings to the post-office to ask for letters. Inquiring always for letters addressed to Thomas Tlogden, the postmaster invariably replied that there were none for him. Bat becoming at length quite impatient at these frequent disappointments, he thrust his head through the delivery window, and soon dis- covered the cause. You are looking among the JJaitclses, Sir, he said to the officer within; you should look among the hoes ! Ix California the Drawer has several correspond- ents, one of whom mentions Old Clarkson, noted for the size of the stories he tells, and for never hacking down when he has once committed himself. lie was one day flush, having $500 all in gold, and showing it among his cronies, boasted that he had two thousand more at home. One of them offered to bet him $500 that he hadnt the money. Old Ciarkson was not to be frightened. He put down the money, the other covered it, and the whole crowd therewith adjourned to Clarksons home to see the bet decided. He pulled out his trunk; he took up tlse clothes, shook them, felt in all the pockets, reached the bottomnot a cent was there. Gen- tlemen, said he, Ive lost the bet! So the old fool paid 500 for sticking to a lie. AT another time, being at a horse-race opposite New Orleans, after the race was over he was accost- ed by a fellow-sportsman thus: Clarkson, old fel- low, I say, lend me a dime to take me over the riv- er. I am flat broke by the race. Looking at him with the most unutterable contempt, he replied: Well now, if you are broke, I would like to know what possible difference it makes which side of the river you are on ? Da. FEANKLIN thought that judges ought to be appointed by the lawyers; for, added the shrewd man, in Scotland, where this practice prevails, the~ always select the ablest member of the profession, in order to get rid of him and share his practice themselves. I SlAvE received to-day, says a friend in the ,Vest, a letter opening with the following words, in reply to mine mentioning the death of an excel- lent man: I received your letter, by which I learn that my re- spected friend has departed from this world to enjoy and inherit a better. I feel extremely sorry for him, for he was good and honest. MOThER, said my six-year-old, did they have newspapers before the war? Yes, my child; but why do you ask? Well, what did they put in them, mother? AN Irishman, a soldier of Warrens brigade, in the Revolution, was suddenly stopped by a party of men during a dark night; a pistol was presented to Isis breast, and they asked to which side he belonged. The supposition that it might be the British party rendered his situation critical. He replied, I think you might have the civility to drop a hint as to which side you favor. No jesting ! said the speaker; declare your sentiments, or die ! Then I will not die with a lie in my mouthAmerican to the death; do your worst! The officer replied, We are friends, and I rejoice to meet with a man so faithful to the cause of Isis country. Ix Western Virginia, where possums and persim- mons are a legal tender, a free negro, who rejoiced in the title of Big Ben, was indebted to Joe to the amount of one bushel of walnuts, to be paid in the fall. Joe met Big Ben about the time the debt fell due, and hailed him: hello, Ben! what about those walnuts ? Times war hard, warmits scase, and Ben couldnt ray. Well, Ben, if you cant pay the walnuts, you must give me your note for the amount. Ben studied a while, scratched his head, and finally lowed lied as soon pay it wid a note as wid do warmitsand he did so. SOIVIE friends were standing in a court-room one day contemplating a lot of hard-looking jurymen, who could, without any detriment to their physiog- nomies, have changed places with the prisoners, when Tom H remarked that it was very for- tunate such men were created. Why ? asked his friend. That the conditions of our glorious Constitution might be fulfilled, which guarantees to every man the right to be tried by his peers. IT is said somewhere that Praise to the face is open disgrace. Bet that was said when any thing that would rhyme was a sign or proverb. I dont consider it a disgrace to tell you my opinion of the Drawer. I follow the Celestials in reading Harper, and always begie at the end. Paddys shoes, in April number, brings to my mind a remark by one who didnt go to the war, as EDITORS DRAWER. 135 he was making a personal examination of some straw-board shoes provided for those who have gone to be soldiers; There! said he, I should be mor- tified to death to be found dead by the rebels with a pair of those shoes on my feet! A FEW years ago some of the boys of older growth went blueberrying. In the course of their perambulations through the swamp one of the party ~ame very suddenly upon the remains of some poor outcast who, some months before, had wandered away and perished. There was just enough left to identify the mass as once a living and walking piece of humanity. Calling the other members of the party to see the spectacle, they all rushed up, and stood gazing for some time in perfect silence; when Brown shocked the company by saying, Well its no use to try to bring him to, is it? A VERY good Yankee story comes to the Drawer by way of Baltimore: A certain live Yankee having graduated at the law in the good old wooden-nutmeg State, removed to our beautiful, bustling, and busy city of Balti- more, and when walking up the hill of Fayette Street attracted, by his evident verdancy, the atten- tion of two sprouts of the bar seated in one of the numerous offices in that neighborhood. One of them, addressing the other, says, Hold still, and well have some fun ! Stepping out, he accosts Yankee: IIalloa, friend! dont you want to buy some gape-seed ? Waal, look here, neow; yeou be Mister Leaw- yei., beant ye? Yes, Sir. Well, ne& w, what will yeou chearge me to do me some writing ? Oh, step instep in; we will do it for you. Yeas, but the price; heaow abeout that, Mis- ter ? Well, if it is no more than one sheet full, five ilollars; if less, the same; more, another fiveand so on. Well, and if yeou deont write it down just as I tell yeou, it is as chearge at all ? Certainly not; hut no fearwell fix it right. Seizing a pen, and making a rattling with his paper, lie gets into an attitude: Go on, Sir. XVeIl, pappy up to hum in Connecticut, whar I cam fromput that thar down. tYoll, says the lawyer. He had an old hess named Dobbin put that thar down. Well. And Aunt Sallie, shes Deacon Zeb Williamss wife, you know, what is a mighty pious man, is the deacon, and Aunt Sallie is a mighty smart woman too, is Aunt Sallieput that thar down. Well, well; go on. And Aunt Sallie, shes the beatenest wo- man, and Sister PatienceI suppose youve beam tell of Sister Patienceput that thar down. They took a ride; they rid along for some time, and pres- sently the old hess stopped, and would not goput that thar down. And Aunt Sallie she shook the reins, and sez, Go long! Lchirruping, chirrupiiig, chirruping, and making the noise caused by suck- ing in with the lips somewhat twisted.]Put that thar down. Whats that ? says the lawyer. Oar friend goes over the same performance, again wind- ing lip with his Put that thar down. And how am I to put that thar down ? says the lawyer, in a heat. Waal, beant as I dont kneow, Measter Law- yer, says Green en, I cant tell you; but if you deont, yeow can jest take that ere peaper to wrap up your ga.pe-seed in Exit with a smile; but hadnt gone far before lawyer overtook him, a ad took him to Barnums and had a good time. FROM Massachusetts we have the following little pleasantry: General 0, formerly Mayor of our city, is a great wit. Not long since one of his daughters was married to a gentleman by the name of Battles. On this occasion the General was sparkling and brilliant. After the interesting ceremony was concluded, he made some remarks; and, turning to the bride he said that he had always tried to do by her the best that he knew how, and that for years he had stood forward as her champion; but he thought it proper to state that he was now done, and he gave her fair warning that henceforth she must fig/st lies OWlS BATTLES! A VENERABLE lawyer in Connecticut writes to tIme Drawer: Years ago, before my head was silvered oer with gray, I filled the responsible office of a law- yers clerk. One fifth of July, hearing a hasty step approaching through the long hall that led to the office of the good lawyers N and F, in which I was employed, and seeing the ever-smiling coun- tenance of Sheriff B peering in the open door- way, inquiringly, Come in, said I, coin em. All alone, eh? Yes, Sir; please be seated. Thank you. There is a man coming in pres- ently; answer all his questions, and But here he is. This, Sir, said he, addressing the gentleman is the lawyer I was speaking of. lie is gentleman- lv, smart, and, above all, a good lawyer. He will answer your questions. While he was speaking I had scrutinized my client closely. A more striking figure one seldom encounters. A pliiz thickly studded with a stiff, unshaven beard, gray and rough, a pair of eves that peered like two balls of ice from under the folds of the dark matted hair that hung down over his nar- row forehead, with a mouth wide and overshadowed by an upper lip of a thickness that defies belief, and this surmounted by a nose that reminded inn of the sentence in our good old geography, A promontory is a high point of land extending into the sea; and the red pimple on the end of it furnished the re- mainder of the paragraph, upon the extremity of which is often built a light-house. I need not de- scribe his dress; for when I say twas a snuff-colored countrymans suit it will be enough. As he made his bow he commenced drawing off his coat when, suddenly recollecting himself; he drew it on, and motioned me to go with him into the hall, that he might not be overheard. Mr. LawverI now smelled his breath, and noticed other tokens of intoxication yesterday I bought a ticket to go hum; nowhicthasahl right, haint it? Certainly, said I, just beginning to enjoy it with Sheriff B , whom I could see in the office laughing heartily to himself. Waal, I lost the foresaid ticketthasahl right, I spose? I nodded my head. Now the railroad ought ter take me hum.-dye think they will? I expressed my doubts. Then his cold eyes 136 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. fired up and darted among the dangling locks like fire-flies in a woodland copse. Then flax round here! Make out a writ, and well tach the train! IN the Revolutionary ,Var Robinsons Captain company of militia was captured in Virginia by Col- onel Simcoe, and were informed that they would all he paroled. One of the men went to a noted wag in the neighborhood, by the name of flicksfrom whom Hicksford, Virginia, is namedand asked him what kind of a death it was they were to be put to, to he paroled. Hicks took the idea, and told the poor fellow it was the most horrid of all deaths in the world. They were to be put into a hogshead with spikes driven through it, and rolled down-hill till they were dead. The frightened soldier went hack to the Colonel, and begged that their punish- ment might be changed to something more merciful than being paroled. ON the first night that Cooper performed on the Cincinnati boards the following amusing variation was unwittingly introduced into the play, which was Othello. Among a large audience composed of every description of people was a country lass. Now the innocent 1~eggy had never before set foot within the play-house. She entered just as Othello makes his defense before the Duke and Senate of Venice. The audience were unusually attentive to the play, and Peggy was permitted to walk in the lobby until she arrived at the door of the sta~e- box, when some one handed her in without with- drawing his eyes from the play; while her beau, a country boy, was compelled to remain in the lobby. Miss Pegg stared about her for a moment, as if won- dering if she were in the proper place, till casting her eyes on the stage she observed several chairs which were unoccupied. Perhaps this circumstance alone would hardly have determined her to take the step she did, hut she observed that the people on the stage appeared more at ease than those among whom she was standing, and withal more sociable; and as fate would have it, just at that moment Othello, looking nearly toward the place where she was sit- uated, exclaimed, Here comes the lady ! The Senators half rose in the expectation of seeing the gentle Desdemona appear, and Othello advances two steps to meet her, when, lo! the maiden from the country steps from the hox plump on the stage and advanced toward the expectant Moor! It is heyond human power to give any idea of the confusion that followed. The audience clapped and cheered, the Duke and Senators forgot their dignity, while poor Peggy was ready to sink with consternation. Even Cooper himself could not refrain from joining in the general merriment. The uproar lasted for several minutes, until the gentleman who handed her into the hox helped the blushing girl out of her unpleas- ant situation. It was, however, conceded on all hands that a lady never made her d6but on the stage with more & lat than Miss Peggy. MINIsTECs love a joke sometimes; and a West- ern correspondent sends us the best one we have read in many a day: I would like to tell you a short story, Mr. Drawer, that will prove that even the best of min- isters love fun, even if it should raise a laugh on an earnest, eloquent, little dominie whose burning words and noble life have accomplished much for Christs cause in the i,~Test I was spending the night in a hotel in Freeport, Illinois. After breakfast I came into the sitting- room, where I met a pleasant, chatty, good-humored traveler, who, like myself, was waiting for the morn- ing train from Galena. We conversed freely and pleasantly on several topics, until seeing two young ladies meet and kiss each other in the street, the conversation turned on kissisig, just about the time the train was approaching. Come, said he, taking up his carpet-hag, since we are on so sweet a subject, let us have a practical application. Ill make a proposition to you. Ill agree to kiss the most beautiful lady in the cars from Galena, von being the judge, if you will kiss the next prettiest, I being the judge. The proposition staggered me a little, and I could hardly tell whether he was in earnest or in fun; hut as he would he as deep in it as I could pos- sibly he, I agreed, provided he would do the first kissing, though my heart failed somewhat as I saw his black eye fairly sparkle with daring. Yes, said he, Ill try it first. You take the back car, and go in from the front end, where you can see the faces of the ladies, and you stand by t.he one you think the handsomest and Ill come in from behind and kiss her. I had hardly stepped inside the car when I saw at the first glance one of t.he loveliest looking women my eve ever fell on. A beautiful blonde, with au- burn hair, and a bright, sunny face, full of love and sweetness, and as radiant and glowing as the morn- ing. Any further search was totally unnecessary. I immediately took my stand in the aisle of the car by her side. She was looking out of the window earnestly, as if expecting seine one. The back door of the car opened and in stepped my hotel friend. I pointed my finger slyly to her, never dreaming that he would dare to carry out his pledge; and you may imagine my horror and amazement when he stepped up quickly behind her, and, stooping over, kissed her with a relish that made my mouth wa- ter from end to end. I expected of course a shriek of terror, and then a row generally, and a knock-down; hut astonish- inent succeeded astonishment when I saw her re- turn the kisses with compound interest. Quick as a flash he turned to me, and said, Now, Sir, it is your turn; pointing to a hideously ugly, wrinkled old woman who sat in the seat be- hind. Oh, you must excuse me! you must excuse me! I exclaimed. Im sold this time. I give up. Do tell me who you have been kissing. Well, said he, since you are a man of so niuch taste, and such quick perception, Ill let you off. And we all burst into a general peal of laugh- ter as he said, This is my wife! I have been waiting here for her. I knew that was a safe prop- osition. He told the story to his wife, who looked ten- fold sweeter as she heard it. Before we reached Chicago we exchanged cards, and I discovered that my genial companion was a popular Episcopalian preacherof Chicago whose name I had frequently heard. Whenever I go to Chicago I always go to hear him, and a heartier, more natural, and more eloquent preacher it is hard to find. He was then but a young man; he is now well known as one of the ablest divines of the Episcopal denominatiou in the West. EDITORS DRAWER. 137 HcxTz, who is slightly blacker than the ace of spades, enjoyed last session the enviable position of waiter to a table of boarding-school ladies, among whom one bright particular star, Lizzie C, com- manded his best services. His fellow-servants soon rallied him upon his devotion; and Richmond in- formed him, in a taunting manner, that his lips were so thick that Miss Lizzie could ride upon them to Memphis. -ldt retorted ~entz, Judeed no, she ~~oun, quick lv, for I would just laugh and spill her off! And Rich was silenced, if not conviuced. Ix 1859 the steamer Messenger left New Or- leans with banners flying, music sweet, and smoke plenty, for Camden, on the Ouacbita River. She was crowded with passengers, and among them was mine frient, Mr. Stewart. Now he was one of thosefeze who were happy in the enjoyment of any good thing, provided some oun else paid the piper. On this occasion he had an opportunity of enjoying this idiosyncrasy, as he supposed, free from annoy- ance. Never did the hand play without our appre ciating audicuce. Night or day Stewart was by them. - Now it so fell out by the way that there was a witty gentleman on board named Traylor, who, be- ing somewhat disgusted with the conduct of the aforesaid Stewart, and giving the wink to officers and passengers, approached S., paper in hand, and thus accosted him: Well, Mr. Stewart, I am now making up money to pay the band. They have enlivened the otherwise monotonous trip hv their cheering music, a?nd hav- ing faithfully performed their duty, we wish to do ours toward themcome, lets have a quarter. Who, Mr. Traylor, who give a quarter? Not me; for I had nothing to do with hiring them. True, you did not; but you have enjoyed their VOL. XXV.No. 145.~I* musicnone betterand you certainly do not be- grudge the two bits. Look here, Mr. Traylor, youre jokin; for I never did like music. Oh, of I liked music, Id be first to pay; for I aint in favor of a fellers hearin a thing he likes thout payin for it. But why did you hang round the players if you did not like their music? Me! DidIs-t-a-u-d round em? Well, yes, a isetle; but not to hear them ternal horns. / t/iout J ks~owed one of (sss; but I wasnt listuing. No, Sir; I dislike music. Its only two bits, Mr. Stewart, persisted his tormentor. Stewarts face grew red, his eves swam in tears, and in the fullness o~ the soul be exclaimed, Ive paid my lOs. passage-money, and Ill go to Captain Kirk, and of I have that tax to pay hell lose 250 bales next year sartain! And in deep despair ho ascended to the Captains deck. Captain Kirk was posted, and loving a good one, put on a grave look while Stewart told his wrongs, in a nasal tone full of agony. Well, said the Captain, I have nothing to do with the boats finance; maybe the clerk will help you out. On the arrival of Stewart at the clerks office a crowd of passengers stood awaiting his return. At the ball door he was met by Travlor, who kindly led him to the hamsters, and holding a five-cent piece over the water exclaimed, Now, Stewart, is your chance! But before the invitation to jump over- board for a five-cent was concluded Stewart bolt- ed, amidst the prolonged laughter and jeers of the crowd. During the remainder of the trip he kept hie room and when he left the steamer at his own land- ing two cheers were extended to the man who didnt like music. Stewart is very wealth~, but to this day he feels like leaving when music is spoken of. / I/f N 138 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. DURING the last political war a certain John Toppin, but who is generally known by the name of Judge Toppin, became a candidate for the office of Coroner of New Castle County, and employed a simple country fellow to distribute his bills. Among other places, he sent him to the county town (New Castle). In due time Tom Wilson returned, and, upon being questioned by his employer, alleged that he had put up a bill in each hotel in the place, naming at the same time the landlords, calling one Pushs Tavern. Why, remarked the Judge, there is no one of that name that keeps tavern in New Castle! Yes, there is, replied Tom, for I seen his name painted ~n the door. DR. FOWLER, of Boston, was up in Exeter deliv- ering a lecture on his hobby of a science. Among his audience was Bill Strothers, a wag, who has a habit of stuttering that makes even his dull speeches comical. In the midst of his lecture Dr. Fowler was driving away at his opponents, and exclaimed, When doctors differ, who shall decide ? Pausing emphatically, as if waiting for an an- swer, Bill broke the silence by crying out, L-l-leave it to a in-in--man of s-s-sense The Doctor left off shortly, for the audience evi- dently preferred to hear Bills referee. Tsw following inscription is copied from a tomb- stone in the old burying-ground at Augusta, Maine: Here lies, till the general resurrection, William, son of Henry and Tabitha Sewall, who, after nine days vio- lent seizure of a canker rash, calmly resigned his infant life tothe King of Terrors, June 17, 1787, aged five months and seventeen days. He cometli forth like a flower, and is cut down. THERE was a public sale of cigars at the auction house of Messrs. Flint, in Front Street. The auc tioneer was dwelling on one of the finest lots of im- ported, and according to custom was passing a brand among the company to allow those who saw proper to judge of the quality by smoking. A man near me, with a florid complexion, curved nose, bright black eves, and withal rather a respectable repre- sentation of the used-up man of the world who had not abused himself much, took two of the last-three; the remaining one being handed to me. With the greatest care he wrapped them in a piece of paper, and placed them in the watch-pocket of his vest. I inspected the one I took, cut off the end, and was about reaching for a light when a hand tapped me lightly on the shoulder. Turning, I beheld my red- faced friend smiling very graciously, and holding out his hand he asked, with the utmost politeness, Will von allow me to look at that ci~ar, Sir? Certainly, Sir, I replied, handing it to him. lie examined it very minutely, turning it over and over, placing it occasionally to his nasal organ by way of variety. When my patience was nearly exhausted and I was about demanding it of him, he reached for a candle, placed the cigar complacently between his lips, and commenced* light and smoke it with the greatest expression of sattsfactjon I ever saw pictured on a countenance. I must confess I felt somewhat ruffled; but determined to show him that I did not appreciate his ~ good joke, I turned my back to him, and endeavored to devote my atten- tion to the sale. To my astonishment my pleasant neighbor again touched me on the shoulder. I met his gaze with any thing but pleasure depicted on my countenance. Sir! said I. He smiled, and looking me full in the face all the time, remarked, with a patronizing air that made me almost feel as if I was guilty of rudeness toward him, A very fine cigar, Sir. I havent smoked a tUlii, I iL,L~IfI~iII N EDITORS DRAWER. 139 cigar like that in a twelvemonth, Sir. See what a beautiful ash! If I was buying cigars that would be the brand for me, Sir. Yes, Sir, said I, completely floored. And touching his hat with a Good-morning, Sir, he de- parted. I hastily inquired of several who he was, but none knew him; and as we can not tell how soon any of us may be short in these war times,I forgive him. ONE of my little twins said to me the other day (being not quite three years old), after some dispute with her brother to which I was not listening: Papa, papa! dont I wear a toat? Why, no, daughter; little boys wear coats. Yes, but I wear a toat. What, little girls wear coats! Yes, papa (and oh what a twinkle in her little eyes!), petti-tonts. Papa gave in instanter. Ma. DRAWERSome time during the first quarter of the present century it happened that, in that portion of the State of New York known as the Mohawk Valley, there lived a fine old well-to-do Dutch farmer, who took it into his head that at the place near his house where two ways met would be a good place for a tavern, and as he had always more cider and sauer-kraut than he could well get through with in his own family, thought it would be an ex- cellent way of turning the same into money to dis- pense it, with other appropriate condiments, to such as would no doubt patronize his house. The house was built, and himself and wife duly installed as host and hostess. Very soon the fame of their house and their fare spread far and wide, and the old gentleman sooner than he expected found himself on the high road to fortune and to fame. His popularity was unbound- ed, and his opinions on all subjects became the law mi in all that section, until at length his neighbors in- sisted upon his fitness to dispense justice as well as juleps, and accordingly elected him justice of the peace. Almost the first business in this line was the issue of a summons in behalf of one of his neighbors and patrons in an action of debt against a person living a few miles away, and who, it may be re- marked, was not either a patron of the landlord nor yet one of his constituents. We would not inti- mate that the decision in the case was at all affected by this fact: our duty is merely that of the histo- rian, and we will proceed with the story. On the parties appearing before the Justice he looked sternly at the defendant, and said, Sir, I am sorry that we should meet for the frst time under such painful circumstances. Sir. you are sued. Why, yes, Sir, the defendant replied. I be- lieve I am; but I shall hope to introduce witnesses who will swear Schtop, schtop! said the Justice. I will not have any schwearing in dish court, nor any tam lies neider. Vot did he sue you for if you didnt owe him? I gives shudgment for de blaintiff. Whereupon the Justice left his seat, simply in- marLking, De court ish done; ant I musht quick make dwenty chulips, ordered by de blaintiff just so quick ash the court wash done. IN a sginit of profound resignation, and making the best of their troubles, two newly-made widow- ers met for the first time after their affliction, to console each other. With a deep sigh, one of them said, Well tnay I bewail my loss, for I had so few differences with my dear wife, that the last day of my married life was as happy as the first. There I am ahead of you, my friend, said thc other, for the last day of mine was happier it (Wi/I 140 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. TnERE seems to be a propensity in all new countries to the use of intoxicating drinks. Kan- sas was no exception. One of our politicians was found at two oclock in the mornin~ in front of the hotel addressing the horse-post in the most earnest manner. Hallo, Smith, said the discoverer, what are you about? Hush, dont you see? This is Councilman Brown. Im arguing with him for a free ferry; hes a little c-corned and dont say nothing; but Ill talk him over, and itll be the making of Omaha. Captain Smith was not a regular soaker, and when he did take a drop too much disliked to own up. Being cau~ht in this way once, he started, as he said, for home. I saw him take the opposite di- rection, out into the prairie. I watched his winding course till he was almost lost in the distance, then started after him. Where are you going, Captain? I asked when I had overtaken him. Going? Im going home. But this is not the way. Theres your house. And I turned him square around, and showed him the light from the window. He straightened himself up, and putting on a look of the profoundest gravity, surveyed the posi- tion. I know that well enough, he said. I aint PERHAPS in no place in the world are there greater extremes of society shown than in Kentucky; cer- taimily none more elegant, intelligent, or refined, and perh PS none more crude and uncultivatedthough through all there runs the same generous hospitali- ty. And this difference seems to run coincident with the surface of the country. In those beautiful garden spots of Bourbon, Fayette, and Scott coun- ties you may with certainty depend on the finest society in the world. But pass iuto the hilly white oak regions of the rivers, and you equally know the people. It has been the custom, time out of mind for opposing candidates for office to canvass their district in company, and discuss together their is- sues before the people. In the good regions the candidates discuss principles, but in the white-oak they take other means of convincing or persuading the people. On one occasion two very distinguish- ed opposing candidates offered themselves for Con- gress from the same districtboth since deceased W. W. Southgate, Whig, and John W. Tihbatts, Democrat. Of course they canvassed together. Both were talented, accomplished, and witty, and both knew well how to please the people. Person- ally they were friends and relatives. In the intel- ligent districts they battled like intellectual giants. drunknot a bitI know the way; I just deviated a little to smoke out my cigar. EDITORS DRAWER. 141 In the poor regions they fired wit at each other, and made the people laugh. In one of these places they had been peculiarly happy in their remarks, and the people greatly enjoyed it. When they left, sentiment was about equally divided, and the even cry of Hurrah, Southgate ! Hurrah. Tibbatts! was shouted from the harmonious throats of even parties. Both candidates mounted their horses, and left together for their next appointment; but the people, determined to have a good time, remained to finish the enjoyment with a dance. As the op- posing aspirants slowly left the scene of mirth each longed for the finishing touch in moulding political sentiment, and each distrusted the other. When they had gone a mile, Tibbatts discovered he had left something at the meeting, and, asking South- gate to wait for him, rode back. Southgate, dis- trusting him, waited a while, and then als6returned where his suspicions were verified; for there ho found Tibhatts playing the fiddle, and the people dancing. Sentiment was all on one side; it was all Hurrah for Tibbatts 1 He had carried the day. (Both played with equal skill, but Tibbatts only left-handed.) Southgate, mortified at his loss, determined to regain his position. Making his ac- knowledgments, he told the people that with their leave he would play a second to his brother Tib- battss delightful music, and with a bow he played his best, and soon divided again the people. Throw- ing aside his violin, he remarked, ho hated fiddling, but by their leave he would join in the dance. In that he had no equal, and soon brought the unani- mous hurrabs for Southgate. He had triumph- ed, and Tibhatts was vanquished. Before filling their next appointment Southgate was taken sick, and Tibbatts, after waiting two weeks, continued his canvass alone. When recov- ered, Southgate followed. He found his rival had stolen the hearts of the people, and it was an up-hill business with poor Southgate. In one place, like that mentioned, Tibbatts had pleased them so well telling stories and jokes, and playing for them that they utterly refused to hear Southgate. They said Tibbatts was the man for them, that they-want- ed no better, and Southgate had better go home; they wouldnt vote for him, etc. He told them that Tibbatts was a dear friend and relative of his, and a noble fellowno better man was to he found (South- gate seems like an honest fellow, said they; let us hear him). And, fellow-citizens, said Southgate, if I cant go to Congress without abusing my dear friend Tibbatts, Ill stay at home forever. (Hurrah for Southgato! Good! He ought to go to Congress too.) Why, fellow-citizens! he is the most tal- ented man in Kentucky; and for accomplishments, he hasnt his equal in the world! (We know; we heard him; he played for us. Hurrah for Tibbatts!) But here, my friends, is one thing I can not ap- prove of in my dear brother: he plays better left- handed than most musicians with their right! But if you only heard him right-handed, he would bend the trees with his sweet tones. What I blame in him is, that when he is among nice people whom he likes he plays right-handed; but when he i~ among ignorant people for whom he has no regard. whom he thinks jackasses, he says any thing is good enough for them, and so he plays for them left-hand- ed ! (What! Why he played left-handed here! Does he mean to insinuate we are ignorant jackass- es? Du Tibbatts; away with him! Southgate is my man! Hurrah for Southgate! etc.) When the election came Tibhatts got hut sixteen votes in that precinct. REy. Da. 13 lately gave this pulpit notice: This congregation is respectfully invited to at- tend the funeral of the only surviring son of Mr. Thomas Miller, to-morrow, at two oclock r.ai. ~1.-~ -- -C;- / AFTER SUPPER. Miss Jones, will you favor ins for the next waltz ? I should be most happy, Mr. Brown; but Im fulL 142 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. J. B. M, a well-known brewer in a small way, near this city, writes a Philadelphia friend, never studied book-keeping, and bas always kept his accounts with his customers in chalk on the back of his shop door. A few days since, while out on business, his wife (careful body), in cleaning up, wiped them all out. He was in great trouble as to what he should do in the dilemma. Says she, Cant you remember the most of them? Try if you cant. He commenced, and put down a number of names with the amounts to each. Do you think, says she, you have charged them enough yet? I dont know about the enough, says he; but I have put down better mess, by a long shot, than I had there before. A YOUNG lady writes: Will you allow me to give you the correct version of a story which was spoiled one day by the process of insertion into your Drawer? I ought to know it, for, pars fui, I was a part of it; and, by the same token, I cant abear to see the only pun I ever perpetrated come to grief. Peduncks, indeed! What is the learned name for the foot-stalks of flowers, Cousin Mary? asked a young gentleman. Peduncles, was the reply. Oh, yes, said he, ped-uncles; I had forgotten what kind of uncles they are. They are ped-uncles, said his cousin; but it isnt of much consequence, for only ped-aunts call them so! HERE followeth a story for the Drawer, whereof the hero is a four-year-old Iowan. Little Owie was saying his prayers one night during his fathers absence, and his mother suggest- ed, at the close, this additional petition: God bless dear papa, and bring him safe home. God bless dear papa, the youngster repeated, and, mamma, why cant papa come home in the stage ? The re- quisite instructions were given, but were, probably, not fully understood, fo5 the next night, he added, of his own accord, God bless dear papa, bring him safe home, and leave the stages behind Two little girls had gone to sleep, as usual, in the same bed. Sarah had pushed and kicked in her sleep till Mary was almost driven out. She called, Sarah, lie along, youve crowded me clear on to the edge of the bed. Sarah was half asleep, and fretted out, Cant you stick and hang till morn- ing ? Oh yes! Its all very well to say Excuse me; but when a mans covered with ice cream and jelly, and things that wont brush off, and has a partner engaged far the German, its confounded hard to grin, and say, Its no conse. quence. ~d~jinwi fur ~nnt~. Furnished 6y Mr. G. BRODIE, 300 Ganal Street, New York, and drawn 6y YoIGT from actual articles of Gostwne. J~IGURE 1.BRIDAL TOILET. V K N K -I

Fashions For June 143-144

~d~jinwi fur ~nnt~. Furnished 6y Mr. G. BRODIE, 300 Ganal Street, New York, and drawn 6y YoIGT from actual articles of Gostwne. J~IGURE 1.BRIDAL TOILET. V K N K -I 144 hARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. IIE BRIDAL TOILET is quite simple, the chief The principal feature of the UNDRESS COSTUME k I. trimming heing composed of a herthe and ioops the jacketan article the popularity of which seems of pearl heads and flowers. The wreath is of orange- to increase instead of diminishing. This is composcd flowers, with white moss-rose huds. These are also of mauve-colored merino, with a passameeterie of arranged in clusters on the shoulders and scarf, which velvet. The lace frill is a marked characteristic of is of white taffeta. The dress is also of taffeta. the one which we present. FIGURE 2.UNDRESS COSTUME.

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Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 25, Issue 146 International monthly magazine Harper's monthly magazine Harper & Bros. New York July, 1862 0025 146
J. Ross Browne Browne, J. Ross Flying Trip Through Norway 145-162

HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. CXLVI.JULY, 1862.VOL. XXV. A FLYING TRIP THROUGH NORWAY. FIRST PAPER. XTOT on the wings of the wind, or in a hal- manner of my tour. Of late years, such arc IN loon, as you may naturally suppose. The the facilities of travel throughout the civilized title has reference to the hurried and cursory I world, that nothing short of a journey through Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by harper and Rothers, in the Clerks Office of the Dis- trict Court for the Southern District of New York. Vot. XXV. No. 146.K 115 ]5OItSELALND. 146 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the deserts of Africa, an expedition to the North Pole, or an attempt to reach the moon by a new route, can be regarded as an achievement wor- thy of particular note, unless it be attended by circumstances of unusual personal interest. To be a lively and entertaiuing tourist is the high- est eminence to which a moderately ambitious man can aspire. Even that is beyond the aim of my present narrative. After twenty years experience of travel by laud and sea, I now frank- ly admit that the governing motive of my wan- derings is to get out of oue country and through another with the least possible delay. The inci- dents and impressions gathered up in the course of such a harum-scarum career are, at best, no- thing more than the husks and burs that stick to the coat of a merry vagabond who lies down in a haystack by the road-side to pass the night, and goes ~vhistling on his way in the morning for lack of thought. As such, these rough notes of Norwegian adventure are offered to the reader. Last year we had the pleasure of a ramble to- gether among the silver mines of Washoe. I dont know how it may be with others, but, for my part, I got enough of that. An agency that deals exclusively in paper, and corresponds on long credits, is not a lucrative investment of time and labor. Failing to dispose of my Wa- shoe stocks in Frankfort-on-the-Maiue, I pro- ceeded, in a very depressed state of mind, on a pedestrian tour through Germany, in the hope of being able to walk away from the disappoint- ment. But here again was a new trouble. There is not a state in Germany large enough to hold a man of active disposition. It is utter- ly impossible for a Californian to spread out in such a complicated and thickly-settled coun- try, where every way that he wishes to go is a VERBOTENER WEG. A few weeks experi- ence of police regulations, forbidden ways, cere- monies, and restrictions filled my mind with horrible sensations of law and order. I felt like one who was going about on his parole, but liable at any moment to commit some crime against his will. My joints began to creak, and a thick rust was gathering all over me, when, in sheer desperation, I broke away, and made a dash down through France, Spain, and Portu- gal. A whirl through Algeria restored the cir- culation of my blood; and during the present summer I refreshed myself by a glance at the steppes of Russia from the Kremlin of Moscow, and disposed of Esthonia and Finland in a couple of weeks. A dreary pilgrimage of eight days through Sweden brought me to Gottenburg, where, for the first time since my arrival in Eu- rope, I really began to enjoy life. Not that Gottenburg is a very lively or fascinating place, tbr it abounds in abominations an(I smells of fish, and is inhabited by a race of men whose chief aim in life appears to be directed toward picklca herring, mackerel, and cod-fish. There was much in it, however, to remind me of that home-land on the Pacific for which my troubled heart was pining. A grand fair was going on. All the peasants from the surrounding country were gathered in, and I met very few of them, at the close of evening, who were not reeling drunk. Besides they chewed tobaccoan ad- ditional sign of civilization to which I had long been unaccustomed. At Gottenburg, in the absence of something better to do, I made up my mind to visit Nor- way. The steamer from Copenhagen touches on her way to Christiania. She has an unpleas- ant habit of waking people up in the middle of the night; and I was told that if I wanted to make sure of getting on board I must sit up and watch for her. This is abominable in a mercantile community; but what can be expected of a peo- ple whose noblest aspirations are wrapped up in layers of dried cod-fish? By contract with the Kelluer at my hotel the difficulty was finally ar- ranged. For the sum of two marks, Swedish currency, he agreed to notify me of the approach of the Copenhagen steamer. I thought he was doing all this solely on my account, but after- ward discovered that he had made contracts at a quarter the price with about a dozen others. It was very late in the night, or very early in the morning, when I was roused up, and duly put on board the steamer. Of the remainder of that night the least said the better. A cab- inful of sea-sick passengers is not a pleasant subject of contemplation. When the light of day found its way into our dreary abode of mis- cry I ~vent on deck. The weather was thick, and nothing was to be seen in any direction but a rough, chopping sea and flakes of drifting fog. A few doleful-looking tourists were searching for the land through their opera-glasses. They appeared to be sorry they ever undertook such a stormy and perilous voyage, and evidently had misgivings that they might never again see their native country. Some of them peeped over the bulwarks from time to time, with a faint hope, perhaps, of seeing something new in that direc- tion; but from the singular noises they made, and the convulsive motions of their bodies, I had reason to suspect they were heaving some very heavy sighs at their forlorn fate. The waiters were continually running about with cups of coffee, which served to fortify the stomachs of these hardy adventurers against sea-sickness. I may here mention as a curious fi~ct, that in all my travels I have rarely met a sea-going gentle- man who could be induced to acknowledge that he suffered the least inconvenience from the mo- tion of the vessel. A headache, a fit of indi- gestion, the remains of a recent attack of gout, a long-standing rheumatism, a bilious colic to which he had been subject for years, a sudden and unaccountable shock of vertigo, a disorgan- ized condition of the liversomething, in short, entirely foreign to the known and recognized laws of motion disturbed his equilibrium; but rarely an out-and-out case of sea-sickness. That is a weakness of human nature fortunately con- fined to the ladies. Indeed, I dont know what the gentler sex would do if it were not for the kindness of Providence in exempting the ruder portion of humanity from this unpleasant accom A FLYING TRIP THROUGH NORWAY 147 panisnent of sea-life, only it unfortunately hap- pens that the gentlemen are usually afflicted with some other dire and disabling visitation about the same time. Toward noon the fog broke away, and we sighted the rocky headlands of the Christiania Fjord. In a few hours more we were steaming our way into this magnificent sheet of water at a dashing rate~ and the decks were crowded with a gay and happy company. No more the pangs of despised love, indigestion, gout, and bilious colic distnrbed the gentlemen of this lively par- ty; no more the fair ladies of Hamburg and Copenhagen hid themselves away in their state- rooms, and called in vain to their natural pro- tectors for assistance. The sea was smooth; the sun shot forth through the whirling rain-clouds his brightest August beams. All along the shores of the Fjord, the rocky points, jutting ab- ruptly from the water, rose like embattled tow- ers, crowned with a variegated covering of moss, grim and hoary with the wild winds and scath- ing winters of the north. Beautiful little val- leys, ravines, and slopes of woodland of such rich and glittering green opened out to us on either side, as we swept past the headlands, that the vision was dazzled with the profusion and variety of the charms bestowed upon this wilder- ness of romantic scenery. A group of fisher- incas huts, behind a bold and jagged point of rocksa rude lugger or fishing-smack, manned by a hardy crew of Norskmen, rough and weath- er-beaten as the ocean monsters of their stormy coast, gliding out of some nook among the rocky inletshere the cozy little cottage of some well- to-do sea-captain, half fisher, half farmer, with a gang of white-headed little urchins running out over the cliffs to take a peep at the passing steamer, the frugal matron standing in the door, resplendent in her red woolen petticoat and fan- ciful head-dress, knitting a pair of stockings, or some such token of love, for her absent lord there, a pretty little village, with a church, a wharf, and a few store-houses, shrinking back behind the protecting wing of some huge and rugged citadel of rocks, the white cottages glis- tering pleasantly in the rays of the evening sun, and the smoke curling up peacefully over the surrounding foliage, and floating off till it van- ished in the rich glow of the skyall so calm, so dreamy in colors and outline that the imag- ination is absolutely bewildered with the varied feast of beauties; such are the characteristic features of this noble sheet of water. The Christiania Fjord is one of the largest in Norway. Commencing at Frederikstad on the one side and Saudesund on the other, it ex- tends into the interior a distance of seventy or eighty miles, making one of the finest natural harbors in the world. The water is deep, and the shores are almost rock-bound. In many places the navigation is somewhat intricate, owing to the numerous rocky islands and rugged head- lands; but the Norwegian pilots are thoroughly experienced in their business, and know every foot of the way as familiarly as they know their own snug little cabins, perched up among the rocks. TUE bJ~EA~~ia~ iOa THE FJOED. 148 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Touching at the picturesque little town of Horten on the left, we discharged some passen- gers and took in others; after which we pro- ceeded without further incident to the town of Drobak on the right. Here the Fjord is nar- row, presenting something the appearance of a river. A group of fortifications on the cliffs protects this passage. The view on leaving Drobak is inexpressibly beautiful. The Fjord widens gradually till it assumes the form of an immense lake, the shores of which rise abruptly from the water, covered with forests of piue. Moss-covered rocks, green wooded islands, and innumerable fishing craft, give variety and ani- mation to the scene. Range upon range of wild and rugged mountains extend back through the dim distance on either side till their vague and fanciful outlines are mingled with the clouds. Nothing can exceed the richness and beauty of the atmospheric tints. A golden glow, mingled with deep shades of purple, illuminates the sky. In the distance the snowy peaks of the vast in- terior ranges of mountains glisten in the even- ing sun. The deep green of the foliage which decks the islands and promontories of the Fjord casts its reflected hues upon the surface of the sleeping waters. In the valleys, which from time to time open out as we sweep along on our way, rich yellow fields of grain make a brilliant and striking contrast to the sombre tints of the pine forests in the rear. It was long after sunset, but still light enough to enjoy all the beauties of the Fjord, when we saw before us the numerous and picturesque villas that adorn the neighborhood of Christiania. Passing the fine old castle of Aggershuus on the left, we rounded a point and then came in full view of the town and harbor. Surely there is nothing like this in the whole world, I thought, as I gazed for the first time upon this charming scene. The strange old- fashioned buildings, the castle, the palace on the hilltop, the shipping at the wharves, the gar- dens on every slope, the varied outlines of the neighboring cliffs and hills, covered with groves and green slopes of rich s~vard; every nook glimmering with beautiful villas ; the whole re- flected in the glowing waters that sweep through the maze of islands and headlands in every di- rection; can there be any thing more beautiful in all the world? The steamer was soon hauled alongside the wharf, where a crowd of citizens was gathered to see us land. Here again was a scene char- acteristic of Norway. No hurry, no confusion. no shouting and clamoring for passengers; hn! all quiet, primitive, and good-humored. How different from a landing at Nexv York or San Francisco! Three or four sturdy hack-drivers stood smoking their pipes, watching the proceed- ings wills an air of philosophical indifference tru- ly refreshing. Fathers, mothers, sisters, broth- ers, and cousins of various parties on board. waved their handkerchiefs and nodded affection- ately to their friends and relatives, but kept their enthusiasm within limits till the plank was put out, when they came on board and kissed and nugged every body of their acquaintance in the most affectionate manner. The officers of the customs, good easy souls! also came on board, rnz isLAnas. books in hand, and made a kind of examination of the baggage. It was neither severe nor form- al, and I felt an absolute friendship for the chief officer on account of the jolly manner in which he looked at me, and asked me if I had any thing contraband in my little knapsack. I of- fered to open it, but with a wave of his hand he chalked a pass npon it and I walked ashore. For the first time in my life I here felt the in- convenience of not being persecuted by porters and hack-drivers. The few who were on hand seemed to be particular friends or relatives of parties on board, and were already engaged. I walked up the queer, grass-grown old streets, looking around in the dim twilight for a hotel; and after stumbling into half a dozen odd-look- ing shops and store-houses, contrived to make my way to the Hotel Victoria, said to be the best in Christiania. As it is no part of my purpose to write a book on Christiania, I shall only say that for the next three days I rambled about enjoying all the ob- jects of interest in this quaint northern citythe churches, the museum, the castle, the palace, the ups and downs of the streets, the market- places, wharves, and gardens, and the magic beauties df the neighborhood. There is a plain- ness and simplicity about the people of Christi- ania, a good-humor of expression, a kindliness of manner and natural politeness that impressed me very favorably. The society is said to be genial and cultivated. I have no doubt of the fact, though my stay was too short to afford an opportunity of making many acquaintances. At the hotel Victoria I met Ole Bull, who A FLYING TRIP THROUGH NORWAY. 14b was on a tour through his native land. He sat near me at the table dhdte, and I had an oppor- tunity of noticing the changes which time has made in his appearance. The last time I had seen him was in Columbus, Ohio, in 1844. He was then in the very prime of life, slender and graceful, yet broad of shoulder and powerful of limb; with light straight hair, clear blue eyes. and a healthy northern complexion. He is now qnite altered, and I am not sure that I would have recognized him had he not been pointed out to me. In form he is much stouter, though not so erect as he was in former years. His hair is sprinkled with gray. He retains the samc noble cast of features, and deep, dreamy, and genial expression of eye as of old, but his com- plexion is sallow, and his face is marked by lines of care. There is something sad and touch- ing in his manner. I do not know what his misfortunes in America may have to do with his present dejected expression, but he seems to mc to be a man who has met with great disappoint- ments in life. Although I sat beside him at the table, and might have claimed acquaintance as one of his most ardent American admirers, I was deterred from speaking to him by something peculiar in his mannernot coldness, for that is not in his naturebut an apparent withdrawal from the outer world into himself. A feeling that it might be intrusive to address him kept me silent. I afterward sent him a few lines. expressing a desire to renew my early acquaint- ance with him; but he left town while I was absent on an excursion to the Frogner-assen. and, much to my regret, I missed seeing him. COAST OF NOaWAY. 150 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The population of Christiania is something over 40,000, and of late years it has become quite a place of resort for tourists on the way to the interior of Nor~vay. The houses built since the fire of 1858, which destroyed a considerable portion of the town, are large and substantial, built of stone and covered with cement. The streets for the most part are broad and roughly paved. Very little of characteristic style is ob- servable in the costume of the citizens. Plain- ness of dress, simple and primitive manners, and good-nature, are the leading traits of the Norwe- gians. Christiania is the modern capital of Norway, and was founded by Christian IV. of Denmark, near the site of the ancient capital of Osloc, which was founded in 1038 by King Harold Haardraade. Some of the old buildings still remain in a state of good preservation; but the chief interest of the city consists in its castle. university, library, and museum of northern an- tiquities. A traveler from the busy cities of America is struck with the quiet aspect of the streets, and the almost death-like silence that reigns in them after dark. In many places the sidewalks are overgrown with grass, and the houses are green with moss. Stagnation broods in the very atmosphere. Christiania is in all respects the antipodes of San Francisco. A Californian could scarcely endure an existence ia such a place for six reeks. He would go stark mad from sheer inanity. Beautiful as the scenery is, and pleasantly as the time passed during my brief sojourn, it was not without a feeling of relief that I took my departure in the cars for Eidsvold. The railway from Christiania to Eidsvold is the only one yet in operation in Norway. It was a pretty heavy undertaking, considering the rough character of the country and the limited resources of the people; but it was finally com- pleted, and is now considered a great feature in Norwegian civilization. Some idea may be formed of the backwardness of facilities for in- ternal communication throughout this country, when I mention the fact that beyond the dis- tance of forty miles to Eidsvold and the Lake of Miiisen, the traveler is dependent upon such ve- hicles as he takes with him, unless he chooses to incur the risk of procuring a conveyance at Ha- mar or Lillehammer. The whole country is a series of rugged mountains, narrow valleys, des- olate Fjelds, rivers, and Fjords. There are no regular communications between one point and another on any of the public highways; and the interior districts are supplied with such commod- ities as they require from the sea-board solely by means of heavy wagons, sledges, boats, and such other primitive modes of transportation as the nature of the country and the season may render most available. Like every thing else in Norway, the cars on the Eidsvold railway have rather more of a rus- tic than a metropolitan appearance. They are extremely simple in construction and rural in decoration; and as for the road, it may be very good compared with a trail over the Sierra Ne- vada Mountains, but it is absolutely frightful to travel over it by steam. Three hours is the allowance of time for forty miles. If I remem- ber correctly, we stretched it out to four, on ac ~rrzo~eu TO CmOSTIANLA. A FLYING TRIP THROUGH NORWAY. 151 count of a necessary stoppage on the way, caused by the tumbling down of some rocks from an overhanging cliff. The jolting is enough to dis- locate ones vertebue; and I had a vague feeling all the time during the trip that the locomotive would jump off the track, and dash her brains out against some of the terrible boulders of gran- ite that stood frowning at us on either side as we worried our way along from station to station. It was nearly dark when we came to a saw- mill by the roadside. The scenery is pretty all the way from Christiania, but not very striking till the train passes the narrow gorge in which the saw-mill is situated, where there is a tunnel of a few hundred feet that penetrates a bluff on the left. Emerging from this we are close upon the charming little village of Eidsvold, one of the loveliest spots in this land of beauty. A few minutes more brought us to the station-house, where the railway ends. Here we found our- selves at a good hotel, picturesquely situated on the hank of the Wormen, a river flowing from the Midsen Lake. At eleven oclock on a fine Sunday forenoon I took my departure from Eidsvold on board one of the little lake steamers. These vessels are well managed, and not inconveniently arranged, but they are so very small that on particular oc- casions, when there is an unusual pressure of travelers, it is difficult to find room for a seat. Owing to the facilities afforded by the railway from Christiania, an excursion to Lillehammer is the most popular way of passing a Sunday during the summer months; and this being the height of the season, the crowd was unusually great. It also happened that two hundred sol- diers, who had served out their time, were re- turning to their homes in the interior; so that there was no lack of company on hoard. If the soldiers were somewhat lively and frolicsome, it was nothing more than natural under the cir- cumstances. A good many were intoxicated at the idea, perhaps, of getting home once more; and their songs and merry shouts of laughter kept every body in a good humor. I am unable to account for a curious fact, which I may as well mention in this connection. Whenever the authorities of any country through which I chance to travel have occasion to send their troops from one point to another, they invaria- bly send them upon the same boat or in the same railway train upon which I have the for- tune to take passage. There must be something military in my appearance, or some natural pro- pensity for bloodshed in my nature, that causes this affinity to exist between us, for it has hap- pened altogether too often to be accidental. The King of Sicily, some years ago, sent a party of troops to keep me company to Palermo. Sub- sequently the King of Greece favored me with a large military convoy to one of the Greek isl- ands. After that I had an independent super- vision of various bodies of Turkish soldiers on board of different vessels within the Turkish do- minions. Recently Napoleon III. sent down by the same train of cars, from Paris to Marseilles, about four hundred of his troops for Algiers. Being detained at Marseilles by some unforeseen circumstance, I had the pleasure of seeing these men shipped off on the first steamer. I took passage in the next. By some extraordinary fatality, for which there is no accounting, there were upward of five hundred additional troops shipped on this vessel. It was a consolation to know that a storm was brewing, and that they would soon be all sea-sick. Before we got out of the Gulf of Lyons I could have slain every man of them with a pocket-knife. It was there- fore with a spirit of resignation that I saw the N,orwegian soldiers come on board at Eidsvold. Fate had ordained that we should travel togeth- er, and it was no use to complain. Besides, I liked their looks. As stalwart, blue-eyed, jovial, and hearty-looking a set of fellows they were as ever I saw in any countrymen of far higher intelligence and physical capacity than the aver- age of soldiers in Continental Europe. That these were the right sort of men to fight for their country there could be no doubt. I have rarely seen finer troops any where than those of Norway. The Mi6sen Lake is sixty - three miles in length, extending from Mmdc to Lillehammer, and varies in width from five to ten miles. The broadest part is opposite to Hamar, nearly at the centre, and not far from the Island of Hel- ge6. The shores embrace some of the finest farming lands in Norway; and after passing Minde the sloping hill-sides are dotted with pret- ty little farm-houses, and beautifully variegated with fields and orchards. In many places, so numerous are the cottages of the thrifty farmers hung in this favored region, that they resemble a continuous village, extending for many miles along the hill-sides. There is not much in the natural aspect of the country to attract the lover of bold mountain scenery. The beauties of the shores of Miiisen are of a gentle and pastoral character, and become monotonous after a few hours. Near Hamar, on the right, there are the ruins of an old cathedral, burned and plun- dered by the Swedes in 1567. Apart from the ordinary interest of the Mi6- sen Lake, arising from the quiet pastoral char- acter of its shores, it possessed a peculiar charm to me owing to the fact that, in 1755, when the great earthquake occurred at Lisbon, its waters rose twenty feet, and suddenly retreated. Only a few months previously I had visited the city of Lisbon, and stood upon the very spot wher% in six minutes, over sixty thousand souls had been buried beneath the ruins. I was now, so to speak, following up an earthquake. It was late at night when we arrived at the pretty little town of Lillehammer, at the head of the lake. Leaving the steamer here, I found myseif for the first time, beyond the limits of the English language. A Norwegian with whom I had become acquainted on board the boat was kind enough to walk up town with me and show me the way to the post station, where I had some difficulty in procuring accommodations, owing to the number of recent arrivals. 152 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The town of Lillehammer contains twelve or fifteen hnndred inhabitants, whose principal in- dnstry consists in the lumber business. Im- mense rafts are towed down the lake every day by the returning steamers, and carried by rail from Eidsvold to Christiania. The logs are drifted down the Logen River from the interior, and cut up at Lillehammer and Eidsvold. Such as are designed for spars are dressed and shipped at the latter place. There are many other points on the lake from which supplies of timber are also transferred to Christiania; so that between farming, fishing, and lumbering the inhabitants of this region make out a very comfortable sub- sistence, and generally own the lands upon which they reside. Many of them are wealthy for this part of the world. Lillehammer is prettily situated on an emi- nence, and consists of log and frame houses, presenting much the appearance of a Western lake village in the United States. The view of the Midsen and its verdant shores is very fine from the top of the hill. It was ten oclock at night when I arrived, although the sky was still lighted up with a purple glow from the departed sun. Something of the wonderful scenic beau- ties of the country were still visible. A party of French tourists, who had come to Norway to make a three days visit, set off at this late hour to see the torrent which breaks from the side of the mountain, about half a mile beyond the town. I was solicited to join them; but my passion for sight-seeing was rather obscured by the passion of hunger and thirst. At such times I am prac- tical enough to prefer a good supper to the best waterfall in the world. Waterfalls can be post- poned. Hunger must be promptly satisfied. Thirst makes one dry. A distant view of fall- ing water is a poor substitute for a glass of good ale. There is no fear that any ordinary cataract will run itself out before morning. This was my first experience of a post station, and very pleasant I found it. The inns of Nor- way are plain, cheap, and comfortable; not very elegant in appearance, but as good in all respects as a plain traveler could desire. I had a capital supper at Lillehammer, consisting of beef-steak, eggs, bread, butter, and coffeeenough to satis- fy any reasonable man. The rooms are clean, the beds and bedding neat and comfortable; and the charge for supper, lodging, and breakfast not exceeding an average of about fifty cents. At some of the interior stations I was charged only about twenty-five cents, and in no instance was I imposed upon. The innkeepers are so gener- ally obliging and good-natured that there is very little difficulty in getting along with them. A few words always sufficed to make my wants understood, and the greatest kindness and alac- rity were invariably shown in supplying them. But I anticipate my journey. After a pleasant nights rest I arose bright and early; and here being for the first time thrown completely upon my own resources in the way of language, was obliged to have re- course to my vocabulary to get at the means of asking for breakfast and a horse and cariole. Fancy a lean and hungry man standing before a substantial landlord, trying to spell out a break- fast from his book, in some such way as this: Jeg vil Spise [I will eat] Ya, mm Herr! the landlord politely an- swers. Jeg vil Frokost [I will breakfast] Yn, mm Herr; and the landlord runs off into a perfect labyrinth of birds, fish, eggs, beef- steak, hot-cakes, and other luxuries, which the inexperienced traveler is vainly attempting to follow up in his book. In despair, he at length calls out: Ja! Ja !thats all right! any thing you say, my fine old gentleman! At which the landlord scratches his head, for he doesnt understand precisely what you have selected. Now you take your book and explain, slowly and systematically. Kaffee ~IEgg! Fisk! Ja. Sm6r og Brod ! Here the landlord is staggered, and scratches his head again. Sm6r he gets a glimmering of. but the bread stuns him. You try it in a dozen different ways broad, breyd, breed, brode, braid. At length a light flashes upon his mind. You want bread! Simple as the word is, and though he pronounces it precisely according to one of your own methods, as you suppose, it is difficult to get the peculiar intonation that ren- ders it intelligible. Ja ! And thus you lay the foundation of your breakfast; after which, having progressed so far in the language, there is no great difficul- ty in asking for a Heste og Cariole [a horse and cariole]. A little practice in this way soon enables the traveler to acquire a sufficient knowledge of the language for the ordinary purposes of communi- cation along the road. With a smattering of the German it comes very readily to one who speaks English, being something of a mixture between these two languages. I was really as- tonished to find how well I could understand it, and make myself understood, in the course of a few days; though candor obliges me to say that if there is any one thing in the world for which nature never intended me it is a linguist. I was in hopes of finding at Lillehammer a party of tourists bound over the Dovre Fjeld to Trondhjem, of whom I had heard in Christiania. In this I was disappointed. They had started a few days previously. An omnibus was advertised to run as far as Elstad, some thirty-five miles up the valley of Gudbransdalen, which would be so much gained on my route. It seemed, however, that it only ran whenever a sufficient number of passengers offeredso I was obliged to give ur that prospect. Nothing can be more characteristic of Nor- A FLYING TRIP THROUGH NORWAY. 153 wegian seclusion from the world than the rude means of inland communication hetween the principal cities. Here was a public highway between two of the most important sea-ports in the countryChristiania nnd Trondhjem without as much as a stage to carry passengers. Every traveler has to depend upon his own vehi- cle, or upon such rude and casual modes of con- veyance as he can find at the stations by the way- side. I asked the reason of this backward state of things, and was informed that the amount of travel is insufficient to support any regular stage line. The season for tourists lasts only about three months, and during the remainder of the year very few strangers have occasion to pass over the roads. In winterwhich, of course, lasts very long in this latitudethe whole coun- try is covered with snow, and sledges are alto- gether used, both for purposes of traveling and the transportation of merchandise from the sea- board. The products of the countrysuch as logs, spars, and boardsare prepared during these months for rafting down the rivers during the spring floods. Once, as I was told, an inter- prising Englishman had started a regular stage- line from Christiania to Trondhjem, in conse- quence of the repeated complaints of the traveling public, who objected to the delays to which they were subject; but he was soon obliged to discon- tinue it for want of patronage. When travelers had a convenient way of getting over they grum- bled at being hurried through, and preferred tak- ing the usual conveyances of the country, which afforded them an opportunity of enjoying the scenery and stopping wherever they pleased. People did not come all the way to Norway, they said, to fly through it without seeing any thing of its wonders and beauties. There was some philosophy in this, as well as a touch of human nature. It reminded me of the Frenchman in Paris who lived to be eighty years of age with- out ever leaving the city; when the King, for the sake of experiment, positively forbid him from doing so during the remainder of his life. The poor fellow was immediately seized with an inordinate desire to see something of the outside world, and petitioned so hard for the privilege of leaving the city, that the King, unable to re- sist his importunities, granted him the privilege; after which the man was perfectly satisfied, and remained in Paris to the day of his death. By reference to a copy of the laws on the sub- ject of post-travel, which I had procured in Christiania from a Mr. Bennet, I discovered that the system is singularly complicated and hazardous, as well as a little curious in some of its details. The stations are situated along the road about every eight or ten miles (counted in Norwegian by so many hours). Nothing that we would call a village is to be seen in any part of the interior, unless the few straggling farm- houses occasionally huddled together with a church in the centre may he considered in that light. The stations usually stand alone, in some isolated spot on the wayside; and consist of a little log or frame tavern, a long shambling stable, innumerable odds and ends of cribs, store-houses, and outbuildings, forming a kind of court or stable-yard; a rickety medley of old carts and carioles lying about basking in the sun; a number of old white-headed men smok- ing their pipes, and leathery-faced women on household duties intent, with a score or so of little cotton-headed children running about over the manure pile in the neighborhood of the barn, to keep the pigs company; here and there a strapping lout of a boy swinging on a gate and whistling for his own amusement; while cows. sheep, goats, chickens, and other domestic ani- mals and birds, browse, nibble, and peck all over the yard in such lazy and rural manner as would delight an artist. This is the ordinary Nor- wegian station. There is always a good room for the traveler. and plenty of excellent homely fare to eat. At some few places along the route the station- houses aspire to the style and dignity of hotels, but they are not always the best or most com- fortable. Then there are fast and slow stationsso called in the book of laws. At the fast stations the traveler can procure a horse and cariole without delayfifteen minutes be- ing the legal limit. At the slow stations he must wait till the neighborhood, for a distance of three or four miles perhaps, is searched for a horsesometimes for both horse and cariole. If he chooses to incur the expense he can send forward a Forbad, or notice in advance, requir- ing horses to be ready at each station at a speci- fied time; but if he is not there according to no- tice he must pay so much per hour for the de- lay. A day-book is kept at each of these pWt- houses, in which the traveler must enter his name, stating the time of his arrival and depart- ure, where he came from, his destination, how many horses he requires, etc. In this formida- ble book he may also specify any complaint he has to make against the station-holder, boy. horse, cariole, or any body, animal, or thing, that maltreats him, cheats him, or in any way misuses him on the journey; but he must take care to have the inn-keeper or some such disin- terested person as a witness in his behalf, so that when the matter comes before the Amtmand, or grand tribunal of justice, it may be fairly con- sidered and disposed of according to law. When the inn-keeper, station-holder, posting-master, alderman, or other proper functionary on the premises, fails to present this book and require the traveler to sign his name in it, be (the ar- rant violator of laws) is fined; but the traveler need not flatter himself that the rule does not work both ways, for he also is fined if he refuses or intentionally neglects to write his name in the said book. The number of horses to be kept at fast stations is fixed by law, and no traveler is te be detained more than a quarter of an hour, un- less in certain cases, when be may be detained half an hour. At a slow station he must not be detained over three hourssuch is the utmost stretch of the law. Think of that, ye Gotham- ites, who complain if you are detained any where 154 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. on the face of the earth three minutesonly de- tained three hours every eight or ten miles! But for delay occasioned by any insuperable im- pediment, says the Norwegian law-booksuch as a norm at sea, or too great a distance between the innsno liability is incurred on either side. A Philadelphia lawyer could drive six-aud-thirtv coaches-and-four, all abreast, through such a law as that, and then leave room enough for a Stockton wagon and mule-team on each side. Who is to judge of the weather or the distance between the inns? When the traveler holds the reins he is responsihle for the horse, but when the post-boy does the holding he, the said boy, is the responsihle party. Should any post-horse he ill-treated or overdriven, when the traveler holds the reins, so that, in the language of the law, the station-holder, inn-keeper, or two men at the next station can perceive this to be the case, the traveler shall pay for the injury ac- cording to the estimation of these men, and he shall not be allowed to be sent on until the pay- ment is made. The traveler pays all tolls and ferry charges. When the road is very hilly, or is in out-of-the-way districts where there are but few horses in proportion to the travel, and the distance hetween the stations is unusually long, or under other circumstances where the burden on the people obligated to find horses is evidently very oppressive, etc., it may be or- dered by the King, after a declaration to that ef- fect has been procured by the authorities, that payment for posting may be reckoned according to a greater distance, in proportion to the circum- stances, as far as double the actual distance. In addition to all these formidable regulations against which it seems to me it would be im- possible for any ordinary man to contendthe tariff fixes the price of posting for fast and slow stations in towns, and fast and slow stations in the country; the only difficulty being to find where the towns are after you get into them, or to know at what stage of the journey you leave them. The Amtmand, by letter to all the au- thorities, likewise requires the tariff to be hung conspicuously in all the inns; which tariff, says the law, is altered according to the rise and fall of provisions. When I came to study out all this, and con- sider the duties and obligations imposed on me as a traveler going a journey of three or four hundred miles; that I was to be subject to con- tingencies and liabilities depending upon the ele- ments both by land and sea; that serious re- sponsibilities fell upon me if I held the reins of the post-horse, and probably heavy risks of life and limb if the post-boy held them; that the inn- keeper, station-holder, alderman, or two men chosen miscellaneously from the ranks of society, were to judge of damages that might be inflicted upon the horse; that I must register my name in a day-book, and enter formal complaints against the authorities on the way about every ten miles; that the tariff might rise and fall five hundred times during the journey, for aught 1 knew, according to the rise and fall of provi- sions or the pleasure of the Amtmand; that con- spiracies might be entered into against me to make me pay for all the lame, halt, blind, and spavined horses in the country, and my liberty 5TATION-HOUSE~ LOGEN VALLEY. A FLYING TRIP THROUGH NORWAY. 155 restrained in some desolate region of the mount- ains; that I could not speak a dozen words of the language, and had no other means of per- sonal defense against imposition than a small pen-knife and the natural ferocity of my counte- nancewhen all these considerations occnrred to me, I confess they made me hesitate a little be- fore launching out from Lillehammer. However, the landlord of the post, a jolly and good-natured old gentleman, relieved my apprehensions hy providing such a hreakfast of coffee, eggs, beef-steak, fish, and hread, that my sunken spirits were soon thoroughly aroused, and I felt equal to any emergency. When I looked out on the bright hill-sides, and saw the sun glistening on the dewy sod, and heard the post-hoys in the yard whistling merrily to the horses, I was prepared to face the great Amt- mend itself. In a little while the horse and cariole designed for my use were hrought up hefore the door, and the landlord informed me that all was fertiq. Now, was there ever such a vehicle for a full- grown man to travel in? A little thing, with a hody like the end of a canoe, perched up on two lon~ shafts, with a pair of wheels in the rear; no springs, and only a few straps of leather for a harness; a hoard hehind for the skydskaarl, or post-hoy, to sit upon; and a horse not higger than a large mountain goat to drag me over the road! It was positively absurd. After enjoy- ing the spectacle for a moment, and making a hurried sketch of it, wondering what manner of man had first contrived such a vehicle, I hounced in, and stretched my legs out on each side, brac- ing my feet against a pair of iron catches, made expressly for that purpose. Fortunately I am a capital driver. If nature ever intended me for any one profession ahove all others, it must have heen for a stage-driver. I have driven buggies, wagons, and carts in California hun- dreds of miles, and never yet killed any body. Like the Irishman, I can drive within two inches of a precipice without going over. Usually, however, I let the horse take his own way, which, after all, is the grand secret of skillful driving. My baggage consisted of a knapsack, contain- ing a few shirts and stockings, a sketch-hook and some pencils, and such other trifling nick-nacks as a tourist usually requires in this country. I carried no more outside clothing than what com- mon decency required: a rough hunting coat, a pair of stout cloth pantaloons, and an old pair of hootswhich is as much as any traveler needs on a Norwegian tour; though it is highly recom- mended by an English writer that every traveler should provide himself with two suits of clothes, a Mackintosh, a portable desk, an India-rubber pi1lo~v, a few blankets, an opera-glass, a mos- quito-net, a thermometer, some dried beef, and a dozen boxes of sardines, hesides a stock of white bread and two bottles of English pickles. With a crack of the whip that must have astonished the landlord and caused him some misgivings for the fate of his horse and cariole, I took my departure from Lillehammer. Ahout half a mile beyond the town we (the skydskaarl, myselg horse, and cariole) passed the fallsa roaring torrent of water tumbling down from the m.ountain side on the right. Several extensive saw-mills are located at this point. The piles of lumber outside, and the familiar sounds of the saws and wheels, reminded me of home. The scene was pretty and picturesque, hut rather dis- figured by the progress of Norwegian civiliza- tion. Passing numerous thriving farms in thc full season of harvest, the road winding pleas- antly along the hill-side to the right, the foam- ing waters of the Logen deep down in the val- ley to the left, we at length reached the entrancc of the Gudhransdalenthat beautiful and fertile valley, which stretches all the way up the course of the Logen to the Dovre Fjeld, a distance of a hundred and sixty-eight miles from Lilleham- mer. It would be an endless task to undertake a description of the beauties of this valley. From station to station it is a continued panorama of dashing waterfalls, towering mountains, green slopc5, pine forests overtopping the cliffs, rich and thriving farms, with innumerable log cot- tages perched up among the cliffs, and wild and rugged defiles through which the road passes, sometimes overhung by shruhhery for miles at a stretch. Flying along the smoothly-graded highway at a rapid rate; independent of all thc world except your horse and boy; the bright sunshine glimmering through the trees; the mu- sic of the wild waters falling pleasantly on your ear; each turn of the road opening out some- thing rich, new, and strange; the fresh mount- ain air invigorating every fibre of your frame; renewed youth and health heginning to glow upon your cheeks; digestion performing its func- tions without a pang or a hint of remonstrance; kind, genial, open-hearted people wherever you stopis it not an episode in life worth enjoying? The valley of the Logen must surely be a para- dise (in summer) for invalids. At each station the traveler is furnished with a stunted little boy called the skydskaarl, usu- ally clothed in the cast-off rags of his great- grandfather; his head ornamented hy a flaming red night-cap, and his feet either hare or the next thing to it; his hair standing out in every direction like a mop dyed in whitewash and yel- low ochre, and his face and hands freckled and sunburned, and not ve~y clean ; while his man- uels are any thing but cultivated. This re- markable boy sits on a board behind the car- iole, and drives it back to the station from which it starts. He is regarded somewhat in the light of a high puhlic functionary by his contemporary ragamuflins, haviogheen promoted from the fields or the barn-yard to the honorable position of skydskaarl. his countenance is marked hy the lines of premature care and responsibility, but varies in expression according to circumstances. The sum of four cents at the ~nd of an hours journey gives it an extremefy amiable and in- telligent cast. Some hoys are constitutionally knowing, and have a quick, sharp look; others 156 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. again are dull and stolid, as naturally happens wherever there is a variety of boys born of dif- ferent parents. For the most part, they are ex- ceedingly bright and lively little fellows. Mount- ed on their seat of honor at the back of the car- iole, they greatly enliven the way by whistling and singing, and asking questions in their native tongue, which it is sometimes very difficult to answer when one is not familiar with the lan- guage. I had at Moshuns a communicative little boy, who talked to me incessantly all the way to Ilolmen without ever discovering, so far as I could perceive, that I did not understand a sin- gle word he said. Another, after repeated ef- forts to draw me ont, fell into a fit of moody silence, and from that into a profound slumber, which was only broken off toward the end of our journey by an accident. The cariole struck against a stone and tilted him out on the road. He was a good deal surprised, but said no- thing. Another little fellow, not more than six or seven years of agea pretty fair-haired child was sent with me over a very wild and broken stage of the jours~~. He was newly dressed in a suit of gray frieze with brass buttons, and was evidently a shining light at home. On the road a dog ran out from the bushes and barked at us. The poor little skydskaarl was frantic with ter- ror, and cried so lustily that I had to take him into the cariole, and put him under my legs to keep him from going into fits. He bellowed all the way to the next station, where I endeavored to make the innkeeper understand that it was ous journey. The man laughed, and said, Ja! he is too little ! which was all I could get out of him. I felt unhappy about this poor child all day. On another occasion I had a bright, lively lit- tle fellow about twelve years of age, who was so pleased to find that I was an American that he stopped every body on the road to tell them this important piece of news; so that it took me about three hours to go a distance of seven or eight miles. There was a light of intelligence in the boys face that enabled me to comprehend him almost by instinct, and the quickness with which he caught at my half-formed words, and gathered my meaning when I told him of the wonders of California, were really surprising. This boy was a natural genius. He will leave his mountain home some day or other and make a leading citizen of the United States. Already he was eager to dash out upon the world and see some of its novelties and wonders. At Laurgaard I was favored with a small urchin who must have been modeled upon one of Hogarths pictures. He was a fixed laugh all over. His mouth, nose, ears, eyes, hair, and chin were all turned up in a broad grin. Even the elbows of his coat and the knees of his trow- sers were wide open with ill-concealed laughter. He laughed when he saw me, and laughed more than ever when he heard me tale Norsic. There was something uncommonly amusing to this little shaver in the cut of a mans jib who could not speak good Norwegian. All the way up the hill he whistled, sang lively snatches of song, joked with the horse, and when the horse nickered laughed a young horse-laugh to keel) him company. It did me good to see the rascal so cheery. I gave him an extra shil- ling at Bracudhangen for his lively spirit, at which he grinned all over wider than ever, put the small change in his pocket, and with his red night-cap in one hand made a dodge of hi~ head at me, as if snapping at a fly, and then held out his spare hand to give me a shake. Of course I shook hands with him. Shaking hands with small boys, however, is nothing uncommon in Norway. Every boy on the entire route shook hands with me. When- ever I settled the fare the skydskaarl invariably pulled off his cap, or if he had none, gave a pull at the most prominent bunch of hair, and holding forth a flipper, more or less like a lump of raw beef, required me, by all the laws of politeness, to give it a shake. The simplicity with which they did this, and the awkward kindliness of their manner, as they wished me a pleasant trip, always formed an agreeable episode in the days travel. I have shaken a greater variety of boys hands in Norwayof every size, kind, SlAilON aO~. A FLYING TRIP THROUGH NORWAY. 157 and quality, fat, lean, clean and dirty, dry and wetthan ever I shook all over the world be- fore. Notwithstanding the amount of water in the country, I must have carried away from Troudhjem about a quarter of a pound of the native soil. Be- Lween the contortions of body and limb ac- quired by a brief resi- dence in Paris, the bat- tering out of several hats against my knee in the process of bow- ing throughout the ci- ties of Germany, and the shaking of various boys hands on my trip through Norway, I con- sider that my politeness now qualifies me for any society. It must not be un- derstood, however, that I was always favored with the society of little boys. At one of the stations, which, for ob- vious reasons, it would be indiscreet to name, there was no boy visible except the ragamuffin who had accompanied me. He, of course, was obliged to return with the horse and cariole. Three white-headed old men were sitting on a log near the stable basking in the sun, and gossiping pleasantly about by-gone times or the affairs of stateI could not understand which. Each of these venentble worthies wore a red night-cap, which in this country answers likewise for a day-cap, and smoked a massive wooden pipe. It was a very pleasant picture of rural content. As I approached they nodded a smiling God Aften / and rose to unharness the horse. An elderly lady, of very neat appearance and pleas- ing expression, came to the door and bade me a kindly welcome. Then the three old men all began to talk to me together, and when they said what they had to say about the fine weather, and the road, and the quality of the horse, and whatever else came into their antiquated heads, they led the horse off to the stable and proceed- ed to get me a fresh one. While they were do- ing that the elderly lady went back into the house and called aloud for some person within. Presently a fine buxom young girl, about seven- teen years of age, made her appearance at the door. I flattered myself she wore rather a pleased expression when she saw me; but that might have been the customary cast of her feat- ures, or vanity on my part. At all events there was a glowing bloom in her cheeks, and a pene- trating brilliancy in her large blue eyes, won- derfully fascinating to one who had not recently looked upon any thing very attractive in the line of female loveliness. She was certainly a model of rustic beautyI had rarely seen her equal in any country. Nothing could be more lithe and graceful than her form, which was ad- vantageously set off by a tight bodice and a very scanty petticoat. A pair of red woolen stock- ings conspicuously displayed the fine contour of herankles I suppose is the conventional ex- pression, though I mean a great deal more than that. As she sprang down the steps with a light and elastic bound and took hold of the horse, which by this time the three old men were fumbling at to harness in the cariole, I unconsciously thought of Diana Vernon. She had all the daring grace and delicacy of the Scotch heroineonly in a rustic way. Seizing the horse by the bridle, she backed him up in a jiffy between the shafts of the cariole, and push- ing the old gray-heads aside with a merry laugh, proceeded to arrange the harness. Having paid the boy who had come over from the last sta GOOD-nyMANY THANKs! 158 HARPERS NEW MO~TIILY MAGAZINE. tion, and put my name and destination in the day-book, according to law, I refreshed myself by a glass of ale, and then came out to see if all was ready. The girl nodded to me smilingly to get in and he off. I looked around for the hoy who was to ac- company me. Nobody in the shape of a boy was to he seen. The three old men had returned to their log hv the stable, and now sat smoking their pipes and gossiping as usual; and the good-natured old landlady stood smiling and nodding in the door-way. Who was to take charge of the cariole? that was the question. Was I to go alone? Suppose I should miss the road and get lost in some awful wilderness? However, these questions were too much for my limited vocabulary of Norsk on the spur of the moment. So I mounted the eariole, resolved to abide whatever fate Providence might have iu store for me. Tbe girl put the reins in my hand and off I started, wondering why these good people left me to travel alone. I thought that they would naturally feel some solicitude about their property. Scarcely was I under way, when, with a hound like a deer, the girl was up on the cariole hehind, hanging on to the back ot the seat with both hands. Perfectly aghast with astonishment, I pulled the reins and stopped. What ! I exclaimed, in the hestNorsk I could muster is the Jonfru going with me? Ja ! answered the laughing damsel, in a merry, ring- ing voice Ja! Ja! .Jeq vii vise de Veien I I will show you the way ! Here was a predicament! A handsome young girl going to take charge of me through a per- fectly wild and unknown country! I turned to the old lady at the door with something of a re- monstrating expression, no doubt, for I felt con- fused and alarmed. How the deuce was I, a solitary and inexperienced traveler from Cali- fornia, to defend myself against such eyes, such blooming cheeks, such honeyed lips and pearly teeth as theseto say nothing of a form all grace and agility, a voice that was the very es- sence of melody, and the fascinating smiles and blandishments of this wild young creature! It was enough to puzzle and confound any man of ordinary susceptibility, much less one who had a natural terror of the female sex. But I sup- pose it was all right. The old lady nodded ap It .4LL1~)) i/ NORWEGIAN PEASANT FAMILY. A FLYING TRIP THROUGH NORWAY. 159 provingly; and the three old men smoked their pipes, and, touching their red night-caps, hid me Farrell meget god reise Ia pleasant trip! So without more ado I cracked the whip, and off we started. It was not nsy faultthat was certain. My conscience was clear of any had intentions. We were soon out of sight of the station, and then came a steep hill. While the pony was pulling and tugging with all his might, the girl bounced oft; landing like a wood-nymph ahout ~ix feet in the rear of the cariole; when, with strides that perfectly astonished me, she began to march up the hill, singing a lively Norwegian ditty as she sprang over the ruts and ridges of the road. I halted in amazement. This would never do. Respect for the gentler sex would not permit me to ride up the hill while so lovely a creature was taking it on foot. Governed hy those high principles of gallantry, augmented and cultivated hy long residence in California, I jumped out of the cariole, and with persuasive eloquence hegged the fair damsel to get in and (Irive up the hill on my account; that I greatly preferred walking; the exercise was congenial I liked it. At this she looked astonished, if not suspicious. I fancied she was not used to that species of homage. At all events she stoutly declined getting in; and since it was impossible for me to ride under the circumstances, I walked by her side to the top of the hill. A coolness was evidently growing up between us, for she never spoke a word all the way; and I was too busy trying to keep the horse in the middle of the road and save my breath to make any fur- ther attempts at conversation. Having at length reached the summit, the girl directed me to take my place, which I did at once with great alacrity. With another act- ive hound she was up hehind, holding on as be- fore with both hands to the back of the seat. Then she whistled to the horse in a style he seemed to understand perfectly well; for away he dashed down the hill at a rate of speed that I was certain would very soon result in utter de- struction to the whole party. It was awful to think of being pitched out and rolling down the precipice, in the arms perhaps of this dashing young damsel, who being accustomed to the road would doubtless exert herself to save me. Au! Reise! ]?eiseltravel! cried this ex- traordinary girl; and away we wentover rocks, into ruts, against roots and bushes; bouncing, springing, splashing, and dashing through mud- holes; down hill and still down; whirling past terrific pits, jagged pinnacles of rock, and yawn- ing gulfs of darkness; through gloomy patches of pine, out again into open spaces, and along the brinks of fearful precipices; over rickety wooden bridges, and through foaming torrents that dashed out over the roadthe wild girl clinging fast behind, the little pony flying along madly in front, the cariole creaking and rat- tling as if going to piecesmyself hanging on to the reins in a perfect agony of doubt whether each moment would not be our last. I declare, on the faith of a traveler, it beat all the dangers I had hitherto encountered summed up together. Trees whirled by, waterfalls flashed upon my astonished eyes, streaks of sunshine fretted the gloom with a net-work of light that dazzled and confounded me. I could see nothing clearly. There was a horrible jumble in my mind of black rocks and blue eyes, pine forests and flaming red stockings, flying clouds and flying petticoats, the roar of torrents and the ringing voice of the maiden as she cried, Flue! Gaael Reise I Fly! Go it! Travel ! Only one thought was uppermostthe fear of being dashed to pieces. Great Heavens, what a fate! If I could only stop this infernal little pony, we might yet be saved! But I dared not attempt it. The slight- est pull at the reins would throw him upon hi~ haunches, and cariole and all would go spinning over him into some horrible abyss. All this time the wild damsel behind was getting more and more excited. Now she whistled, now she shouted, Skynde pa IFaster! faster! till, fairly carried away by enthusiasm, she begged me to give her the whip, which I did, with a faint attempt at prayer. Again she whistled, and shouted Skynde palFaster! faster! and then she cracked the most startling and incom- prehensible Norwegian melodies with the whip, absolutely stunning my ears, while she shouted Gaael Flue! Reise IGo it! Fly! Travel! Faster and still faster we flew down the fright- ful hill. The pony caught the infection of en- thusiasm, and now broke into a frantic run. Faster! faster ! shrieked the wild girl in a paroxysm of delight. By this time I was positively beside myself with terror. No longer able to distinguish the flying trees, waterfalls, and precipices, I closed my eyes, and gasped for breath. Soon the fear- fiil bouncing of the cariole aroused me to some- thing like consciousness. We had struck a rock. and were now spinning along the edge of a mighty abyss on one wheel, the other perform- ing a sort of balanc6 in the air. I looked ahead, but there was neither shape nor meaning in the country. It was all a wild chaos of destructive elementstrees, precipices, red stockings, and whirling petticoatstoward which we were mad- ly flying. But there is an end to all troubles upon earth. With thanks to a kind Providence, I at length caught sight of a long stretch of level road. Al- though there were several short turns to be made before reaching it, there was still hope that it might be gained without any more serious dis- aster than the breaking, of a leg or an arm. Upon such a casualty as that I should have compromised at once. If this extraordinary creature behind would only stop whistling and cracking the whip, and driving the little pony crazy by her inspiring cries, I might yet succeed in steering safely into the level road; but the nearer we approached the bottom of the bill the wilder she became now actually dancing on the little board with delight, now leaning over to get a cut at the ponys tail with the whip, while she whistled more fiercely than ever, and cried 160 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. out, from time to time, Flee! Gaae! Reise ! Already the poor little animal was reeking with sweat, and it was a miracle he did not drop dead ou the road. However, hy great good fortune, aided hy my skill in driving, we made the turns, and in a few minutes more were safely jogging along the level road. Almost breathless, and quite hewil- dered, I instinctively turned round to see what manner of wild heing this girl hehind was. If you believe me, she was leaning over my shoul- der, shaking her sides laughing at meher spark- ling hine eyes now all ablaze with excitement; her cheeks glowing like peonies; her lips wide apart, displaying the most exquisite set of teeth I ever heheld; while her long golden tresses, bursting from the red handkerchief which served as a sort of crowning glory to her head, floated in wavy ringlets over her shoulders. liermosa! it was enough to thaw an anchorite! She was certainly very prettythere was no douht of that; full of life, overflowing with health and vitality, and delighted at the confusion and as- tonishment of the strange gentleman she had taken in charge. Can any hody tell me what it is that produces such a singular sensation when one looks over his shoulder and discovers the face of a pretty and innocent young girl within a few inches of his own, her beautiful eyes sparkling like a pair of stars, and shooting magic scintillations through and through him, hody and soul, while her hreath falls like a zephyr upon his cheek? Tell me, ye who deal in metaphysics, what is it? There is certainly a kind of charm in it, against whieb no mortal man is proof. Though naturally pre- judiced against the female sex, and firmly con- vinced that we could get along in the world much hetter without them, I was not altogether insensible to heauty in an artistical point of view; otherwise I should never have been able to grace the pages of HARPER with the ahove likeness of this Norwegian sylph. After all, it must he admitted that they have a way ahout them which makes us feel overpowered and irre- sponsible in their presence. Doubtless this fair damsel was unconscious of the damage she was inflicting upon a wayworn and defenseless trav- eler. Her very innocence was itself her chiefest charm. Either she was the most innocent or TuE rosr-GlRL. A FLYING TRIP THROUGH NORWAY. 161 the most designing of her sex. She thought no- to pass. Being the lighter party as well as Un- thing of holding on to my shoulder, and talked der obligations of gallantry, I at once gave way. as glibly and pleasantly, with her beaming face While endeavoring to make a passage the old close to my ear, as if I had been her brother or gentleman gruffly observed to the public gen- her cousin, or possibly her uncle, though I did crally, not exactly like to regard it in that point of What an excessively bad road view. What she was saying I could not con- Very! said I. jecture, save by her roguish expression and her Beastly! growled the Englishman. Abominable 1 said I. merry peals of laughter. Jeg kaa i/eke tale Norsie II cant speak Oh, you are an Englishman ? said the el Norwegianwas all I could say; at which she derly lady. laughed more joyously than ever, and rattled No, Madam an American, I answered, off a number of excellent jokes, no doubt at my with great suavity. helpless condition. Indeed, I strongly suspect- Oh, an American ! said the young lady, ed, from a familiar word here and there, that taking out her note-book; dear me, bow very she was making love to me out of mere sport interesting! though she was guarded enough not to make From California, I added, with a smile of any intelligible demonstration to that effect. pride. At last I got out my vocabulary, and as we How very interesting! exclaimed the young jogged quietly along the road, by catching a lady. word now and then, and making her repeat A great country, said I. what she said very slowly, got so far as to con- Gray, observed the elderly lady, in an un- struct something of a conversation. der tone, looking very hard at the girl, who was What is your name, skda Jumfru ? I asked. still standing on the little board at the back of Maria. was the answer. the cariole, and who coolly and saucily surveyed A pretty name; and Maria is a very pretty the traveling party Gray, is that a Norwegian girl. girl? She tossed her head a little scornfully, as Yes, Madam; she is my postillion, only she much as to say Maria was not to be fooled by rides behind, according to the Norwegian cus- flattery. tom. What is your name ? said Maria, after a Dear me! cried the young lady; how very pause. interesting Mine? Oh, I have forgotten mine. And dangerous, too, I observed. Are you an Englishman ? The elderly lady looked puzzled. She was No. thinking of dangers to which I had no reference. A Frenchman ? Dangerons ? exclaimed the young lady. No. Yes; she came near breaking my neck A Dutchman ? down that bill ; and here I gave the party a NoI am an American. brief synopsis of the adventure. I like Americans I dont like English- Devilish odd! growled the old Englishman. men, said the girl. impatiently. Good-day, Sir. Come, get up Have you a lover ? The elderly lady said nothing, but looked sus- Yes. picious. Are you going to be married to him ? Dear me ! exclaimed the young lady as Yes, in about six months. they drove off; how very This was the last I wish you joy. I heard, but I suppose she considered it interest- Thank you ! ing. The whole affair, no doubt, stands fully At this moment a carriage drawn by two recorded in her note-book. horses hove in sight. It was an English tray- The way being now clear, we proceeded on cling partyan old gentleman and two ladies, our journey. In a little while the station-housc evidently his wife and daughter. As they drew was in sight, and after a few minutes drive 1 near they seemed to be a little perplexed at the was obliged to part from my interesting compan- singular equipage before thema small horse, ion. At first I hesitated about proffering the nearly dead and lathered all over with foam, a usual fee of four shillings; but upon reflection cariole bespattered with mud; a dashing fine it occurred to me that I had no right to consider girl behind, with flaunting hair, a short petticoat, her any thing more than a post-boy. It was and a flaming pair of red stockings; myself in worth something extra to travel with one so the body of the cariole, covered from head to lively and entertaining, so I handed her double foot with mire, my heard flying out in every di- the usual allowance; at which she made a very rection, and my hair still standing on end from! polite courtesy, and greatly relieved my embar- the effects of recent frighta very singular spec- rassment by giving me a hearty shake of the tacle to meet in the middle of a public highway, hand and wishing me a pleasant journey. This even in Norway. The road was ~ery narrow at was the last I saw of my Norwegian Diana. She the point of meeting. It became necessary for is a young damsel of great beauty and vivacity, one of the vehicles to pull up the side of the not to say a little wild. I trust she is now hap- bill a little in order to allow room for the other pily married to the object of her affections. VOL. XXV.No. 146.L 162 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. SOCIAL STHETJCS. STANFORD GREY sat in his library talking with Daniel Tomes. Fast friends for years, these men were yet notably unlike. Grey, though a student, as every thing about him showed, had the air of a man of the world and the manner of society. His very tone of voice, though as nat- ural as the cry of a new-born child (and babies, especially girl babies, soon learn to cry affected- ly), told of culture. His face expressed reserve, and was so remarkably free from any look of self-assertion that you might have thought it weak until you found the mild gray eye looking steadily back into yours, and saw, as the mus- tache curled away from the mouth, how firmly the lips were set together; and then, if you had learned the art to know men, you would see that this man had a strong will, though no excess ~f energy, and was brimful of courage, though he lacked pugnacity. A temperament this which made its possessor very tolerant of others opin- ions, but very tenacious of his own. His dress, though simple and inexpensive, was selected with an eye to harmony of color and becoming- ness; though this was not noticeable until atten- tion was directed to it. The library in which he sat showed equally that the sense of the beauti ful pervaded his life. For although it was plain- ly his working-room, and a little Russia sewing- case and a cocoa-nut humming-top on a table in one corner gave evidence that it was invaded with impunity by at least one woman and one child, the prints upon the walls, the casts of an- tique statues standing wherever a nook could be made for them, the combination of rich, low- toned colors throughout the apartment, and the very placing of the books which nearly covered the walls, and which were not shelved hap-haz- ard, but arranged so that their various hues re- lieved and set off each the other, all bore evi- dence to the exacting and never slumbering taste of the occupant. In Daniel Tomes the observant eye detected at once a~ singularly well-balanced organization. A head not noticeably large, poised upon a strong, well-rounded neck, springing from broad shoulders, a deep chest, muscular limbs, and a stature little short of six feet, showed a man of vigor and endurance, one sure of long life, if he escaped accident and pestilential poison. His black hair curled closely over his well-rounded head. His lips were full and red; the upper bowed. The lower part of his oval face had a blue tinge, given by his heavy, closely shaven beard; for he wore not even whiskers. His nose neatly approached the Grecian modela form of the feature remarkably frequent in Americans of pure English blood. It was diffi- cult to see his eyes, because they were covered with spectacles; but they were dark, and had that slight prominence which phrenologists have reason for associating with copious gift of lan- guage. The spectacles were worn only to aid short sight; for both he and Grey lacked three or four years of forty; and yet, although Tomes was but a year the older, a certain gravity and staidness of bearing caused Grey always to feel young by the side of his friend, and to look to him for counsel as to an elder brother who had had ten years more experience of life. And yet Grey had one very important experience which Tomes had not; for the former had been married some years, while the latter was a bache- lor. Tomes was also plainly either indifferent to or incapable of the sense of beauty, which so penetrated the whole being of Grey. His man- ner was a strange mixture of shyness and self- confidence; his movements were made with twice as much muscular exertion as was neces- sary; his voice, though full and rich and strong, was so ill-modulated, except under the influence of that strong excitement which makes almost every man eloquent, that what he said often lost imich of its significance and weight; and his dress, although it cost twice as much as Greys, looked as if it were made up of parts of various suitswhich indeed it was; for to him a coat was but a coat, whatever its form, and a waist- coat but a waistcoat, whatever its color, and he wore his wardrobe promiscuously. With all this, he not only seemed, but was a man of mark among his acquaintances. His air was bold and, when he was roused out of the brown stud~ THE vzaus OF MILO.

Richard Grant White White, Richard Grant Social Aesthetics 162-178

162 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. SOCIAL STHETJCS. STANFORD GREY sat in his library talking with Daniel Tomes. Fast friends for years, these men were yet notably unlike. Grey, though a student, as every thing about him showed, had the air of a man of the world and the manner of society. His very tone of voice, though as nat- ural as the cry of a new-born child (and babies, especially girl babies, soon learn to cry affected- ly), told of culture. His face expressed reserve, and was so remarkably free from any look of self-assertion that you might have thought it weak until you found the mild gray eye looking steadily back into yours, and saw, as the mus- tache curled away from the mouth, how firmly the lips were set together; and then, if you had learned the art to know men, you would see that this man had a strong will, though no excess ~f energy, and was brimful of courage, though he lacked pugnacity. A temperament this which made its possessor very tolerant of others opin- ions, but very tenacious of his own. His dress, though simple and inexpensive, was selected with an eye to harmony of color and becoming- ness; though this was not noticeable until atten- tion was directed to it. The library in which he sat showed equally that the sense of the beauti ful pervaded his life. For although it was plain- ly his working-room, and a little Russia sewing- case and a cocoa-nut humming-top on a table in one corner gave evidence that it was invaded with impunity by at least one woman and one child, the prints upon the walls, the casts of an- tique statues standing wherever a nook could be made for them, the combination of rich, low- toned colors throughout the apartment, and the very placing of the books which nearly covered the walls, and which were not shelved hap-haz- ard, but arranged so that their various hues re- lieved and set off each the other, all bore evi- dence to the exacting and never slumbering taste of the occupant. In Daniel Tomes the observant eye detected at once a~ singularly well-balanced organization. A head not noticeably large, poised upon a strong, well-rounded neck, springing from broad shoulders, a deep chest, muscular limbs, and a stature little short of six feet, showed a man of vigor and endurance, one sure of long life, if he escaped accident and pestilential poison. His black hair curled closely over his well-rounded head. His lips were full and red; the upper bowed. The lower part of his oval face had a blue tinge, given by his heavy, closely shaven beard; for he wore not even whiskers. His nose neatly approached the Grecian modela form of the feature remarkably frequent in Americans of pure English blood. It was diffi- cult to see his eyes, because they were covered with spectacles; but they were dark, and had that slight prominence which phrenologists have reason for associating with copious gift of lan- guage. The spectacles were worn only to aid short sight; for both he and Grey lacked three or four years of forty; and yet, although Tomes was but a year the older, a certain gravity and staidness of bearing caused Grey always to feel young by the side of his friend, and to look to him for counsel as to an elder brother who had had ten years more experience of life. And yet Grey had one very important experience which Tomes had not; for the former had been married some years, while the latter was a bache- lor. Tomes was also plainly either indifferent to or incapable of the sense of beauty, which so penetrated the whole being of Grey. His man- ner was a strange mixture of shyness and self- confidence; his movements were made with twice as much muscular exertion as was neces- sary; his voice, though full and rich and strong, was so ill-modulated, except under the influence of that strong excitement which makes almost every man eloquent, that what he said often lost imich of its significance and weight; and his dress, although it cost twice as much as Greys, looked as if it were made up of parts of various suitswhich indeed it was; for to him a coat was but a coat, whatever its form, and a waist- coat but a waistcoat, whatever its color, and he wore his wardrobe promiscuously. With all this, he not only seemed, but was a man of mark among his acquaintances. His air was bold and, when he was roused out of the brown stud~ THE vzaus OF MILO. SOCIAL }ESTHETICS. 163 ies into which he was apt to fall, determined, al- most aggressive. He was just and benevolent, but not very considerate of others feelings. He looked as if he might have counseled Cromwell and fought beside him. Tomes had been making an argumentative onslaught npon his host, who was recovering himself with Very true, Tomes, but when the other broke out But, but; theres no but about it. There is no more connection bet~veen moral excellence and material beauty than there is between the appetizing inside and the forbidding outside of an oyster. They have nothing to do with each other; no relations of any kind whatever. A cock-pheasant is a handsome bird, and is good to eat; a canvas-hack duck is not handsome, bnt is better; a terrapin is hideous, but is best of all. It is just so with men. Their merit has nothing whatever to do with their appear- ance; and the least attractive are often the most worthy. GREY. Who disputes such truth as that? Not I, certainly. Pray let your man of straw rest without more demolishing. ToxEs. You may not dispute it by word, but you do by deed. There is not an act that you perform, or an article with which you pro- vide yourself, which is not a silent assertion of the cardinal point of your faith, that the good and the beautiful are coexistent if not the same. WhyLet me see your watch.There, thats a thing for a man of sense like you to carry, when the only reasonable object you can have in car- rying it is the service it can render you; for you carry it concealed, and neither you nor any one else sees it but for the moment when you con- sult it. A thin, wafer-like gimcrack, that it must cost you a good part of your income to keep in any sort of order. Why not carry some- thing like this ?There, that belonged to my father before me; and it was the best one that money could buy in England. It looks like what it is: substantial, solid, serviceable. GREY. Illustration unhappily chosen, 0 sagest Mentor! For my Jurgensen, with a little care, will run within half a second a day of the true time, the whole year round; while your TobiasI can see its a Tobias at this distance cant be kept within much less than a quarter of a minute by all the attention you and the watch-maker can give it. Andbesides, 0 Daniel! you have digged a pit and fallen into it. For even you are pleased with the beauty of your watch, and praise itt TOMES. When? How? I do no such thing. GREY. Did you not just now say that your watch looked like what it issubstantial, solid, serviceable? In other words, you attributed to it the beauty of fitness. That beauty gratified you. You were in error as to the excellence of which you regarded it as the exponent; but that mistake does not affect the genuineness of the gratification which was founded upon it, or, I think, its reasonableness. It showed me that even you (pardon me!) are capahle of instruc- tion in the art of making life beautiful; and that you being so capable, all men also are, to a great- er or less degree, with very few exceptions. Again pardon me But I know that you will take no offense. TOMES. You are right in that. I can not believe that you could have the intention to of- fend me; and therefore I should not he offended at any thing that you would say, nnless you plain- ly showed that intention. And, besides, to be offended I must first know with what you mean to charge me. What is this art of making life beautiful at my capacity for learning which you sneer ?well, since you look so deprecatingly, at which yon jeer? Theres no offense, you know. GREY. Let me read again the passage whence our brief discussion started. You ac- kno~vledge that Arthur Helps is one of the sound- est and healthiest thinkers of the day, though you say he is not remarkably original; and this is what he says in his paper on the Art of Liv- ing: I think it may also be observed that, independently of these errors committed with re- gard to scientific matters, such as change of air, maintenance of warmth, and the supply of light, there is also a singular inaptitude of means to ends, which prevails generally throughout the human aids and appliances for livingI mean dress, houses, equipages, and household furni- ture. The causes of this unsuitableness of means to ends lie very deep in human nature, and in the present form of human society. I attrihute them chiefly to the imitative nature of the great bulk of mankind, and to the division of labor; which latter practice being carried to a great extent in every civilized state, renders a man expert in his own business, but timid even in judging of what he has not to make but only to use. The result is, I believe, that more thau one-half of what we do to procure good is need- less or mischievous: in fact, that more than half of the labor of the world is wasted: in savage life, by not knowing what is necessary; in civil- ized life, by the pursuit of what is needless. Helps follows his subject out only in its moral aspects, and considers the want of truth, the vanity, shyness, imitation, foolish concern about trifles, want of faithfulness to society, and Puri- tanical ndtions, which he rightly regards as hin- drances to social culture and improvement. Now, what I call making life beautiful, is the bringing of intellectual refinement and cultivated taste to bear not only upon mere works of literature and art, but upon these very material everyday mat- ters of dress, houses, equipages, and household furniture; so that the world which we make for ourselves may be, if possible, as beautiful as the natural world in which God has placed us. TOMES. Perhaps there is no positive harm in that. And yet there may be, by its causing neglect of that which is of more importance. For of what real use is that intellectual refine- ment upon which you set so high a value? How much better is discipline than culture! Of how 164 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. much greater worth to himself and to the world harbarity than the parti-colored face of the one than your gentleman of cultivated tastes is the or the perforated nostril of the other. man who, hy physical and mental training, the TOMEs. No surer evidence of harbarity! use of his muscles, the exercise of his faculties, Grey, what do you mean? Would you place the restraint of his appetites, has acquired vig- an offense against good taste on a level with op- or, endurance, self-reliance, self-control! Let a pression of the weaker half of mankind, selfish man be pure, honorable, and industrious, and and cruel addition to the burdens which nature what remains for him to do, and of time in has laid upon it ? which to do it, is of very small importance. GREY. I certainly said no surer evidence; GREY. You talk as if you were the son of a and I stand to it. But the certainty of the cvi- Stoic father by a Puritan mother, and had in- deuce has nothing to do with the nature of the act. herited the moral and mental traits of both your This you know; and so I shant take offense at parents. your exclamations or interrogations, or even refer TOMES. Many worse things have been said you to Mrs. Grey as to my comparative estimate of me, and few better; but to describe me is not of offenses agaiust taste and against the sacred- to meet my arguments. ness ofher sexBut to return to our topic. Call GREY. Well, then, Zeno Barebones, dont this desire to enjoy beauty, and to be a part of you see, that, after man has provided for his first that beauty which contributes to the enjoyment necessitiesfood, shelter, and clothinghe must of others, the lust of the eye or what you please, needs set about making the life comfortable that you will find it coextensive with the race; and he has made possible; that he will seek first that its reasonable gratification tends to bar- comfort and then pleasure; and that the pleas- monize and to mollify mankind, to sweeten life, ures which he will seek, next after those which and even to invigorate it by giving it the healthy are purely sensual, will be the embellishment of stimulus of variety; that it helps to lift men his external lifehis person, his clothes, his above debasing pleasures, and to foster the finer habitation, his tools, and weapons? And do you social feelings by promoting the higher social not also see that the craving which he thus sup- enjoyments. plies is just as natural, that is, just as much the ToillEs. Yes; that sounds very fine. It inevitable result of his organization, as those to harmonizes mankind, or womankind by making which necessity gave precedence? There is not them jealous of each others success in what you a savage in any country who does not begin to call society. It makes women sneer at thei~ strive to live handsomely just as soon as he has dear friends bonnets, and turn up their noses contrived to live at all; that is, if he is any at their carpets and furniture; or whats worse, thing more than a mere aninial; and his ef- daub thieniI mean the friends, not the furni- forts in this direction are a sure gauge of the tarewith slimy, loathsome flattery. It molli- degree of his intelligence and even his moral fies them by making them envious and covetous. tone. It sweetens life by creating heart-burnings about ToL~mEs. Your saVage is more unfortunately trifles. It gives a stimulus of variety by mak- chosen by you than my watch was by me. What ing all human creatures, especially women creat- do you think of your red man, who makes no ures, strive to dress exactly alike; to wit, in the provision for the niorrow, but supplies his animal fashion. It promotes high social enjoyments by needs for the moment as he can, and living in usaking people give at homes, at which they. squalor, filth, and discomfort, yet daubs himself crowd their houses with a mob of acquaintances. with grease and paint, and adorns his lsead with they dont care a button for, and who come only feathers, his neck with bears claws, and his to show their dresses and get their supper, and girdle with scalps? What of your black barba- who succeed only in getting their dresses torr~ nan, whose life is a succession of unspeakable off their hacks, and in spilling their suppers iii abominations, and who embellishes it by black- each others laps. ening his teeth, tattooing his skin, and thrusting GREY. Thats the society into which you a fish-bone or a ring througls the gristle of his go, Tomes. I have nothing to do with such nose? Either of them will barter his last morsel vulgar people. But, seriously: granted the truth for a glass bead or a brass button. What can be of your caricatured description, what has the more manifest than that all this business of the manifestation of vanity, envy, hatred, and vul- embellishnient of life is a mere manifestation of garity to do with that which is the mere occa- personal vanityinborn lust of the eye and pride sion, as any thing else, even religion, might he of life, shown by the savage according to his the occasion of their exhibition? There is not savageness, and by the civilized man according the least connection in the world between a cul- to his civilization ? tivated taste and the petty and contemptible GREY. Certainly the love of the beautiful is vices which you have just catalogued with so common to all men. The savage does manifest much gusto. this love according to his savageness. When a TOMES. Im not so sure of that. At any man rises in the scale of civilization his whole rate, they are very often found in company to- nature rises. You cant go up a ladder piece- gether. meal. The red mans smoky wigwam, the ne- GREY. True; but not oftener than honesty gros filthy mud hut, the degradation which both and meanness, kindness and clownishness, sin- inflict upon women, are no surer evidence of ceritv and hardness of heart, hospitality and de SOCIAL 2ESTHETICS. 165 bauchery, chastity and uncharitableness; and with no more connection with each other than these virtues and these vices have. Tomes hesitated a moment for a reply; and whether he could have made one which would have satisfied even himself xviii never be known. For while his host was speaking steps were heard in the hall, and before Tomes had thought what to say, the library door opened slowly, and a clear, soft voice said, May we come in ? Cer- tainly, answered Grey, heres your ancient enemy, Mr. Tomes; now my antagonist and prospective vanquisher. And Mrs. Grey en- tered, but not alone. She was followed by a fair, brown-haired beauty, Miss Laura Larches, whom Grey greeted with that mingling of defer- ence, admiration, and courtesy with which your man of society tacitly recognizes the claims of an acknoxvledged belie. Tomes was presented to hcr, and bowed iike a weli-sweep. The ladies were attended by Mr. Carleton Key, an exceed- ingly exquisite person, and manifestly of very soft society, whom Tomes set doxvn at si~ht as an egregious ass. All took chairs but Mrs. Grey, who, indulging in her own house and among friends, a womans likin~ of a low seat, sank down with a little feminine sigh of satisfac- tion upon a hassock, where her head and shoul- ders crowned a vast hemisphere of silk and crino- line. After customary salutations and inquiries, Grey turned to his xvife: How did the recep- tion go oft; Nelly? A brilliant affair, I suppose, as all Mrs. Moultons affairs are ? Mas. GREY. Of course it was. A woman as clever as Mrs. Moulton is dont grow gray and keep beautiful during twenty-five years de- votion to society, with all material means and appliances of success, without having her lick of the xvhole toxvn, and the tact to put her ac- quaintances to good use. She asked for you. GREY. That of course, too; and xvas quite desolatethats the phrase, isnt it ?xvhile you were in hearing, because I wasnt there; and when your back was turned was radiant with delight because some one elseMiss Larches or Mr. Keywas there. MRS. GREY. Youre an incorrigible creat- ure, Stanford. Im sure she likes you, and me, too. Must a woman be heartless because shes the fashion? And then youre never tired of ad- miring her dress, and her black eyes and gray curls. Miss LARcUES. Im sure every body must love dear Mrs. Moulton. She is so elegant, has such charming manners, and is always so kind to every body. Touus. What, Miss Larches, to those who dont deserve kindness ? Miss LARCHES. Why yes, Mr. Tomes, be- causebecause Mu. KEY. Because, Mr. Tomes, you know, as Hamlet says, Use every man according to his desert, and who should escape xvhipping? Mrs. Greys brown eyes flashed merry malice at the astonishment with which Tomes received this retort from such a quarteruttered, too, as it was, with a calm evenness of tone which was almost languid. GREY. As to Mrs. Moulton shes no more heartless, I suppose, than any other woman, who is as heartless as she. But the best proof of her honesty that I knoxv of, and of her good taste next to her professed liking for meis that she was the first woman, in our society at least, to let her curls grow gray in full sight of the world; though it is so becoming that I more than sus- pect that I must credit her taste much and her honesty nothing. As to you, Nelly, you are married, and so are no longer a magnet to at- tract young men to her rooms; you are poor, and cant entertain; and so I dont believe she really cares a hair-pin whether she ever sees you again, except in so far as you make one of a passably well-dressed and tolerable well-bred crowd of peoi)le that she likes to have around her. Mus. GREY. such is the gallantry of hus- bands! Laura, take warning. Over the door of the house that a woman enters as a married mistress is xvritten, though she dont see it when she goes in, Who enters here leaves all hope of complimentsbehind. Ma. KEY. Quite a xvomans idea of the In- ferno, I should say. TOMES. XVhy should a woman be coml)hi- mented? Why should any one be compli- mented? Complimenting is fit amusement for little girls, who take pleasure in making believe. When any one complinients me it makes me angry. Mus. GREY. Thats the reason you are al- ways so good-humored, Mr. Tomes, isnt it ? except when youre here. Tomes was used to this from his friends wife, who, he knew, respected him, and for whom he had a real regard; and so he took it gruffly but kindly. But Grey returned to the charge and broke out, Nehly, I take back xvhat I said just noxv. I said you were one of a crowd of passably well-dressed people. It isnt so. You are abom- inably ill dressed, and soI beg Miss Larch- ess pardonare all women nowadays. See as you sit there with your gown all puffed out around youyou look like one of those Dutch toys that are human creature o top and ball be- low, and as if Mr. Key would but give you a gentle touch you would bob back and forth for half an hour. Theres not a fold or a line about you that has any of the grace of drapery; and not only so, but not a tint about you, except that orange ribbon, can be rightly called a color. To be passably well dressed you would have to begin by taking off your hoop. Mus. GREY. Take off my hoop? Would you have me look like a fright? as slinky as if I had been drawn through a keyhole? Mss LARCHES. Take off her hoop 1 Mu. KEY. Be seen without her hoop? Why, what a guy a woman would look without hei hoop? I suppose they do take them off at cer- tain times; but then they are not visible to the naked eye. 166 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Touas. Yes, Grey, why take off her hoop? I dont care, you know, to have hoops worn. But worn or not worn, what matter? A wo- man, I suppose, is not like a barrel, liable to fall into ruins if her hoops are taken off. GREY. Yes, I suppose that a woman would really rather he seen with a hole in the heel of her stocking now than without a hoop. Yet ten years ago no woman wore a hoop; and did they then look like frights and guys? How was it with you, Nelly? About that time we were married; and perhaps you were a fright, but people generally didnt think so, whatever my private opinionof which you knew nothing might have been. Miss LARCIIES. But it wasnt the fashion then to wear hoops, Mr. Grey; and to he out of the fashion is to he a fright and a guy. The fashion is always pretty. GREY. Is it, Miss Larches? I think that it is true that those who wear the fashions are gen- erally pretty. But as to the fashions them- selves, see here. This port-folio contains a col- lection of prints which shows the fashion of la- dies dresses in Italy, France, and England, for eight hundred years back. I think that not one in a hundred of them is beautiful, and not more than one in twenty endurable; but I ex- pect you to admire them all. Miss LARCHE5. Fashions! Why, Mr. Grey, these are caricatures.~ Ma. Kay. Certainly some of these ladies look as if they were fearfully and wonderfully made. GREY. Bet they represent veritable cos JIEAD-DEESSES:1750. RORNED HEAD-DRESSES. BALL DRESS 1810. SOCIAL STHETICS. 167 tumes, I can assure you. Those of the last seventy-five years are fashion-plates; the earlier ones portraits. ToMEs. Portraits, indeed; and yet most of these people had done nothing worthy of the distinction which a portrait implied in their day, except that they did the world the honor of be- ing horn to a title and estate. MRS. GREY. I am not surprised at your wondering looks, Laura. Not to go far hack, look at this ball-dress of 1810a night-gown no, its too scant for a night-gowna chemise of pink silk. MR. KEY. evidence that womens effort to outstrip each other in dress did not begin in the present generation. Those were probably days of hasty marriages. MRS. GREY. Why, Mr. Key? MR. KEY. No need of a m& ns waiting to see more of a woman than he saw on the first acquaintance. To3IEs. Surely modest women were never seen in such a gown as that. GREY. Yes, our modest and somewhat pre- cise grandmothers. These were the gowns of which Talleyrand said that they began too late and ended too soon. But my dear old Aunt Sarahyou remember her, Nelly ?not a prude to be suretoo truly modest for that; but cer- tainly one of the most decorous as well as the best of women, told me that when she was a girl of seventeen she once, by a sudden little spring, somewhat more vigorous than she meant to make, split her petticoat half-way to the knee. Was she less modest at shy seventeen than when, in the ample robes as well as with the acquired experience of fifty years later, she told me the story? What is modest in dress depends en- tirely, up to a certain point, on what is custom- ary. Unconsciousness is modestys triple shel- ter against shame. Immodesty may hide as well as expose. Look at this figure covered close from the chin to the instep and the wrist, and at this in a gown (if gown it can be called) so loose at the bust that the pink chemise would blush crimson at it. The first is the dissolute Marguerite of Lorraine; the last, La belle Ham- ilton, no less chaste than beautiful, so that she escaped in the Court of Charles II. the breath of scandal, even from the tongues of envious and eclipsed beauties. MRS. GREY. Women have become more modest since then. MR. KEY. Or less charitable. MRS. GREY. Mr. Key would have us be- lieve that the gallantry of his sex has kept pace with the charity of ours. MR. KEY. Exactly. Men are not gallant nowonly good-natured. Havent the time and nervous energy to spare for gallantry. But one is tempted to be out of the fashion at Mrs. Greys; and so to err a little on the other side for the sake of saving ones reputation from the reproach of old fogyism. MRS. GREY. I surrender. Miss LARdHES. But, Nelly, do look at these hideous peaked and horned head-dresses! How frightful! how inconvenient! how uncom- fortable! GREY. Frightful, inconvenient, and un- comfortable. Is that all? They were the fash- ion, and that was enough. And besides, how could they be frightful, Miss Larehes, for the fashion is always pretty ? MARGUERITE OF LORRAINE :1590. LA BELLE OAMILTON :1670. 168 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. TOMES. A question which I can put to you with a great deal more propriety than you to, Miss Larches. For this is hut a manifestation of that craving for the heautiful the satisfaction of which you so strongly insist on. Miss LARCHES. Thank you, Mr. Tomes. GREY. You forget, Tomes, that I also hold! that the instinct must he cultivated; and, ahove all, that it should he freed from the trammels f servile imitationthat is, of mere fashion. I But, ladies, dont confine your criticism to these~ fourteenth century head-dresses. Look through. the costumes of the three succeeding centuries and see how elahorately and hideously the head was deformed, apparently for the sole purpose of having a head look like any thing but a head, and hair like any thing but hair. MR. KEY. Perhaps the ladies did it for a difference; as French dames of position and character used to wear a patch of rouge directly under the eyes, because color, real or artificial, could he found naturally distrihuted on the cheeks of the vulgar and the virtue-less. GREY. You have hit upon the very reason. No woman, for instance, could wear her hair dre~sed in the style of this costume of 1750, un- less she was rich enough to do nothing and to command the services of two waiting maids. Her head-dress is a structure erected with skill and pains, and to he preserved with care. Her hair is drawn violently back from her forehead and piled up on a cushion nine inches high. Its texture is defiled with grease, and its color con- cealed with flour. She has four formal curls, hanging, like rolls of parchment, from the top of this cushion to below her ear. And o top of all this are feathers and artificial flowers, and be- hind, a mass of be-greased, he-powdered hair hanging in a club; the result of the whole being hideous monstrosity, which showed that she could GREY. And her critics costume rivals hers afford to give up two hours a day to this disfig- in the very peculiarity by which she is most de- urement of her pretty head. formed, by which her figure is made most nfl- TOMEs. But she attained her end, which like that of a woman--the straight outline of was to please herself and others; and so what the waist and the rising curve below it, meeting matter whether in her way or in yours ? in such a sharp, unnatural angle. If you would GREY. Doubtless: for, as you see, she was see how these lines misrepresent those of nature, beautiful; and, as fashion did not quite require look at the Venus of Milo yonder; she is naked her to flatten her nose and paint her cheeks pea- to the hips. green, she could not destroy the effect of that Ma. KEY. But the civilized world of mod- which she left in its natural condition. As to em days has tacitly agreed that womans figure her incongruous and monstrous additions to her below the shoulders should he imagined rather person, the people she met were used to them; than defined. Does Mr. Grey propose to sub- and so she was yet beautiful in spite of them, stitute the charming reality of undisguised na- but not by reason of them. There have been ture ? countless similar cases since: there are some GREY. We may veil or even conceal nature, now. as our taste or our notions of propriety dictate; Ma. KEY. Miss Larches blushes at that hut we can not misrepresent or distort her ex- look; but whether with pleasure at the compli- cept at the cost of both beauty and propriety. ment to herself or indignation at the disparage- Look at these full-length portraits of Catherine ment of her toilet deponent saith not. do Medicis and the Princess Marguerite, daugh- GREY. The first, I trust. ter of Francis I., of France. Mits. GREY. The last, I know. There nev- Miss LARCISEs, What dowdies er was a woman yet who didnt resent a slight Mas. GREY. No, not both. Marguerites to her costume rmore heartily than she prized a dress is pretty in spite of those puffed epaulets tribute to her beauty. But what could the wo- upon her shoulders. men have said to each other about their dresses, Ma. KEY. Strange perversity which sees the between 1575 and 1600, when this was the fash- ion? Stomachers like wedges, stiff with em- broidery and heavy with jewels, and with points that reach half-way from the waist to the ground. Ruffs a quarter of a yard deep and as stiff as buckram. See this portrait of Queen Elizabeth in full dress! What with stomacher, and point- ed waist, and farthingale, and spreading ruff, and skirt, covered with ouches and jewels and puckers, she looks like a microscopic view of a hideous flying insect with expanded wings, not at all like a woman. K 5 (r $ L) QUEEN ELIzARETO. SOCIAL JESTHETICS. 169 dress before the woman! I notice first that the Princess is a beauty, and the Queen a fright. GREY. The ladies are right, from their point of view. Those sleeves rising in Catherines robe above the shoulders are very unsightly, and, in case of the Queen, only complete the expres- sion of the costume, which is a grim and grace- less stiffness. The reason of this is that the outline which these sleeves present is directly at variance with that of nature. The peculiar sexual characteristic of this part of womans fig- ure is the gentle downward curve by which the lines of the shoulder pass into those of the arm. Our knowledge of this enters, consciously or un- consciously, into our judgment of this costume, and we condemn it at once because it is elabo- rately monstrous. Mr. Keys pretty princess cuts a less hideous figure, because in her case the slope of the shoulder is preserved until the very junction of the arm with the bust; and partly because her bust and waist are defined by her gown with a tolerably near approach to nature, instead of being concealed, as is the case with her royal sister-in-law, by stiff, straight lines, which slant downward on all sides to the ground, making the remorseless instigator of the Massa- cre of St. Bartholomew look like an enormous extinguisher with a womans head set on it. Toiuxs. I like the color of. Marguerites dress. GREY. Well done, Tomes! You are right. One great cause of the superiority of her cos- tume is that it presents a contrast of rich color in unbroken masses, while the Queen wears black velvet patched with white satin and elab- orately disfiguredornamented, she would call itwith embroidery, ermine, lace, and jewels. Miss LARCITES. It is very ugly. Mus. GREY. Hideous. GREY. You are very prompt and decided in the condemnation of a costume to which your eves are unaccustomed; but look at that which you wear, nnd which I confess that it would be very difficult for you to avoid wearing. Here are two fashion-plates of last month.* Look at that shawled lady. If you did not know that her shoulders are covered with a shawl, and that what surmounts the shawl is a bonnet, you would not suspect the figure to be human. The outlines are just those of a pyramid, slightly rounded at the apex, and nearly as broad across the base as it is high. What is there of wo- man in such a figure? See, too, this evening full dress. Ma. KEY. Full enoughat the bottom; but not much dress at the top. GREY. Mr. Key will please not interrupt by impertinent observations. This figure brings to mind the enchantments in the stories of the Dark Ages, in which knights were exposed to the allurements of fiends, who are women to the * This conversation took place in April, 1859. CAThERINE hE ME5)1C15 :lboO. MARGUERITE OF LOERA~E :1590. 170 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. man merely supplies the motive power by which it is made to perambulate. A woman in this rig hangs in her skirts like a clapper in a hell; and I never meet one without heing tempted to take her up hy the neck and ring her. MR. KEY. Some womens dresses are worthy of death; hut wringing their necks not the pleas- antest mode of inflicting the punishment. MRS. GREY. No, Mr. Key; men punish women by ringing of another kind. GREY. You mean by what Mr. Bull calls the halter of linen. But this costume is also faulty in two other important points. It is with- out pure, decided color of any tint, presenting, on the contrary, an agglomeration of patches and blotches of various mongrel hues MRS. GREY. Hear the man! That exqui- site brocade! GERY. and whatever beauty it might oth- erwise have had, of either form or color, would he frittered away by the multitudinous and mul- tiform trimmings with which it is bedizened, and it has no girdle. Mas. GREY. 0 sweet Simplicity! There breast, and monsters below. From the head as is no goddess but Simplicity, and Stanford Grey far as half-way down the waist this figure is is her prophet. What would your Serenity have natural, the poor woman wear? A white muslin gown MR. KEY. Underthecircumstances, couldnt with a blue sash, and a rose in her hair? That be otherwise. Au naterel I should call it, except style went out with stage-coaches and gentlemen for a little spice of flowers and lace. Looks like drunk under the table. a portrait of Madame la Comtesse lEpine, whose GREY. And well it might. For if dress neck begins one inch and a quarter below her be worthy of any attention at all, it demands shoulder-blades. colors and forms which require taste to be shown MRS. GaRY. You are exact in your scan- in their arrangement and adaptation. Your wo- dal, Mr. Key. How do you know ? man in white and your man in black are secure MR. KEY. Measured. Stood ten minutes from an exhibition of bad taste as your silent behind her at Mrs. Moultons last crush. Cal- folk are sure not to exhibit folly or ignorance. culation very exact. Shoulder-blades sufficient- They should have blind folk to look at them, ly prominent. Charley Bang, whos in the as the others deaf folk to hear them. Coast Survey, said it was a splendid chance for Miss LARCHES. Good Mr. Censor, what measurement by triangulation. then shall we do? You have done nothing GREY. Well, from a point which may be but find fault and forbid. Is there not in all seen, but need not be named, this figure begins this collection a single toilet that is positively to lose all semblance to a womans shape. It beautiful, to be text for a sermon on what is runs inward in a straight line where nature shows right as well as what is wrong? a gentle curve (look again at the Venus), and GREY. Certainly. Ill find you the text then suddenly its outlines break into a sharp immediately, and preach the sermon if you de- angle, and form sire it. Here, indeed, are two costumes very a monstrous non- unlike, and yet both beautiful. The first the descript figure, fashious of 1812 and thereabout; the second the which is not on- dress of this peasant girl of Normandy. Look ly unlike nature, first at the lady of fashion of 1812 in her even- but has no re- ing dress, and remark the adaptation of that lations whatever beautiful gown to all purposes for which a gown withnature. The is intended. merest child sees Miss LARCHEs. Why do you say gown, that no such out- Mr. Grey, and Mr. Tomes, too? Nobody else line can be pro- does. duced by drapery GREY. Tomes does it for old fashions sake. upon a woman s I because it describes the garment exactly, which form, and that no other English word does. Dress is very there must be an vague; it is as applicable to a man as to a we- elaborate frame- man, to a savage as to a civilized man, and it work underneath takes in all that is worn from head to foot. that dome of silk, Robe is a French mantua - making affecta- and that the wo- tion: in English it means what kings and judges SuAwa AN~ LADY :1859. SOCIAL STIIETICS. 171 and snapping, and Mrs. Grey sits suddenly down, blushing crimson, and looking smile-sheathed daggers at her husband. GREY. No woman when she is dressed wants to clap her hands above her head. Now you are only half-dressed Mas. GREY Stanford! GREY. Dont you call that a dead-toilet? Only half-dressed, I say, and yet you are pow- erless to protect yourself against one of the com- monest accidents of life, except at the risk of tearing your clothes off your hack, and hardly even at that; for the mantua-makers shackles may prove too strong for you. But to return to this costume of 1812. Its chief beauty is a trait in which it differs from the costume of the present day, and of most of those of times past, is, that it has, or seems to have, no form of its own. It is mere clothing for the person ~vho ~vears it, around whose figure it falls in graceful and easy lines; and as these must change with every motion of the wearer for others, also beau- tiful, the eye is constantly relieved with varying pleasure. Ample, too, as the gown is, it fol- lows the contour of the figure in front sufficient- ly to taper gracefully to the feet, touching the floor lightly. A side view would show it trail- ing very lightly. TOMES. Consistent critic! You said these costumes were equally beautiful; and yet, while the gown of the 1812 lady touches the floor, and clings in little wrinkles round her feet, the peas- EYERIRO DRESS 181~. ant girls frock is wider at the bottom than any where else. wear. But gown is just the word, and it has GREY. Daniel, you have come to judgment, been used for centuries as I use it.Well, this and shall presently be answered. Meantime no- gown of 1812, how completely it clothes the en- tice another trait of the beauty of the costumes tire figure, and with what a decorous grace, what of 1811, 1812, and 1813. They are in one, or ease and comfort to the wearer! The entire two, or, at most, three colors; the gowns, the person is concealed, except the tip of one foot, outer garments, and the bonnets or head-dresses, the hands, the head and throat, and just enough being severally of one unbroken tint; and the of the bust to reveal the existence of its feminine trimming that they have is very moderate in charms without exposing them; yet how maui- quantity, though rich in quality. festly there is a well-formed, untortured woman Miss LAiicnas. Why, so it is. I should enveloped in those tissues! The waist is girdle- not have noticed that; acid yet our dresses are marked just at the proper place; neither just trimmed so much. beneath the breasts, as was a few years before Mci. KEY. Chief use of dresses now to dis- and after, nor just above the hips, as it has been play trimming; chief use of women to display for many years past, and as it was three hun- dresses. Therefore dred years ago. Compare the figure with those Mas. GREY. Yes, I must admit that nowa- on these fashion-plates of the present day. How days a matron could not use the warning which the lines of one figure tell of health, and grace, Shakspeare makes Constance address to Prince and bounteous fullness of life! and how poor, Louis and mean, and man-made the others seem! the Devil tempts thee here Those limbs look free as air, and are so; but Lu likeness of a new, untrimmed hride. there is not a woman of the slightest pretensions GREY. Miss Larchess objection is in order. to fashion nowadays who, when dressed, can clap She did not notice the lack of trimming in these her hands above her head any more than if she costumes because it is not needed to complete were Queen Elizabeth. Isnt that true ? the dress or give it character. In a well-dc- MRs. GREY. No such woman when she is signed costume the absence of trimming is nev- dressed wants to clap her hands above her head. er felt, only its presence attracts attention. Take care, Stanford, youll topple that Venus TOMES. But my objection. The Normandy down upon me! petticoat. Mrs. Grey springs up and raises her arms to GREY. Yes, now for my pretty peasant girl. catch the statue. The figure is held firmly by She is not in full holiday costume, perhaps; but Greys hand; but there is a sound as of rending she is dressed, as the ladies call it; for though 172 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. her feet are stockingless, and she carries her shoes in her hand, she is on her way doubtless to some rustic merry-making. Her waist is indicated, but uncompressed. Her shoulders are covered, and she can move her arms at will. In fact, she is entirely at ease in her costume, and un- conscious of it, except perhaps for a shy suspicion that it becomes her, or she it. TOMES. But how about the expansion and the brevity of that skirt, which cries excelsior to the pink night-gown ? GREY. Oh, implacable-upon-the~subject-of short-petticoats iRhadamanthus, dont you see that your poor victims arms as well as her legs are bare? And why, if it be the custom, should not one limb be shown as well as the other? That girls grandmothers and great-great-grand- mothers wore skirts of just that length from their childhood to their old age; so why should not she? And the frock is but little shorter than that which good Aunt Sarah split; and do you need assurance of her pprfect modesty? As to the expansion of these skirts in comparison with those of 1812, it is inevitable, because they hang hut little below the calf of the leg. In both cos- tumes the form of the drapery is determined by the natural lines of the figure, and this is what good taste and common sense demand. In both these costumes the means of locomotion are visihle or indicated. But look at a woman nowadays. From the waist down she is a puzzle of silk and conic sections; a marvelous locomotive machine that moves in a mysterious way. MR. KEY. Its wonders to perform. GREY. And what a simple and harmonious effect of color is this costume! The frock of a rich, low-toned red, positive and pure; the apron, blue; the enviable little kerchief yellow, well suited to her brunette complexion; and that quaint head-dress of a tender green. MRS. GREY. But, Stanford, you man, you GREY. I admit the truth of the accusation. MRS. GREY. dont you see that it is the women that charm you, not their dresses? These women are, in your horrid mans-phrase, fine creatures; they ame rounded, lithe, shapely, and what Ive heard you say Homer calls Briscis. GREY. White armed, deep bosomed ? MRs. GREY. Such women are beautiful in any costume. But how shall puny, ill-made women wear such costumes without exhihiting all those personal defects which our present fash- ions conceal? You are cruel in your exac- tions. MR. KEY. Cruel, but unfortunately true, that to be beautiful in any costume a woman must bebeautiful. GREY. A profound truth of which most wo- men appear to be entirely ignorant- Color may enhance the heauty of complexion; but to devise a costume which shall make ugly women beauti- ful is past the ingenuity of all the ?eodistes in Paris. What did all the ugly women do between 1811 and 1813? and what those of Normandy for centuries past? Did they look any uglier for their beautiful costume? Ugliness may be covered; but even then it can not always be concealed. And the fashions of the day which you laud as so charitableas covering such a multitude of sinsdo they so kindly veil per- sonal defects? Miss Larelies, what is the fash- ion for evening parties ? Miss LARCIIEs. Why, low neck and short sleeves, of course. GREY. And you wouldnt think of going otherwise ? Miss LARCISES. Quite impossible! Would you go in a brown frock-coat ~ GREY. Certainly not. TOMES. Why not, Grey? Only because it is not the fashion; and not to be in the fashion is to be a fright and a guy. THE LADIES. Good, Mr. Tomes! Served him right! We have him there. GREY. Not at all. My brown frock-coat is my working-dress; but an evening party is a festive occasion, for which a festive costume should be worn. If you attack me for wearing such a hideous thing as a dress-coat in conform- ity to fashion, I admit that I have no defense. But, Mr. Key, you see more of society than Tomes and I together, twice over; what do you find to be the result of this exposure of arms and NORMANDY PEASANT GIRL. SOCIAL STHETICS. 178 busts and shoulders, which fashion inexorably declares shall be full-dress ? MR. KEY. Emotions of alternate pity and delight. Former in excess. GREY. It cant be otherwise until all wo- men are beautiful. A set fashion, to which all feel hound to conform, rigidly preserves the con- trasts of unequal Nature. XYere it otherwise, every person might adopt a style suited to his or her peculiarities of person, and in this way miti- gate and humor defects, but nothing more; for deformity (which is a matter of degree) can by no device be made beauty. Mas. GREY. iflut, Stanford, there are times when GREY. There are no times when taste and tact can not drape womans figure so that it will possess some of the attraction peculiar to her sex. But supposing it were not so, how absurd it is to hide the very humanity of all women, at all times, for the sake of concealing in some women the sign of their perfected womanhood at certain times MR. KEY. Consequences are certainly some- times astonishing. Mrs. Flounsir was one of a little party on my yacht only two weeks ago, and yesterday Mas. GREY. She sent you word she couldnt go to-morrow. Well, Laura and I will take her place; although I fear you did not take good care of her. MR. KEY. Her fault that I wasnt more solicitous. Kept me in utter ignorance, dont you see? Miss LARdEES. But, Mr. Grey, why not put all these very fine notions of yours about toilet, costume, dress, into an essaywith a be- ginning, a middle, and an endthat might be a sort of rule of life to us poor women who will go about hankering after heterodox bonnets and disloyal dresses? Do vouchsafe us some mas- culine rules to dress by. GREY. Ive done it already. Indeed I have printed something of the kind before; and it was my proposal to read it, in its new form, to Cato the Censor here, which brought on the discus- sion between us which your entrance interrupt- ed, and so pleasantly diverted into the desultory chat we have just indulged in. TOMES. We have just indulged in! Hear the fellow! He is like Madame de Sta~l, who, after talking to a newly-introduced man through a whole evening on a stretch, said that she had rarely met a more agreeable or intelligent per- son. Her host had omitted to tell her that her new acquaintance was dumb. GREY. And Tomes is like Sydney Smith, who met Macaulay one morning at one of Rogerss breakfast parties, when the historian was in one of his most brilliant and communi- cative veins. The wit hardly got a chance to put in a word; so when, as the party were passing from the breakfast-table to the drawing-room, some one said to him, What a magnificent colloquist Macaulay is! he replied, Soliloquist, Sir; soliloquist! The anecdote is not in print, I believe. Mits. GREY. How unfortunate that we should have had Sydney Smiths mortification, without the instruction that compensated it. GREY. Or the ~vit that avenged it. Miss LARdHES. A truce! a truce! and let us have the essay. TOMES. Yes, Grey, the essay. Mrs. Grcy will endure it for our sakes; and I ~vill listen in hopes of finding a seam in your armor. GREY. I consent, of course. Grey opened a drawer in his library - table, and taking out a manuscript of a few sheets, read the following: ON THE LAWS OF DRESS. To dress is to put in order, to make fit for use; and to dress the body is to give it proper covering. To propriety in dress, comfort and decency are first essential; next, fitness to per- son and condition; last, beauty of form, color, and material. To seek the last first, is to risk the loss of all; for what is neither comfortable, decent, nor suitable, can not be completely beau- tiful. Comfort and decency require only suffi- cient covering; and what is sufficient, climate and custom must determine. The two principal requisites of dress being easily attainable, the others are almost simulta- neously sought; and dress at the outset be- comes, among all people, one of those mixed arts which seek the union of the useful and the beautiful, and which thus hold a middle place between mechanic art and fine art. Of these arts dress is the lowest and the least important: the lowest, because the attainment of perfection in it requires only the lowest order of intellectu- al endowment and culture; the least important, as having neither intellectual nor emotional sig- nificance, and so being without testhetic pur- pose; but, as an art, having in view only the MRS. FLOUN5iii. 174 ~ HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. temporary sensuous gratification of the eye. Dress, too, is the first decorative art which men attempt to practice; because, as they emerge from the savage state, the acquirement of skill with the distaW the spindle, the loom, and in dyeing, is the first stage of their advancement. The costumes of half-civilized peopleas the shawl of India, the Mexican poncho, the Peru- vian reboso, the silken fabrics of China, of Per- sia, and of Turkeyare unsurpassed for beauty of design, richness of fabric, comfort, and con- venience. Taste in dress seems also to be so much a mere matter of instinct, that the diffu- sion of wealth and the comparative cheapness of textile fabrics has caused it to be no longer a criterion of culture, social position, or even ap- preciation of the beautiful, except as to costume itself. Dress has relations to society and to the individual. It indicates the temper of the time and the character of a people. Wanton loose- ness of habit and of manners reached their ex- treme together in the time of Charles the Sec- ond; the hollow artificiality of society which crumbled into dust at the French Revolution had its counterpart in the costume which van- ished with it; and in the fashions of our own day those of women, contrived less to be beauti- ful than for the exhibition or reckless expendi- ture; those of men, cheap and sober-hued, there is expressed the lavish and laborious spirit of the timesthe right hand gathering only for the left to scatter. Dress has an appreciable effect upon the mental condition of individuals. The man is best suited to his dress, and the dress to the man, when he is not conscious of it. The consciousness of sordid or unpleasantly-pecu- liar garments depresses even the xvise; the con- sciousness of rich and gaudy raiment will elate the foolish. Excellence in dress is chiefly rela- tive; for its absolute beauty is quite lost if it is not suited to the person and the position of the wearer, and does not sufficiently correspond to the fashion of his time and country to escape re- mark for eccentricity. So the elements of its completeness are unknown and variable. Comfort and decency in dress need not be insisted on; for maxims were not made for idiots. But clothes should not only be com- fortable and decent, but seem so. For as to all others but the wearer, what is the difference be- tween shivering and seeming to shiver, swelter- ing and seeming to swelter? Convenience is a kind of comfort; but it relates more to doing than to being. It is the third essential quality to proper dress. Men should not hunt in Spanish cloaks, and do not, nor should women walk the streets in trailing gowns. No beauty of fashion or materIal in dress can compensate for manifest inconven- ience. Gowns opening before produce a pleas- anter impression than those which open behind; for we do not see the ladys maid or husband, and there is an intuitive though unconscious portant and the most charming accessory of cos- knowledge that the former are convenient, the tumethat which most defines the peculiar beau- latter inconvenient. So every proper dress ties of womans form, and to which the tenderest should allow, and seem to allow, the easy per- formance of all movements natural to the wear- er; otherwise it violates the first law of the mixed artsfitness. Thus children should not be tormented with the toilet, but wear clothes simple in fashion, loose, and inexpensive. It is their right to roll upon the grass and to play in the dirt. Whatever their condition in life, to give them, except upon rare festive occasions, any thing more than clean skins twice a day, and clothes which it will trouble no one to see torn or soiled, is to be vulgarly pretentious, to waste money for the mere sake of showing an ability to ~vaste it. Next to convenience is fitness to years and condition in life. Boys and girls who dress like men and women are not less ridiculous, and are far more excusable than old men and women who dress like young ones. In both cases, but especially in the latter, certain failure only ex- poses folly. All devices to make age look like youth only succeed in depriving age of its pecu- liar and becoming traits, and leaving it a bloat- ed or a haggard sham. Fixed conditions in life do not exist among us, and are disappearing ev- ery where with the advance of Christian civili- zation. Yet canoes conditions must to a greater or less degree exist here as elsewhere. Not nec- essarily higher or lower, but different. Entire fitness and conformity of the seen to the unseen requires that this fitness should have outward expression. The philanthropist may note with pleasure in the abandonment of distinctive cos- tume a sign of social progress, and rejoice that it can not be arrested; but its effect upon the beauty, the keeping, and the harmonious variety and contrast of external life is to be deplored. In all arts, whether fine art or mixed art, form is the most important element of absolute beauty. So it is in dress. Unbroken, flowing lines are essential to the beauty of dress, which in every part should correspond to the forms of nature, or be in harmony with them. The gen- eral outlines of the figure should be indicated at the least, and no others should be substituted for them. Sharply intersecting lines are inhar- monious; and fixed angles are monstrous, except where Nature has placed them at the junction of the limbs with the trunk. A garment which flows froni the shoulders downward is incom- plete without a girdle. A recent fashion of la- dies dress, the upper line of the gown cutting with pitiless straightness across the undulating forms of the shoulders and bust, the berthe con- cealing the union of the arms with the body, and adding with its straight lower edge another discordant line to the costume, its long ungirdled waist piercing with a sharp point a puffed and gathered swell below, is an instance of utter dis- regard of Nature, and deliberate violation of harmony, and the consequent attainment of discord and absurdity in every particular. The girdle is in female dress the most im SOCIAL STHETICS. 175 associations cling. Its knot has ever had a sweet or indicates a depraved and trivial taste. When significance which makes it sacred. What token they pretend to beauty in themselves, that beau- could a lover receive which he would prize so ty, like all other, must be attained by a clearly highly as the girdle whose office he has so often marked design. Delicacy or richness of fabric envied? That, cries Waller will not compensate for the like of this. Not That which her slender waist coufind that lace or any other ornamental fabric should Shall now my joyful temples hind, imitate exactly the forms of natural ohjects, hut * * * * that the conventional forms should be beautiful Give me hut what this rihhon hound, in themselves and clearly traced in the pattern, Take all the rest the sun goes round. as, for instance, in the figures on an India shawl. Taste tells us that with this cestus the least at- Akin to trimmings are jewels and all humbler tractive woman puts on some of Venuss beauty; appendages to dress; and if, as common sense sentiment forbids her to discard so true a type would dictate, every part of dress should have a of her tender power that its mere lengthening function and perform it, and seem to do so, and makes every man her servant, should not seem to do that which it does not do, In distinguishing the sexes by form of cos- these should be ~vorn only when they serve a tume, long and loose gowns are properly assign- useful purposeas a brooch, a button, a chain, ed to women, for the concealment of certain pe- a signet, or a guard-ring; or when they have culiarities of the female figure, which might be significanceas a wedding-ring, an epaulet, or called defects were it not that they adapt it to an order. But brooch and button must fasten, its proper functions without diminishing its at- chain secure, signet bear device, or sink into a tractiveness. Its centre of gravity is low; its pretentious, vulgar sham. So there should be breadth at the hip great; its base narrow; so keeping between these articles and their offices. that its natural movements, unless the action of Gold should not be used to secure silver, velvet the hip and knee joints are concealed, are un- to shelter linsey-woolsey. graceful. This may be seen in the antics of The human head is the most beautiful and ballet-dancers, in whom the movements of the expressive object in nature. At certain times arms, bust, and head are graceful and signifi- it needs a covering: but in its natural state the cant, but those of the legs equally without grace less it is decorated the more beautiful it is, and or meaning. any decoration, whether added to it or made Color is the point of next importance. with the hair itself, which distorts its form or is Colors have harmonies and discords, like sounds, in discord with its outlines, is an abomination. which must be carefully observed in composing Perfumes are no part of dress, but have been costume. Perception of these can not be taught made accessory to it from the remotest antiqui- more than perception of harmony in music; but, ty. But only a sparing use of the most delicate like that, if possessed at all, it may be developed will free the user from the charge of deliberately and perfected. No fine effects of color are to be contriving to attract attention to the person by attained without broad masses of pure and pleas- addressing the lowest and most sensuous of the ing tints. These, however, may be set off and senses. Next to no perfume at all, the faint relieved by trimming of broken and combined fragrance of roses laid away in drawers, which colors, as sauces and condiments give zest to some ~vomen bear about them like sweet mem- viands. But dresses striped, plaided, or check- ones of faded joys, the scent of lavender, such as ered are not in accordance with the dictates of Walton tells us filled the chambers of country pure taste. Parti-colored costumes might well inns where honest anglers stopped, or of the Co- be left to fools; but fools no longer wear a dis- logne water which can not purify Cologne, is to be tinctive costume. The three primary and the preferred. three secondary colorsred, yellow, and blue, Dress should be cheerful and enlivening in orange, green, and purplepositive in tint but its general expression; but for adults not incon- lo~v in tone, afford the best hues for costume, sistent with earnestness and dignity of character. and are inexhaustible in their beautiful combi- There is a radical and absurd incongruity be- nations. To these may be added white and tween the real condition and the outward seem- black, not properly colors, but effective in com- ing of a man or woman who knows and enters bination, and the various tints of brown found in into the duties, the joys, and the sorrows of life, nature. But curiously sought-oat tints, without and who is clad in a trivial, grotesque, or ex- distinctive hue, have little beauty which they do travagant costume. not borrow from the fabric to which they are im- These, then, are the requisites to dress: parted. comfort, decency, convenience, fitness, beauty The effect of the absolute beauty of costume of form and color, simplicity, genuineness, har- which results from form and color may be en- mony with Naturu and with itself. tirely frittered away by excess of trimming. This, whatever its costliness, is a mere petty ac- When Grey had finished his essay there was cessory to dress; and the use of it, except to de- dead silence for a while. The ladies looked fine terminal outlines, as a border at a hem, or puzzled, Mr. Key imperturbable; but presently to soften their impingement upon the flesh, as Tomes broke out: soft lace at the throat and wrists, is a confession Im sorry %r it, Grey, but I cant help say- of weakness in the main points of the costume, lug, that though your essay is a clever bit of writ- 176 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ing for you, its small business for a man to be criticising peoples clothes and laying down rules by which folk may make themselves look pretty. GREY. And yet the greatest of modern phi- losophers, whom you so reverence Bacon wrote essays on Beauty, on Deformity, on Gar- dens, Buildings, oa Ceremonies, and even on Masques; and the statesman whom you most admireBurke-wrote a volume upon the Beau- tiful; and Cousin, one of the leading metaphy- sicians of our day, has devoted himself to like lucubrations, and not having the fear of Daniel Tomes before his eyes, has dared to maintain that the beautiful and the good are but different manifestations of the same excellence. ToMEs. Well enough that for a Frenchman and a metaphysician. But Bacon, in his very essay on Beauty, says that Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set; and that it is not gener- ally found that very beautiful persons are oth- erwise of great virtue. GREY. You forget that he also says, And surely Virtue is best in a body that is comely. MRS. GREY. The essay was all very fine, and doubtless very true, ns well as sententious and profound. But hark you, Mr. Wiseman, to something not dreamed of in your philosophy! We women dress, not to be simple, genuine, harmonious, and all that sort of thing, or even, though you think we do, to please you men, but to brave each others criticism. And so when the time comes to get our Fall things, Laura and I will wear what is the fashion, in spite of you and your rudiments and elements. GREY. I am yet sane, and so have no no- tion that any woman in her senses is going to deviate from the prevailing mode of dress toward such remote points as grace, simplicity, and na- ture. MR. KEY. Martyrdom without glory. Dont believe that one of the female saints was out of the fashion. A woman will submit to be torn in pieces by wild beasts; but what is that to wearing an unfashionable bonnet? Surprised, Mr. Grey, though; you said nothing about the beautiful costumes which early martyrs must have worn: graceful costumes of Greece and Rome. GREY. Nothing more beautiful could be de- vised. But those costumes are quite out of the question iii temperate and cold climates, and among people whose women walk much abroad. Those costumes were suited to men who lived under serene skies, and women who kept con- stantly indoors. The fashions of France and England from 1795 to 1805 were the result of a headlong recoil toward classic simplicity. The fashion of 1812 owes its grace chiefly to a dis- creet adaptation of Greek style of drapery to the climate and habits of civilized Europe. But here are five volumes full of beautiful costumes for men and women: Frank Howards Spirit of Sbakspeares Plays. Few of the composi- tions have much other merit, but they are all rich in that. See this figure: could comfort, convenience, grace, propriety, and conformity to nature be more completely united ? TOMES. But one part of the essay surprised me much, even from you. For the mere sake of picturesque variety you would brand callings and conditions with a distinctive costume, and so perpetuate the degradation of labor, the seg- regation of professions, and set up again one of the barriers between man and man. You should have sought your audience on the banks of the Ganges, not on those of the Hudson. This uni- formity of costume is the great outward and vis- ible sign of present political equality, and of so- cial equality which is to come. GREY. Your democratic zeal makes you forget that the essay recognizes the significance of this uniformity in dress, and deplores it only on the score of the beauty and fitness of extern- al life. Between human progress and variety of costume who could hesitate? But I have thought that uniformity of costume might be not a log- ical consequence of political equality and dif- fused intelligence, but the fruit of vanity and petty pride, and at variance with the very de- mocracy from which it seems to spring. For the man who takes pains not to show any mark of his calling contemas it openly; and so does not this endeavor of every man to dress like ev- ery other man degrade labor and demoralize the laborer? Our very maid-servantswho trotted over their native bogs shoeless, stockingless, bonnetless, and who work day and night for a few dollars a monthspend all of the wages that the poor creatures dont give to their priests or their families, in hoops, flounced silk dresses, and high-colored bonnets for Sunday wearing. LADY PERCY AND NOETDUMBEELAND. SOCIAL .~STHETICS. 177 Mas. GREY. Do you grudge the poor girls their holiday and their holiday dress ? GREY. Far from it. Let us all make life as hright as may he with holidays and holiday dresses. But what has that to do with our all dressing alike? When I meet a French nursery- maid with her white-capped, bonnetless head, a respect for her mingles with my admiration of her head-dress. But when I see other women in the same condition of life flaunting past her in bonnets which are cheap and vulgar imita- tions of those their mistresses wear, I respect as little as I admire. Why should all men on cer- tain occasions get into dress-coats and stove-pipe hats ?habits so hideous in themselves that he must unmistakably be a man bred to wearing them, if not a fine-looking and distinguished man, who can don them without detriment to his personal appearance. Ma. KEY. Very reason why every free and enlightened American citizen will sacrifice com- fort and his last dollar to exercise his right to wear them. Cant help, either, deciding in his favor. For your idea of a proper costume, Mr. Grey, seems to be a blue, red, or yellow bolster- case drawn down over the head, with a hole in the middle of the closed end for the head, two at the corners for the arms, and a cord about the waist. GREY. I dont scout yonr pattern so much as you expected. Worse costumes in every re- spect have been often worn. See this beautiful figure of Heloise: the immortal priestess of self- sacrificing love shows a costume which conforms almost exactly to your description. Toxas. Your bringing up the poets to your aid reminded me that the greatest of them is VOL. XXV.No. 146.M against you as to the importance of richness in dress. What say you to Shakespeares Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy? GREY. That it is not Shakespeares advice, but that of a wily, worldly-minded old courtier to his son, at a time when to get on at court and among people of condition a man had need to he richly dressed. That need has passed away. We do not know what Shakespeare thought upee the subject, or what he would have made a Polo- nius say, had he lived nowadays. But we know that Horaces simplex munditiisneat simplici- ty, Nellywas the expression of his personal admiration. Mas. GREY. Yes, the poets are always rav- ing about neat simplicity, or something else thats not the fashion. I suppose they sustain you in your condemnation of perfumes too. TOMES. There Im with Grey, and the po- ets too, I think. MRS. GREY. What say you, Mr. Key ? Ma. KEY. Always distrust a woman steepemi in perfumes upon the very point as to which six seeks to impress me favorably. TOMES. At least, Grey [turning to him]. Pl~utus says, Mulier recte olet nbi nihil olet F which you may translate for the ladies, if you choose. GREY [As if to himself and Tomes]. Still to be powderd, still perfumd, Lady, it is to be presnmd, Though arts hid causes are not found, All is nst sweet, all is not sound. Mas. GREY. Whats that youre having all to yourselves there ? GREY. Only a few lines from one of Rare Bens daintiest songs. ~ MRS. GREY. What d~ poets know about dress, even when they arb poetesses? Look at your friend, the authoress of the Willow Wreath, which she wrote for no other earthly reason that I can see than that her name hap- pened to he Ophelia. What a spook that wo- man is I Ma. KEY. Glad to know at last what that word means. Spook something lean, long- necked, and ugly, dressed in all the colors of the rainbow at once, and some that are not in the rainbow besides; with a wreath on its head, and cork-screw curls hanging down its back. Something to be approached by men, if at all, with distant and awful respect, and by women with secret exultation. Miss LARCHES. In a word, Mr. Key, a spook is a fright; and every ill-dressed woman is a fright. here a neat, fresh-looking maid-servant en- tered, and said, Please, Maam, dinner is served ; and after the expression of a littlo astonishment at the length of the conference, Mr. Key and Tomes, in answer to an invitation to stop, pleaded engagements, and left Miss Larches to discuss them with her host and host- ess over the dinner-table, where plans were laid for future discussions of other departments of Social IEsthetics. HELOIsE :ABOUT 1150. 178 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. SURRY COUNTY, NORTH CAROLINA. TRAVELERS note the al- most perfect uniformity of the American people in dress, manners, and speech. Within 300 miles of London or Paris there are more variations than can be found from Portland to San Francisco. There are, however, among us some se- cluded regions, the inhabit- ants of which present marked peculiarities. Among these is Surrv County, up among the Blue Mountains, in the north- western corner of North Caro- lina. It is a sterile region, with long, cold winters. It was peopled mainly by emi- grants from Old Fudginn~, hy those who did not profess to belong to the first families of the State. and who brought with them and retained all the peculiarities of their homes. An esteemed Alabama clergy- man, who was raised thar. and who un(ler his boyish sobri- (juet of Skitt veils the name of one of the first families of Virginia, has published a clev- er book, setting forth some of the peculiarities of this prim itive peol)le.5 It is one of the half dozen clever books ofAmer- ican character and humor, de- serving to rank with Judge Lougstreets Georgia Scenes. The people are almost whol- ly agricultural; there are two- thirds as many farms as houses, and less than one slave to a famil~-. In education it prob- ably ranks lowest of any county in the United States. By the census of 1850 it appears that almost one-third of the adult males, and more than half of the females were unable to read and write. They are in blissful ignorance of the latest fashions, making their own garments, ma- terial and all. When Skitt revisited them, after many years absence, in 1857, he found sacks and joseys in full vogue. Almost the only opportunity which the young men had of seeing any thing of the world be- yond was when, in the autumn, a party would harness up their teams and carry their spare produce to the nearest town, some days jour- ney off. They would camp out at night, and as lucifer-m~ tches had not yet reached them, they ere obliged to trust for fire to a brand bor rowed from the nearest house. Such a party once encamped near a fine dwelling, and dis- patched one of their number to borrow a brand. He was courteously received by the good lady, who made him sit down in a parlor furnished, to his view, most gorgeously, with a carpet and half a dozen Windsor chairs. When he re- turned he described his adventure to his com- pamons: I tell you, boys, with my dirty britches I sot right smack in one o the finest Weasler chairs you miver seen in all yer horned days, and my big, mud- bustin, pis-ant-killin shoes on thar fine carpet looked like two great big lujun coonoes. Ill be poxed ef 1 knowed how to hold my hands nur feet. * Fqhers River (Yorth Geroli ) Scenes clOd Although uneducated, in the usual accepta- Chorac- irs. By ~KITT, who was raised thor. Illustrated 1~ tion of the termpreferring a rifle and shot- JOIN M~LENAN. Harper and Brothers, Publishers, pouch, and, we are sorry to say, an article TILE WINDSOR cuAla.

A. H. Guernsey Guernsey, A. H. Surry County, North Carolina 178-185

178 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. SURRY COUNTY, NORTH CAROLINA. TRAVELERS note the al- most perfect uniformity of the American people in dress, manners, and speech. Within 300 miles of London or Paris there are more variations than can be found from Portland to San Francisco. There are, however, among us some se- cluded regions, the inhabit- ants of which present marked peculiarities. Among these is Surrv County, up among the Blue Mountains, in the north- western corner of North Caro- lina. It is a sterile region, with long, cold winters. It was peopled mainly by emi- grants from Old Fudginn~, hy those who did not profess to belong to the first families of the State. and who brought with them and retained all the peculiarities of their homes. An esteemed Alabama clergy- man, who was raised thar. and who un(ler his boyish sobri- (juet of Skitt veils the name of one of the first families of Virginia, has published a clev- er book, setting forth some of the peculiarities of this prim itive peol)le.5 It is one of the half dozen clever books ofAmer- ican character and humor, de- serving to rank with Judge Lougstreets Georgia Scenes. The people are almost whol- ly agricultural; there are two- thirds as many farms as houses, and less than one slave to a famil~-. In education it prob- ably ranks lowest of any county in the United States. By the census of 1850 it appears that almost one-third of the adult males, and more than half of the females were unable to read and write. They are in blissful ignorance of the latest fashions, making their own garments, ma- terial and all. When Skitt revisited them, after many years absence, in 1857, he found sacks and joseys in full vogue. Almost the only opportunity which the young men had of seeing any thing of the world be- yond was when, in the autumn, a party would harness up their teams and carry their spare produce to the nearest town, some days jour- ney off. They would camp out at night, and as lucifer-m~ tches had not yet reached them, they ere obliged to trust for fire to a brand bor rowed from the nearest house. Such a party once encamped near a fine dwelling, and dis- patched one of their number to borrow a brand. He was courteously received by the good lady, who made him sit down in a parlor furnished, to his view, most gorgeously, with a carpet and half a dozen Windsor chairs. When he re- turned he described his adventure to his com- pamons: I tell you, boys, with my dirty britches I sot right smack in one o the finest Weasler chairs you miver seen in all yer horned days, and my big, mud- bustin, pis-ant-killin shoes on thar fine carpet looked like two great big lujun coonoes. Ill be poxed ef 1 knowed how to hold my hands nur feet. * Fqhers River (Yorth Geroli ) Scenes clOd Although uneducated, in the usual accepta- Chorac- irs. By ~KITT, who was raised thor. Illustrated 1~ tion of the termpreferring a rifle and shot- JOIN M~LENAN. Harper and Brothers, Publishers, pouch, and, we are sorry to say, an article TILE WINDSOR cuAla. SURRY COUNTY, NORTH CAROLINA. 179 for you this time. Now Ill quit ye, as we s even. You got me last night; Is got ye this mornin. Odd characters ahound in such a community. Foremost among those commemorated by Skitt is Uncle Davy Lane, a tall, heavy, lazy- looking old fellow, whose spe- cialty was telling hunting sto- ries. lie was never seen with- out his Bucksmasher a rough-looking rifle of his own make, for lie was a sort of gun- smith; and whea once seated would pour out a continuous stream of adventures, most of which had happened to him- self, though a few of them he had hearn. lie had certain- ly never heard of Baron Muin- chausen, though many of his stories are vastly like those of that veracious narrator; as, for instance, the following about Pigeon Shooting, which we give in his own words, slightly abridged: I mounted old Nip, and mo- seyed off far the pigeon-roost. I roy thiar bout two hours by the sun, and frum that blessed hour till chock dark the heavens was dark with um comm inter the roost. It is nuconceivable to tell the number on um, which it were so great. Bein a man that has a character fur truth, I wont say bow many there was. Thar was a mighty heap uv saplins fur urn to roost in, which they would allers light on the biggest trees fuist, then pitch down on thie little uns ter roost. Now jut at dark I thort Id commence siuiashuin urn; so I hitched old Nip to the limb which they appropriately name knockme uv a tree with a monstrous strong bridlea good stiff to readingthey are a very clever fohk, as hitch in place, I thort. I commenced blazin away their friend Skitt shows, and especially oa at the pigeons like thunder and highitnin; which the alert against, as they phrased it, having theyd light on big trees thick as bees, bend the trees to the veth like theyd been head. the rig put on em. Dick Snow was one of - the best of them; a fine, manly fellow, with a By huokey! I shuot so fast, and so long, and so often, I huet old Tower so hot that I shot six inches countenance which bespoke honesty, frankness, off uv the muzzle uv the old slut. I seen it were decision, and fun. He was well off, and al- no use to shoot the old critter clean away, which I though he could not read, had a wife who ranked mont have some use fur agiul; so I jist quuit burnin as A. No. 1, and was visited by all the quali- powder and flingin shot arter Id killed hout a ty of the region. Among these were the two thousand on urn, fur sure. Arter Id picked up as pretty daughters of Mesheck Franklin, the many on urn as my wallets would hold, I looked fur Congressman. One night, when retiring, they old Nip right smack whar Id hitched him, but he bade him good-night. He did not under- were, like King Sauls asses, nowbar to be found. I stand this; but concluded that it was some looked a considable spell next to the veth, but, bless you honey! I mont as well a sarched fur a needle in rig, which he determined to repay. So he haystack. At last I looked ump inter a tree bout rose early in the morning and stationed himself forty foot high, auid thuar he war swingin to a limb, at the foot of the stairs; and as the ladies ap- dauglin bout tween the heavens and the yeth like peared, rushed out, exclaiming: a rabbit on a snare-pole. Good-mornin at ye, ladies! Is fast anuff How come him up thar, Uncle Davy ? oooD.Moiuala, LAOiE5. 180 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Why I hitched him to the limb uv a big tree bent to the veth with pigeons, you num- skull, and when they riz the tree went op and old Nip with it, fur sore. But how did you get him down ? said a listener. Thats nother here nor thar 1 got him down, and thats nuft fur sich pokes as you ter know. Uncle Davys exploits with deer were numerous and won- derful. Among them was u Munchansenism about an old bock which he had shot with a peach-stone in default of bullet; and a few years after he saw the animal again with a fine peach-tree loaded with fruit growing from his shoul- ders. But we most satisfy our- selves with the following: I tuck the sunny side uv the Sugar Loaf. I kep my eves skinned all the way up, but oily- er seen any thing tell I got nuir- ly to the top, when up jumped one uv the poxtakedest biggest old bucks you over seen. He dashed round the mounting fast- er nor a shootin star or light- fin. But, howeomever, I blazed away at him, hut he were gem So fast round the Loaf; and the bul- let gem strait forrod, I missed him. Evry day for a week 1 went to that spot, allers jumped him up in ten steps uv the same place, would fire away, but allers moissed him, as jist uorated. I felt that my credit as a marksman, and uv old Buck- smasher was gittin mighty un- der repair. I didnt like to be outgiueraled in any sich a way by any sich a critter. I could smash bucks anywbar and any time, but that sassy rascal I couldnt tech a har on him, lie were a perfect dar-devil. One whole night I didut sleep a winkdidnt bolt my eyesfixin up my plan. Next mornin I went right smack inter my black- smith shop, tuck my hammer, and bent old Buck- smasher jist to suit the mounting, so that when the pesky 01(1 hock started round the mounting the bul- let moot take the twist with him. I loadened up, and moseyed off to try the speri- ment. I roy at the spot, and up he jumped, hoist- ed his tail like a kite, kicked up his heels in a ban- term manner, fur hed outdone me so often lied got raal sassy. I lammed away at him, and away he went reoud the mounting, and the bullet arter him so good a man, and so good a boy. I stood chock still. Presently round they come like a streak uv sunshine, both buck and bullit, bullit sin gin out, ~Yhar is it? whar is it? Go it, my fellers, says I, and away they went round the Loaf like a Blue Rid e storm. Afore you could crack ver finger they was around agin, bucklety-whet. Jist as they got agin me, bullit throwed him. But Uncle Davy came out strongest in his snake stories. Once, when out blackberrying, he felt something at his bare legs. For half no hour he paid no attention to it, supposing it was the briers. Looking down at last, he found that it was the biggest rattlesnake that uver was seen or hearn tell onwould a filled a washin tub to the brim. There he were pcggin away at my feet and legs like he were the hongriest critter on yeth. The upslsot wus that 1 moseyed home at an orful rate: its no use to say how fast I did run, fur nobody ~voold bleevo it. Reaching lsome, lie swallowed seven pails of milk and two gallons of whisky, and was nev- er the worseWe must let him tell at length his wonderful adventure with the Ibm-Snake: I was not thinkims about sarpunts, when, by Zucks! I coin right plum upon one ov the curiousest snakes I uver seen in all my horned days. There it lay omm the side ova steep presserpis, at full length, ten foot long, its tail strait omit, right imp the pres TOE L5GEON-5i0O5T. SURRY COUNTY, NORTH CAROLINA. 181 tried to shoot the tarnil thing; hut he kep sich a movin about and sich a splutteration that I couldnt __ git a bead at his head, for I knowd it warnt wuth while to shoot him any whar else. So I kep my dis- tunce tell he wore hisseif out, then I put a ball right between his eyes, and he gin up the ghost. Soon as be were dead I hap- pened to look up inter the tree, and what do you think? Why, Sir, it were dead as a herrin; all the leaves was wilted like a fire had gone through its branches. I left the old feller with his stinger in the tree, thinkin it were the best place fur him, and moseyed home, tarmined not to go out agin soon. Now folks may talk as they please bout there hem no sich things as hornsnakes, but what Ive seen Ive seen, and what Ive ist norated is true as the third uv Mathy. I mout add that I passed that tree three weeks arterward, and the leaves and the whole tree was dead as a door-nail. TflE HORN-SNAKE. serpis, head big as a sasser, right toards me, eves ed as forked lightuin, lickin out his forked tongue, anti I could no more move than the Ball Rock on Fishers Peak. But when I seen the stinger in his rail, six inches long and sharp as a needle, stickin out like a cocks spur, I thought Id a drapped in my tracks. I jumped forty foot down the mounting, nd dashed behind a big wlsite oak five foot in diama- tur. The snake he cotched the ecud uv his tail in his moutls, he did, and come rollin down the mount ng arter me jist like a hoop, and jist as I landed be iind the tree he struck tother side witls his stinger, md stuve it up, clean to his tail, smack in the tree. ~le were fast. Of all the hissin and blowin that uver von beam sense you seen daylight, it tuck the lead. Ef hered a bin fortynine forges all ahlowin at once, it couldnt a beat it. He rared and charged, lapped round the tree, spread his monf and grinned at me orful, puked and spit quarts an quarts of green pisen at me, an made the ar stink with his nasty breath. I seen thar were no time to lose; I cotched up old Bucksmasher from whar Id dashed him down, and We have already noted the fond- ness of the people tbr knock- em-stiff. Thereby hangs a good story told by Skitt. The great occasions of the region were the militia musters held at Shipps Muster Ground, between Big and Little Fishers Rivers which give the name to the book. These musters were held in May and November, and all the mill- ha were 1)ut through the tactics l)efore the old Revolutionaries who survived. These old Lu- tionaries, Nigger Josh Ens- w 1ev, ho sold gingy cakes, and Hamp Hudson, who kept a stillhouse running all the year, were the chief attractions of these musters. Ilamp had a dog named Famus, known through all the count]-). It happened, on a time not long before one of these musters, that Famus fell into one of his masters mash-tubs and was drowned. The rumor ran through all the country that Ilamp had distilled the mash in which the dog was drownded, and was gwine to carry it to the May muster to sell. The report created a powerful sensation, and when muster-day came there was a general de- termination not to drink a drap civ Ilamps nasty old Famus licker. Among the foremost of those who were down on Ilamp and his liquor was Uncle Jimmy Smith, a lisping old veteran who had been at the storming of Stony Point. I tell you, bovith, he said, you can do ath you pleaths; but old Jimmy Smith old Stony Pointaiat a-gwine to tech it. Nigger Josh sold his cakes, and was jubilant; but not a man approached Ramps stand, and his casks remained natapped. It was a dolorous 182 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. muster-day. Human nature could endure it no longer, and Uncle Jimmy Smith was the first to break the spell. His speech ran thus: Well, boyith, I dont know tho well about thith matter. Maybe weve accused thith teller, Ilamp, wrougfullx. He hath al- ters been a clever feller, and ith a pity ef he itli inuercent uv thith charge. The fact ith, boyith, its mighty dull, dry times nuthins agwine on right. Ilovith, you are free men. I fout for your freedom. I thay, bovith, you can do ath you pleath, but ath fur me, old Ston Pint Jimmy Smith, Fe- mess em no Fames, I must take a little. Jimmy took a little; all took a little; and most took more than a little. The consequences were skinned noses, gouged eyes, and bruised lacads. And so ended a famous day in the an- nals of Shipps Muster Grounds. In his gallery of notabilities Skitt gives imlace to John Senter, a cross-grained, crabbed old fallow, who, with Hollin his wife, and a large family, occupied a little cabin near the head of Fishers River. Per- sonally he seems to have been remarkable chiefly as the in- ventor of a sort of wooden-soled shoes, which he wore for quite thirty years, when he did not go barefoot. The bottoms were made of dog-wood, an inch and a half thick, studded with iron nails; the vamps of hog-skin, kept soft by possum grease; the quarters were of cow-hide. Then there were leggings of buckskin tacked to the quarters, that came up the leg, to keep out the snow in winter, and to ward off snakes in summer, when he went out hunting. Every thing, from bottoms to nails, was of his own manufacture, for he ~vonldnt l)ny notlain outn the stores. When, after an absence of many years, Skitt paid a visit to his old laume, he was desirous of procuring one of these shoes as a memorial. After infinite di- plomacy he succeeded; and the shoe, labeled A Fishers River Dancing Pump, is now the l)rsncipal curiosity in the library of The East Alabama Baptist Female College, Tuskegee, Alabama. We give place to John Senter chiefly for the sake of describing a wedding which took l)lace in his cabin. He had a son Sol, a poor dwarf- ish fellow, who had been afflicted with a white swelling, which had left him with a stiffened right leg. He land fixed his affections upon Sally Speneer, whose left leg had been broken. leaving her equally lame. The story of the wedding shall be told, in an abridged furm, by Bob Snipes, another character of the region: I was a workin fur Squire Freeman one fin- deriu hot day, and who should I see but Sol Sante, come hopakickin over the plowed yath, throwiu his lame leg around like a reap-hook. Says he: Squire, Is come to swap work with von. Times is so hard, and 1 wants to work a day or twe fur you to go as fur as dads to marry me. I wons ax you to go as fur as Sallys house, which you know is three miles above dads; but jist go to dads. and Ill go and fetch Sally dou n thar. It shall nev- er be said that Sol Senter got Squire Freeman P marry him fur nothin, and it mont be swappin work mont do jist as well. The good-natured Squire consented; and Sol wrought like a hero, paying in advance his marriage fee. The day for the wedding was ap THE wEunINe. SURRY COUNTY, NORTH CAROLINA. pointed, and the Squire and Bob made their way to John Senters cnbin. We went in, said Bob, and thar sot John on a short-legged stool in the chimbly corner, lookin fur all the world like a man that had got outn his bed wrong eend foremost that mornin. lie was sulky aud ashy, I tell yon. He hardly axed us to set down. The Squire kep.axinJohn questions, to try to git him to spill some words, hut his jaws were locked, as it were. Hollin and his darter was a-fixin away, sorter like they was glad, hut uvry now and then John kep flingin out some uv his slang at um fur fixin so much fur them crippled creeturs, that had bout as much business a-marrvin as two pos- sums. Last he riz Tight smack up, and, says he, I wouldnt be a-flxin so much fur a coul)le uv ground-hogs. He then moseyed off to a bed, and drawed out from under it a whoppin big gourd, with a great big corn-cob stopper in it. He sot it on the table, got a pewter cup, pulled out the stopper, and chug it went as it come out. I soon lamed from the smell on it that it was apple-brandy, and white- faced at that. Jist as John had got in a good-humor from bussin Mrs. Whiteface, and had begun to spill his words right fast, we looked up the hill toward the Blue Ridge, and we sees Sol and Safle, dressed in thar best, a-comm down the hill afoot, side and side, and the old lady a-traipin along arter am, Sol throwin his game leg round one way, from right to left, and Sal a-throwin bern around tother way, from left ter right. They kep good time. Sals mammy looked mighty loonsome bringin up the rear. They came in, sat down, and Johnding lsim! peared to be as glad to see urn as any on us. Soon as they had lslowed a little, and had wiped the train-lIe onto thar eyes, the Squire he tied the Gougin knot and we all wished una muds joy, John mong the rest. rhe corn-cob stopper was pulled outn the gourd, chug, agin and agin, an(l we kep bussin the pewter cop, aml(l we chatted away like blackbirds, ceptin the Squire, with bout as much sense. Diisrser corned next. Tue pot hadnt bin idle all the time it ke~ bum away, pottle, wottle, pottle, wottle. Hollin she sot the table alongside uv the bed, to sarve in the place uv chairs on one side, and a long bench on tother side, and a slsort bench on each cend. It was one of these here cross-leg tables none uv yer quality cuts. John Senter was none uv yer quality men; he opposed and hated all quality idees; nor would he low a quality dinner, lie wouldnt low but one dish, ef the Squire was thar. lie wouldnt have a pie, nur a puddin, nor nuthin o the sort. Ilol- un she tuck up the dinner, and ding my skin ef it warnt a sureanuff din- ner. Thar was a great big pewter dish full uv stewed chicken and rye domplins, with chunks isv bacon mixed up, anuff to sorter season it. The rye domplins, some on urn, was as big as corn-dodgers, and some on nmn which the seasomn hadnt toch, was tough as wlsitleather, and you mont a knocked a bull down with um. When dimmer was over, the Squire and me thought fur decencys sake we wouldnt leave right off, so we sot a little while; but we soon seen tlsat Johnding lsimn was a gittin monstrus onpatient. lie kep frivitin about. Mrs. Whiteface had died away in him, and, ding bins! he was too stingy to buss her any more, and the evil sperrit come on hissi agin. Last he walled up his eyes, and bawled out, You Zack! You go and gear up that bull (John allers plowed a bull; he wouldust hey a horse), and you go to plowin, and Ill go to hoeims. Arter this speech the Squire and me left. The people of this region must have strong religious tendencies, for we find by the census that the county contains thirty churchesall except three of the Baptist and Methodist de- nominations. Doubtless among the clergymen there were not wanting many of those brave, self-sacrificing pioneers of the saddle-bags to TiSE NICIST-ME TING. 184 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. whom the civilization and cul- ture of our frontier districts owe more than to any other men. But to delineate these does not come ~vit.hiu the scope of Skitts book. He gives us, however, a few sketches of clerical oddities, which he may (10 with a good grace, he being himself a minister of the Bap- tist order. Among these was Parson Bellow, a tall, raw- boned, long-faced, pug-nosed, wide-mouthed person, whose canonicals consisted of a linsey hunting-shirt, with a leathern band around the waist, and buckskin pants. Once on a time a revival was in progress in his church, and one John- son Snowa noted character thereabout, who wanted to know suthin uv every thing thats gwine on, made his way into one of the parsons night- meetings. Johnson had im- bibed pretty freely, and in spite of Bellows loud voice, and stamps and thumps upon floor and table, fell fast asleep. The power came on, and the noise awoke Johnson, who had forgotten where he was, and imnghted himself in a ginral row. He leaped up, exclaim- ing, Ha! ha! what you about here? What you smackin yer fists in my face fur? Ha! ha! of you ar umun, youd better skin yer eyes and look sharp. I dont low man ncr umun to pop thar fists in my face. Hello! git outn the track here! I can lick the whole posser- tommertatus of yer. Come on, ver cowards ! The congregatiou began to leave, \vhich made Johnson more furious than ever. Looking around, he saw that the parson was the only man that remained. Marching up to him, he yelled out Ha! ha! Beller, youre the ringleader uv all this devilineut. Youre the biggest rascal in this crowd. I can lick you, Sir, any day, any minuit. tubbing first oue fist, then the other, in the parsons bce, he continued: Smell uv yer master!, Smell av ver mistiss! Smell uv yer master! Smell uv ver mistiss! Ha! ha! no fight in you? Youre a purt~ feller, to raise a row with a peaceubble man, and then wont fight it out! Mosey! Trollop! tAt outn here, you dinged old sloomy Yahoo Uncle Billy Lewis deserves to he mentioned among the preachersthough his clerical func- tions continued only a short timeon account of one of his sermons reported hy Skitt. He was born near the huckleberry Ponds toward Fayettevill e; but an unlucky event forced him to leave his home and take up his residence among the Blue Mountains. The accident was this: One dark night he was out fire-hunting for deer, and seeing a number of bright eyes re- flected from his torch, he fired upon them. Un- fortunately the animals proved to be his neigh- bors horses. Billy no sooner saw his mistake than he dropped his rifle and ran. The result he shall tell himself: I run on, come to mud-pond, and in I went sock! sock! sock! last up I go to my arumpits, and could go no furder. Men comae up and say, Here he went, boys! here he went! I lay in the mud, still as a turkle, till they lost me. When the) left me I tried to git outhad a hard tioTme of it. Thar stood a jacker-mer-lautern grinnin at mae. I rake mud, fust with one hand, then with totherrake, rake. Last out I cum, muddy as a hog. I went home, told the fambly, left that night, fambly fol- lered, and all the poor men got for my shootin thar bosses was my ride and torch-pan. That was a mnemble nightnever forgitnever fire-hunt since. ThE suaa-mmL-vr. WRECKED AND RESCUED. 185 Uncle Billy, who was a Baptist in good and regular standing, made up his mind that he had a call to preach. His brethren thought other- wise; but some of the young fellows encouraged him to hold forth. He followed their advice, and drew crowds for a while. Among his en- couragers was one Jim Blevins, who used to put up the simple old man in subjects and matter. One evening before meeting Jim told Uncle Billy of a terrible sight which he had just seen, and urged him to make it the subject of warning to the people. The preacher complied; and here follows a report of the sermon, omitting the dec- trinal part Sinner, youd better pent! Danger abroad! Look out, I tell ye. Skin yer eyes good. Open yer ears wide. Listen, that you may hear. Your blood mont be quired o me. 0 my soul !Jim Blevins went on Fishers Peak this mornin, and what did he see? He seen a flyin snakedrefful crittertwelve foot long, stinger bout a feet long, eves red like halls o fire, lookin fust this way, then tother, to see what he could see, and a-squallin wusser nur a painterO sinner, pent !pent, I tell you, else yer a gone sucker. For sartin and for sure, ef he pops his stinger inter you, yer gone world thout eend. But, sinner, dyin snakes is mighty bad; had as they is, howsomever, taint nothin to what Jim Blevins seen arter that. Jim, soon as the flyin snake went outn sight, he run over back o Fishers Peak, and 0 my soul what did he see? A yahoo, sinnera yahoo! Jim hid, and it past along close by, and it was high as a house, horns ten foot long, mouf big as a hogsheadpent, sinner, pent! ft run by Jim, hollerin yahoo! yahoo! louder nur cannon at the battle o Guilford Court House, whar Wallis was fout by Greene. Jim says the way he kills folkssinner, pent he gits you on his horns, lie tossee uphe tossee up, jist like trouncin a bull- frog, till life clean gone pent sinner, pent then hell take von in his mouf, and hell lick you down like a hungry bar does a piece o honey-comb, as Jim Blevins says. Sinner, Ive warned you; Im dare o yer blood. Ef that dyin snake or that yahoo gits von, you cant blame me fur it. No, dont blame the old man nur Jim Blevins. The above discourse came to the ears of Uncle Billys church, and they called in his gift. With one more clerical story which Skitt tells of his own denomination, the Baptists, we take leave of Snriy County. A man by the name of Walker felt himself moved to preach, and looked out earne~tly for some call from on high. One day he retired to a thick grove to wrastle with the subject. While there, a donkey who happened to be near by set up a most outrageous braying. To Walkers excited tmagination these dulcet sounds were an angels voice, and wore transformed into articulate words, conveying the long-sought call. He went forthwith to his chnrch, and demanded a license, when the following dialogue took place between him and his pastor; the result being that the validity of the call was recognized, and Broth- er Walker was duly appointed to the ministry: PASTOR. Do you believe, Brother Walker, that you were called of God to preach. as was Aaron? WALKER. Most sartinly I does. PASTOR. Give the Church, that is, the bruther- ing, the proof. WALIuR. I was mightily diffikilted and trou- bled on the subjeck, and I was detarmined to go inter the woods and wrastle it out. PASTOR. Thats it, Brother Walker. WALKER. And while there wrastlin, Jacob- like, I beam one ov the curionsest voices I uve: beam in all my horned days. PASTOR. You are on the right track, Brother Walker. Go on with your noration. WAL1cEI~. I couldnt tell for the life ov mc whether the voice was up in the air ur down in the sky, it sounded so curious. PAsToIt. Poor creetur! how he was difilkilted. Go on to norate, Brother Walker. How did it ap pear to sound unto you? XX ALKER. Why, this a-way: Waw-waw-ker waw-waw-kcr! Gopreacli, go preach, go preucli, go preach-ec, go preach-eli, go preach-nh, gopreaclt- eh-eeuhehee. PASTOR. Bruthering and si