Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 46, Note on Digital Production Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 962 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABK4014-0046 /moa/harp/harp0046/

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

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 46, Note on Digital Production 0046 000
Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 46, Note on Digital Production A-B

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 46, Issue 271 [an electronic edition] Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 962 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABK4014-0046 /moa/harp/harp0046/

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

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 46, Issue 271 International monthly magazine Harper's monthly magazine Harper & Bros. New York December, 1872 0046 271
Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 46, Issue 271, miscellaneous front pages i-viii

HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINES VOLUME XLVI. DECEI~1BER, 1872, TO MAY, 1873. NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 327 to 335 PEARL STREET, FRANKLIN 8QUARII. 1873. a 1/ ~ CONTENTS OF VOLUME XLVI. DECEMBER, 1872, TO MAY, 1873. AGRICULTURAL LABORERS IN ENGLAND AL D. C~rnway 688 With a Portrait of Joseph Arch. AIR, EARTH AND (Illu8trated) S. S. (Jonant 545 ALONG THE ELBE (Illustrated) ,Junius Henri Browne 495 ASTRONOMICAL YEAR, THE N. S. Dodge 63 AUNT EYE INTERVIEWED I/rank B. Mayer 509 ILLUSTRATIONS. Aunt Eve 509 The Dance 518 Toted Wood and Water 510 St. Thomass Church 514 It was great Times in Town, etc 510 The French Camp 515 Gentlemen dressed elegant, too 512 Washington and his Servant 517 AZORES AND CANARY ISLANDS, SUMMER CRUISE AMONG THE...Miss Dabney 865 ILLUsTRATIONs. The Rambler 865 Milk Vendors 870 Ponta iDelgada, St. Michaels 866 Water-Carriers The Poetry of Sailing 867 Camels and Cochineal Carriers 872 View of the Peak from Orotava S68 Cone with a Temple on the Top 873 Peasant spinning 869 Dragon-Tree, as it was 873 Costume of Peasant 869 Guanche Mummies at Tacoronte 874 The Postigo 870 Spanish Sefiorita 874 J3ABY AND MUSTARD PLAYING BALL Will Wallace Harney 751 BEAUTIFUL MISS YAVASOUR, THE Mrs. Harriet Prescott ~pofford 852 BIRTHNIGHT BALL, A Mr& Julie Ver Planck 543 BRITISH MUSEUM AND ITS READING-ROOM, THE George M. IJowle 198 ILLUSTRATIONS. Plan of the Ground-Floor 201 Plan of new Reading-Room 207 Interior of the new Reading-Room 205 CADMUS, OUR DEBT TO Rev. William Hayes Ward 518 ILLUSTRATIONS. An Indian Petition 818 Characteristic Letters from the Moabite Chinese ideographic Writing 518 Stone ~22 Babylonian ideographic Writing 518 Upper Portions of the Moabite Stone - 523 Assyrian syllabic Writing 519 Egyptian and Phcenician Characters 523 Country 520 The Archaic Alphabet 524 Egyptian hieroglyphic Letters 521 Greek Inscription from Sigeum s2s The-Name of Ptolemy (Ptulmis) m hero- The Greek Word xp~eq~or written in both glyphics 521 Directions 525 Seal of Shallum 521 Greek Inscription reading from right to left 525 CANARY ISLANDS, AZORES AND, CRUISE AMONG THE (Illustrated)...MissDabney 865 CHILD, WHERE IS THE I Mrs. Zadel B. Buddington 229 ILLUSTRATIONS. The Dreamer 229 The Child loves him 236 Amid them all the Dreamer, etc 230 The Sun is setting 237 Our Father 231 Sleep in her Mantle folds him 238 - Why are we sunk in Deeps of Care ? etc. 232 At the Altar 239 The Birth Chamberrich and poor 234 CHRISTMAS CAROL (Illustrated Border) 228 CHRISTMAS GIFT, THE Mrs. M.D. Brine 282 CHRISTMAS THROUGHOUT CHRISTENDOM 0. M. Spencer 241 ILLUSTRI TIONS. Thor 241 The Christ-Child and Hans Trapp 249 Odin as the Wild Huntsman 242 Christmas Masks 250 Frau bile, or Berchta, and her Train 243 The Christmas-Tree 252 The faithful Eckhart 244 The Presepio 253 Characters in the Christmas Plays 245 Under the Mistletoe 255 St. Nicholas 247 Bringing in the Boars Head 256 Christmas in France 248 CONGRESS, THE LIBRARY OF (illustrated) Ben Perley Poore 41 CONSTITUTIONAL LIMITATIONS Franklin B. Hough 570 CONTRAST William C. Richards 19 COVENANTERS, SCOTTISH, THE Eugene Lawrence 103 iv CONTENTS. CRADLE OF THE NEW WORLD, TUE S. S. Conant 641 ILLUSTRATIONS. Balandra Head, Entrance of Samana Bay... 641 Washing Clothes 650 Discovery of Santo Domingo 642 Old Part of Santo Domingo City 651 Map of Samana Bay 643 A Dominican School 652 Town and Bay of Puerto Plata 644 Business Street in Santo Domingo City 652 Caves of Santana 645 Apartments 653 Figures cut in the Rock 646 The only Steam-Engine in Santo Domingo. 653 A Buccan~r 641 The Vega Real 654 A Boucan 641 Market Square of Santiago 655 Going ashore 649 Haytian Waiter 656 Loading Cargo 649 The Guide 656 Old Fort at Puerto Plain 649 Palace of Sans Souci 651 DAISY, THE 864 DELUSIONS OF MEDICINE Profeasor Henry Draper, M.D. 385 ILLUSTRATIONS. Gnomes terrifying a Miner 386 Cannel-CoalmakingRevelations to Dr. Dee. 390 St. Dunstans Negotiation with the Devil ... 381 Gettatura . 391 Protection from Witches by a Horseshoe... 388 Dutch Alchemist and his starving Wife..... 393 Domination of the Zodiac over Man 389 Aichemical Symbols 1194 Whether the Sick would live, etc 389 DIAMOND FIELDS, LIFE IN THE AlbertE. Coleman 321 ILLUSTRATIONS. En Route to theMines 321 The Promenade 329 In the Diamond Fields 323 I am no Nigger 1 329 Jumping a Claim 324 A Whirlwind 330 Some of you had better stand on the Table 324 Drowned out - 330 Our down East Native 325 The Market-Master . 382 Throw i1~ up, old Fellow I 326 Map of the Diamond Fields 333 AcloseFit 328 Working in the Excavations 334 DISARMED Laura C. Redden 40 DOME OF THE CONTINENT, THE . Verplanok Cohin 20 ILLUsTRATIONS. The Life-Limit, Grays Peaks 20 Georgetown 29 TheSnowyRange 21 Humility with Wealth 31 The Big-Horn 22 The Cony . 38 Gulch Mining 23 The Ptarmigan t13 Iron Retort for Gold Amalgam 24 GraysPeaks 34 The Shaft.: 25 Grays Peaks, from Glacier Mountain 35 Cornish Skip 26 Map of Grays Peaks and their Vicinity 36 TheHeading; 21 The Dome of the Continent 36 DOUBT Tracy Robinson 658 EARTH AND AIR S. S. Conant 54~i ILLUSTRATIONS. A lunar Landscape 546 Rainof Blood in Provence 555 The Circle of Ulloa 548 Shower of Locusts 556 La Fata Morgana 549 Shower of Beetles 651 The Simoom 550 Dr. Richmann struck dead by an Electrical During the Pa8sage of the Tebbad 551 Shock 558 Sand Columns in the Desert 552 Harvesters killed by Lightning 559 Water-Spout at Sea 553 Curious Freak of Lightning soD Above and below the Rain-Cloud 654 EASTERN WOMAN, AN, THE LIFE OF .;.; Ed ~n Dc Leon 364 ILLUSTRATIONS. Interior of a Harem 365 Reception at a Soirie 361 The Story-Teller in the Harem 366 At the Table 368 EDITORS DRAWER. DRAWER FOR DECEMBER 155 DRAWER FOR MARCH 635 DRAWER FOR JANUARY 315 DRAWER FOR APRIL 795 DRAWER FOR FEBRUARY 475 DRAWER FOR MAY 947 EDITORS EASY CHAIR. CrtAnl FOR DECEMBER 133 Cm4nl FOR MARCH 607, CuMit FOR JANUARY .... 296 CHAIR FOR APRIL 769 CHAnt FOR FEBRUARY 452 CHAIR FOR MAY 926 EDITORS HISTORICAL RECORD. UNITED STATRs.Congressional: Openingof Third toral Vote counted, 186. Franking, 411, 623 Bank- Session of Forty-second Congress, 461 Presidents ruptcy, 623, 186. Shipping Commissioners, 623 Sen- Message, 461. Presidents Proclamation, 309. Vi- ator Caldwell, 185. Appropriations, 186,942 Close enna Exposition, 310, 461,411 Transportation, 461, of Forty-second Congress, 942. Geneva Award 1811, 410. Subsidies, 461, 185~ Indians,461, 468,410,623. 942. Japanese Indemnity, 185. Copyright,185 rMor Civil Service, 461,471. Treasury Report, 468. Inter- mons, 186. Asiatic Telegraph, 186. Special Session nal Revenue, 468, 469. War Department, 468. Sig- of Senate of Fort~-tbird Congress 942 Education: nal Service Bureau, 468. Navy, 465. 411, 623, 185. Bureau of Education, 469,623. Industrial Education, Post-office, 468,411, 185, 186. Postal Telegraph, 410, 624. Educational Notes, 629. Education in Euiope, 623. Department of the Interior, 468. Patents, 468. 632. Vienna Exhibition,310. Miscellaneous, 151,152, Pensions, 469. Public Lands, 469. Bureau of Edu- 185. Elections: State, 149,309,943. Presidential 309, cation, 469 623. Agriculture, 469. New Members, 411 San Juan Decision, 149. Chicago Fire, 149. ~ 469, 623. 1~1orace Greeleys Death 469 Cr8dit Mo- merce Statistics, 149. Transportation, 149, 411, 181. biller, 469, 184. Amnesty, 469. i3inance, 469, 623, Horse Epidemic, 152. Disasters, 162, 311,413, 634, 185. Boston Fire, 469. Soldiers Homesteads, 469, 194. Mining Accidents, 194. Obituary, 152, 311,413, 623. Immigration, 411, 623, 683, 194. Louisiana 634, 194. Census Statistics, 310. United StatesCen- Election, 411, 943. French Claims, 411. Agricultu- tennial, 310. St. Johns Guild, 412. Criminal Code, ral Colleges, 411, 185. Deficiency Bill, 411 Presi- 634. Industrial Statistics, 309, 310, 634~ Governors dents Election and Salary, 411, 623, 185, 942. Elec- Messages, 623. State Constitutions, 624, 186, 943. CONTENTS. V EDITORS HIsTORicAL RECORDContinued. San Domingo, 624. Southern States Debts, T86. 945. Defeat of the Irish University Bill, 945. Alsace. State Conventions, T86. Labor Commissions, T92. and Lorraine, 153. Old Catholic Congress, 153., Pins- Jumel Trial, T94. New York Constitutional Corn- sia and the Catholics, 153. Prussian. Counties Re- mission, 943. Railroad Legislation in New Jersey form BDI, 314, 474. German Emigration, 314. Bis- and Illinois, 944. Dominican Parliament, 945. marcks Speech in the Reichstag, 787, prince Napo- CENTRAL AND SOUTH AannuoA.Jamaica and Pan- leon exiled, 154. French Elections, 1114. French As- ama Cable, 152. Cubart Taxation, 152. Mexico, 152, sembly, 473, 624, 787. Project of the Committee of 312. Wreck of the Guatemala, 312. Thirty, 946. French Census, 624. Burning of the Euxopx.Geneva Tribunal, 152. Disestablishment Spanish Escurial, 154. Spanish Cortes Proceedings, of English Church,153. Scotch Educational Settle- 154. Slavery in Porto Rico, 474, 624, 946. Abdica- ment, 153. Labor Movements, 153. Mining Statis- tion of King Amadeus, 786. Spain a Republic, 786. tics, 153, 314,474. African Slave-trade, 312. British Russian Movement on Khiva, 474. Russian Corn- Finance Accounts, 312. English and French Treaty, munal T~aw, 787. River Po overflowed, 154, 315. 312. Wrecks, 313, 314,474. ballot introduced in En- Italian Civil Marriage Bill legalized, 624. Obituary, gland, 474. Mortality in Great Britain, 474. British 145, 315,946. Disasters, 946. Parliament Opening, 787. British Ministerial Crisis, EDITORS LITERARY RECORD: Gladstones Michael Faraday, 137. Stones History trum Analysis, 614. Evanss Ancient Stone Imple- of New York City, 138. The American Historical ments, etc., of Great Britain, 615. Roes Barriers Record, 138. Lyells Principles of Geology, 138. Burnt Away, 615. Miss Ingelows Off the SkePigs, Hope Deferred, 139. Macdonalds Vicars Daughter 616. Hales His Level Best and other Stories 616. 139. Pslgraves Herman Agha 139. Egglestons End Miss Alcotts, Shawl Straps,615. Childrens B~oks, of the World1 140. Trollopes ~heEustaceDiamonds, 774. Midcllemarcb, 775. Fa~~ns Bread-and-Cheese 140. Marjories Quest, 140. Miss Mulocks Adven- and Kisses, 775. Cravens Flaurange, 775. Gibbons tures of a Brownie, 140. Nordhoffs California, 140. Robin Gray, 776. Mrs. Oliphants At His Gate~, 776. Miscellaneous, 141. Works on Art, 300. Michelets MayosNever Again, 776. Holts Robeit Tremayne, The Mountain, 301. Flaggs Woods and By-Ways. 776. Library of Famous Fiction, 776. Warrens Ad-. of New England, 301. Abbotts Force, 30L Tyn- ventures of an Attorney in Search of Practice, 776. dalis Forms of Water, 302. Recluss Ocean, 302. Hartes Mrs. Skaggss Husbands, 776. Trowbridges Joness The Treasures of the Earth, 302. Songs of Coupon Bonds, 776. Johnsons Oriental Religions, Nature, 302. Illustrated Series, 302. Juvenile Books, 777. Blackies The Four Phases of Morals, 777. 303. Froudes The English in freland, 457. Hud- Grays The Biblical Museum 777 Channings The sons Journalism in the United States, 457. Tenny- Perfect Life, 777. Mrs. Fords My Recreations, 77L sons new Poem, 457. Whittiers Pennsylvania Pil- Scheffers The Worid Priest, 777. Christ atthe Door, grim, 458. Baynes Days of Jezebel, 458. Hollands 778. Mays Hymns on the Collects, 778. Fiskes Marble Prophecy, 458. Watson s Outcast, etc., 458. Myths and Myth-Makers, 778. Hazards Santo Do- Haweiss Thoughts for the Times, 459. Talmages mingo, 778. Proctors A Russian Journey 778 Sermons, Vol. IL, 460. Ortons How and Where to Fishers History of the Reformation 929 HaIlams Find Them, 460. Whitneys Oriental and Linguistic Constitutional History of England, 929. Drakes Studies, 460. Miscellaneous,, 4f~0. Frothiughams Old I4ndmarks of Boston, 930. Homes and Hospi- Rise of the Repbblic of the United States, 612. Lan- tals, 930. Arnolds Turning-Points in Life, 930. The freys History of Napoleon L, 612. Miss Thaihei~ True History of Joshua Davidson, Communist, 93L mers Manual of Ancient History, 613. Freemans The Culture of Pleasure, 93L .SpeakersCommenta-. Outlines of History, 613. Do Veras Romance of ry, 93L Murphys Commentary on Genesis, 932. American History, 614. Dlllingers Fables respect- Darwins The Expression of the Emotions in Man lug the Popes of the Middle Ages, 614. Forsters and Animals, 932. Cushings The Treaty of Wash- Life of Dickens, 614. Plons Thorvaldsen, 614. ington, 932. Smiths Art Education, 933. Hallocks MCarthys Modern Leaders, 614. Schellens Spec- Fishing Tourist, 933. EDITORS SCIENTIFIC RECORD. Mac Cormac on the Origin of Tubercular Con- Bone, 808. ConnectIon between Pyiamia and Bacte-. sumption, 142. Zuccator Copying Machine, 142 ria 308 Polarizing Action of Tartarh~ Acld,46L Proctor on Physical Observatories, 143. Chemical InAuence of a Diamagnetic ~lody on the Electric Composition of clean and foul Salmon, 143. Re- Current, 46L Effect of Bathing on the Weight of cent Upheaval of the Patagonian Coast, 143. Ab- the Body, 462. Improving the Qualit of oor Coal, sorption ofMetallic Salts by Wool, 144. Generation 462. Carhonic Acid in Sea-Water, 462. Glacial Pa- of Eels, 144. Occurrence of As halts, 144. Riley on nod of the Northern Hemisphere, 462. Defects of the Bark-Louse of the Apple- rae, 144. Nature of Vision in the Young,463. Allen on the Birds of Chioral Hydrate, 145. Nature of the blue, Coloring Kansas, etc., 464. Filaria in the Brain of the Water- Matter of Fishes, 145. Water Supply of Nismes, on Turkey, 464. Physiology of Virus, 465. Report on the Rhone, 145. Chondrine in the Tissues of Tuni-. Enckes Comet, 465. Spawning of the Sterlet, 465. cates, 145. Dentritlc Marks on Paper, 145. Change~ Use of the Bill of the Hula Bird, 465. On alcoholic of Temperature in the Northern Hemisphere, 145.. Fermentation, 465. Effects of a superoxyganated Cyclones in the I1acific, 146. Pollard on ~aastck- Atmosphere on Animals, 466. FayreronPolsonous ness, 146. MinaraiSparm-Oll, 146. Tasting Animal Serpents of India, 466. The Rings of Saturn 466 Fluids,. 146. Solidification of Solutions in Country Suiphobydrate of Chioral, 466. Discussion of beep: Air 147 Alleged gigantic Pike, 147. Solubility sea Temperatures, 616. People using the Boomerang, of Aaits and Gases in Water, 147. New Mode of 617. Coincidence of Solar Outbursts and Magnetic printing Goods, 147. Kirkwood on Comets and Me- Disturbance, 617. Noctilucine, SiL Rate ofGrowth teors, 14L New fossil Deer, 147, Is Chioral an An- in Coral, 618. Cure forEczema, 618. Thelost Comet, tidote to Strychnine? 148. Purpurophyl, ~a Deriva- 618. Physiological Action of Delphinium, 619. Na- tive ofChloropbyl,14$lilue Color from lioletus, tive Sulphuric Acid in Texas, 619. Archieology in 146. Application of Disinfectants, 146. Prehistor- America, 619. Prehistoric Remains at Soloutra 619 ic (?) Man in America, 145. Alcoholic Products of Effects ofusing Bromide of Potassium, 819. ~pee Distillation, 148, The Proboscidlans of the Amen- trum of Neptune 620 DryMethod of cleaningsoiled can Eocene, 304. The armed Metalophodon, 304. Fabrics,. 620. Eifectof bathing on the Heat of the Skeleton of Baoussd-rouss6, 304. English Eclipse Body 62~ Reiation of the Barometer to the Aurora Expedition, 304. Relation of European Nations to and dun-Spots, 620. Prehistoric Remains in Wyo- Scientific Progress, 304. iPrifting of the Stars, 305. ming, 620. Illustrations of North~ American Ento- Left and riht Handedness, 305. Trimorphous Con- mology, 62L Change of Level in the Northern Seas, ditiosi of Silica 305. Manufacture of Wood Pulp for 621 Carbonic Acid of Sea-Water 621 On the Physi- Paper, 805 ]5eepest known Well, 306. Curious ology of Sleep, 621 Fossil Elephant in Alaska, 021 Habit of Bees, 306. Electrical Pyrometer, 306. Pal- Physical Geography of the Red Sea, 622. Injection mieris Law respecting Atmospheric Electticity~ 306. of sapticiamic Blood, 622. Improved lic~uid Glue, Cutaneous Absorption of Drugs, etc., 306. Utiliza- 622. Conversion of Indigo-Blue into Indigo-White, tion of Scraps of tinned Iron, 306. Indication of 622. Fifth Report of the Peabody Museum, Cam- heating by Friction, 307. Effect of Variation of bridge, 622. Preservation of fleshy Fungi, 779. Red Pressure on the Evolution of GaseS in Fermentation, indelihle Ink, 779. Milk-Tree, 779. Hospital Build- 307. Parasite of the Beaver, 307. Improved Mode ings, 779. Peh-lah Wax of the Chinese, 779. Ac- of Nickel Plating, 307. Iron Sand on the Pacific tion of amorphous red Phosphorns 780. Prepare- Coast, 308. Palatine-Orange,a new Dye, 308. Di- tion of Meat Extract,780. A tamed Wasp, 780. Mi- rect Oxidation of Carbon, 308. Is the Unicorn a Fa- cro-chemical Investigation of Fibres, 730. Origin of ble? 308. Effect of Interment on the Structure of Goitre, 780. Value of the Eucalyptus, 780. Antag vi CONTKNTS. EDITORs SCIENTIFIC REOOBDCOfltiflU6d. onism of Belladonna and Physostigma, 780. Linde- Separating Brass from Founders Slag, 784. Chem- man on Gregarine in Chignons, 780. Flora of the ical Composition of Dead-Sea Water, 784. Award Island of St. Paul, 781. Production of Opium in of Medals by the Royal Society of London in 1872, Germany 781. Report of the Sutro Tunnel Coin- 784. New Dyes, 784. Summary of Scientific Prog- mission, 1(81 Blue stamping Ink, 781 Hair Eradi- ress, 933. Solar Spots and Protuberances, 937. Dis- cator, 781. Biographical Notice of Babinet, 781. covery of a Fragment of Bielas Comet, 938. Report Occurrence of Gold in Sea-Water, 781. Unvarying on Tea Culture in Japan, 938. Blood Entozoon, 938. Course of Cirrus Clouds, 781. Antiputrescent Prop- Pyro-Plating, 938. The Crust of Meteoric Stones, erties of Silicate of Soda, 782. The Fallow Deer in- 939. Effect of Heat on the Temperature of Animals, digenous in Europe, 782. Maxite, a new Lead Ore, 940. Theory of Taking Cold, 940. Cinchona in 782. Active Principle of Vaccine Virus, 782. Rela- Jamaica, 940. Regulation of Time by Observatories, - lion of Entozos to the Grouse Disease, 783. Ozonized 940. Action of Cod-Liver Oil, 941. Laughter as a Water, 783. Coating Fibres with Silver, 783. Rub- Remedial Operation, 941 Process for Silvering Glass ber-GraphitePaint, 783. Geological Age of Wyoming Vessels, 941. Dolomites of the United States, 941 Coal, 783. Assyrian Tradition of the Deluge, 784. Benefits of Vaccination, 941. ELBE, ALONG THE Juniu8 Henri Browne 495 ILLUSTRATIONS. Bastion Rocks 495 King John of Saxony 1503 The Bastion Bridge 496 Monument of Augustus the Strong 504 The Konigstein 497 The Zwinger, Dresden 505 Hans Merchermann and the Children 498 Evening Concert on the Brithi Terrace, Dres- Niagara outdone 499 den 506 The Robbers of Burg Neurathen 500 Stairs of the Terrace of Bruhi 307 The Kuhstall 501 Porcelain Manufa~tory at Meissen 307 FAIRS AND MARKETS OF EUROPE, THE GREAT B. H. Home 376 FLOWERS EPITAPH, A Nelly M. Hutehinson 132 GENEVA AND ITS BISHOP Eugene Lawrence 911 GIFT, THE CHRISTMAS Mrs. AL. D. Brine 282 GOG, MAGOG, AND CO Lyman Abbott 681 ILLUSTRATIONS. Gayant and his Family 681 Goliath and his Wife 686 Gog-Magog 682 Lyderic and Giant Phinart 687 Corineus 683 The Snap-Dragon 687 The Tailors Giant 684 Snap-Dragons Head 687 Arms of Antwerp 684 St. Christopher 687 Antigonus 685 GREELEY, HORACE Junius Henri Browne 734 ILLUSTRATION. Horace Greeleys Sanctum. HOPE Hate Hillard 116 IMPROVISATIONS, V Bayard Taylor 97 INTERPRETER, THE Kate Putnam Osgood 576 IN THE SEED Kate Putnam Osgood 65 JAPAN, THE PRESENT AND FUTURE OF E. H. House 858 JUSTINE, YOU LOVE ME NOT! John G. Saxe 875 LADYS CHOICE, MY Nelly AL. Hutchinson 451 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, THE Ben Perley Poore 41 ILLUSTRATIONS Interior of the Congressional Library 41 An Action postponed sine Die 45 I ~m completely floored ! 43 The Law Llbrary 47 Lightup! 44 LIFE IN THE DIAMOND FIELDS (Illustrated) Albert B. Coleman 231 LIFE ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR (Illustrated) Commodore William Gibson 481 LIFE UNDER THE OCEAN WAVE Lyman Abbott 801 ILLUSTRATIONS. Coral fishing 801 Lizzia Kedlikeri 815 The Aquarium 803 Venuss Girdle 815 Sea-Weeds 805 Star-Fish 816 One of the Infusoria 806 Cuttle-Fish making a Cloud 817 Radiolaria 806, 807 An Echinus, or Sea-Urchin 818 An isolated Polyp 808 Dactyloid Pholades 818 A Hydrarla 809 Teredo and his Pathway in the Wood 819 A Campanularia 810 Chain of phosphorescent Salpas 819 Turbiporlue 811 Pearl-Fisher in Danger 820 Neptunes Glove 811 Divers in their Armor 820 Sea-Anemones 812 The submarine Man at his Work 821 Beautiful haired Medusa 813 Toilers of the Sea 821 The Physophora 814 LIMITATIONS, CONSTITUTIONAL Franklin B. Hough 570 LOCOMOTIONPAST AND PRESENT S. S. Conant 161 ILLUSTRATIONS English Stage-eoach forty Years ago 161 Dutch Girls skating to Market 170 Ancient State Chariot 162 Alpenstock 170 Ancient Roman State Chariot 162 Ice-Sled 170 Roman War Chariot 163. A Railroad Train 170 Chariot of the Rois Faindnuts 163 Under full Sail 171 French Hunting Chariot 165 American River Steamboat 171 Sedan-Chair, 17th and 18th centuries 166 Canal-Boat 171 Sedan-Chair on Wheels 166 Street Car 171 Spanish Mule Chair 167 Aerial Navigation 172 The Palanquin 167 Afloat on a Raft 172 The Howdah 167 Velocipede 172 Russian Sledge 168 Babys Trundle 173 Reindeer and Dog Sledges 169 Invalids Chair 173 CONTENTS. vii LOST D. B. Castleton 892 LOVE AND LIFE Mrs. Zadel B. Buddington 526 LOVES QUEST Ellis Gray 822 MADRIGAL, A Frances M. Peard 50 MALTA Herbert Bright 37 II.FAJSTUATION5. Strada Real 37 City of Valetta 39 MAN-OF-WAR, LIFE ON BOARD A Commodore William Gibson 481 ILLU5T3ATION5. Off the Highlands 481 The Story of Charleston Harbor 488 Going into Commission 483 The Watch below 489 Executive Officers Report to the Captain.. 484 Crossing the Line 490 Scrubbing Decks 485 Sunday Service on the Gun-Deck 491 The Navigating Officers State-Room 486 Burial of the Dead 492 The Mess 487 The Typhoon 493 MARCH Constance F. Woolson 508 MARCO POLO AND HIS BOOK 0. M. Spencer 1 ILLUsTaATIoN5. Portrait of Kublai-Khan 1 Fac-Simile of a Portion of the celebrated In- Marco Polo 2 scription of Singanfu 12 The Great Khan delivering, etc 3 Cross on the Monument. at Singanfn 13 Arms of the Polo Family 3 Medieval Tartar Huts and Wagons 14 Marco Polo, from a Venetian Mosaic 5 Bank-Note of the Ming Dynasty 16 Marco Polos Galley going into Action, etc 7 The Rukh 17 Alau shuts up the Caliph, etc 8 RukhS Egg 17 The Oracular Trees of the Sun and Moon 9 Dog-headed Men of Angamanam 18 Chinese conjuring extraordinary 10 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS Lyman Abbott 347 ILLUSTRATIONS. Mary Queen of Scots 347 Ilolyrood Palace 354 ~neen Elizabeth 381 Lochieven Castle 361 Lord Daruley 352 Tomb of Queen Mary 363 MISS VAVASOUR, THE BEAUTIFUL Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spofford 852 MONT-DE-PI~T~, THE Herbert Tuttle 337 ILLUSTRATIONS. Initial 337 The Council 341 The Exit 338 The Auction-Room . 343 Salle dEugagements 339 Victim of the Mont-de-Pi~lk 344 The Cashier 340 Tail-Piece 345 MOUNTAINS, THEVII Porte Crayon 669 ILLUsTRATIONs. Dick 669 The old Dragon 678 Subterranean 671 Bub . 678 The Flight 673 Domestic Bliss 679 He killed my Wolf 674 DelusIve Industry 680 An Improvement 675 A Quandary 680 MY LADYS CHOICE Neily M. Hutchinson 451 MY QUEEN.A SONNET John U. Saxe 438 MY TRAMP Anna M. Hoyt 562 NEW MAGDALEN, THE Wilkie Collins 117, 283, 439, 597, 753, 914 NEWSBOYS DEBT, THE Miss H. B. Hudson 876 ILLUSTRATIONS. He stood and gazed with wistful Face... 876 I thought him smiling in his. Sleep 877 He made me fetch ffis Jacket here 877 NEWSPAPERS AND EDITORS S. S. Conant 585 NEW WORLD, CRADLE OF THE (illustrated) S. S. Conant 641 No. 289A VISION Mrs. Frank MCarthy 210 OLD KENSINGTON Miss Thackeray 79, 215, 395, 527, 721, 878 ILLUsTRATIONs. Head-Piece 79 Head-Piece 527 Come down directly, etc 80 He saw a Nymph standing by the Railing 528 Trust me 218 They found a poor black Heap lying upon Aunt Sarah, do you know me I 227 theFloor, etc 727 Head-Piece 395 Head-Piece 878 Her Heart began to beat, etc 399 Does he call her his Rachel Z 880 ONE QUIET EPISODE Fannie B. Hodgson 431 OUTCAST Lewis Kingsley 173 PEGGYS PANDOWDY Mary N. Prescott 593 PERVERSE, THE Mi-s. Elizabeth Stoddard 830 PICTURESQUE TRANSFORMATION, A Julian Hawthorne 126 PIGEON VOYAGERS Mess B. B. Leonard 659 ILLUSTRATIONS. Lowering the Pigeon 689 Interior of the Trap 665 Methods of attaching the Message 660 Improved Model of Loft 666 Belgian Pigeons at the Palace of Industry.. 661 Stamping the Wing 666 Mode of fastening Messages 662 Race of the Carriers 687 The four principal Varieties 663 Pigeon-Basket 667 Exterior of Pigeon-Loft 664 Newly hatched Pigeon 668 Interior of Pigeon-Loft 665 viii CONTENTS. PRESENT AND FUTURE OF JAPAN, THE B. H. House 858 PRISCILLA Nelly AL Hutchinson 187 QUEEN, MY.A SONNET John U. ~axe 438 QUEEN OF SCOTS, MARY (Illustrated) Lyman Abbott 347 QUIET EPISODE, ONE Fannie B. Hodyson 431 RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD STAGER 92, 270, 428, 700 REPRIEVE Mrs. Harriet Prescott A~pofford 91 ROBINS-EGG BLUE Mary E. Nutting 336~ ROMANS, THE OLD, AT HOME Benson J. Lossing 66, 174 ILLUSTRATIONS. Tomb of Secundus ... 66 SpInning 174 Monumental Urn 66 Buckles 174 Keys .. 67 Ear-Rings 176 68 Necklace? Bracelets, and Brooch 176 Bells 68 Finger-Rings 177 A quadrans 69 Nuptial Ceremony 177 69 Toga Prntexta~ 178 of Bathing-Room 69 The Bride veiled 178 Rooms in a Bath 70 Nuptial Ceremonies in the Atrium 179 Chairs 71 Ph~~an Cap 180 Kitchen Utensils 71 Penn a, or short Toga 180 72 Senator and Wife 181 A Wine Strainer 72 Sandals, Boots, and ~iskins 181 Lying at Table 73 Head-Dresses 182 A Cup-Bearer 74 A Bulla 182 Corinthian Vase 75 The House of Mourning 183 Jasper Vase 76 Lachrymal or Tear Vases 184 Pitcher and Guttus 76 Tablets and Styli 186 ACrater 76 AScrimum 185 A Stamp 76 Drum, Lyre, Trumpet, Flute;and Cymbal... 186 Fire-Place 76 Public Dancers 187 The Aviary of Varros Villa 78 SAILORS SNUG HARBOR, THE Louis Bagger 188 ILLUSTRATIONs. The sunny Corner 188 The Reading-Room 193 Randalls Bust 189 Basket-making 194 The Complaint 189 OldSaiors fishing 196 Admission of an old Sailor 190 Drawing Tobacco 195 Plan of Sailors Snug Harbor 192 The Bone Man 197 One of the Sleeping-Rooms 192 SCOTTISH COVENANTEIRS, THE Eugene Lawrence 103 SEA AND SHORE Charles Nordhoff 704 ILLUSTRATIONS. Section of the Atlantic in the Tropics 706 Different Positions of Cape Ferret 715 Comparative Saitness of Seas 706 Formation of a Dune 716 Icebergs of the Antarctic Ocean 708 Formation of Sand Dune 716 Rollings of a Ship upon the Waves 708 Section of a Dune 716 Average Heights of a s 709 Calms during the Hurricanes at Reunion... 717 Route of Steam-Packets 712 Spirals made by a Vessel 718 Profile of a Tidal Wave 712 Cyclone in the Indian Ocean 718 Giants Caidrons of Haelstolmen 713 Parabola described by a Hurricane 719 Section of the Giants Caidrons 718 Whirlwinds of Dust 720 Tidal Wells 713 Comparative Amounts of Rain-fall 720 SIMPLETON, A Charles Reade 98, 258, 418, 577, 741, 897 SONG OF THE PALM Tracy Robinson 346 SONNET .....Paul H. Hayne 197 SUB ROSA Rose Terry 375 THREADS OF SONG Miss Josephine Pollard 494 TILL DEATH Mrs. J. U. Burnett 668 TOLD IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 695 TRAMP, MY Anna M. Hoyt 562 TRANSFORMATION, A PICTURESQUE Tulian Hawthorne 126 VALENTINESFOR MY TWO Rose Terry 452 VIENNA M.D. Conway 831 ILLUSTRATIONS. Schonbrunnthe Palace Gardens 831 ExhIbition Building 839 Schiinbrnnnanother View 832 La Gloriette at Schiinbrnnn 841 Palace of the Vienna Exposition 833 New Stadt T~heatre, Vienna 843 Interior of Exhibition Hall 835 Fraulein Stadelmeyer 845 Diagram of the Exposition 837 VISION, ANo. 289 Mrs. Frank MCarthy 210 VOICE AND FACE Ellis Gray 763 WAIF AND ESTRAY, A D. B. Castleton 407 WALKING BOY, THE Clara F. Guernsey 275 WIERTZ, A Wirt Sihes 823 ILLUSTRATIONS. The Man of the Future, etc 823 The last Cannon 828 The Greeks and Trojans contending, etc.... 825 The Orphans 829 WOMAN, A N EASTERN, THE LIFE OF (Illustrated) Edwin Do Leon 364

O. M. Spencer Spencer, O. M. Marco Polo and His Book 1-19

ilAR PERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. CCIXXLBECEMBER, 1872.VoL. XLVI. MARCO POLO AND HIS BOOK.* WHEN, six centuries & go, Marco Polo, the medieval Herodotus, recited the won- derful history of h~ ravels at Venice, as his great prototype ha done before him at Ath- ens, his countrymen, regarding his extrava- gant stories as so many romantic fables or Munchausen - like marvels, conferred upon him the 8ol~riquet of Messer Marco Millioni ; and long after his death it is related that at the Venetian masks one of the characters * The Book of Ser Marco Polo the Venetian. New- ly translated and edited, with notes, by Colonel HENRY YULE, C.B. 2 volumes, London: John Murray, iSTi. personated was Mark Million, who amused and delighted the crowd with his singular adventures and marvelous stories. When, however, on his death-bed, his friends be- sought him to retract and revise his book in accordance with the facts, the dying traveler replied that he had not told the half of what he had really and truly seen. In the light of modem research and ex- ploration, illustrated and explained by Ori- ental literature and travel, what at one time was regarded as simply the effervescence of a fertile fancy has gradually crystallized, for the most part, into the sober facts of geogra PORTRAIT OF KUJ3LAI-KHANFROM A OHINESE ENeRAVINO. Entered according to Act of Congress~ in the year 18T2, by Harper and Brothers, in the Office of the Libra- rian of Congress, at Washington. VOL. XLVLNo. 2(1.i 2 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. phy and history, niarred, no doubt, by some chronological errors and distorted geograph- ical namesattributable in the main to oral dictation and subsequent transcription with here and there au intermixture of fable when he describes from hearsay, and of hy- perbole when he narrates the results of his own observation. Still there is a vast in- terval on the score of veracity between the Yenetiau traveler and Sir John Mandeville, his English contemporary. Though we are not indebted to Polo for our earliest information respecting China and Central Asia, since, to say nothing of the ancients, during the Middle Ages Carpini and Rubruquis, the Minorite friars, had both preceded him, still he stands deservedly at the head of medieval travelers, and doubt- less contributed more than any other to the advancement of -geographical science and our knowledge of Central and Eastern Asia. Nearly six centuries have elapsed with their imposing array of celebrated travelers, but none have arisen to dispute with the illus- trious Venetian the palm of being the great- est explorer of the continent of Asia. The Book of Marco Polo, with the flavor of so many centuries upon its pages, loses little of its interest or popularity. With chapters that read like a passage out of the Thousand and One Nights,~ it proposes perplexing puzzles of nomenclature that might satisfy the most ambitious commen- tator, and suggests problems which are MARCO POLO. MARCO POLO AND HIS BOOK. 3 alike interesting to the antiquarian and scholar, the merchant, politician, and moral reformer. Fifty-seven editions have not sufficed to satisfy the popular demand, and now Colonel Yule presents us with a work of two portly volumes, running through nearly a thousand pages, which, with its rich variety of curious and recondite lore geographical, historical, linguistic, and liter- aryits fullness of criticism, its profusion of pictorial illustration, and prodigality of learned annotation, enriching if not encum- bering the text, constitutes a perfect the- saurus of profound erudition and laborious research. To the completion of his Hercu- lean task Colonel Yule has brought a fine classical taste, a ripe scholarship, a critical acumen, besides a thorough acquaintance with Eastern manners and customs, as well as medieval geography, which, illustrated and interpreted from his rich stores of knowledge, with untiring assiduity and an exhaustive labor, have constituted the pub- lication of his work an epoch in Oriental re- search and geographical science. With this passing tribute to the scholarly editor, who most of all deserves the thanks of all lovers of the quaint and fanciful in medieval lit- erature, we proceed to give such an account as we may, within the narrow limits of a magazine article, of Marco Polo and his BoOk. Without attempting, with some antiqua- rians, to trace the origin of the Polo family to the legendary Lucius Polus, one of the companions of Prince Antenor of Troy, we will simply state that the ascertained gene- alogy of Marco Polo begins with his grand- father, Andrea Polo, a noble of the parish of San Felice, in Venice, whose family consist- ed of three sonsMarco, Nicolo, and Maffeo. Of these, Nicolo was the father of Marco, the great traveler. The three brothers were en- gaged in commerce, and constituted a part- nership, transact- ing business and residing for the most part in Con- stantinople andthe Crimea. In 1260 we find Nicolo and Maffeo Polo on a business tour, which for various reasons was ulti- mately extended as far as Bokhara, and thence to the court of the Great KhanKublai, af Shangtu, fifty miles to the north of the Great Wall of China, and best known to the English reader as the Tanadu of Coleridges brilliant little opium-inspired poem, Where twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round. This powerful prince received the itinerant merchants not only with favor, but distinc- tion, and lent an eager ear to their descrip- tion of the Western or Latin world, of its kings and emperors, and most of all of his holiness the pope. He subsequently dis- patched them with one of his barons on an embassy to the latter, with a request that he would send him a hundred missionaries and teachers, intelligent men, acquainted with the seven arts, conceiving, though a Bud- dhist, that the Christian religion was just what was needed to soften and civilize his rude, barbarian subjects of the steppes. In truth, at the time when the Polos first visit- ed the court of the Great Khan, though throughout all Asia, as Colonel Yule ob- serves, scarcely a dog might bark without Mongol leave, the Tartar hordes were already becoming an object of hope rather than fear, as a possible breakwater against the inroads of Mohammedanism. The emperor, after providing his embassa THE GREAT MIlAN IIELIVERIN A GOLDEN TABLET TO TIlE ELDER POLO BROTHERSFROM A MINIATURE OP THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY. AEMS OF THE POLO FAMILY. 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. dors with every thing needful in the way of an escort of men and horses, delivered to them a tablet of gold, inscribed upon which was the princes order to furnish for their nse every thing required in all the coun- tries through which they should pass, at the same time charging them to bring back to him some oil of the lamp which burns on the sepulchre of our Lord at Jeru- salem. The envoys accordingly set ont with the Tartar baron, but before they had proceeded far the latter fell sick, and was reluctantly left behind. When in 1269 they had arrived as far as Acre jthey received in- telligence of the death of Pope Clement IV., and that his successor had not yet been elected. Acting upon the advice of Theo- bald of Piacenza, the popes legate residing at Acre, they resolved, while the pope was a-making, on visiting their native town of Venice, and there await a new election. Here Nicolo learns the death of his wife, but finds instead his son Marco, now grown to be a fine lad of fifteen, and this Marco is he of whom the book tells. The papal interregnum was the longest on record, at least since the Dark Ages. Two years had elapsed, and yet was the throne of St. Peter vacant. The brothers Polo, when they saw that never a pope was made, unwilling to be suspected of bad faith by Kublai-Khan, resolved to return to his court. They accordingly set out, accom- panied by young Marco, and passing through Acre, where they obtained some of the oil of the Holy Sepulchre, had already reached the port of Ayas on the Gulf of Scanderoon, when the news of the final election of a pope overtook them, and that the choice of the sacred college had fallen upon their old friend the Archdeacon Theobald, who had now become Gregory X. They returned at once to Acre, and made their humble obei- sance to the new pontiff; but instead of the hundred missionaries and teachers, received two Dominican friars, and the papal bene- diction, as an equivalent, it may be, for the other ninety-eight. With these and the holy oil, together with letters and presents from the pope to the Great Khan, they again proceeded to Ayas, where they learned that the famous Mameluke Sultan Bibars with an invading host of Saracens lay directly across their proposed route of travel. The good Dominicans, who, it appears, did not covet martyrdom, esteeming discretion the better part of valor, surrendered their cre- dentials to the Polos, and returned inconti- nently to Acre. The two brothers, with Marco, howeve~ proceeded on their way by a different route, reaching the court of Ku- blai after an overland trip of three years and a half. This was probably in 1275. The adventurous Venetians received a most cordial welcome from the Great Khan, who at once took kindly to young Marco, by this time a joenne bacheler, as the text calls him, of about one-and-twenty. The young bachelor grew rapidly in favor at court, addressing himself meanwhile to the study of the native languages, and acquiring no less than four sundry written characters, probably Mongolian, Uighur, Persian, and Thibetan. The emperor, seeing his discretion and ability, soon began to em- ploy him in the public service, not only in domestic administration, probably as com- missioner or agent attached to the Privy Council, but also on distant embassies. His first mission, as he himself relates, was to the province of Yunnan, a wild and remote district to theeast of Thibet, and now as then a vast ethnological terra incognita. While at court Polo had not failed to observe the keen relish with which Kublal listened to accounts of foreign travel, especially the strange customs, manners, and peculiarities of foreign countries, and his undisguised contempt for the stupidity of his envoys, who, on returning from abroad, could tell him nothing except the business on which they had gone. Profiting by these obser- vations, he took care to store his memory with curious facts and amusing incidents, and on his return to court he did not fall to give an account of all the novelties and strange things which he had seen and heard, to the great amusement and delight of the emperor. He subsequentlyheld for three years the government of the great city of Yangchau, or, according to some authorities, the viceroyalty of one of the imperial prov- inces. At one time we hear of him at Tan- gut, and then at Karakorum, the old Mongo- lian capital of the khans; now on a mission in Cochin China, and soon after on an expe- dition to the Indian seas. On these and all other occasions Polo, it appears, acquitted himself with great credit, recommending himself more and more to the favor of his imperial master, who treated him with such marked distinction that some of his bar~is waxed very envious thereat. Thus did the Venetians continue in the Great Khans service for eleven years, Marco acquiring fame, his father and uncle fortune. The latter, fearing what might become of their great wealth in jewels and gold, in the event of Kublais death, who was now past fourscore, longed to carry their gear and their own gray heads safe home again to the Venetian lagoons. But Kublai-Khan had become so strongly attached to the clever and amiable foreigners that, like King Theo- dore of more recent memory, he absolutely refused to let them go. It so happened, however, that the wife of Arghun, Khan of Persia, and Kublais grand- nephew, died, with the dying injunction that her place should be supplied by one of her own kin of the Mongol tribe of Bayant. An embassy, consisting of three barons, was ac MARCO POLO AND HIS BOOK. 5 cordingly dispatched by Arghun to that distant country to procure such a bride, to be selected by Ku- blai. The emperor received the embas- sadors with distin- guished considera- tion, and elected the Lady Kukachin, a maiden of seventeen, moult bele dame et avenant, ofthefamily of the deceased Queen Bolgona. The over- land route being im- periled by war, in ad- dition to its weari- some length, the bar- ons decided to pro- ceed home with their tender and beautiful charge by sea, and begged as a favor from Kublai that the three Venetians, on account of their great knowledge and expe- rience of the Indian Sea and the countries through which they must pass, might ac company them. This ~~co request the emperor granted with great reluctance, but having done so, fitted them out right royally for the voyage, at the same time charging the Polos with friendly greetings to the various poten- tates of Christendom Their departure took place, with thirteen four-masted ships, in the early part of 1292. After a long and weari- some voyage, involving protracted deten- tions, to which, however, we are indebted for some of the most interesting chapters in the book, they at length arrived at their desti- nation. The three Venetians with their fair charge, who seems to have entertained for them a filial regard, survived the hardships of the voyage, but two of the three envoys and the larger part of their numerous suit, in number some six hundred persons, with- out counting the mariners, had perished by the way. Meanwhile Arghun, Kukachins intended husband, had died also, so that his son Ohazan succeeded to the ladys hand. The Venetians, as soon as their mission was accomplished, took leave of their royal host, who provided them with a princely escort, while the beautiful Kukach~,who looked on each of those three as a father, wept for sorrow at the parting. After a lengthy sojourn at Tabriz they proceeded homeward, reaching Venice, according to Polos state- ment, in the year 1295 of Ghri~ts Incarna- tion. POLOFROM A VENETIAN MOSAIC. Ramu~o relates that on the return of the Polos to~heir native city the same fate be- fell them as befell Ulysses, who, on his re- turn to his native Ithaca, after his twenty years wanderings, was recognized by no- body. Decidedly changed in aspect, with a certain indescribable smack of the Tartar both in air and accent, their own vernacu- lar well-nigh forgotten, their clothes of a Tartar cut, travel - stained, shabby, and coarse, they with difficulty gained admit- tance into their own house, now occupied by their relatives, who had long since given them up as dead. To dispel all doubts re- specting their personal identity they invited their kinsfolk to a splendid entertainment, and when the hour arrived for sitting down to table, they all three appeared dressed in robes of crimson satin, and afterward at in- tervals during the entertainment these were exchanged first for suits of crimson damask, then for robes of crimson velvet, and then for costmnes similar to those of the rest of the company. Each of these costly suits, as it was exchanged for another, was by their or- ders first cut to pieces and afterward divided among the servants. The wonder and amaze- ment of the guests, however, reached its climax when, after the removal of the cloth, Marco rising from the table and bringing out from an adjoining chamber the three 6 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. coarse and shabby dresses they had worn upon their first arrival, the three Polos set to work with sharp knives ripping up the welts and seams, when vast numbers of the finest and largest diamonds, emeralds, ru- bies, sapphires, and carbuncles fell like a shower upon the table. With such golden premises the conclusion was irresistible. There could no longer be any possible doubt as to their personal iden- tity. AllVenice, gentle and simple, flocked to see and embrace them. An office of great dignity was conferred upon Messer Maffeo, the eldest, while the young men, who came daily tovisit the polite andgracious Messer Marco, never tired in listening to his recital of the wonders of Cathay and the splendors of the court of the Great Khan. As Polo in his relation frequently made use of the term millions, they nicknamed him Messer Marco Millioni, a~d the court in which he resided the Corte del Millioni. Another version of the same tradition re- lates that the wife of one of them gave away to a beggar that came to the door one of those garments of his, all torn, patched, and dirty asit was. The next day he asked his wife for that mantle of his, in order to put away the jewels that were sewn up in it, but she told him she had given it away to a poor man whom she did not know. Now the stratagem he employed to recover it was this. He went to the bridge of Rialto, and stood there turning a wheel, to no apparent purpose, but as if he were a madman, and to all those who crowded around to see what prank was this, and asked him why he did it, he answered,Hell come, if God pleases. So after two or three days he recognized his old coat on the back of one of those who came to stare at his mad proceeding, and got it back again. Shortly after his return to his native city the Venetians fitted out a naval expedition, commanded by Andrea Dandolo, against the Genoese under Lamba Doria, and Polo was placed in command of one of the Venetian galleys. The rival fleets encountered each other at Curzola (1298), not far from Lissa of more recent fame, when the Venetians were completely beaten, and Polo, with Dan- dolo and seven thousand others, made pris- oner~ and sent in irons to Genoa. Here in his dungeon he dictated the story of his trav- els and adventures to a fellow-prisoner, Rus- ticiano, or Rustichello, of Pisa, a name not unknown to literature as a compiler of French romances, who committed it to writ- ing. And thus are we probably indebted to Polos captivity for our account of the trav- elers adventurous story. Of the personal history of Polo during the quarter of a century he survived subsequent to his release from his Genoese prison in 1299 we know comparatively little. We gather from his last will and testament, which was executed in 1324, that he left a wife and three daughters, Fantina, Bellela, and Morela, whom he constituted his trust- ees. One of the provisions of the will runs thus: I release Peter the Tartar, my serv- ant, from all bondage as completely as I pray God to release my own soul from all sin and guilt. He furthermore enjoins that if any one shall presume to violate this will, may he incur the malediction of God Al- mighty, and abide bound under the anathe- ma of the three hundred and eighteen Fa- thers. He probably died within a year after the execution of his will, and was buried, according to his own request, in the Church of San Lorenzo, which having been rebuilt in 1592, all traces of the illustrious travelers tomb have unfortunately disap- peared. Polos Travels consists of a prologue and four books. In the former, after recom- mending its perusal to the great princes, emperors and kings, dukes and marquises, counts, knights, and burgesses, and people of all degrees who desire to get knowledge of the various races of mankind, and of the diversities of the sundry regions of the world, he proceeds to give a brief and in- teresting account, as already substantially related, of the two journeys of the Polos to the court of the Great Rhan, of their lengthy sojourn in Cathay, or China, and their subse- quent return to their native city by the way of Persia and the Indian seas. The latter embraces a series of chapters descriptive of the curious manners, notable sights, and re- markable events, together with the com- merce and staple agricultural products of the various provinces of Asia, relating more especially, however, to the court of the Great Khan Kublai, his wealth and power, wars and administration. The greater part of the fourth book, which in a verbose and mo- notonous manner describes the war& between the various branches of the house of Chin- ghiz, Colonel Yule has judiciously omitted from his edition on account of its endless repetitions, so that in his hands Polos book, like the Yuunan horses of which he tells us, is presented to us docked of some joints of the tail. There has been no little controversy as to the language in which Polos book was originally written. Some authorities have assumed that it was Latin; others, with more plausibility, have held that it was Venetian; but it would appear now to be definitely settled that the original was French, not, indeed, the French of Paris,,~ but just such French as we might expect in the thirteenth century from a Tuscan aman- uensis following the oral dictation of an Orieutalized Venetian. Setting out from Acre in 1271, the route of the Polos lay through Armenia and Georgia, where in old times the kings MARCO POLO AND HIS BOOK. 7 were born with the figure of an eagle upon small, throughout the year till Lent come, the right shoulder, and where, near the when the finest fish in the worhi are found convent of nuns called St. Leonards, there in great abundance, and that until Easter- is a great lake at the foot of a mountain, eve. Tis really a passing great miracle. and in this lake are found no fish, great or This great miracle, however, has since in 0 0 0 8 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. solved itself into a natural phenomenon, and is found to be very intimately asso- ciated with the melting of the snows at the season of Lent upon the summits of the mountains. Proceeding through Ayas and Sivas, Mar- din and Mosul, and thence to Baudas, or Bagdad, Polo tells us how the prayer of a one-eyed cobbler caused the mountain to move ; and how Alau, the Lord of the Tar- tars of the Levant, took the city of Ban- das by storm, and shut up its caliph in his Treasure Tower, giving him nothing to eat or drink except his silver and gold; or, as Longfellow sings: I said to the Kalif: Thou art old; Thou hast no need of so much gold. Thou shouldst not have heaped and hidden it here Till the hreath of Battle was hot and near, But have sown through the land these useless hoards, To spring into shining hiades of swords, And keep thine honor sweet and clear. * * * * * * * Then into his dungeon I locked the drone, And left him there to feed all alone In the honey-cells of his golden hive: Never a prayer nor a cry nor a groan Was heard from those massive walls of stone Nor again was the Kalif seen alive. In speaking of the city of Saba, in Persia, whence the Magi set out for Jerusalem with their costly gifts for the infant Saviour, he re- lates a curious tradition current among the Fire-Worshipers: They relate that in old times three Kings of that country went away to worship a Prophet that was born, andthey carried with them three manner of offerings, Gold and Frankincense and Myrrh, in order to ascertain whether that Prophet were God, or an earthly King, or a Physician. For, said they, if he fake the Gold, then he is an earthly King; if he take the lucense, he is God; if he take the Myrrh, he is a Physi- cian When they presented their offerings the Child accepted all three, and when they saw that, they said within themselves that He was the True God and the True King and the True Physician. On the route from Baudas through Ker- man to Hormuz, Polo takes occasion to speak with enthusiasm of the large, snow-white, hump - shouldered oxen, that when they have to be loaded kneel like the camel, and of sheep as big as asses, with tails so large and fat that one tail shall weigh some thirty pounds. From Hormuz it is quite probable that the travelers intended to embark for India, but were deterred from so doing by the unpromising character of the ships that frequented that port, which were, without doubt, wretched affairs. For, having no iron to make nails of, they stitch the planks with twine made from the bark of the Indian nut. They accordingly retraced their steps to Kerman, and from thence proceeded in a northerly direction through Cobinan to the province of Tono- cain, where is found the Arbre Sot, which we Christians call the Arbre See, and where the people of the country tell you was ALAU SHUTS UP THE OALIPH OF BAUDAS IN uis TIIEASURE TOW a MARCO POLO AND HIS BOOK. 9 fought the battle be- tween Alexander and King Darius. Polo has here, with- out doubt, confounded the Arbre Sot of Alex- andrian romance with the Arbre Sec of Chris- tian legend. The for- mer plays an important part in the legendary cyclus of Alexandrian fable, as the oracular Tree of the Sun that foretold Alexanders death. The latter cor- responds most probably with the legendary oak of Abraham at Hebron, of which Sir John Man- deville quaintly says: Theye seye that it hathe ben there sithe the beginnynge of the World; and was sum- tyme grene and bare Leves, unto the Tyme that Oure Lord dyede ontheCros; and thanne it dryede. Colonel Yule is of the opinion that the Arbre Sec of Polo was some venerable specimen of the chinar or Oriental plane in the vicinity of Bostam or Damghan, and relates a num- ber of instances in which such trees, either from age, position, or accident, were invest- ed with a sacred character, and hung with amulets and votive offerings by devout pil- grims, who held theni in superstitious ven- eration. Several chapters are devoted by Polo to the Old Man of the Mountain, Aloadin of Mulehet, who transformed a certain valley into an earthly paradise of the Mohammed- an type, into which he introduced youths of from twelve to twenty years of age, after administering to them a sleeping potion of wondrous potency, so that when they awoke they deemed it was Paradise in very truth. These youths were called Ashishin; for when the Old Man would have any prince slain or enemy murdered, he would cause that potion to be given to one of their num- ber in the garden, and then had him carried into his castle. And when the young man awoke he would say, Go thou and slay so and so, and when thou returnest my angels shall bear thee into Paradise; and so it was that there was no order of his that they would not affront any peril to execute, for the great desire they had to get back into that Paradise of his. According to De Sacy, these youths were called Hashishin, from their use of the preparation of hemp called hashish, and thence throu~ ~heir F system of murder and terrorism came the modern application of the word assassin. From Mulehet, or Alamut, the reader is transported to Sepourgan, and thence to (Balc) Balkh, a noble city and a great, whose inhabitants tell that it was here that Alexander took to wife the daughter of Darius. Thence by Talikan, Casem or Kishm, through the province of Badakshan, where the Balas rubies and azure are found, to the celebrated plateau of Pamier, said to be the highest place in the world,~~ and midway between heaven and earth; or, to use a native expression, the Btim-i-Duniah, or Roof of the World, and possibly the site of the primeval Anna paradise. Polo here takes occasion to speak of the fine pastur- age, where a lean beast will fatten to your hearts content in ten days, and of wild sheep of great size, whose horns are good six palms in length. A pair of horns from one of these sheep, which have received the name of 0vi8 poli in honor of the great trav- eler, sent by Wood to the Royal Asiatic So- ciety, measured four feet eight inches on the curve, and one foot two and h quarter inches at the base. Descending the Pamier steppe the Polos proceeded to Kashgar, thence to Yarkand, Khotan, Lake Lop, and the Great Desert, where the traveler who chances to lag be- hind his party will hear spirits talking, and will suppose them to be his comrades. Sometimes the spirits will call him by THE ORACULAR TREES OF THE SUN AND MOON. 10 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. name; and thus shall a traveler ofttimes be led astray, so that he never finds his party. And in this way many have perished And sometimes you shall hear the sound of a variety of musical instruments, and still more commonly the sound of drums. Hwen Thsang, in his passage of the same desert, speaks of visions of troops marching and halting, with gleaming arms and waving banners, constantly shifting, vanishing, and reappearing. Marco Polo and Colonel Yule furnish us here and elsewhere with phenomena that would appear to embrace,if not transcend, the whole encyclopedia of modem spirit- nalism. When, for example, the Great Khan, seated upon a platform some eight cubits above the pavement, desires to drink, cups filled with wine are moved from a buf- fet in the centre of the hall, a distance of ten paces, and present themselves to the emperor without being touched by any body. The feats ascribed in ancient le- gends to Simon Magus, such as the moving of cups and other vessels, making statues to walk, causing closed doors to fly open spontaneously, were by no means unusual among the Bacsi, or Thibetan priests, whose performances, if we are to believe our tray- eler, might well ex- cite the envy of modern spiritual mediums. Produ- cing figures of their divinities in empty space; making a pencil to write an- swers to questions without any body touching it; sitting upon nothing; fly- ing through the air, penetrating every where as if imma- terial; conjuring up mist, fog, snow, and rain, by which bat- tles were lost or won; preventing clouds and storms from passing over the emperors pal- ace; reading the most secret human thoughts, foretell- ing future events, and even raising the dead these and many other won- derful feats could be performed by means of the Dhd- rani, or mystical In- dian charms. In this connec- tion Colonel Yule furnishes us with some examples of Chinese jugglery really so extraordinary that we can not forbear quoting a single extract. Ibn Batuta, the Arabian, whose marvel- ous account has been more recently corrob- orated by Edward Melton, the Anglo-Dutch traveler, relates that when present at a great entertainment at the court of the Yiceroy of Khansa (Kinsay of Polo, or Hangchau- fu), a juggler, who was one of the khans slaves, made his appearance, and the amir said to him, Come and show us some of your marvels. Upon this he took a wooden ball with several holes in it, through which long thongs were passed, and2 laying hold of one of these, slung it into the air. It went so high that we lost sight of it alto- gether. (It was the hottest season of the year, and we were outside in the middle of the palace court.) There now remained only a little of the end of a thong in the conjurers hand, and he desired one of the boys who assisted him to lay hold of it and mount. He did so, climbing by the thong, and we lost sight of him also! The conjur- er then called to him three times, but get- ting no answer, he snatched up a knife, as if in a great rage, laid hold of the thong, and di~peared also! By-and-by he threw CHINESE CONJUlIING EXTRAORDINARY. MARCO POLO AND HIS BOOK. 11 down one of the boys hands, then a foot, then the other hand, and then the other foot, then the trunk, and, last of all, the head! Then he came down himself, all puffing and panting, and with his clothes all bloody, kissed the ground before the amir, and said something to him in Chinese. The amir gave some ordeP in reply, and our friend then took the lads limbs, laid them togeth- er in their places, and gave a kick, when, presto! there was the boy, who got up and stood before us! All this astonished me be- yond measure, and I had an attack of palpi- tation like that which overcame me once before in the presence of the Sultan of In- dia, when he showed me something of the same kind. They gave me a cordial, how- ever, which cured the attack. The Kazi Afkharuddin was next to me, and quoth he, WallahI tis my opinion there has been neither going up nor coming down, neither marring nor mending; tis all hocus-pocus ~ After thirty days of wearisome travel through the great desert of Gobi the Fobs traverse the province of Tangut until they reach Karakorum, and thence proceed to Tenduc, the capital of the famous Prester Johnhe, in fact, about whose great do- minion all the world talks, but about whom the world really knows little or nothing at all. That such a prince existed in the far East, and that he was a great Christian conqueror, of enormous wealth and power, was universally believed in Europe during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Sub- sequently the local habitation of the Royal Presbyter was transferred from the East to Abyssinia. In fact, more than one Asiatic potentate has played the shadowy r6le of this quasi-mythical personage. The origi- nal Prester John, first introduced to the Latin world by the Syrian Bishop of Gabala, was probably Gurkhan, the founder of a great empire in Asia during the twelfth cen- tury, known as Kani-khitai, of whose pro- fession of Christianity, however, there is no trustworthy evidence. Another was Kush- luk, the Naiman Princethe Prester John of Rubruquiswhile the Prester John of Marco Polo was Unc-Khan, the chief of the Keraits, both contemporaries with Chinghiz (Jeughis) Khan, who, in the greatest bat- tlc that ever was seen, overwhelmed the host of Prester John, conquered his king- dom, and became the founder of a new dy- nasty. Many, no doubt, will be surprised, in read- ing Polos book, to observe the frequent in- dications it affords of the widespread diffu- sion of Christianity in his day throughout Central and Eastern Asia. Without laying too much stress upon the reputed preaching of the Gospel and planting of churches by the apostles in Persia, In~a, and China, though there is good reason to believe that St. Thomas; whose body, according to Polo, lies buried near Madras, preached the Gos- pel in the far East, still it is quite certain that Christianity at an early day was dis- seminated quite generally throughout Asia and the islands of the Indian Ocean. At a very eariy period there were Christian bish- ops at Susa and Persepolis, at Herat, Samar- cand, and in Seistan, while the Catalan map bears witness to the existence of an Arme- nian monastery near Lake Issi-kul, to the north of Kashgar. Christianity was intro- duced into China in the early part of the seventh century, about the same time as Mohammedanism, or immediately after the era of the Hegira. In fact, during this and the succeeding centuries there were flour- ishing Christian churches in every consid- erable city of Central Asia as far east as Yarkand and Kashgar, with a chain of bishops and metropolitans from Jerusalem to Pekin. In Polos time we find Christians not only all along his route of travel to the court of the Great Khan, but also on his return voy- age along the Coromandel Coast, in Abys- sinia, and especially in Socotra, an island of the Indian Sea. Nor were these simply mis- sionary outposts. Kashgar was the seat of a metropolitan see, and so was Socotra, traces of which remained as late as the sev- enteenth century. At Mosul we find Nesto- rian and Jacobite Christians, with a patri- arch at their head. According to Polo, this patriarch, whom they call the jatolic, cre- ates archbishops and abbots and prelates of all other degrees, and sends them into every quarter, as to India, to Baudas, or to Cathay, just as the Pope of Rome does in the Latin countries. Though Polo preserves a most remarkable silence with regard to the Christians he must have met with at the court of the Great Khan, yet we learn from collateral testimony that they were quite numerous in Pekin, at that time the Mon ol capital. The Alans, who were reckoned the best soldiers in the khans army, some of whom held the highest rank at the Cambaluc court, were at least nominal Christians, and we find them in 1336 dispatching an urgent request to Pope Benedict XII. to nominate a successor to the deceased Archbishop of Pekin, John of Monte Corvino. Rubruquis, the French friar, who was sent in 1253 by St. Louis on a mis- sion to Mangu-Khan, Kublais elder brother, with a view of inducing him to espouse the declining fortunes of the Crusaders by at- tacking their common foe, the Saracen, from the eastward, found Nestorians and Jaco- bites, Greeks and Armenians, all congregated at the Great Khans court. It does not ap- pear, however, that the Mongol emperors, with possibly one or two exceptions, ever made an open profession of Christianity, though a number of them married Christian wives, and employed native Christians as 12 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. their ministers of state. Sigatai, an uncle of Kublal, appears to have embraced the Christian faith; while Nazan, Kublais cousin arid vassal, and ruler of a vast extent of ter- ritory, was a Christian prince who, like Charlemagne, emblazoned the cross upon his banner. Kublal, though nominally a Buddhist, was tolerant, if not indifferent to all creeds, whether Jewish, Christian,or Mohammedan, patronizing all and believing none, regarding religion as simply a civiliz- ing agent, and hence an important factor in any well-adjusted system of civil polity. His creed, according to Ramusio, appears to have been as follows: There are four prophets worshiped and revered by all the world. The Christians say their God is Jesus Christ; the Saracens, Mohammed; the Jews, Moses; the Idolaters, Sogomon Borcan, who was the first god among the idols; and I worship and pay respect to all four, and pray that he among them who is greatest in heaven in very truth may aid me. Had Kublais requisition, however, for a hundred mission- aries, though dictated from motives of pub- lic policy, been responded to by Pope Greg- oryin view of the superiority at that time of the Latin monks to the degenerate Nesto- nan clergy in ability and culture, if not practical piety-it might have given a new and powerful impulse to Christian evangel- i~ ization, which would have made Christianity ~ at this day the dominant religion through- out the Orient. 5 ~ It is a melancholy fact, and, one that sug- ~ gests grave reflections to the Christian re- ~ former, that scarcely a vestige now remains ~ of the Christian church that once flourished so extensively throughout Central and East- ~ em Asia. The famous Singanfa inscription ~ is the most remarkable, if not the only, re- S ~ maining memorial. This celebrated monu ~ merit, discovered in a suburb of Singanfu in ~ 1625, and still to be seen amidst the ruins of S a temple outside the city walls, created no ~ small stir among the savants of that day, and ~ has by no means lost its melancholy interest 0 in ours. The slab upon which it is engraved S ~ in Chinese and Syriac characters bears the date of A.D. 781, and appears to have bee4 ~ intended to commemorate the introduction ~ of Chr~stiauity into China in 635. It con- o tains a brief record of the rise and spread of S ~ the new religion for the next one hundred years, with a synopsis of Christian doctrine, ~ in which, strange to say, there is no allusion ~ whatever to the Crucifixion. Though its genuineness has been called in question by able critics, it would seem as if Pauthier, R~musat, and Colonel Yule had vindica- ted its authenticity beyond all reasonable doubt. As to the causes which led to the deca- dence and final disappearance of Christianity in the East, it may be observed that the purity of Christian doctrine and practice appears to have become gradually corrupted by its constant contact with idolatry; and finally, by ingrafting upon its ceremonial, from time to time, pagan rites and ceremo- nies, it at length became merged into pagan- ism itself. Polo relates that in his time Christian priests practiced astrology with a kind of astrolabe, together with divina- tion by rods, the same as the priests of Buddha; while inAbyssinia, he tells us, they observed the double baptism of fire and wa- terthe former by branding a mark upon the forehead and either cheek with a hot iron. Abulfeda, iu speaking of the inhabit- ants of Socotra, says they were Nestorian Christians and pirates. As late as the sev- enteenth century, while they entertained a blind idolatry for the cross, they practiced circumcision and sacrificed to the moona singular medley of Judaism, idolatry, and a pseudo-Christianity. Some of the most interesting chapters of MARCO POLO AND HIS BOOK. 13 Polos book are de- voted to a descrip- tion of the various customs, manner of life, etc., of the Tartars. Their houses, he says, are circular, and are made of wands covered with felts. These are carried along with them whithersoeverthey go. They also have wagons covered with black felt so efficaciously that no rain can get in. These are drawn by oxen and cam- els, and the women and children travel iu them. They eat all kinds of flesh, including that of horses aad dogs and Pharaohs rats. Their drink is mares milk. The account of Herod- otus, in speaking of the Scyths, agrees perfectly with that of Polo while Al~schylus, in Prometheus Bound, alludes to the wandering Scythe who dwell In latticed huts high poised on easy wheels. Their wagons, he continues, are some- times of enormous size. Rubruquis affirms that he measured one, and found the inter- val between the wheels to be twenty feet. The axle was like a ships mast, and twen- ty-two oxen were yoked to the wagon, eleven abreast. Then, too, what fierce and hardy warriors these Tartar horsemen must have been! Armed with bow and arrow, sword and mace, dressed in the skins of wild beasts, or incased in mail of buffalo hide, inured to hardship and incapable of fatigue, fleet as the wind and irresistible as the storm, with- out commissary or quartermaster, pontoons or baggage-trains, if need be riding on ten days running, spending the livelong night in the saddle, without lighting a fire or tak- ing a meal, these capital archers and superb horsemen, like the Parthian cavalry, were never so certain of victory as when appar- ently in full retreat. If in their advance a broad, deep river was to be crossed, they tied their equipments to their horses tails, seized them by the mane, and so swam over. If put upon short rations, they snstain~d themselves upon the blood of their horses, opening a vein and letting the blood jet into their mouths, and then stanching it when they had satisfied their hunger and thirst. But why, as ~ur traveler is wont to say, should we make a long story of it I A Chinese fugitive from Bokhara, who had tested the quality of Chinghizs Tartar hordes, has unconsciously condensed a vol- ume into a single hexameter: They came and they sapped, they fired and they slew, trussed up their loot and were gone. As germane to their burning paper money, clothing, armor, and houses, together with figures of slaves, horses, and camels, for the benefit and use of the disembodied spirits of their departed relatives, Polo relates the following even more singular custom as pre- vailing among the Tartars, though not pe- culiar to them. If any man have a daugh- ter who dies before marriage, and another man have had a son also die before marriage, the parents of the two arrange a grand wed- ding between the dead lad and lass. And marry them they do, making a regular con- tract! And when the contract papers are made out, they put them in the fire, in order (as they will have it) that the parties in the other world may know the fact, and so look on each other as man and wife. Whatever may be agreed on between the parties as dowry, those who have to pay it cause it to cuoss ON THE MONUMENT AT 5IEGANFU (AcTUAL sizE.) 14 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ,2 y ) ) K 0 0 0 0 0 S S 0 S 0 be painted on pieces of paper, and then put t~ge may chance to meet on its way to the these in the fire, saying that in that way the burial, believing that all such as they slay dead person will get all the real articles in in this manner do go to serve their lord in the other world. When an emperor dies the other world. And I tell you as a certain they kill all his best horses, and put to the truth that when Mongon-Kaan died, more sword every person whom the funeral cor- than twenty thousand persons, who chanced MARCO POLO AND HIS BOOK. 15 to meet the body on its way, were slain in the manner I have told. Leaving Tenduc, and skirting along the Great Wall of Chinarthough, singularly enough, Polo makes no mention of it, unless inferentially when speaking of the country of Gog and Magogthe travelers, after three years and a half of wearisome travel, at length reach Kaiping-fu, the summer court of the Great Khan. And what shall we say of Polos hero, the Great Rhan, which is by interpretation the Great Lord of Lords ? Were it not for collateral testimony and our firm faith in the travelers veracity, we should regard his Kublai as a more extravagant personage than Haroun-al-Raschid, who was a pauper prince in comparison. With eagles for fal- cons, and lynxes, leopards, and lions for hunt- ing-dogs, he could at any time improvise an army of 360,000 men from his falconers, beat- ers, and whippers-in. Polo, who had a keen relish for the noble art, tells us that when the emperor went a-fowling he was carried upon four elephants in a fine chamber made of timber, lined inside with plates of beaten gold, and outside with lions skins, attended by 20,000 huntsmen and 10,000 dogs, moving along abreast of one another, so that the whole line extended over a full days jour- ney, and no animal could escape them. Each of the four empresses of the Son of Heaven had a special court of her own, which, with damsels, eunuchs, pages, and other attendants, numbered ten thousand persons. Thirteen times a year the twelve thousand barons attached to his court were furnished out of his privy pursewith a golden girdle, and a costly robe corresponding in color to the emperors own, and garnished with gems and pearls and other precious things in a very rich and costly manner. His stud of milk-white horses, to which were added by way of New-Years presents a hun- dred thousand annually, would have eclipsed those of all the princes and potentates of Europe taken together. On the occasion of the festival of the White Feast his five thou- sand elephants, all covered with rich and gay housings of inlaid cloth, together with a great number of camels, each carrying tw splendid coffers containing the emperor gold and silver plate and other costly furni- ture, were exhibited to the wondering popu- lace. Then Kublais charities were con- ducted upon a scale commensurate with his boundless wealth. Besides the five thousand astrologers whom he provided with annual maintenance and clothing, thirty thousand loaves of bread, hot from the baking, were by his orders distributed daily to the poor. Six thousand guests had their seats in the dining-hull of his palace, the greatest that ever was, while those who served him at his meals had mouth and nose muffled with fine napkins of silk and gold, so that no breath nor odor from their persons should taint the dish or the goblet presented to the lord. And when the emperor is going to drink, all the musical instruments, of which he has vast store of every kind, begin to play. And when he takes the cup, all the barons and the rest of the company drop on their knees and make the deepest obeisance before him, and then the emperor doth drink. But each time that he does so the whole ceremony is repeated. In a word, if you were to put together, says Polo, all the Christians in the world, with their emperors and their kings, the whole of these Christiansay, and throw in the Saracens to bootwould not have such power or be able to do so much as this Kublai; while Wass~f, in his Persian history, is, if possible, even more extravagant than the Venetian traveler in exalting the Great Khan, assuring us that one beam of his glories, one fraction of his great qualities, suffices to eclipse all that history tells of the Ca~sars of Rome, of the Chosroes of Persia, of the Khagans of China, of the (Himyarite) Kails of Arabia, of the Tobbas of Yemen, and the Rajahs of India, ~f the monarchs of the houses of Sassan and Buya, and of the. Seljukian Sultans. Very handsome, too, Kublai-Khan was said to be. If so, his portrait we have given as taken from a Chinese engraving fails to do him justice, unless we adopt as our ideal of beauty the Moorish standard, or the scale of avoirdupois. According to Polo, Kublai must have been a famous financier. He transformed the bark of the mulberry-tree into something resembling sheets of paper, and these into money, which cost him nothing at all, so that you might say he had the secret of al- chemy in perfection. And these pieces of paper he made to pass current universally, over all his kingdoms and provinces and territories, and whithersoever his power and sovereignty extended. And nobody, how- ever important he thought himself, dared to refuse them on pain of death. One might be led to suppose, from Polos glowing ac- count, that the process of creating value by ~h~gal enactment or imperial decree had be- ~e~me one of the lost arts, did it not sub- sequently transpire that the Great Khans legal tender was only worth half its nominal value in silver, and that he was compelled to resort to partial repudiation when, on a subsequent reissue, one note was exchanged against five of the previous series of equal nominal value. A similar depreciation of the currency occurred in 1309, notwithstand- ing a legal provision that the notes should be on a par with speciea provision which, of course, it was beyond the power of any government to enforce, and only another illustration of the absurdity of attempt- ing to regulate monetary as well as other 16 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. with Castaldi in Italy, ac- quired his invention, and returning to Germany, de- veloped it into the art of printing. Though there is a strong probability that the art of printing was originally derived from the Chinese, still the Castal- dian legend, notwithstand- ing the statue erected to the memory of Castaldi as the inventor of that noble art, is to be accepted with no small degree of mental reservation. If, according to theteach- ing of the disciples of John Noyes, the millennium is simply the extension and complete realization of their practices and prin- ciples throughout the earth, then Kublal - Khan and his contemporaries were much nearer the mil- lennium than we. Besides those four ladies called empresses, he had also a great number of concu- bines. You must know, says Polo, that there is a tribe of Tartars called Un- grat, who are noted for their beauty. Now every year a hundred of the most beautiful maidens of this tribe are sent to the Great Khan, who commits them to the charge of certain elderly ladies dwelling in values by legislative enactment. Kublai, his palace. And these old ladies make the however, is not entitled to the credit of girls sleep with them, in order to ascertain inventing paper money, which dates back at if they have sweet breath (and do not snore), least to the beginning of the ninth century, and are sound in all their limbs. Then such though it is not altogether improbable that of them as are of approved beauty, and are Marco Polo may have had something to do good and sound in all respects, are appoint- with its introduction into Persia, if not into ed to attend on the emperor by turns. In Europe. Tartary any man may take a hundred It is remarkable that Polo, in spe~iking OI~: wives an he so please, if he be able to keep Chinese bank-notes, which were stain 1 em, while in Malabar the man who has with movable blocks, should have failed ~ ost wives is most thought of. say any thing in regard to the art of print- In Turkestan, our traveler relates, if ing, though his name has been associated, the husband of any woman go away upon on doubtful authority, with its introduction a journey and remain away for more than into Europe. There appears to be a local twenty days, as soon as that time is past tradition in Venice that Panfilo Castaldi, of the woman may marry another man, and Feltre, having seen several Chinese books, the husband also may then marry whom he which Polo had brought from China, print- pleases. ed by means of wooden blocks, constructed But time would fail us to follow Polo in movable wooden types, each type contain- his journeylugs and descriptionsso far to ing a single letter, and with these printed a the north that he leaves the North Star be- number of sheets, some of which are said to hind him, and thence so far to the south be preserved among the archives at Feltre that the North Star is never to be seento to this day. It relates furthermore that discourse of the siege of Saianfu, with its John Fust (Faust) having passed some time trebuchets or mangonels, shotted with stones nANK-NOTE OF TUE MING DYNASTY (oNE.FouRTu SIZE). MARCO POLO AND HIS BOOK. 17 of 300 pounds, or of the most noble city of Kinsay, Stretching like paradise through the breadth of heaven to speak of salamanders resolving them- selves into asbestos, and pigmies into monk- eys, and turning out to be no pigmies or salamanders after all; of trees producing flour and wine, or toddy and sugar, and of cattle and horses that live upon fish, and naught besides ; of kumiz, or fermented mares milk, that pearl of all beverages ; of ships with water - tight compartments; of pearl fisheries and shark charmers; of the white eagles of Telingana, and how they are induced to seek diamonds in inaccessible valleys; of thd fabulous Gryphon, or Hukh, so strong that it will seize an elephant in its talons and carry him high into the air, and whose flight is like the loud thunder ; of the Male and Female Islands, the former in- habited exclusively by men and the latter by women; of Maabar, or the Coromandel Coast, where there is never a tailor, seeing tl~at every body adopts the most primitive if not paradisiacal of costumes, and whose inhabit- ants paint their gods black and their devils white, and rub their black children with oil of sesame to make them still blacker; or of the elixir of longevity, compounded of sul- phur and quicksilver, the father and mother respectively of metals; nor yet of the P~tra of green porphyry, the Holy Grail of Bud- dhism, out of which Adam used to eat, and of such miraculous virtue that if food for one man be put therein it shell become enough for five men. All this, and a great deal besides, most reluctantly we omit. Yoa. XLYI.No. 211.2 We may be cx- cnsed, however, for allowing our au- thor to relate a ridiculous custom of the Zar-dandrn, or Golden Teeth, known under the name of the cou- vade, which he does with the most im- perturbable grav- ( ity. And when one of their wives has been delivered of a child, the in- fant is washed and swathed, and then the woman gets up and goes about her household affairs, while the husband takes to bed with the child by his side, and so keeps his he~ for forty days, and all the kith and kin come to visit him, and keep up a great festivity. They do this because, say they, the woman has had a hard bout of it, and tis but fair the man ahould have his share of suffering. This custom, notwith- standing its oddity, is by no means unique, but is said to have prevailed among the ab- origines of California and the West Indies; among the ancient Corsicans and Iberians of Northern Spain; among some of the tribes of South America, West Africa, and the In- dian Archipelago, and in a modified form in Borneo, Kamtchatka, and Greenland. Butler plainly alludes to the custom in Hudibras, while Apollonius Rhodius, in speaking of the Tibareni of Pontus, tells us, In the Tibarenian land, When some good woman bears her lord a babe, Tis he is swathed and groaning put to bed; While she arises, tends his baths, and serves Nice possets for her husband in the straw. auxas EGG. TIlE ltUKHA~TEE A PERSIAN DRAwINO. 18 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. This strange custom, observes Colonel Yule, if it were unique, would look like a coarse practical joke; but appearing as it does among so many different races and in every quarter of the world, it must have its root somewhere deep in the psychology of the uncivilized man. Nor are we quite reconciled to omit the following, on account of a certain spicy fla- vor of Darwinism there is in it: Now you must know that in this king- dom of Lambri there are men with tails. These tails are of a palm in length, and have no hair on them. These people live in the mountains, and are a kind of wild men. Their tails are about the thickness of a dogs. Or this: And I assure you all the men of this isl- and of Angamanain have heads like dogs, and teeth and eyes likewise; infact, in the face they are all just like big mastiff dogs ! In Comari there are monkeys of such pecul- iarfashion that youwouldtake themformen. Without going back to Ctesias or other cor- roborative testimony, we are informed, in a note that Mr. St. John met with a trader in Borneo who had seen and felt the caudal ap- pendages of such a race inhabiting the north- east coast of that island. This appendage was four inches long, and so inflexible that their proprietors were obliged to use per- forated seats. As to the canine-headed feat- ure, without citing other examples, we are reminded that the Cubans described the Car- ibs to Columbus as man-eaters with dogs muzzles, while the old Danes had traditions of Gyno-cephcli in Finland. Of the man Marco Polo we know compar- atively little. We catch fugitive glimpses of him here and there in his Travels, enough ~o excite without satisfying our cu- riosity. There is, in truth, no authentic por- trait of the illustrious Venetian, though there are traditional ones that resemble each oth- er, and doubtless approximate more or less to a likeness of the original. In the faint, shadowy semblance of the traveler as reflect- ed from his book there are dimly visible the lineaments of a plain, practical man, unlet- tered, but of more than ordinary natural ability, and well up in Alexandrian romance; a shrewd observer, a clever politician, a keen sportsman, and a brave soldier; by no means superior to the credulity and superstition of his age, with a deep wondering respect for saints of the ascetic pattern, even if pagans, but for his own part a keen appreciation of this worlds pomps and vanities. But tbough he is strangely reticent re- specting himself he becomes even garrulous when discoursing of what he has seen and heard, and notwithstanding our faith in the narrators veracity, we can not at times quite repress a latent suspicion that he is describ- ing ore rotendo, or indulging in a little live- ly faufaronade, with an occasional dash of Siudhad the Sailor or the mendacious Mun- chausen. noc-azAnEn MEN OF ANCAMANALE. CONTRAST. 19 He tells us, for example, of oxen as tall as elephants; of pheasants and mastiffs as large respectively as peacocks and donkeys; of bats and boars as big as goshawks and buf- faloes; of serpents with eyes bigger than a loaf of.bread ; of palaces with floors of solid gold two fingers in thickness ; of ru- bies a palm in length, and thick as a mans arm; of rivers hot enough to boil eggs, and of bamboos that explode with a report that might be heard a distance of ten miles! In more than one description of a battle he ro- mances in the following or a similar strain: Now you might behold the arrows fly from this side and from that, sothat the sky was canopied with them, and they fell like rain! Now might you see knights and men-at- arms on this side and on that fall in num- bers from their horses, so that the soil was covered with their bodies! From this side and from that rose such a cry from the wounded and the dying that God might have thundered and you would not hwve heard ! Some biographers, in instituting a com- parison between Polo and Columbus, have not hesitated to give the preference to the former. Ramusio, comparing the land jour- ney of the one with the sea-voyage of the other, not without some degree of plau& sbil- ity, observes: Consider only what a height of courage was needed to undertake and car- ry through so difficult an enterprise over a route of such desperate length and hardship (requiring three years and a half for its corn- pletion), whereon it was sometimes necessa- ry to carry food for the supply of man and beast not for days only, but for months to- gether. Columbus, on the other hand, go- ing by sea, readily carried with him all nec- essary provision, and after a voyage of some thirty or forty days was conveyed by the wind whither he desired to go. He then concludes with the statement that while no one from Europe has dared to repeat the former, ships in countless numbers continue to retrace the voyage of the latter. Polo, no doubt, was the worthy precursor of Co- lumbus, whose imagination he fired with visions of the boundless wealth of the Orient, ______________________________________ and who subsequently, in seeking a western passage to Asia, discovered America, though he died in the firm bellef that he had reached the coast of Cathay. Still, we fail to flndin Tas exquisite charm of springs first ringing laughter the Venetian traveler the pronounced con- We measure only by the winters gloom; victions and noble purpose, the firm resolve The wailing winds, the whirling snows, make room and lofty genius, that have challenged for the In our half-frozen hearts for sunshine after! Genoese admiral so conspicuous a place upon If every morn were fair and all days golden, Fames eternal bead-roll. And only emerald turf our footsteps trod, Our sated souls would tire of velvet sod, Nevertheless Marco Polo must be regard- Our eyes in spells of snow-capped peaks beholdea! ed as the prince of medieval travelers, a We gauge the fiowrets beauty by the mould proud position, which Colonel Yule has 50 That lies so long and dark its sweetness over; ably vindicated for his hero in his eloquent As absence makes his rapture for the lover, peroration that we can not forbear, in cbs- Who sees no light till he fond eyes behold. ing this inadequate sketch, from quoting it So God be praised for wintry blasts and snows, at length. He was the first traveler to That end their lessons when the violet blows! trace a route across the whole longitude of Asia, naming and describing kingdom after kingdom which he had seen with his own eyes; the deserts of Persia, the flowering plateaux and wild gorges of Badakhshan, the jade-bearing rivers of Khotan, the Mon- golian steppescradle of the power that had so lately threatened to swallow up Christen- domthe new and brilliant court that had been establlshed at Cambaluc; the first traveler to reveal China in all its wealth and vastness, its mighty rivers, its huge cities, its rich manufactures, its swarming population, the inconceivably vast fleets that quickened its seas and its inland waters; to tell us of the nations on its borders, with all their eccentricities of manners and wor- ship; of Thibet, with all its sordid devotees; of Burma, with its golden pagodas and their tinkling crowns; of Laos, of Siam, of Cochin China, of Japan, the Eastern Thule, with its rosy pearls and golden-roofed palaces; the first to speak of that museum of beauty and wonder still so imperfectly ransackedthe Indian Archipelago, source of those aromat- ics then so highly prized, and whose origin was so dark; of Java, the pearl of islands; of Sumatra, with its many kings, its strange, costly products, and its cannibal races; of the naked savages of Nicobar and Andaman; of Ceylon, the isle of gems, with its sacred mountain and the tomb of Adam; of India the Great, not as a dream-land of Alexan- drian fables, but as a country seen and par- tially explored, with its virtuous Brahmans, its obscene ascetics, its diamonds and the strange tales of their acquisition, its sea- beds of pearl, and itspowerful sun; the first in medieval times to give any distinct ac- count of the secluded Christian empire of Abyssinia, and the semi-Christian island of Socotra; to speak, though indeed dimly, of Zanzibar, with its negroes and its ivory, and of the vast and distant Madagascar, border- ing on the dark ocean of the south, with its Rukh and other monstrosities; and, in a remotely opposite region, of Siberia and the Arctic Ocean, of dog sledges, white bears, and reindeer-riding Tunguses. CONTRAST.

William C. Richards Richards, William C. Contrast 19-20

CONTRAST. 19 He tells us, for example, of oxen as tall as elephants; of pheasants and mastiffs as large respectively as peacocks and donkeys; of bats and boars as big as goshawks and buf- faloes; of serpents with eyes bigger than a loaf of.bread ; of palaces with floors of solid gold two fingers in thickness ; of ru- bies a palm in length, and thick as a mans arm; of rivers hot enough to boil eggs, and of bamboos that explode with a report that might be heard a distance of ten miles! In more than one description of a battle he ro- mances in the following or a similar strain: Now you might behold the arrows fly from this side and from that, sothat the sky was canopied with them, and they fell like rain! Now might you see knights and men-at- arms on this side and on that fall in num- bers from their horses, so that the soil was covered with their bodies! From this side and from that rose such a cry from the wounded and the dying that God might have thundered and you would not hwve heard ! Some biographers, in instituting a com- parison between Polo and Columbus, have not hesitated to give the preference to the former. Ramusio, comparing the land jour- ney of the one with the sea-voyage of the other, not without some degree of plau& sbil- ity, observes: Consider only what a height of courage was needed to undertake and car- ry through so difficult an enterprise over a route of such desperate length and hardship (requiring three years and a half for its corn- pletion), whereon it was sometimes necessa- ry to carry food for the supply of man and beast not for days only, but for months to- gether. Columbus, on the other hand, go- ing by sea, readily carried with him all nec- essary provision, and after a voyage of some thirty or forty days was conveyed by the wind whither he desired to go. He then concludes with the statement that while no one from Europe has dared to repeat the former, ships in countless numbers continue to retrace the voyage of the latter. Polo, no doubt, was the worthy precursor of Co- lumbus, whose imagination he fired with visions of the boundless wealth of the Orient, ______________________________________ and who subsequently, in seeking a western passage to Asia, discovered America, though he died in the firm bellef that he had reached the coast of Cathay. Still, we fail to flndin Tas exquisite charm of springs first ringing laughter the Venetian traveler the pronounced con- We measure only by the winters gloom; victions and noble purpose, the firm resolve The wailing winds, the whirling snows, make room and lofty genius, that have challenged for the In our half-frozen hearts for sunshine after! Genoese admiral so conspicuous a place upon If every morn were fair and all days golden, Fames eternal bead-roll. And only emerald turf our footsteps trod, Our sated souls would tire of velvet sod, Nevertheless Marco Polo must be regard- Our eyes in spells of snow-capped peaks beholdea! ed as the prince of medieval travelers, a We gauge the fiowrets beauty by the mould proud position, which Colonel Yule has 50 That lies so long and dark its sweetness over; ably vindicated for his hero in his eloquent As absence makes his rapture for the lover, peroration that we can not forbear, in cbs- Who sees no light till he fond eyes behold. ing this inadequate sketch, from quoting it So God be praised for wintry blasts and snows, at length. He was the first traveler to That end their lessons when the violet blows! trace a route across the whole longitude of Asia, naming and describing kingdom after kingdom which he had seen with his own eyes; the deserts of Persia, the flowering plateaux and wild gorges of Badakhshan, the jade-bearing rivers of Khotan, the Mon- golian steppescradle of the power that had so lately threatened to swallow up Christen- domthe new and brilliant court that had been establlshed at Cambaluc; the first traveler to reveal China in all its wealth and vastness, its mighty rivers, its huge cities, its rich manufactures, its swarming population, the inconceivably vast fleets that quickened its seas and its inland waters; to tell us of the nations on its borders, with all their eccentricities of manners and wor- ship; of Thibet, with all its sordid devotees; of Burma, with its golden pagodas and their tinkling crowns; of Laos, of Siam, of Cochin China, of Japan, the Eastern Thule, with its rosy pearls and golden-roofed palaces; the first to speak of that museum of beauty and wonder still so imperfectly ransackedthe Indian Archipelago, source of those aromat- ics then so highly prized, and whose origin was so dark; of Java, the pearl of islands; of Sumatra, with its many kings, its strange, costly products, and its cannibal races; of the naked savages of Nicobar and Andaman; of Ceylon, the isle of gems, with its sacred mountain and the tomb of Adam; of India the Great, not as a dream-land of Alexan- drian fables, but as a country seen and par- tially explored, with its virtuous Brahmans, its obscene ascetics, its diamonds and the strange tales of their acquisition, its sea- beds of pearl, and itspowerful sun; the first in medieval times to give any distinct ac- count of the secluded Christian empire of Abyssinia, and the semi-Christian island of Socotra; to speak, though indeed dimly, of Zanzibar, with its negroes and its ivory, and of the vast and distant Madagascar, border- ing on the dark ocean of the south, with its Rukh and other monstrosities; and, in a remotely opposite region, of Siberia and the Arctic Ocean, of dog sledges, white bears, and reindeer-riding Tunguses. CONTRAST. 20 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE DOME OF THE CONTINENT. IN these days, when every one may travel, and the great plains, the Sierra Nevadas, and even the beauteons Yosemite Valley are becoming trite and common, it will please the tonrist to learn of new rontes of travel, fresh sights and places to be seen. Some who have rnshed across the continent to see the wonders on its western shore will yet gaze with amazement npon eqnal or greater wonders which they have hurried past with- ont even imagining their existence; for men may journey and see nothing, may travel and have little for their pains. Thousands boast their overland passage from the At- lantic to the Pacific Ocean, and return, who never saw the Rocky Mountains! Not that they traversed them in the night, nor that some of the mountain ridges were not seen; bnt that the sea of towering snow-clad sum- mits which mark the eminent majesty of this great range were to them distant or in- visible, liidden by the foot -hills through which they passed. Of the whole Rocky chain Colorado Terri- tory possesses the chief mountainscertain- ly the most famons; for here, amidst a mul- titnde of others, each one a monarch in it- self rise Pikes and Longs Peaksnames linked with the earliest history of the West the landmarks of prairie voyageurs in days gone by. Further west, Grays Peaks, Monnt Lincoln, and a host besides tower, with snm- mits crested with eternal snow, and, circling, surround those beautiful and wondrous val- leys, which Rasselas might envythe North, Middle, and South Parks. Here is the snowy range, the icy mountain wall which parts Orient from Occidentthe divide, as it is popularly called, where melting snows discharge their watevs east and west to the worlds greatest and most widely separated - oceans. The days of danger are past in Colorado. Unon most of the stage routes the traveler is comfortably kept and cared for as at many summer resorts, and already Sarato- inks are seen where but a dozen years the bear and deer only were met. ~viany tourists come to see the gold mines, perhaps longing to pan out some dust for themselves; mineralogists and geologists here find the earths wealth thickly spread before them; the botanist meets a new and splendid flora, and cactus growing thriftily beside the snow; the eyes of the ornitholo- gist are dazzled with the dark blue-green iridescent plumage of the bold and fearless Rocky Mountain blue jay, and he starts at the sudden cry of the large, garrulous, black and white jackdaw. The sportsman looks to his rifle as he sees the monstrous tracks of the cinnamon grizzly, and by the camp-fire listens with surprise to stories of adventures with mountain lions,~~ of hand-to-hand en- counters with huge elk, or of thrilling climbs amidst the cliffs in pursuit of the big-horn or mountain sheep; regrets the absence of his fly-rod as he hears of cold crystal brooks swarming with speckled trout of the same old habits and as vigorous in their play as those that haunt the Adirondack lakelets or the streams of Maine. The Alpine tourist feels anew the longing for adventure as he hears of untrodden summits vying in alti- tude with the loftiest of the Swiss Jura; and the artist longs to stand in the preseuce of those scenes which have inspired the pen- cil of Bierstndt. It is a great pleasure-ground, and soon to be the resort of those that leave the stale and hackneyed routes of European travel to see and appreciate the fresh glories of their native laud; the summer home of those who, loving mountains, prefer to find rnz ,AFz-LlMrr, OLiAY5 PzAKs.[szz rAez 35.]

Verplanck Colvin Colvin, Verplanck The Dome of the Continent 20-37

20 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE DOME OF THE CONTINENT. IN these days, when every one may travel, and the great plains, the Sierra Nevadas, and even the beauteons Yosemite Valley are becoming trite and common, it will please the tonrist to learn of new rontes of travel, fresh sights and places to be seen. Some who have rnshed across the continent to see the wonders on its western shore will yet gaze with amazement npon eqnal or greater wonders which they have hurried past with- ont even imagining their existence; for men may journey and see nothing, may travel and have little for their pains. Thousands boast their overland passage from the At- lantic to the Pacific Ocean, and return, who never saw the Rocky Mountains! Not that they traversed them in the night, nor that some of the mountain ridges were not seen; bnt that the sea of towering snow-clad sum- mits which mark the eminent majesty of this great range were to them distant or in- visible, liidden by the foot -hills through which they passed. Of the whole Rocky chain Colorado Terri- tory possesses the chief mountainscertain- ly the most famons; for here, amidst a mul- titnde of others, each one a monarch in it- self rise Pikes and Longs Peaksnames linked with the earliest history of the West the landmarks of prairie voyageurs in days gone by. Further west, Grays Peaks, Monnt Lincoln, and a host besides tower, with snm- mits crested with eternal snow, and, circling, surround those beautiful and wondrous val- leys, which Rasselas might envythe North, Middle, and South Parks. Here is the snowy range, the icy mountain wall which parts Orient from Occidentthe divide, as it is popularly called, where melting snows discharge their watevs east and west to the worlds greatest and most widely separated - oceans. The days of danger are past in Colorado. Unon most of the stage routes the traveler is comfortably kept and cared for as at many summer resorts, and already Sarato- inks are seen where but a dozen years the bear and deer only were met. ~viany tourists come to see the gold mines, perhaps longing to pan out some dust for themselves; mineralogists and geologists here find the earths wealth thickly spread before them; the botanist meets a new and splendid flora, and cactus growing thriftily beside the snow; the eyes of the ornitholo- gist are dazzled with the dark blue-green iridescent plumage of the bold and fearless Rocky Mountain blue jay, and he starts at the sudden cry of the large, garrulous, black and white jackdaw. The sportsman looks to his rifle as he sees the monstrous tracks of the cinnamon grizzly, and by the camp-fire listens with surprise to stories of adventures with mountain lions,~~ of hand-to-hand en- counters with huge elk, or of thrilling climbs amidst the cliffs in pursuit of the big-horn or mountain sheep; regrets the absence of his fly-rod as he hears of cold crystal brooks swarming with speckled trout of the same old habits and as vigorous in their play as those that haunt the Adirondack lakelets or the streams of Maine. The Alpine tourist feels anew the longing for adventure as he hears of untrodden summits vying in alti- tude with the loftiest of the Swiss Jura; and the artist longs to stand in the preseuce of those scenes which have inspired the pen- cil of Bierstndt. It is a great pleasure-ground, and soon to be the resort of those that leave the stale and hackneyed routes of European travel to see and appreciate the fresh glories of their native laud; the summer home of those who, loving mountains, prefer to find rnz ,AFz-LlMrr, OLiAY5 PzAKs.[szz rAez 35.] THE DOME OF THE CONTINENT. 21 their Alps this side the stomach - troubling ocean. The visitor to Denver has at least a distant view of the mighty mountain chain, some of the peaks and ridges of the snowy range showing slightly above the darker foot-hills. Numerous interesting routes into the monnt- ains diverge here; but passing most of them, we will go westward on the unfinished Col- orado Central Railroad seventeen miles, over the last piece of prairie land, and entering the foot-hills, rest at Golden City. Golden City is not as auriferous as its name implies. Its mineral wealth is prin- cipally coal, and its mills and well-utilized water-power make it the manafacturing town of Colorado. It is just within the foot-hills, which, edged with vertical sand- stone precipicesfrom which one prominent summit gains the name of Table Mountain almost surround the valley where it lies. From here a stage can be taken for Central City or Georgetown; and while Georgetown should be the objective point, those desirous of visiting the gold mines will proceed by way of Black Hawk and Central City, re raz szowy RANGE. 22 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. gaining the other stage at Idaho, the cele- brated soda springs. This is the route for the Middle Park via the lofty, snow-bound Berthoud Pass. On this line also lies Guy Hill, famous with all stage -travelers and stage-drivers in the region for the steep, al- most dangerous piece of road descending it westwarda zigzag way carved iu the face of the mountaindown which the six-horse coach is driven at full speed. The scenery of a mining region is proverb- ially barren and desolate; yet here, though the axe has swept the timber from the mountains and left them a wilderness of stumps, the grand surroundings, the won- derful views of crests and chasms, c ompen- sate for the vandalism. Dinner is taken at a way-side inn, a small white frame build- ing; then, after a few hours of up and down hill journeying, the gold mines are reached. Suddenly debouching from a valley, we turn into a road running at right angles with our previous course. The mountains rise steeply up on either side, and along the road a stream, the north hranch of Clear Creekhere any thing but clearruns pent in a wooden trough, leaving dry and bare a rugged bed of cobble-stones, once its home. Among this drift men are shoveling and delving, wheeling barrow-loads of gravel to the trough or sluice-wayfor this is slui- cing,~ a variety of placer gold digging or gulch mining. In one spot two men, ap- parently engaged in undermining the road, step back and look up, as though to stand from under, as we drive above; near by another stands beside the sluice with a sort of steel - pronged stable-fork in hand, and working the ringing tines throngh the swifi~ running muddy water, throws out the larger stones and gravel. All the pecuttar features of a gold - mining re- gion were here: little water-courses in board troughs ran upon stilts in various directions; skcleton undershot and overshot wa- ter-wheels abound- ed; and in the hills on either side were dark, cavern- ___ ______ ens openings, the months of tunnels or deserted claims. Now the bottom of the narrow ravine or cahon is choked with mills, furnaces, and buildings, which often stand among the rocks and perch in almost impossible places. Through all this the road and the creek with difficulty find a passage, and while the one is frequently blockaded by teams, the other is forced through many a mill andeompelled to do a deal of dirty work in the washing way. Beyond are stores and shops and Chinese laundry; and this is Black Hawk, the first of the string of village cities, which are indeed but one, crammed into this red, gilded gulch, in three miles ascend- ing 1500 feet, one town beginning ~ere the other ends Black Hawk, Mountain, Cen- tral, and Nevada Cities, each one greater in altitude than the otherhaving together a population of 4000 or 5000 souls. Central City is well named: on all sides of it are mines, which are often as profitable as their names are singular. The Ground- hog lode, on Bobtail Hill, is a veritable and wealthy mine, and, together with a host of others, is well worth visiting. The Illinois may be taken as a type of what is here called a quartz mineit being first understood that very little quartz min- ing is done in Colorado, the pay rock, or ore, being principally iron and some copper pyrites, together with what is here com~non- ly called brittle copper, with black-jack, or zinc-l)lende, and~ galena, all forming ores of the class called 8ulphUretS. It is not often rilE Blil-ilOEN. THE DOME OF THE CONTINENT. 23 that all of these minerals are found together. Though quartz always accompanies them in some form, the gold is here chiefly associated with the pyrites, and such is the unreliable nature of popular names that a lump of the glittering yellow fools-gold is often called quartz by unlearned miners, while the same name is commonly applied to the pay rock, heavy with the cubic pyrites, by those who should know better. Native gold does occur in pure quartz rock, but it is seldom that very fine specimens are seen. Gold mining here becomes systematized, and the history of a mine may thus be traced: The formation, or country rock, is a com- mon gnei~s, apparently of Laurentian age; a vein or lode is found in it exhibiting blos- som rock, a yellow, spongy mass, charged with iron rust formed by the oxidation of the pyrites. The discoverer stakes out his claim, and. if the dirt pans well the rest of the lode is soon taken up. At length the top quartz, or blossom rock, is worked out, and even iron mortar and pestle fail to pulverize su,ifficient of the now hard and re- fractory ore to pay the prospecter for his trouble; water, too, invades the mine and drives him out. Now comes another phase: euLcul Mrzrze. 24 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. either the claim owners effect a consolida- tiona minin~, company being formedor the capitalist steps in and purchases the whole. Lumber and machinery are then brought over the monntains, and presently buildings appear, and steam hoisting and mill machinery, and true mining has com- menced. Shafts are sunk, levels and tun- nels made, the mine is drained, the ore brought out, and, if available, pnt through the stamp-mill. The product of the mill would not readily amalgamate with pure mercury. It issues from beneath the heavy stamps a grayish, sparkling, thin mud, and flowing over gently inclined sheets of amal- gamated copper, bright with quicksilver, passes off under the name of tailings, leav- ing the gold-dust amalgamated, fixed to the surface of the wide copper trough plates. From the surface of these plates the amal- gam, thick with gold, is wiped at regular intervals, and when sufficient is collected it is placed in a cloth, the ends of which are gathered together and twisted. Upon squeez- ing the bag thus formed much of the mercu- ry passes out through the pores of the cloth, while a heavy, pasty mass of gold, still sil- vered by the mercury, remains within. This last, with the cloth holdin,, it, is now placed in a cast-iron crucible-like cup, to which a fiat iron top is fastened, a bent pipe of the size of small gas tubin0 passing out at the centre, forming the neck of the retort. Upon the itpplication of heat the mercury is ex- pelled, and collected under water at the end of the tube for future use; the cloth is con- sumed, and the gold in its pores thus saved, while, if the heat be not raised to a height sufficient to melt the gold, its exterior still shows the shape and impression of the folds, seams, and texture of the rag or cloth which held it. In this condition is most of the raw gold in the possession of the banks of these mountain cities, though the tin pail or box in which they obligingly exhibit it will often contain at the bottom a gleaming yel- low metallic sand and gravel, which have an intrinsic beauty, and are the dust from many a placer miners pan. The gold of Colorado is thus obtained; but wealth and fortune are gathered by many gold miners and companies who never see the metal that they dig. Capital has introduced a division of labor, and much of the poorer ores, in which the metal is al- together invisiblelocked up and hidden in the suiphuretsnever enters the amal- gamator, but, after having its value ascer- tained by assay, is sold at fifty dollars and upward per ton at the smelting furnace. Black Hawk has the fame of possessing both the first stamp-mill and the first reduction- furnace of Colorado. The smelting-works, erected in 1867, and in charge of Professor Hill, their projector, are famous throughout this region, and are to the miner the equiv- alent of the grist-mill and the factory of the agriculturist. In each case the master of machinery and of skilled labor buys the crude material from the producer. At the smelting -works the poorer ores, and espe- cially those of auriferous copper or argentif- erous galena, with the tailings of the stamp- mills, are purchased. The process is the re- duction of the unmanageable sulphurets by fire to a condition suitable for the rapid ex- traction of their precious contents. This disintegration and destruction of the pyrites is but a shortening of that natural process which has made the outcrop of every vein of the sulphurets a porous mass of blossom rock. Even at the smelting-works the py- rites are compelled to aid in their own de- struction, and in the open yard of the works, broken in small lumps, they are heaped in dome-shaped illes, perhaps eight or ten feet high, in form not unlike charcoal kilus. A layer of wood underneath the pile serves as kindling, and before it is entirely con- sumed the pyrites themselves take fire, and, burning slowly, give off dense, stifling va- pors of sulphurous acid gas, sufficient, one would think, to bleach even the dirty hats of the bull-whackers passing on the road. As this slow combustion proceeds, especial- ly in cold weather, the tops of the heaps become incrusted with a bright yellow coat- in~ of brimstone; but at length the action ceases, about half the sulphur having dis- appeared. The once hard, brilliant, and sparkling pyrites bisuiphide of iron have become black, clinker-like masses protosuiphide of iron, like that used in the laboratory for evolving sulphureted hydro- gen. This particular protosulphide is too valuable for laboratory purposes; and after calcination in a long range of brick ovens, where, under intense flame-heat, it is kept stirred with iron rods, an additional por- tion of sulphur is expelled. It now as- sumes the form of a black or brown powder, and is finally thrust into the smelting fur- nace, which is of the reverberatory kind, strongly built of fire-hrick, supported and held by a system of broad iron bars passing around and over it, and bolted and clamped together. The work of this furnace is con- ILiON x~roar FOR lOLl) AMALGAM. THE DOME OF THE CONTINENT. 25 stunt, the temperature maintained terrible to con- template, and gazing in at the small door by which the process may be observed, nothing is seen, when the heat is greatest, but a white glare as dazzling as the sun. Into this furnace the roast- ed ore is put, an average similarity in its composi- tion being secured by the mixture of auriferons, ar- gentiferous, and cuprifer- ous ores, as may be neces- sary, the design being to form a compound which, when melted, will react and separate into an upper and lower liquid, the one rich aiul heavy, the other light and containing almost all the dross. The charge being intro- iiced, the ~tense heat, which acts upon its surface, soon reduces it to a molten condition; but the process does not stop here, for the heat continues and grows more intense, till it seems to threaten the destruction of the furnace and of the great tower - like chimney, up which the white - hot biast rushes furiously. After some hours the watch- door is opened, and when a peculiar brightening of the surface of the lake of molt- ea metal is observed the fire is withdrawn, and pres- ently an opening on one side of the furnace, till now stopped with fire-clay, is tapped, and the lighter surface metal allowed to pour out into rough moulds of dry sand. This is worth- less slag, being a mixture of silicate and protosul- TILE SnAFT. phide of iron, and it is moulded merely that it may be more easily iron, with a small amount of sulphur, which handled when cool, and carted away to form seenis to remain in combination with the roads or fill gullies. It is remarkable for its iron. The Colorado treatment is over, and hardness and brittleness; for, while glass the precious black mutt is forthwith start- nsay be scratched with it, a mass of a hun- ed upon a journey across the world by rail dred pounds weight or more will fall to and sea to Englandor rather to Swansea, pieces under the boot. After the slag has Waleswhere the gold and silver are cx- been drawn off an opening is made at the tracted, and the copper remaining is suf- other side of the furnace, and the lower ficient to pay not only the expense of trans- Uquid, the brilliant fluid metal, is led into portation, but the cost of the various proc- open sand moulds similar to those that held esses throunh which it has passed. the slag. This product is called mutt, and But let us turn from the consideration of though of the same dark iron-color of the gold extraction to gold mines. One bright dug, is a mass of gold, silver, copper, and October afternoon, accompanied by Mr. Bela 26 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. S. Buel, of Central City, I examined a mine of which my companion was principal own- er. The mine was situated on Quartz Hill, south of and above Nevada. In the superin- tendents office we exchanged coats and hats for less worldly habilimeuts, and, provided with overalls of a color nncertain from the dry mud upon them, prepared to descend. The costume was nearly as picturesque as that of the oiled-skin-enveloped neophytes who haunt the rocks beneath Niagara. Having lighted our candles, a small trap- door in the platform covering the month of the shaft was opened, and disclosed a dark pit, perhaps eight or ten feet square at the month, dropping apparently fathom- less into the depths of the earth. A steep ladder fastened to one of the walls showed the means of descent, and we went down into the pit; the trap-door closing left us in inky darkness, which the light of the feeble tapers we carried but partially dispelled. The steep, muddy ladders led on down till to the imagination the depth below was awful. Not a ray of light could penetrate it, not a sound or echo came up from it to indicate the existence of life below: the water dropping from the oozy walls, the scrap of rock detached, were lost an(l gave no sound. 0 gold! beloved of men, 1)right, glittering gold, gloomy and desolate are the pathways to thy home! At last some slippery boards received our feet, and we paused to rest; then down again by shorter and more inclined ladders, with platforms at intervals of twenty-five or thir- ty feet. Occasion~ lly dark, horizontal tun- nels led off into the rock, which now formed the only walls of the deep shaft. These levels were passages to upper headings, and were not provided with rails or cars, the ore being cast below to another level, where con- veniences for carrying and hoisting existed. Passing along one of these levels, we came to what was known as the skip shaft; for here, boxed off in one half of a shaft the huge Cornish skip carried the ore to the sur- face. This vessel, which has a carrying ca- pacity of twenty cubic feet, here replaced the less spacious and h& vier kibble buckets of old-time mines, and was of boiler iron, strongly bolted or riveted together, forming an oblong box, open at one of the smaller ends, which was also uppermost. A prolon- gation of the metal at one of the upper edges gave it a lip like that of a rectangular coal- scuttle, and served a similar l)urpose, pre- venting the spilling of the ore when the top of the shaft is v3ached, and the skip, by an automatic arrangement, discharges its con- tents. One engineer above, by levers ready to his hand, controlled both engine and skip, and, at a signal from belowthe ringing of a gong-hell at the shaft mouth, by means of a cord or bell-rope passing down the shaft would bring the skip with a rush to the sur- face, see it discharged, and send It swiftly down again. Descending further, we reached another tunnel, and then a short ladder brought us to the lower level and the bottom of the shaft, a well hole, called the sumph, all the drainage of the mine being led this way, and the water here raised by the skip to the sur- face. Entering the level, which was partial- ly floored, and had a narrow wooden rail- way, we went toward the heading, encoun- tering a subterranean breeze which threat- ened the extinction of our lights. It was a singular avenue we traversed. Much of the ore above had been removed or worked out, and as only the ore had been taken, the bent, overhanging, and recurved walls rose above us till lost to sight in the gloom, mak- ing plain to the eye the forum of a true fissure vein. The hanging wall, propped every where with short but heavy timbers, threat- ened us as we passed beneath, and ever and anon trembled responsive to the distant thunder of blasting. Now we passed an up- ward-leading shaft, arranged for ventilation, eomnimsXm SKIP. THE DOME OF THE CONTINENT. 27 and called a winze; then a hoard boxing was forms of poles picking the gold rock from seen at one side, descending from some upper overhead; while the numerous lights, re- level, and crammed with ore, held back by fiected with a thousand minnte seintillations a sort of slide-gate at the lower end. This from the glittering walls, bright with mir- was a mill, hut more resembled a strange sort ror-like crystals of golden-colored pyrites, of hopper; it held the ore cast down hy made the place appear a very cave of Monte miners from above, and kept it from the rail Christo, and the walls rather of royal metal track till a car was ready to receive it; when than of gleaming ore. Gold was everywhere; by simply raising the gate the ore poured the very rock seemed to have taken a hright forth into the car. color, to make it a fit dwelling for the metal The bea ing was an interestimfg sight: king. Gold under foot, gold on the walls, numbers of miners were here engaged, some o~old in the roof, bet really very little risible, pushing the level, and some on slight plat- the brilliancy of the tawdry, tinsel associates rn~ mAnIac. 25 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. hiding its less brazen beauty. Seldom is it here seen until the stamp-mill and the fur- nace have done their work. The appearance of a sulphuret vein is worth description: the vern-8tOfle does not entirely fill the fissure, and on either wall are lateral cavities con- taining drusy quartz, the slender crystals thickly bristling on the rock. Far more beautiful, however, are the large cubes of iron pyrites, which for perfection of shape and polish are unrivaled, while their size is a surprise to the Eastern mineralogist. No glass or metal mirror can equal the polish of their faces; but often I noticed them super- ficially inclosed or boxed in sheets of quartz as thin as writing-paper, which at a touch from the finger slipped aside and showed the gleaming facets of a virgin crystal, on which light never shone before. It was late evening almost before we knew it. The miners had all left, and we hastened upward. Slowly climbing, laden with specimens, we found the ascent more toilsome than the descent; and pausing now and then to rest, noticed where the white sperm of the miners candles had dripped upon the wet rocksof the shaft, and, changed in color by the copper salt in solution to a verdigris-green as vivid as the spring foliage of the forest, showed the mineral richness of even the water of this region. Above~ground once more,we bade the superintendent good-night, and went quick- ly out into the frosty darkness on our re- turn to Central City, and a comfortable though late supper at the Connor House. Much maybe seen at Central City even in a day or two. If the inquisitive traveler escape falling into some one of the numer- ous disused pits which make the mountain- sides a dangerous region after darkif he have seen the famous silver mines at Cara- boo, some twenty miles away, and the wild and beautiful Boulder Creek Caffon he may take the stage that every afternoon goes rumbling off to Idaho, and, leaving mines, proceed in search of mountains. Up, slowly up,we go, leaving behind Cen- tral and Nevada, till, gaining a lofty ridge, we see before us the whole bright, sun-lit southward picture, where, prominent and picturesque among other scarcely less ro- mantic summits, rise softly and dreamily the Indian Chieftain, with Squaw and Pa- poose mountains at his side. Who would think that in that neighborhood lies the scenery of Bierstadts Storm in the Rocky Mountains, the Chicago Lakes and Chicago Mountain? Who would dream that that cloudless sky could ever be convulsed in such dark magnificence? Away to the west- ward are loftier, haughtier summits, dazzling in their spotless robes of white. But we have crossed the ridge, and to the crack of the whip go hurrying and jolting down to Idaho and the hot soda springs. Idaho, named from the purple flower of the Utesa rich, wild columbine here growing in profusionis a quiet little vil- lage, and though 7800 feet above the sea, is at the bottom of the valley of Clear Creek, whose shallow, sparkling waters sever it, and give occasion for a rude, picturesque wooden bridge, over which the main road up from Golden and Denver has its way. The springs, three in number, are on the south side of the creek, and the steaming alkaline water, issuing from the rock at a temperature of about 1090 Fahrenheit, trickles down and forms a little brook of sodawater, better suited for washing than for drinking. This is genuine 8oda-water---- cooking soda with nearly an equal amount of sulphate of soda (Glaubers-salt), and a con- siderable percentage of Epsom salt and salts of iron and lime, besides common chloride of sodium, forming together a mixture probably of great medicinal value, but certainly not agreeable when taken internally. Idaho, being a quiet and cozy place, has become quite a resort, and few of the tired and dusty tourists from the East pass it without enjoying a hot bath. The waters have also the reputation of being curative in rheumatic and paralytic diseases, and for cutaneous affections no one can doubt their efficacy, for it is a most cleansing solution. But now away for Georgetown and the end of civilization on the Atlantic slope, the place where silver bricks are used as paper- weights upon the public desk of the bank counter: fearlessly used, not because the spirit of absolute honesty has settled dove- like on the heads of teamsters and miners, but because the bricks of precious metal are much too large to pocket, and rather heavy for any one man to carry off. Away, t,hen, fast as six horses can whirl the lumbering coach, up a deep caflon valley sunk between almost precipitous mountains, along beside the flashing, hurrying creek. Spanish Bar, and Fail River with its won- derful Profile Rock, the semblance of a fierce human head, sharply projecting from the opposite mountain crest, were passed, and, as the suns shadows lengthened, a caflon open& d to the right, showing a long vista through the dark mountains up to where two white slopes bent grandly down to form the Berthoud Pass over the snowy range, its lowest point more than eleven thousand feet above the sea. It was evening when the deep valley widened, and the mountains, parting to right and left, made space for a small plateau or upland prairiea bar, in mountain parlance then, circling and closing in darkly and gloomily, seemed to forbid further progress. Picturesquely spread and scattered on the plain which forms the pit of this great natu- ral amphitheatre was Georgetown. Beauti- ful little city, nestled in this last romantic THE DOME OF THE CONTINENT. 29 nook of the mountains, with its broad streets and neat white houses, and Clear Creek wind- ing through it like a ribbon of flowing metal from the mountains silver veins! Beautiful valley, L nd-locked with granite ridges, up which the scanty evergreen forest creeps to meet the frosts of a pereauial winter, and draw hack, dwarfed and withered, down the steeps! It hardly seems to be a mining town, so little crowded and so quiet. How the thin air startles oue! Strange spot to build a city! Europe has no place like it, for it is more than five thousand feet higher than the glacier-walled vale of Chamounix, and it is even higher than the far-famed snow-girt hospice of the St. Bernard. Yet it is not altogether a mining town, for al- ready it has become a centre of resort for tourists, and in the Barton House it pos- sesses one of the best hotels between the Rocky Mountains and the Missouri River. Just above the town is the famous Devils Gate, a deep chasm, cliff- walled, through which this brauch of Clear Creek Yas- ~iuies Forkfoams and leaps. Twelve or fifteen miles from Georgetown GEOmETOWN. 30 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. are Grays Peaks, perhaps the loftiest of the true Rocky Mountains, rising, it is said, to an elevation of 15,000 feet above the sea. Securing the services of Mr. Bailey, of Georgetown, and two of his gallant black steeds, early morning found us on our way to make the ascent, cantering along the well - kept and firm though narrow road which followed the valley or cafion of the stream westward and upward. It must not be supposed that the road is maintained for the accommodation of tourists visiting the snowy summits. It leads to many a rich silver mine, and teams toil along it daily, dragging wagons heayily laden with gray, glistening ore. A zigzag path ascending the mountain- side from the road attracts attention. It is a trail from some silver mine among the cliffs, where wagon teams can not be brought. A dangerous path even for human foot: but see, here come it8 travelers, a sober-looking set of silver-gray donkeys! In single file, without bit or bridle, they come leisurely on, bearing upon their backs bags of silver ore slung across the pack-saddles. The sure- footed beasts neither slip nor stumble, and day after day toil on, receiving many kicks and no caresses; on Sundays only, gather- ing in squads, standing idly side by side with crossed necks, fondling one another; ou week - days at their work, laden with precious ore, the very pictures of humility with wealth. And here we notice a tunnel claim,~~ a slight excavation made into the rock, with a few timbers put up before ittwo sides and a top piecerepresenting the commence- ment of the timbering of a tunnel, or adit lev- el, to the lower portion of some vein opened on the surface further up the mountain. Such a tunnel claim, under slight rules, en- titles its owner to a plot of land one or two hundred feet square around its mouth, and to property in any lodes, or metallic veins, he may discover. The valley now opened beyond, and sudden- ly gave us a near view of the snowy range, which we had imperceptibly approached. How strange and solitary the aspect of the white slopes and ridges of that mountain desert! Yonder a peak of bold, sharp out- line stands high above the rest; long, nar- row ridges, ice-edged, leading upward to the summit, and dread crevasses and chasms forming defenses on its flanks. Is that our goal? No; it is only the Little Pro- fessor, a much less summit than the one we have to climb. Now we turn sharply to the left, up into the mountains, following a nar- row, steep, winding road, through the ever- green forest. Strange, though at George- town there was no snow, here the road is deep and heavy with it, and the whole scene is one of midwinter in the Eastern Middle States. The road, winding and turning, constantly ascends; and the dull trampling of the horses in the snow is the only sound heard in the silent and shadowy forest. This is October; at home the brilliant joyous sea- son of, ripe fruits and gleaming, gaudy fo- liage; here already chill and joyless winter. We had left far below the groves of aspen trees of the fluttering leafand had now around us only the tall,. majestic pines, the slender and graceful Menzies and Douglass spruces, and the gleaming silver-firs, that answer to the balsams of Canadian forests. Beneath the trees the snow was marked with rabbit tracks, and now and then the animal itself was seenthe great Northern hare, in facthere already changed in color, and at times so white as to be hardly dis- tinguishable upon the snow while some but partially changed, mottled white and brown, were the more readily seen. To one acquaint- ed with the habits of the animal this appar- ently premature change of color is remark- able. At this season of the year and in this latitude only here amidst the lofty mount- ains does the change occur thus early, those inhabiting less elevated regions much fur- ther north still retaining their brown sum- mer pelage; and in the lowlands it is only when we reach the arctic circle, and the lowland zone of perpetual snow or ice, that we find the varying hare assuming at this season his white winter coat. I was surprised to learn that wolves were not found in the mountains, and, from de- scription, became satisfied that the mountain lionwhich is here sometimes met withis the panther or cougar of the Eastern States. Here, however, was the home of the monarch brute, the cinnamon bear, or cinnamon griz- zly, as it is more properly termed. It is a little remarkable that even the, great savage of our continent grows less and dwindles in our estimation as we near his liome. We learn not only that he does not always seek the encounter, but nowadays often has the discretion to scamper off upon the sight of man. We are not so much sur- prised to learn that he is not absolutely carnivorous, and that he is even capable of sustaining life upon a diet altogether vege- table; but what have we to say when we learn that this mighty beast, at certain sea- sons of the year, devotes the whole of his majestic mind and body to the capturing and eating of grasshoppers? It is but an- other example of the great law of nature, the preying of the strong upon the weak; but the strangest thing is the way in which he gets the gryllida~. In the summer season these pests of plain and valley swarm up among the mountains, as though inspired with the desire which ev~ery living, progress- ive being has to press westward. At length in some of their airy flights they are caught by the winds, and wafted swiftly upward to the snowy range, their own strong wings THE DOME OF THE CONTINENT. 31 assisting. Here, alas! fortune and strength fail them, and, chilled in that unaccustomed atmosphere, they fall upon the snow lifeless. The winds that previously aided and he- guiled them here now gather and drift them into funereal piles in hollows and crevices amidst the snow. Thus wonderfal masses of them acenmulate, and at this season Mas- ter Grizzly wanders over the snow fields, peering into crannies and crevices, and find- ing a hoard, deftly conveys pawfnls to his capaeions mouth. We saw nothing of these monsters how- ever; ad now the & trange and v~ondrous scenery withdrew my mind from them. We had reached a wide upland valley walled hy naked precipitous mountains of dark gacis- soid rock. The forest had grown thinner, the trees were smaller, and looking hack over their tops, the depths from which we had ascended were seen, while other valleys, opening in varions directions, diversifie the solemn landsca~ e. Before us the hroad chasm valley came sloping down in a great cnrvc, its terminus hidden hy an intervening mountain at the right. At the left, sheer and ragged, rose MClellan Mountain, one long curved ridge of precipices while on hUMILITY WITH WEALTh. 32 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the slopes belowthe taiu8 of the cliffs were scattered the last stunted, twisted, and gnarled trees whose nature enabled them to stand the climatethe pitch - pine (Pinus contorta), of shriveled and dwarfed growth. A little further, and we crossed an ice- bound brook by a crumbling bridge of logs, which told that even here man had come in search of gain and profit. We were nearing our object, and the day was bright, clear, and so far favorable; yet the labor was still to come. Breaking a hole in the ice, be- neath which the little stream went gurgling and murmuring, we gave our horses drink. A faint cry, almost lost even in that still- ness, came softly quivering down as if from the sky or from the cliff-tops of MClelian Mountain. Glancing upward, a keen scru- tiny at length discovered a smali building (shedor shanty) clinging apparently uponthe face of the precipice, more than five hundred feet above our heads! What could it be? What were those long ropes that sloped down at an angle of seventy degrees to a building which we now noticed in the valley? It was the famous Stevens silver mine, located 12,000 feet above the level of the sea nearly twice the height of Mount Washington, which, with the Baker mine upon the less precipitous mountain at the right, is probablythe highest point in Col- oradoperhaps in the United Stateswhere mining is carried on. Those cables which seem but threads are endiess wire ropes, moved over drums and pulleys by machinery in the lower building. The one descending carries buckets of ore; the empty buckets are returned by the ascending portion. Against the rocks hang other ropes, and there is some sort of pathway up which men, clinging and scrambling, may climb. Few care, even if permitted, to slowly pass up through the air in nothing but a kibble bucket, hung from a quivering, trembling wire cable. It was a giddy spot to look at, and I learned that it was considered the hardest place of labor in the Territory. The thin air saps the muscles and energy of the miner, and a sin- gle stroke of the pick tires his whole body. After three or four days labor in the mine the haggard and nerveless workman is pulied up,~ and sent off down the mountains to Georgetown, to get breath and strength for another struggle; while if he have a truce of consumption, one effort is sufficient to send him back a corpse. It was past, and out of sight; and we al- most seemed to have reached the bound- aries of the world, and the drear, barren, rocky wastes that lie between it and the blue ether of the heavens. We had reached the timber line. I turned my horse, and looked and wondered. The dark green forest had crept up into this high valley, and here ceased suddenly; in places it reached for- ward in short strips like courageous, un daunted squads of infantry pressing onward eagerly before their comrades upon the foe. How wonderful a war between natural forceshow obstinate the contestwhere they meet! The few daring trees that stood forth solitary before their fellows had been seized by some strong invisible power and twisted and contorted into shriveled, writhing ago- nies of dead, bleached limbs. Their tops re- sembled dry and weather-beaten roots, and all their life was near the ground, where some branches crept out horizontally, grov- eling to obtain the growth and breadth that were denied them above. Dread clime, where even the hardy evergreen is forced to yield! We were above the timber line, here rising to 11,000 to 12,000 feet from the sea, above the limit of tree life, in the open valley where only the dwarfed forms of arctic or Alpine vegetation found existence. There was no road now, hardly a trail. At times our horses trod in snow, then their hoofs turned up the deep brown peaty soil of the Alpine bog, with its surface of microscopic plant growth, and now their iron shoes rang against fragments of stone. Suddenly we entered a forestbut what a forest! It hardiy rose to our horses knees, yet the trees were full grown. They were deciduous, their leaves all fallen, but their unmistaka- ble growth and cottony catkins showed them to be willows. It was, in fact, a growth of the mountain wiliow (Salixjphyli- cifolia ?), which, like the varying hare, is only abundant on the lowlands of the frozen North and the equivalent frosty regions of high mountains. Hark! what are those strange ventrio- quistic, chirping sounds, now near, now far, now like the cries of prairie-dogs, now like the piping of the partridge grouse? Its the coniessee ! A little gray, mouse-colored animal, not larger than a Guinea-pig, thrust his head up out of the snow, and, motionless, as though he thought himself quiteunobserved, glared at us with his wild-looking little eyes. Watch him; hes coming out. With a slight awkward scramble, the tiny beast emerged, and took his place upon a fragment of stolie projecting above the snow. Oddest of creatures, he had absolutely no tail! It is peculiar to these lofty mountain des- erts, and their little communities make them to the eye the equivalent of the prairie-dog of the plains. They are said to be a true cony, however, and no marmot, and conse- quently can not hibernate like the common woodchuck, but must remain amidst or un- der the deep winter snow, cutting galleries and tunnels through it to the herbs and stems on which they feed. Such channels or subniveous passages I found among the thick growth of mountain willows, but did not establish their object. The Rocky Mount- THE DOME OF THE CONTINENT. 33 am cony should not be confounded with the Scriptural animal, for, as already stated, it is a true cony, and is classed by naturalists with the rabbit kind (Lepus), wliereas that called Shdjphdn by the Hebrews owes its present name merely to a mistake of the En~,lish translators of the Bible. What was that ? Something resembling a hand-breadth of snow fluttered up from among the willows, and flying a short distance, lit and was lost again upon the earths white covering. An- other and another followed, till presently the surface of the snow seemed animated. White partridges ! cried the guide. How tame they are! See them, walking within stones-throw ! Truly it was an interesting sight. It was a flock of the rare willow-grouse, or ptarmi- gan (Tetrao [lagopus] saticeti), another hab- itant of subarctic regions, here finding a congenial home. Like the Northern hare, it had already lost shade and color, and its spotless winter plumage made it all but in- visible against the snow. We had roused them from their feeding grouad, for they were living on the buds of the dwarf willow. After a vain attempt to shoot some with a revolver, for specimen for the taxidermist, we proceeded, satisfied that with a fowling- piece most of them could have been secured, for they are but little acquainted with man, and so tame that it is said that they have been taken by hand. Here the valley was finally closed in and ended by the mountains, prominent among which were two lofty summits, towering and imposing still, and yet we stood more than twelve thousand feet above their deep foundations! We saw the summits of Grays Peaks. Grand, awe - inspiring spectacle! crests of VOL. XLvLNo. 2ii.3 a continent! The nearer, stern, dark, and precipitous; the other, still afar off, soft in outline, and sloping easily down to a great bed of snow and ice the hidden, crouch- ing, shadow-loving remnant of a gla- cier. But how are we to reach that crest of snow? Midway, just beyond the great moraine, are steep precipices, dropping at the left to the very bottom of the valley, while their edges, glary with ice, slope at the right to the fathomless snow-drift which covers all that remainsif there be any remnantof the old glacier. There is no difficulty, says my compan- ion, calmly; the trail winds along the edge of the cliff, from which the wind has blown most of the snow, and, except where the ground is slippery, its perfectly safe. Another half hour of constant ascent and I was upon the brink of that precipice; in- voluntarily drawing rein, awaiting the com- ing of my guide. The silence here was aw- ful. The deep drifts at the right, on the margins of which our horses floundered fear- fully, had forced us from the trail to the very edge of the cliffs. The soft, new snow, of unknown depth, looked treacherously calm and beautiful, and where it met the opposite mountain wall had a n6v6 glacier appearance, upholding fallen boulders, and here and there scored with a long drift of rock and gravel, cast down from the over- THE PTANMIGAN. ,A! I. / V 44/ THE CONY. 34 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE DOME OF THE CONTINENT. 35 hanging cliffs by frost, and which it was now its duty to slowly carry down, to form, per- haps, one last mo- raine. Beneath the other hand was the dark, dizzy chasm, the cliff descend- ing sheerly six hundred feet and more. We were above the region of plant or animal life, upon the margin of things inorganic; surely, it seemed to me, this might he termed Life- limit. But still far above arose the snowy crest which we designed to climb. The preci- pices passed, a long, steep slope of snow-clad rocks rose before us, and a narrow trail, winding in short precarious zigzags on its face, led up- ward toward the summit. The horses were now exceed- ingly distressed, and panted pain- fully after each ex- ertion; their bodies were swollen from lack of atmospheric pressure. The narrow trail was hidden beneath drifts, and could hardly be followed; its turns were so abrupt, and the mountains face so steep, that, when our horses plunged into deep snow, or stumbled over hidden rocks, it seemed as though horse and horseman must dash down head- long after the hurrying, scudding masses of snow, helplessly over the steep, glary, ledge- less crust, to be ingulfed in the deep snowy tomb below. At length the fresh snow became so deep, and further progress in the saddle so haz- ardous, that, reaching a spot where there was standing ground, we left the horses loose, knee-deep in the downy drift, the guide sure of their remaining where we had placed them. Making directly for the summit, in a few moments, chilled, breathless, and panting, we were compelled to rest. There was some- thing startling about the thinness or rare- faction of the air. The lungs gasped, and yet, shuddering, almost repelled the cold, dry, strange atmosphere which offered itself to aid vitality. Too violent an exertion produced dizziness, and we were compelled to proceed with caution. Suddenly, as we climbed, the western sky grew larger and more vast, increasing and growing as we clambered, till at oncethe whole westward view burst on us, and we were standing upon the very crest. Before us, walled in by a vast mountain chain, whose average height exceeded 13,000 feet, whose passes (the Georgia, Snake River, and Berthoud) were from 8000 to 11,000 feet from the sea-level, far below, stretched like a vast topographical map, was the Middle Park, with all its subordinate mountain ranges, and numerous streams and rivers the springs and sources of the Rio Colorado. Thousands of feet below, trees and vegeta- tion gave color to the scenery, and marked the limits of plant growth. At the right, half-way down, in a huge basin hollowed in the gneissoid rock, was Lake Colfax, a dark green, glistening mirror. The park itself with its valleys, plains, and prairies, stretch- GRAY S rEAXS~ mon GLACIER IVIOU~IAiN. 36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ed away into the hazy distance westward, to where snow-crowned ridges, southward from the Rabbit-ear Mountains, were parted to give passage to the deep-flowing Colora- do. Such was the view down the Pacific slope; eastward, fifty miles away across the mountain billow, like a calm ocean, lay the boundless prairies. Spurned by our feet, heavy masses of snow sped eastward and westward down the mountain slopes, parting to the worlds great seas. The one to thaw and glide throu5, h the dark caflons of the Colora- do to the Gulf of Cali- fornia and the Pacific Ocean; the other to be hu ned with the yel- low sprint, floods of the Platte, Missouri, and Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic. Call not a mountain range the backbone of the earth; to man the world is not a be- ing, but a dwelling; rather liken these great ridges to the - dome, the strange, 2 weird, fantastically ornamented pinnacle and ridge-roof of his vast treasure - house. This was indeed the dividethe great wa- ter-shed of the conti- nent, whose gutters are mighty rivers, whose cisterns are the seas! But oh! how wonderful this mountain ar- chitecturethe unmarred handiwork of our God! Gazing down upon these frosty peaks, they seemed a sea of monstrous icebergs, a frozen oceana spectacle whose only equiva- lent would be such a scene as an oceans bed laid bare, its waters driven back and stilled, and its deepest and most secret chasms all revealed. The day was beautifully clear, a few light cirrous clouds only floating above. Away at the southwest were Mount Lincoln, the So- pris, and other peaks without nnmbera white sea of shrouded mountains and far in the north rose Longs Peak, another chief- tain, lacking only a few hundred feet of the height of Grays Peaks. Below, in the gla- cialvalley throughwhichwehad made the as- cent, the limit of the forest was seen, at that distance appearing merely to be a dense car- peting of green; while it was remarkable that on the northern exposures of the mount- ains, and in the deeper ravines, the trees seemed to be more thrifty, and the timber line to be higher, than on the more open, sun-lit plateaux, or the southern fronts. Mter lunching upon the summit to wind- ward of some stonessupposed to represent a wallwe started downward, and found our horses shivering under their blankets. THE DOME OF THE 4JONTINEET. MAP OF G AY5 PEAKS AND ~nzm vicniiry. I ~\ MALTA. 37 Then, leading them, we slowly bnt safely de- scended to the valley. Conies and ptarmi- gans were seen again, and the Alpine bogs passed; but there was no time to tarry: the snn, so bright upon the mountain-top, had here already left every thing to ahadow. However, once below the snow and ice of this October winter, and upon good roads, we sped along at a swift canter, and shortly after dark dismounted before the Barton House, in Georgetown, receiving congratula- tions on our successful ascent at so late and unpropitious a season, while Mr. Bailey em- phatically declared it the last trip which he would make that year. Withal it was a delightful ride, entertain- ing and instructive; and a ride of about thirty miles, the ascent and descent of a monarch mountainchief of its range, and fourteen or fifteen thousand feet in altitude is not made every day between sunrise and sunset. The Rocky Mountains are not seen till these peaks have been climbed; but in the summer season access to them is less difficult, even ladies making the ascent. Geologically, there is hardly a more in- teresting ground than the region around Grays Peaks. I have referred to the evi- dences of glacial action in their immediate neighborhood: the proofs of such action are conclusive. There are moraines and moraine dams and frozen lakelets, and I was informed by miners of the Stevens mine that frost is found two hundred feet deep in the gravel, and that it seems to be rather increasing in depth than decreasing. If this be so, it is a sufficient refutation of the theory recently advancedthat there is no line of perpe1~a1 congelation among the Colorado mountains; and it would prove that the present lack of ice-fields and great glaciers is owing to the deficient rain and snow fall, and the dryness of the atmosphere consequent upon the great distance of the oceans. The accompanying map of this mountain neighborhood will be sufficient proof to any geologist of the pre- vious existence of glaciers there, and ex- hibits, also, the timber line, or height to which the forest rises. The glacial evidences have, however, been obscured by subsequent dynamic action frost forcethe exposure to frost and heat having broken the cliff edges and shivered the rocks till moraines are covered and val- leys filled with sharp angular fragments of stone. Nothing but glacial power could have grooved and cut the deep valleys through the mountains; nothing but frost could have made the crags as rugged and sharp as they now appear. Again, Green Lake, three miles from Georgetown and some 10,000 feet above the sea, is said to have neither inlet nor outlet, and seems to be a veritable glacial pool. Singular to relate, it is called a good place for trouting, though how the trout got there no one seems to know or care; and it is a favorite resort of the pleasure-seekers at Georgetown, who in sail or row boat pass merry hours on its crystal surface. MALTA. STRADA zEALE. But not in silence pass Calypsos isles, The sister tenants of the middle deep; There for the weary yet a haven smiles, Though the fair goddess long hath ceased to weep. Chilcie Ilereld, Cente IL THE great commercial and strategic ad- vantages derived from its central posi- tion, commanding all the chief avenues of traffic and communication between Europe and the Levantine ports, the excellence of its harbor (one of the most commodious and easily approached in the Mediterranean), the strength of its position, and the elaborate nature of its artificial defenses, all com- bine to give to the island of Malta an im- portance in the political and mercantile af- fairs of the nations inhabiting the south of Europe far in advance of that which would seem to be its due, were we to take into consideration solely its size and the number of its population. In all ages it has been considered as the key to the Mediterranean, and its possession was the surest guarantee for the sovereignty of the seas. Its walls stemmed successfully the hitherto irresist- ible tide of Ottoman invasion, to which even Rhodes, long deemed impregnable, and heroically defended, had to bow. In fact, in modern times it has never beeT taken save by famine or treason; and despite the advances the last few years have made in the art of human destruction, an unpreju- diced observer, scanning the seemingly end- less ditches, galleries, scarps and counter-

Herbert Bright Bright, Herbert Malta 37-40

MALTA. 37 Then, leading them, we slowly bnt safely de- scended to the valley. Conies and ptarmi- gans were seen again, and the Alpine bogs passed; but there was no time to tarry: the snn, so bright upon the mountain-top, had here already left every thing to ahadow. However, once below the snow and ice of this October winter, and upon good roads, we sped along at a swift canter, and shortly after dark dismounted before the Barton House, in Georgetown, receiving congratula- tions on our successful ascent at so late and unpropitious a season, while Mr. Bailey em- phatically declared it the last trip which he would make that year. Withal it was a delightful ride, entertain- ing and instructive; and a ride of about thirty miles, the ascent and descent of a monarch mountainchief of its range, and fourteen or fifteen thousand feet in altitude is not made every day between sunrise and sunset. The Rocky Mountains are not seen till these peaks have been climbed; but in the summer season access to them is less difficult, even ladies making the ascent. Geologically, there is hardly a more in- teresting ground than the region around Grays Peaks. I have referred to the evi- dences of glacial action in their immediate neighborhood: the proofs of such action are conclusive. There are moraines and moraine dams and frozen lakelets, and I was informed by miners of the Stevens mine that frost is found two hundred feet deep in the gravel, and that it seems to be rather increasing in depth than decreasing. If this be so, it is a sufficient refutation of the theory recently advancedthat there is no line of perpe1~a1 congelation among the Colorado mountains; and it would prove that the present lack of ice-fields and great glaciers is owing to the deficient rain and snow fall, and the dryness of the atmosphere consequent upon the great distance of the oceans. The accompanying map of this mountain neighborhood will be sufficient proof to any geologist of the pre- vious existence of glaciers there, and ex- hibits, also, the timber line, or height to which the forest rises. The glacial evidences have, however, been obscured by subsequent dynamic action frost forcethe exposure to frost and heat having broken the cliff edges and shivered the rocks till moraines are covered and val- leys filled with sharp angular fragments of stone. Nothing but glacial power could have grooved and cut the deep valleys through the mountains; nothing but frost could have made the crags as rugged and sharp as they now appear. Again, Green Lake, three miles from Georgetown and some 10,000 feet above the sea, is said to have neither inlet nor outlet, and seems to be a veritable glacial pool. Singular to relate, it is called a good place for trouting, though how the trout got there no one seems to know or care; and it is a favorite resort of the pleasure-seekers at Georgetown, who in sail or row boat pass merry hours on its crystal surface. MALTA. STRADA zEALE. But not in silence pass Calypsos isles, The sister tenants of the middle deep; There for the weary yet a haven smiles, Though the fair goddess long hath ceased to weep. Chilcie Ilereld, Cente IL THE great commercial and strategic ad- vantages derived from its central posi- tion, commanding all the chief avenues of traffic and communication between Europe and the Levantine ports, the excellence of its harbor (one of the most commodious and easily approached in the Mediterranean), the strength of its position, and the elaborate nature of its artificial defenses, all com- bine to give to the island of Malta an im- portance in the political and mercantile af- fairs of the nations inhabiting the south of Europe far in advance of that which would seem to be its due, were we to take into consideration solely its size and the number of its population. In all ages it has been considered as the key to the Mediterranean, and its possession was the surest guarantee for the sovereignty of the seas. Its walls stemmed successfully the hitherto irresist- ible tide of Ottoman invasion, to which even Rhodes, long deemed impregnable, and heroically defended, had to bow. In fact, in modern times it has never beeT taken save by famine or treason; and despite the advances the last few years have made in the art of human destruction, an unpreju- diced observer, scanning the seemingly end- less ditches, galleries, scarps and counter- 35 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. scarps, and the long rows of grim-looking guns peering out at him, might well deter- mine to seek the bubble reputation else- where than at the cannons month. The general aspect of the port of Malta, which is well rendered in the accompanying cut, is picturesquely impressive. The city of Yaletta, the capital of the island, was constructed in 1566, after the celebrated re- pulse of the Ottoman and Tunisian armies and Ileets by John de la Yalette, Grand Mas- ter of the Knights of St. John of Jerusa- lem, from whom it received its name. It is built on a promontory between two harbors, and is protected by Fort St. Elmo, which may be observed in the foreground of the engraving. It is decorated with many handsome buildings, which partake of the semi-ecclesiastical, semi-chivalric style nat- ural to so anomalous a corporation as that of the Knights of Malta. The ancient Pal- ace of the Grand Masters is now occupied by the British Governor, and most of the other ~ hostelries, as they were called, of the different tongues or provinces of the order have been converted into officers~ quarters. The principal street of Yaletta, the Strada Reale, in which most of these palaces are situated, possesses considerable architectural beauty, as the houses are dec- orated with much rich and elaborate carv- ing, and generally display the armorial bear- ings and emblems of their former knightly proprietors. This street runs along a high ridge, and numerous narrow streets descend from it on either side to the harbors. This ridge being very steep, these streets are in reality nothing more than flights of steps, trying to the lungs and temper of the prom- enader, and commemorated by Byron, in his Farewell to Malta, in the following lines: Adieu, ye cursed streets of stairs: How surely he who mounts you swears On the opposite side of the Grand Har- bor from Yaletta lie the towns of Vittoriosa and Senglen, which, in point of fact, are merely detached quarters of the same city. They are protected by strong lines of bat- teries and detached forts. In the city of Florian, which joins Yaletta, are large bar- racks for the troops, and great magazines of wheat and other stores to provide for the contingencies of a siege. The island of Malta is now administered by a Governor appointed by the crown of Great Britain. although the inhabitants retain the greater portion of their own laws and customs, and are permitted to choose their own munici- pal officers. The Governor, as has been al- ready mentioned, resides in the Palace of the Grand Masters of the order, a stately building of great extent, and adorned with many trophies and reminiscences of the an- cient warlike triumphs of the knights, but rather too sombre and ecclesiastical in its style for the requirements of its present oc- cupant. The cathedral is a building of large size, and profusely ornamented, but not display- ing much taste either in its architecture or internal decorations. Among the latter are the armorial shields of four hundred of the knights who lie buried within its vaults, and likewise funereal effigies of iDe lIsle Adam and La Yalette, two of the most dis- tinguished warriors of the order. The treasury, although it was partially confis- cated by Napoleon I. during the French oc- cupation of the island, yet contains some very valuable jewelry and goldsmiths work, which the ingenuity of the priests enabled them to preserve from spoliation: among the rest, the altar rails of one of the chap- els, which are of solid silver, and which they saved from French rapaciousness by painting them wood-color. The oldest por- tion of the city is that compos& d of Vittori- osa and Senglen, or Yaletta over the Water, as it is popularly called. It contains the dock-yards, biscuit bakery, marine stores, arsenal, and other establishments for the use of the army and navy, which are on a very extensive scale, as Malta is pre-emi- nently a garrison town. Outside of the town is situated the Governors Summer Pal- ace of Monte Verdala, and close to this is a species of park, composed of a tract of low woodlands, laid out in roads and walks, and much affected by the inhabitants. It is called the Borchetto. The general ap- pearance of the island is not inaptly de- scribed by the term, an inhabited quarry, applied to it by some inappreciative tourist, as it is composed of bare limestone, with scarcely any water, and, in consequence, a very sparse natural vegetation. There are, however, many flourishing orchards ami vegetable gardens, the soil to form which has been imported from Sicily; but as they are all inclosed in high limestone walls to keep off the prevalent sirocco winds, they do not present any enlivening feature to the landscape. From the light color and dusty nature of the soil, the want of shade and the glare of the summer sun, ophthalmia is by no means unfrequent, especially among the rural population, as the narrow streets and high houses in the cities afford their denizens comparative protection. Notwith- standing the uninviting appearance of the scenery, and the badness of the roads, which are paved with the d6bris of the hard lime- stone rock, rendering them both unsafe and injurious to horses, riding is one of the chief amusements, at lenst among the foreign res- idents, for whose use a considerable num- ber of horses of the so-called barb breed are imported from Tunis, Tripoli, and the French possessions on the African coast. The most daring and reckless, although scarcely the most skillful, equestrians are to MALTA. 39 0 0 C be found among the naval officers, whose cavalry maneuvres, usually executed at full speed, are not unfrequently dangerous not only to their own necks and limbs, but to those of the inoffensive and timid tourist, whose efforts to avoid them in their fell ca- reer are rendered ineffectual by the high walls which inclose every lane. The condi- tion of the cultivators of the soil is prosper- ous, as they find a ready sale for their veg etables to the fleet and garrison, while the Maltese oranges command a good price, and are in much demand for exportation on ac- count of their delicate flavor and thin skins. The agricultural portion of the community inhabits twenty-two villages of varying size, each of which boasts an immense, often dis- proportionate, church, for the appearance of that edifice seems to a Maltese the purest test of religion. 40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. If the rural districts of Malta may, with- out wishing to be invidious, be termed mo- notonous, the capital labors under no such reproach, although the population appears at first sight to contain an overwhelming proportion of padres, red-coats, and goats. The numbers of the latter class of inhabit- ants are due to the absence of cows, who would require too much forage; whereas the hardy goat is cheaply fed, and gives an abundant supply of milk, which, if not so well flavored as the more usual lactean prep- aration, is very wholesome and nourishing, and is even recommended to invalids. The former semi-ecclesiastical government natu- rally left behind a great number of religious institutions, which have been left unmolest- ed under British rule, and have engendered considerable superstition and bigotry among the natives, who are completely under the influence of their priests. A stranger arriving from Europe would be surprised at the many and various costumes he would meet in the streets. Here all na- tions of the Levant appear to congregate; the solemn Turk, the loquacious Greek, the white-btirnoosed Arab, and the swarthy Moor come and go, intermixed with the brilliant uniforms of army and navy officers, who are continually hurrying in all direc- tions as their duty calls them. Malta is es- sentially a military station, and its society is entirely composed of officers, their families, and adjuncts, although in the winter season a good many visitors, especially yachtsmen from English and French ports, are to be found. A good deal of gayety goes on dur- ing the winter: balls are given by the of- ficers of the different regiments, by the Gov- ernor and other high officials, and by British and foreign men-of-war, who frequently visit the harbor. The natives do not participate to any great extent in the amusements of their rulers, with whom they are not on a verycordial footingan unpleasant state of things, for which both parties are perhaps equally to blame. An unfortunate incident which occurred about ten years ago contrib- uted to increase the ill feeling which is per- haps inevitable between a purely military and a purely civil society, of different na- tionalities and interests, and confined within the narrow llmits of a garrison town. A Maltese gentleman of high rank was elected a member of the English Club, a very popu- lar institution of the city, from which, up to that period, natives had been excluded. Be- ing a man of prepossessing exterior and pol- ished manners, he was well received, and ac- quired the esteem of all who came in contact with him. Soon after his admission many members of the club commenced to miss jewelry and other valuables which they had temporarily deposited there while attending to their several duties or pursuits. For a long time no clew was obtained as to the identity of the evil-doer, but finally, by some imprudence on his part, the distinguished visitor was taken in the act of annexing a gentlemans dressing-case, prosecuted, and convicted of the offense. Slight disturb- ances between the garrison and inhabitants are frequent, and produce irritation, as they. bring the military and civil authorities into conflict, each espousing the cause of its own subordinates. The Maltese are an industrious and ingen- ious race, noted especially for the manu- facture of the well-known filigree brooches and other articles of jewelry, which form a considerable branch of exportation. Maltese lace has a world-wide reputation and a ready sale. Several very important lines of steam- boats have d6p6ts at Malta, especially the P. and 0. (Peninsular and Oriental) Mail Com- pany to India, the French Messageries Na- tionales, the Austrian Lloyd steamers, and several local and coasting lines. Bible schol- ars will not require to be reminded of the in- teresting associations Malta preserves with reference to the Apostle Paul, who was ship- wrecked here on his way from Palestine to Rome when about to be tried before C~esar. DISARMED. O LOVE! so sweet at first! So bitter in the end! I name thee fiercest foe, As well as falsest friend. What shall I do with these Poor withered flowers of May Thy tenderest promises All worthless in a day? How art thou swift to slay, Despite thy clinging clasp, Thy long caressing look, Thy subtle, thrilling grasp! Ay, swifter far to slay Than thou art strong to save; Thou renderest but a blow For all I ever gave. Oh, grasping as the grave! Go, go! and come no more But caust thou set my heart Just where it was before? Too selfish in thy need! Go, leave me to my tears, The only gifts of thine That shall outlast the yea Yet shall outlast the years One other, cherished thing, Slight as the vagrant plume Shed from some passing wing: The memory of thy first Divine, half-timid kiss. Go! I forgive thee all In weeping over this!

Laura C. Redden Redden, Laura C. Disarmed 40-41

40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. If the rural districts of Malta may, with- out wishing to be invidious, be termed mo- notonous, the capital labors under no such reproach, although the population appears at first sight to contain an overwhelming proportion of padres, red-coats, and goats. The numbers of the latter class of inhabit- ants are due to the absence of cows, who would require too much forage; whereas the hardy goat is cheaply fed, and gives an abundant supply of milk, which, if not so well flavored as the more usual lactean prep- aration, is very wholesome and nourishing, and is even recommended to invalids. The former semi-ecclesiastical government natu- rally left behind a great number of religious institutions, which have been left unmolest- ed under British rule, and have engendered considerable superstition and bigotry among the natives, who are completely under the influence of their priests. A stranger arriving from Europe would be surprised at the many and various costumes he would meet in the streets. Here all na- tions of the Levant appear to congregate; the solemn Turk, the loquacious Greek, the white-btirnoosed Arab, and the swarthy Moor come and go, intermixed with the brilliant uniforms of army and navy officers, who are continually hurrying in all direc- tions as their duty calls them. Malta is es- sentially a military station, and its society is entirely composed of officers, their families, and adjuncts, although in the winter season a good many visitors, especially yachtsmen from English and French ports, are to be found. A good deal of gayety goes on dur- ing the winter: balls are given by the of- ficers of the different regiments, by the Gov- ernor and other high officials, and by British and foreign men-of-war, who frequently visit the harbor. The natives do not participate to any great extent in the amusements of their rulers, with whom they are not on a verycordial footingan unpleasant state of things, for which both parties are perhaps equally to blame. An unfortunate incident which occurred about ten years ago contrib- uted to increase the ill feeling which is per- haps inevitable between a purely military and a purely civil society, of different na- tionalities and interests, and confined within the narrow llmits of a garrison town. A Maltese gentleman of high rank was elected a member of the English Club, a very popu- lar institution of the city, from which, up to that period, natives had been excluded. Be- ing a man of prepossessing exterior and pol- ished manners, he was well received, and ac- quired the esteem of all who came in contact with him. Soon after his admission many members of the club commenced to miss jewelry and other valuables which they had temporarily deposited there while attending to their several duties or pursuits. For a long time no clew was obtained as to the identity of the evil-doer, but finally, by some imprudence on his part, the distinguished visitor was taken in the act of annexing a gentlemans dressing-case, prosecuted, and convicted of the offense. Slight disturb- ances between the garrison and inhabitants are frequent, and produce irritation, as they. bring the military and civil authorities into conflict, each espousing the cause of its own subordinates. The Maltese are an industrious and ingen- ious race, noted especially for the manu- facture of the well-known filigree brooches and other articles of jewelry, which form a considerable branch of exportation. Maltese lace has a world-wide reputation and a ready sale. Several very important lines of steam- boats have d6p6ts at Malta, especially the P. and 0. (Peninsular and Oriental) Mail Com- pany to India, the French Messageries Na- tionales, the Austrian Lloyd steamers, and several local and coasting lines. Bible schol- ars will not require to be reminded of the in- teresting associations Malta preserves with reference to the Apostle Paul, who was ship- wrecked here on his way from Palestine to Rome when about to be tried before C~esar. DISARMED. O LOVE! so sweet at first! So bitter in the end! I name thee fiercest foe, As well as falsest friend. What shall I do with these Poor withered flowers of May Thy tenderest promises All worthless in a day? How art thou swift to slay, Despite thy clinging clasp, Thy long caressing look, Thy subtle, thrilling grasp! Ay, swifter far to slay Than thou art strong to save; Thou renderest but a blow For all I ever gave. Oh, grasping as the grave! Go, go! and come no more But caust thou set my heart Just where it was before? Too selfish in thy need! Go, leave me to my tears, The only gifts of thine That shall outlast the yea Yet shall outlast the years One other, cherished thing, Slight as the vagrant plume Shed from some passing wing: The memory of thy first Divine, half-timid kiss. Go! I forgive thee all In weeping over this! THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 41 THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. A GOOD library is a statesmans work- 11 shop, said John Randolph of Roa- noke, and every civilized government which has existed since books were first written upon papyrus has had its national collec- tion, illustrating its taste~ its intelligence, and. its liberality. Ia the infancy of our re- public its Congressmen profited in turn by the New York Society Library, then located in the City Hall (where the Treasnry build- ing now stands), in which they held their sessions, and by the Philadelphia Library, which had been established at the instance of Benjamia Franklin. And in 1791 the Philadelphians, then anxious to have their city made the permanent metropolis of the Federal Union, formally tendered to the President and to Congress the free use of the books in their library, for which act of court- esy President Washington, through his sec- retary, Tobias Lear, returned thanks. When, in 1800, Congress made final pro- vision for the removal and accommodation of the government of the United States at Conococheagne (as the site of the District of Columbia had been called by the Indians), or Roaring Brook, the more intelligent mein- hers took care to provide for the com- inencement of a library. On the motion of Samuel Liverniore, a gradnate of Princeton College, then a Senator from New Hamp- shire, $5000 were appropriated for the pnr- chase of books and for fitting np a suitable apartment in the new Capitol as a hil)rary, by the Secretary of the Senate and the Clerk of the House, under the direction of a joint committee of 1)0th Houses. The chairman of this joint committee, and the only member thereof who has left behind him any trace of a fondness for or an acqnaintance with books,was Senator Dexter, of Massachnsetts, a graduate of Harvard College, and a lawyer INTE ION OF THE OONO4IES5IOEAL LIBRARY.

Ben Perley Poore Poore, Ben Perley The Library of Congress 41-50

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 41 THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. A GOOD library is a statesmans work- 11 shop, said John Randolph of Roa- noke, and every civilized government which has existed since books were first written upon papyrus has had its national collec- tion, illustrating its taste~ its intelligence, and. its liberality. Ia the infancy of our re- public its Congressmen profited in turn by the New York Society Library, then located in the City Hall (where the Treasnry build- ing now stands), in which they held their sessions, and by the Philadelphia Library, which had been established at the instance of Benjamia Franklin. And in 1791 the Philadelphians, then anxious to have their city made the permanent metropolis of the Federal Union, formally tendered to the President and to Congress the free use of the books in their library, for which act of court- esy President Washington, through his sec- retary, Tobias Lear, returned thanks. When, in 1800, Congress made final pro- vision for the removal and accommodation of the government of the United States at Conococheagne (as the site of the District of Columbia had been called by the Indians), or Roaring Brook, the more intelligent mein- hers took care to provide for the com- inencement of a library. On the motion of Samuel Liverniore, a gradnate of Princeton College, then a Senator from New Hamp- shire, $5000 were appropriated for the pnr- chase of books and for fitting np a suitable apartment in the new Capitol as a hil)rary, by the Secretary of the Senate and the Clerk of the House, under the direction of a joint committee of 1)0th Houses. The chairman of this joint committee, and the only member thereof who has left behind him any trace of a fondness for or an acqnaintance with books,was Senator Dexter, of Massachnsetts, a graduate of Harvard College, and a lawyer INTE ION OF THE OONO4IES5IOEAL LIBRARY. 42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of some eminence. Under his direction the nucleus of the Library of Congress was or- dered from London by Samuel A. Otis, who was for twenty-five years the honored Sec- retary of tbe Senate. The books reached this country packed in trunks, and were for- warded to the new metropolis, where they were assigned a room in the Palace in the Wilderness, as the unfinished Capitol was then derisively styled by those who preferred New York or Philadelphia as the seat of gov- ernment. Mr. Otis, with his usual promptitude, pre- sented a report of his action on the first day of the next session, December 7, 1801, showing that $2200 of the $5000 appropriated had been expended; and it was referred to a new joint committee. The chairman was Senator Nicolas, of Virginia, who had served honorably in the war of the Revolution; and associated with him were Senator Tracey, of Connecticut, a graduate of Yale College; Representative James A. Bayard, of Dela- ware, who had graduated at Princeton Col- lege and studied law at Philadelphia; Rep- resentative Joseph Hopper Nicholson, of Maryland, a lawyer of some distinction; and Representative John Randolph, of Virginia, who was the erratic owner of a choice and well-used library at his estate on the Roa- noke River. This well-qualified committee doubtless felt the want of books to aid them in their legislative duties, as they reported to each House the next week. The report, which had been prepared by Mr. Randolph, was accompanied by a series of resolutions providing somewhat in detail for the estab- lishment of a library, under the charge of the Secretary of the Senate and the Clerk of the House of Representatives, who were to attend, in person or by deputy, each week- day during the session from 11 ~ until 3 P.M. An annual appropriation was also recommended. This report gave rise to considerable de- bate in both Houses of Congress, the Dem- ocrats opposing any considerable appropria- tion for what would evidently become a national library, while the Federalists were more generously disposed; and one of them, the Rev. John Bacon, a Representative from Massachusetts, actually advocated an annual appropriation of $10,000. So powerful was the opposition that it was found necessary to invoke the aid of President Jefferson, and through his influence the Democrats were induced to support a bill, drawn up by John Randolph, which placed the library under the charge of a joint committee of Congress, but provided that the librarian should be appointed by the President of the United States solely. This act of Congress was ap- proved by President Jefferson on the 26th of January, 1802, and three days afterward he appointed as librarian his friend John Beck- ley, a Virginian, the Clerk of the House of Representatives. John MDonald, a Phila- delphian, was an unsuccessful applicant for the position; and the Federalists in Congress were much disappointed, although not sur- prised, that Mr. Otis had been ignored. The pay of the librarian, as fixed by the act, was a sum not to exceed $2 per diem for every day of necessary attendance. The first catalogue of the Library of Con- gress was promptly issued by the newly ap- pointed librarian in April, 1802, from the press of William Duane. It embraced the titles of 212 folios, 164 quartos, 581 octavos, 7 duodecimos, and 9 maps, which then con- stituted the only library of reference at the national metropolis. This was slowly in- creased in size by annual purchases made with the small available portion of the con- tingent funds of the two Houses of Congress, until 1806, when an urgent appeal for a lar- ger appropriation was made by Senator Sam- uel Latham Mitchell, an accomplished phy- sician of New York city. Every member, said he, in the conclusion of a report which he made to the Senate, knows that the in- quiries of standing and select committees can not here be aided by large public libra- ries, as ii~ New York, Baltimore, and Phila delphia. Nor has it hitherto appeared that so much benefit is to be derived from private collections at the present seat of government as in those large cities. Every week of the session causes additional regret that the volumes of literature and science within the reach of the national legislature are not more rich and ample. The want of geo- graphical illustrations is truly distressing, and the deficiency of historical and political works is scarcely less severely felt. There is, however, no danger of realizing the story of a parliarn turn indoctura in this country, especially if steps be seasonably taken to furnish the library with such materials as will enable statesmen to be correct in their investigations, and, by a becoming display of erudition and research, give a higher dig- nity and a brighter lustre to truth. The result of this appeal was the appropriation of $1000 annually for five years for the in- crease of the Library of Congress. When Mr. Patrick Magruder, of Virginia, was elected Clerk of the House of Represent- atives in 1807, as the successor of Mr. Beck- ley, President Jefferson commissioned him also as Librarian of Congress. The location of the library in the Capitol was changed several timesonce because the books were damaged by a leaky roof; and but few new books could be purchased with the annual appropriation of $1000, which was continued in 1811 for five years more. In the ab- sence of places of fashionable resort found in larger cities, the Library of Congress was a favorite place of rendezvous, where stu- dents, politicians, diplomats, claimants, and correspondents met on friendly terms; while THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 43 the ladies, with their accustomed good taste, iug officers entered the House of Represeut- made it the head-quarters of fashionable so- atives, where Admiral Cockburn of the Royal ciety. Navy (who was co-operating with General Chief Justice Marshall acknowledged in Ross), seatiug.himself in the Speakers chair, 1812, with many thauks, the privilege of called the assemblage to order. Gentle- taking out books from the library, which men, shouted lie, the question is, Shall Congress had then granted to the justices of this harbor of Yankee democracy be burned. the Supreme Court, and which he prized All in favor of burning it will say Aye ! very highly. He liked to wait upon himselt There was a general affirmative response. rather than to be served by the librarian; And when he added, Those opposed will and one day, in taking a law-book from the say Nay, silence reigned for a nioment. upper shelf of an alcove, he pulled down a Light up ! cried the bold Briton; and the dozen ponderous tomes, one of which struck order was soon repeated in ~ll parts of the him on the forehead with such force that he building, while soldiers and sailors vied ~ith fell prostrate. Au assistant librarian, who each other in collecting combustible ma- hastened to the old gentlemans assistance, terials for their incendiary fires. The books found him slightly stunned by the fall; but on the shelves of the Library of Congress he soon recovered, and declined to be aided were used as kindling for the north wing; to his feet, saying, with a merry twinkle in and the much-admired full-length portraits his eye, Ive laid down the law out of the of Louis XVI. and his queen, Marie Antol- hooks many a time in my long life, but this nette, which had been presented by that un- is the first time they have laid me down. I fortunate monarch to Congress, were torn am completely floored ! And he remained from their frames and trampled under foot. seated upon the floor, surrounded by the Patrick Magruder, then Clerk of the House books which he had pulled down, until he of Representatives and Librarian of Con- had found what he sought, and made a gress, subsequently endeavored to excuse note thereof. himself for not having even attempted to When the British army entered the me- save the books in his custody; but it was tropohis of, the United States in triumph, shown that the books and papers of the de- after the skirmish known as the Bladens- partments were saved, and that the library burg Races, on the 24th of August, 1814, might have been removed to a place of safety they first occupied the Capitol, the two before the arrival of the British Vandals. wings of which only were finished, and con- Ex-Presideut Jefferson, who was then liv- nected by a wooden passage-way erected ing in retirement at Monticello, where theo- where the rotunda now stands. The lead- retical agricultural operations and other un I AM ~JOMPLErELY FLOOREn 44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. successful business experiments had serious- ly embarrassed his pecuniary affairs, profited by the opportunity thus offered for obtain- ing relief by disposiug of a large portion of his private library. Many of the most use- ful books he retained until his death, when they were taken to Washington and there sold at public auction; but the great bulk of the collection which he had made abroad and at home, numbering six thousand seven hundred volumes, he offered to Congress for $23,930. The Democratic Senators and Rep- resentatives gladly availe themselves of this opportunity for indirectly pensioning their political leader, and thus relieving him from pressing pecuniary embarrassments. The Senate promptly passed the bill, but there was a decided opposition to it mani- fested in the House of Representatives by Daniel Webster and others. Mr. Cyrus King, of Massachusetts, vainly endeavored to have provision made for the rejection of all books of an atheistical, irreligious, and im~ oral tendency, but the purchase was ordered by that body by a vote of 81 ayes to 71 nays. When the library was brought in wagons to Washington the books were deposited in a room hastily provided for their reception in the hotel building temporarily occupied by Congress, which stood. where the present Post - office Department was subsequently built. The collection was found to be espe- cially rich in Bibles and theological and phil- osophical works, but the most valuable por- tion was a series of volumes of pamphlets which Mr. Jefferson had collected ud anno- tated. Mr. Jefferson had arranged an catalogued his books on a plan borrowed from Bacons classification of science, which was, at his request, adopted by Mr. George Watterson, who was then appointed librarian by Presi- dent Madison. There were in the catalo ~ne made in accordance with this classi c tion one hundred and seventy-five alphabets, ranged in arbitrary sequence, and it required an intimate knowledge of the library to use it without great waste of time. Mr. Wat- terson was a native of Scotland, who had been brought to the nietropolis when a lad, and who remembered having seen President Washington lay the corner-stone of the Cap- itol with Masonic bonors. When a young man he became a journalist, and compli- mentary poem which he wrote and pub- lished having attracted the attention of Mrs. Madison, she became his patroness, ud eventually secured his appointment as Libra- rian of Congress. While he grace the posi- tion, from 1815 to 18~29, he wrote several pleasant local books, and he did much to- ward making the library a resort for the best- informed Congressmen, especially after he took possession of the new hall, which was where the library is now located. It was finished, in accordance with the Jeffersonian classification, with a row of alcoves on either side, over which two galleries were divided into corresponding sections, each alcove and section being devoted to books on a partic LICIIT UP I THE LIBRARY OP CONGRESS. 45 ular subject. In these alcoves the belles of the capital used, on pleasant afternoons during the sessions of Con- gress, to hold their receptions and to receive the homage of their admirers. On one occasion, so it was said, a wealthy South- ern Representative, who was glean- ing materials for a speech in an up- per section, heard through the open- ing for the win- dow, which extend- eci into the alcove beneath, the well- known voice of his daughter, who was being persuaded by a penniless advent- urer to elope. The angry parent lost no time in going down stairs, calling the previous ques- tion, and postpon- ing the proposed action sine die. In December, 1825, soon after the Library of Con- gress had been re- moved into its new hall, it narrowly es- caped destruction a second time by tire. A candle which had been left burning in one of the galleries by a gentleman who was reading there at a late hour the previous night was the probable origin of the fire, which ascen ed to the ceiling, consuming the books on several shelves. These, how- ever, were duplicate copies of public docu- ments, which had been used for filling up the vacant new shelves, and no works of any value were destroyed. When General Jackson was elected Presi- dent, in 1829, and there was a general rota- tion in office, it was alleged that Mr. Wat- terson had given circulation to scandalous stories concernin~ the late Mrs. Jackson, and he was promptly removed. His successor, Mr. John S. Meehan, was also an editor by profession, and his services in bringing about the previous political revolution were thus rewarded. He was a good politician and a courteous gentleman, qualified for the posi- tion in those days, when the librarian nei- ther asserted any prerogative nor exercised any judgment in the selection of books, which was made by the joint committee of the two Houses of Congress. Governor Dickenson, of New Jersey, Edward Everett, and John QuincyAdams distinguished them- selves when members of the Library Com- mittee by their careful attention to this duty; but they could not make many valu- able acquisitions with the limited appropria- tions at their disposal, which varied from $500 to $1000 per annum, and out of which bills for book-binding had to be paid. A Law Library was established by an act of Congress, approved on the 14th of July, 1832, by President Jackson, as a part of the Library of Congress. There were at that time 2011 law-books in the library, of which 639 had belonged to Mr. Jefferson. A special appropriation of $5000 was made, with a fur- ther annual sum of $1000, to be expended in the purchase of law-books, and a room ad- joining the Library of Congress was fitted up for this new department, which was placed under the supervision of the justices of the Supreme Court. The Library of Congress, at the expiration AN ACTION POSTPONED SINE DIE. 45 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of fifty years from its original organization, contained only about 50,000 volumes, and it was a niatter of regret, publicly expressed in Congress, that there was not one branch of liberal study, even among those of greatest interest to our legislators, in which it was not miserably deficient. In international and civil law, home politics, natural history, and a few other departments the collection was tolerably good; but there was a great lack of French and German literature, although these are the vernacular tongues of a large portion of our citizens. There were none of the numerous writers of the vast empire of Russia; nothing of the curious literatures of Poland, of Hungary, or of Bohemia; only the commonest books in Italian and in Span- ish; and not a volume in the language of Portugal, rich as it is in various literature, and especially in the wild yet true romance of discovery and conquest that comes down to us through theages of learned De Larros and quaint old Castanheda, ringing npon the ear and stirring the blood like the sound of a far-off trumpet. So, too, with our own lit- erature, especially the history of the North American Continent. The studious traveler from abroad, who had hoped to inspect at the seat of government correct sources of information respecting the early history of this republic of yesterday, found to his dis- appointment that he must go to New York city, or to Providence, Rhode Island, and there knock at private doors. Rufus Choate (then a Senator from Massa- chusetts), George P. Marsh (then a Repre- sentative from Vermont), and other promi- nent members of the Twenty-ninth Congress, aware of the barrenness of the Congressional Library, endeavored to secure the annual expenditure of not less than $20,000 of the income of the Smithsonian bequest for the formation of a library, which, for extent, completeness, and value, should be worthy of the donor of the fund, and of the nation, and of this age. A law was enacted au- thorizing the Regents of the Smithsonian In- stitution to thus form a library, and Pro- fessor C. C. Jewett, who had paid great at- tention to the subject, was engaged as the librarian; but a majority of the regents subsequently decided to abandon the project, and to expend their entire income in scien- tific researches. This was a great disap- pointment to those who had advocated the creation of a national library, especially to Mr. Choate, who at once resigned his position as regent. The Smithsonian Institution, he said, owes a great library to the capital of the New World; something to be seen, pre- served, and to grow, into which shall be slowly, but surely and judiciously, gathered the best thoughts of all the civilizations.~~ The Library of Congress was forced upon the attention of the public by a third fire on the morning of December 25, 1851, which destroyed 35,000 volumes, about three-fifths of the entire collection. Nearly all the works of art which had graced the library were also destroyed, among them Stuarts portraits of the first five Presidents; original portraits of Columbus, Cort6z, Bolivar, Steu- ben, and Peyton Randolph; busts of Jeffer- son, Lafayette, and Taylor; and upward of eleven hundred bronze medals which had been received from Europe through Vatte- mares system of international exchanges. Congress, which was in session, at once made liberal appropriations for reconstruct- ing the library, which was erected entirely of cast iron, and consequently fire-proof. This is now the main room of the library, and it is ninety-one feet long, thirty-four feet wide, and thirty-four feet high, with three stories of iron book-cases on either side. On the lower story are alcoves nine feet wide, nine feet six inches high, and eight feet six inches deep, with seven shelves on each side and at the back. On the second story are similar alcoves, excepting that their projection is but five feet, which leaves a gallery resting on the fronts of the alcoves be- neath three feet six inches in width. A simi- lar platform is constructed on the alcoves of the second story, forming a gallery to ap- proach the upper book-cases, thus making three stories, receding as they ascend. These galleries, which are continued across the ends of the hall, are protected by pedestals and railings, and are approached by semicircu- lar staircases, also of cast iron, recessed in the end walls. The ceiling is wholly com- posed of iron and glass, and is embellished with ornate panels and foliated pendants. The pilasters which divide the alcoves are tastefully ornamented, and the whole is painted a delicate cream-color, relieved by gilding. The main entrance is from a pas- sage-way opening from the western door of the rotunda, on the same level. Before this magnificent hall had been completed Congress appropriated $75,000, with the continuance of an annual sum of $5000, for the purchase of books, so that the library was superior to what it had been before the last fire, when it rose, phenix- like, from its ashes. But the purchases were made on the old plan, under the dir~c- tion of the joint committee on the library, the chairman of which then, and for sev- eral previous and subsequent sessions, was Senator Pearce,of Maryland, a graduate of Princetou College. There was not in the Library of Congress a modern encyclopedia, or a file of a New York daily newspaper, or of any newspaper except the venerable dai- ly National Intelligencer; while De Bows Re- view was the only American magazine taken, although the London Gourt Journal was reg- ularly received, and bound at the close of each successive year. All literature not in accordance with the conservative construc THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 47 tion of the Constitution was excluded, and the library was only useful to those emi- nently respectable Congressmen who sat in the stern of the ship of state complacently watching the track which it had left in the political waters as it passed along, and ap- parently never dreaming of the breakers ahead! The new library hall was ready for occu- pation on the 1st of July, 1853, and the books were again arranged in accordance with the ponderous Jeffersonian classification. The Law Library had meanwhile been removed to a snit of rooms in the basement story of the north wing, and a liberal annual appro- priatiou of $10,000 was rapidly making it the most complete collection of legal lore in the world. Its special custodian, Mr. C. H. W. Meehan, a son of the then librarian, had been in charge of the law department since 1833, and was intrusted with the choice of books Inirchased a well-merited recogni- tion of his ability and thorough acquaint- ance with this department of literature, in- dorsed by his retention in office. In December, 1860, the Law Library was removed into the basement room formerly occupied by the Supreme Conrt, semicircu- lar in form, with a massive groined arched ceilin~, resting upon short Done columns. A sculptured group on the wall, represent- ing Fame crowned with the rising sun and pointing to the Constitution, while Justice holds her scales, recalls the previous ocen pancy of the room, where Webster, Clay, Wirt, and others learned in the law used to argue great constitutional questions be- fore the highes~ tribunal in the land. The librarians mahogany desk, of semicircular form, with faded green brocade hangings, formerly graced the Senate - chamber, aiid behind it presided the successive Vice-Presi- dents, and Presidents of the Senate pro tern., from 1825 to 1860. On the shelves of the hook-cases which project from the semicircular wall, conver- ging toward an opposite centre, and forming alcoves, is now the most complete law libra- ry in the world. Lincolns Inn library con- tains a larger number of hooks, but two- thirds of them are works on miscellaneous subjects, and although the library of Halle, in Germany, and the Advocates Library at Edinburgh are rich in ancient law, neither of them has been kept up: indeed, the lat- ter was recently offered for sale. In the Law Library of Congress are every volume of English, Irish, and Scotch reports, as well as the American; a copious collection of case law; and a complete collection of the stnt- utes of all civilized governments, including those of Russia since 1649, which fill about one hundred quarto volumes. There are also many curious law-books, including the first edition of Blackstones Commentaries, and an original edition of the report of the trial of Caghiostro, Rohan, and La Motte for the theft of Marie Antoinettes diamond THE LAW LIBRARY. 48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. necklace. All the books are bound in calf or sheep, of that underdone pie-crust ~ in which Charles Dickens described a law- yers library as dressed, and they are much used by the eminent legal gentlemen who come to Washington to practice in the Su- preme Court. When, in 1861, Abraham Lincoln was in- augurated President of the United States, Mr. Meehan, Sen., was in his turn rotated, and the place of Librarian of Congress was given to Dr. John G. Stephenson, of Indi- ana, who had no especial qualification ex- cept that he belonged to the winning side. Fortunately for the interests of the library, Dr. Stephenson appointed as his first assist- ant Ainsworth R. Spofford, Esq., who had been connected with the press of Cincinnati, and who was practically acquainted with books and the book trade. In December, 1864, Dr. Stephenson resigned, and Presi- dent Lincoln appointed Mr. Spofford libra- rian, a position for which he was eminently qualified, and the Library of Congress has since borne testimony to his varied knowl- edge, to his untiring industry, and to his never-failing courtesy. The Jeffersonian system of classification was abandoned as unsuited to the necessities of readers con- sulting a large library, and a new catalogue of the books, arranged alphabetically under the head of authors, was issued, followed by another catalogue, arranged according to subjects. Congressmen now, finding tha% the library was of practical use to them, voted liberal appropriations for its enlarge- ment, and the books which had been col- lected by the Smithsonian Institution numbering some 40,000 volumes in all found a resting-place on its shelves, reliev- ing the regents of the expense of caring for them. The library of Peter Force, pur- chased of him for $100,000, was a more val- uable acquisition, embracing some 45,000 separate titles, among which were many valuable works on early American history, with maps, newspapers, pamphlets, and manuscripts illustrating the colonial and revolutionary epochs. To accommodate these large additions to the library two new halls were added, ex- tending eastward from the north and south ends of the main hail (already described), and forming three sides of a square. These additional halls, which are also constructed entirely of iron, are each ninety-five feet in length, twenty-nine feet six inches in width, and thirty-eight feet high, which are so nearly the dimensions of the main hall that the difference is not notjced, although they have each an additional tier of galleries. In the south wing are the treasures of the Force collection, now being catalogued and classified, and partly piled up in stacks. There are nearly 1000 volumes of American newspapers, including 245 printed prior to 1800; a large collection of the journals and laws of the colonial Assemblies, showing the legislative policy which culminated in their independence; the highly prized publica- tions of the presses of the Bradfords, Benja- min Franklin, and Isaiah Thomas; forty-one different works of Increase and Cotton Ma- ther, printed at Cambridge and Boston, from 1671 to 1735; a perfect copy of that rarest of American books, Eliots Indian Bible; and a large and valuable collection of in- cunabula, illustrating the progress of the art of printing from its infancy. The manu- scripts are even more valuable than the printed books, including two autograph jour- nals of George Washingtonone dated 1775, during Braddocks expedition, and one in 1787, at Mount Vernon; two volumes of an original military journal of Major-General Greene, 178182~ twelve folio volumes of the papers of Paul Jones while commanding American cruisers in 177678; a private journal left by Arthur Lee while minister to France in 177677; thirty. or forty orderly books of the Revolution; forty-eight vol- umes of historical autographs of great rarity and interest; and an immense mass of manuscript materials for the American Ar- chivesa documentary history of America, the publication of which was commenced by order of Congress. The only cause for regret connected with this wing of the library, where the literary treasures collected by Peter Force are enshrined, is that his life could not have been spared long enough to have seen his beloved collection so well cared for by the republic. In the north wing are the illustrated works and coll~ctions of engravings, which always attract visitors, who can sit at the tables there provided for their accommoda- tion and enjoy the reproductions of the choicest art treasures of thy Old World. In the upper gallery of this wing are bound copies of the periodicals of all nations, em- bracing complete series of the leading maga- zines of Great Britain and of the United States. An adjacent attic hall is devoted to the collection of newspapersthose reposi- tories of general information which had been ignored prior to the administration of Mr. Spofford, but to which he has paid especial attention. Among the unbroken files are those of the New York Ev ing Post from the issue of its first number in 1801, the London Gazette from 1665, the French Moniteur (roy- al, imperial, and republican) from 1789, the London Times, and the London Illustrated News. The prominent daily journals of New York are now regularly filed, and bound at the close of each year, and there is a com- plete set of all the new spapers which have been published in the District of Columbia, including over one hundred which no longer live. Arigidenforcement of that provisionof the THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 49 copyright law which makes it obligatory to deposit in the library a copy of every work entered according to act of Congress, se- cures a complete collection of American publications, which could not be otherwise obtained. These copyright books are of in- creasing importance, extent, and value, and will constitute a curions record of the growth and style of our national literature. There is, of course, a complete collection of all the varied publications of the Federal govern- ment, and by law fifty additional copies of each work are printed for the Library of Con- gress, to be used in a well-regulated system of international exchanges; which brings in returuthe valuable public documents of other nations. Liberal appropriations are annually made by Congress for the purchase of books and newspapers, while the large amount of binding required is executed at the govern- mentpriuting-officewithouttaxingthe funds of the library. The annual appropriations after provision has been made for the foreign and domestic serials, and for the most impor- tant issues of the press abroad in jurispru- dence, political economy, history, and allied topicsare distributed in the purchase of books in all departments of literature and science, no general topic being neglected, although as yet none can be assumed as being complete. To that end auction lists and trade catalogues are assiduously read and profited by, and especial attention is paid to the collections of dealers in second- hand booksthose purveyors for good li- braries. The Library of Congress is thus beginning to assumenational proportions, and israpidly gaining on the government libraries at Paris and at London, while it is made more prac- tically useful than any other great library in the world by the annual issue of a printed catalogue of its accessions. With this cata- loguearranged alphabetically by authors and again by subjectsit is an easy task for the frequenters of the library to obtainbooks on any subject desired, especially when they canobtainthe further aidof the accomplished librarianandhiswillingassistants. Theprac- tical result is shown by the register of books taken from the library by those enjoying that privilege. Fifteen years ago not more than three out of five Congressmen used the library; now nine out of ten take out books, some having over a hundred volumes during a session. Nor can any one visit the library at any time when its doors are open with- out finding from ten to fifty citizens seated at the reading-tables, where all can peruse such books as they may request to have brought to them from the shelves. The library is thus thrown open to any one and every one, without any formality of admis- sion or any restriction, except that slight barriers exclude the visitors from the book- shelves, and prevent them from taking down VoL. XLvI.No. 271.4 the books without the ]nowledge of the attendants. Bibliophilists find on the shelves of the Library of Congress much that they regard as precious, although the profane call it trash, in the shape of formidable folios ex- quisitely printed by the Elzevirs, or the small Aldus editions of classical authors, easily carried in the capacious pockets of students of the old schooL Many of these antique books, like the dowagers and the spinsters who grace the wall-seats of a ball- room, will gratefully repay a little attention from the student, and will convince him that in literature, as in agriculture, the new grain cometh up from the old fields. The ashes of Wycliffe were scattered to the winds, but despotic bigotry could not de- stroy Wycliffes Bible. Homers birth-place and his burial-place are unknown, but nu- merous editions of his Iliad delight and interest our heroes and our lovers. Our legislators ponder over the patriotic senti- ments of Sidney, our poets read Tasso and Dante, our scholars revel in the writings of Moli~re and Cervantes, and our statesmen, in studying the noble diction of Bacon, draw from the well of pure English undefiled. Indeed, the Library of Congress, with its two hundred thousand volumes, may well be compared to the island of Delos, where the ancient Greeks and their neighbors used to meet in peace, forget foreign and domestic strife, and harmoniously join in festivities for it is the neutral ground of the national metropolis, where learning is domesticated, and where studious men and women can meet, undisturbed by the noisy clamor of mercenary politicians. On the western side of the main library hall is a lofty colonnade, from the balcony of which the weary student or the curious visit- or can enjoy a panorama which has all the elements of grandeur and loveliness. Below the spectator are the Capitol grounds, with their trees, parterres of flowers, and fount- ains; while beyond them, directly in front, stretches the public reservation, reaching a mile and a half to the placid Potomac, and adorned with the government conservato- ries, the picturesque Smithsonian Institu- tion, the Agricultural Department with its terraced gardens, and the unfinished Wash- ington Monument. Broad avenues radiate in different directionsVirginia Avenue go- ing to the left until it joins the Long Bridge, leading into the Old Dominion, while inclin- ing to the right at a similar angle is Penn- sylvania Avenue, the main artery of the metropolis, leading to the Executive Man- sion, with its surrounding departments. Shade trees mark the lines of streets, which cross each other at right angles, and through which the avenues pass at all sorts of angles, while the monotony of house-roofs is varied by imposing public buildings, churches, and 50 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. school-houses, with here and there a park. grandmotherly air, flying out of the garden The broad Potomac, generally studded with door to meet her father. sails, winds its way from antique George- Young Sir Jasper Harrington always would town on the distant right, down past Wash- have it that she was like a robin, and per- ington, to sombre Alexandria, far off on the haps he could not have found an apter si- left; while on the distant Virginia bank rise militude, there was something so pretty, so theverdant slopes of Arlington Heights,with confiding, and yet so spirited about the lit- a background of wooded hills reaching to the tle thing. Every one was fond of her. Ev- horizon. After enjoying this scene, which ery thing that was weak, or frightened, or possesses all the elements of picturesque hurt seemed to take refuge with her and ex- beauty as well as of metropolitan grandeur, pect her to do battle for them. It was not one can turn back into the library with a a little ridiculous to imagine her your chain- fresh zest for its treasures, and feel that in pion, and yet you might have had a worse fostering so well-managed and so useful an one. There was something in her daring institution, beautiful for situation, onr which, from such a mite, was irresistible. national legislators are obeying the consti- Once when a great roistering fellow was ill- tutional injunction to promote the general treating a horse, Dorothy ran .up to him with welfare. her face all ablaze and fairly shamed him by her passionate indignation; he went away mumbling out something like an excuse, at A MADRIGAL. all events in a different tone from the oaths To Ike Rev. Mr. FLEMYNG, MA., IbIS SOUTHEAST VIEw and curses he had been letting fly. Dorothy of his SCHOOL in ASHWOOD, near MILDON, e7-ecled remained triumphant, and then suddenly be- AD. 1770, ~O Gloriam Dei Opt. Max. in Ufum Ec- gnu to tremble, and went home looking pale clefin & Reipublicn, is Resg5eclfuiiy Inscribed by hiS and scared. Du4/ni Sernsnl. GEG. MARWOOD. How wicked those men she said, ~flHJS is the inscription under a quaint with a sort of sob in her voice, laying her old nut which, keeping its dingy frame little broWn head upon Mrs. Harriots shoul- of black wood, hangs above the book-case in der. my bedroom. It is the ugliest picture pos- What has hap~iened, niece ? said the sible: the house, drawn in careful perspec- old lady, a wistful look of trouble creeping tive, stands grimly forward without a pro- into her faded eyes. Is it any thing more jection about roof or window, except a lit- that they want to do to poor Austin I? Be- tle attempt at a porch over the door on the cause then we had better go away, he east side; there are six windows on the and I. ground-floor of the south front, six windows Dorothy put up her little hands and drew on the first floor, and above these twelve the tender, troubled old face down to her smaller ones in a row, evidently dormitories, own, kissing it. cold, hot, staring, unbeautiful, unsuggestive. Now you are fancying things, she said, A large walled inclosure, half garden and half chidingly, half protectingly; and, to half paddock, runs down the eastern side; be sure, I had no business to make you sad. the garden has a round bed in its centre and Has Molly told you that the roses are ready seven or eight square beds on either side, for the pot-pourri I Come and see whether pointed at intervals with Irish yews, and set she has put cloves enough. in gravel instead of turf. There is a man in And ~o the two went up the narrow stair- a three-cornered hat vaguely walking in the case together, a tall stooping elderly wom- garden, and a serving-man holding a horse an, and this little alert eager creature, with in the paddock beyond; while on the south hair and eyes of bright warm russet-brown, side is a kind of pleached alley with a don- who could defend dumb animals, and sup- ble row of sycamore-trees, odd little groups port poor Mrs. Harriots failing age, and keep of boys with long hair and long coats and the house, and teach the little boys, and be long waistcoats, frilled collars and knee- altogether brave and dauntless, and yet breeches, strolling about beneath them, and would color crimson and look beseechingly two grave divines walking sedately toward if Sir Jasper Harrington did but stop them you on the extreme left. That is my picture. in the road, and jump off his horse to wish And for all its grayness and its ugliness good-day. It was a strange little household and its stiff lines, I sit and look at it some- this school of Mr. Flemyngs, which might times until a change creeps over all. I hear rather have been called Dorothys kingdom, happy summer sounds, chirping of birds, the since here, as in other instances one could hum of tiny insects, the sweep of the scythe, name, they were not the nominal heads that boys voices. I see sweet flowers in the ugly ruled. Brother and sister were alike, tall, stiff beds, tender shadows nuder the flicker- gentle, listless peopleunready would per- ang sycamores, and, above all, I see Dorothy haps be the best word to useyet with a Flemyng, with her bright, flashing, sunny certain sweet dignity, a transparent simplic- face, with her soft dress of dainty muslin, ity, a trustfulness as beautiful as a childs, with her little delicious old-fashioned great- and the shadow of a great trouble which

Frances M. Peard Peard, Frances M. A Madrigal 50-63

50 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. school-houses, with here and there a park. grandmotherly air, flying out of the garden The broad Potomac, generally studded with door to meet her father. sails, winds its way from antique George- Young Sir Jasper Harrington always would town on the distant right, down past Wash- have it that she was like a robin, and per- ington, to sombre Alexandria, far off on the haps he could not have found an apter si- left; while on the distant Virginia bank rise militude, there was something so pretty, so theverdant slopes of Arlington Heights,with confiding, and yet so spirited about the lit- a background of wooded hills reaching to the tle thing. Every one was fond of her. Ev- horizon. After enjoying this scene, which ery thing that was weak, or frightened, or possesses all the elements of picturesque hurt seemed to take refuge with her and ex- beauty as well as of metropolitan grandeur, pect her to do battle for them. It was not one can turn back into the library with a a little ridiculous to imagine her your chain- fresh zest for its treasures, and feel that in pion, and yet you might have had a worse fostering so well-managed and so useful an one. There was something in her daring institution, beautiful for situation, onr which, from such a mite, was irresistible. national legislators are obeying the consti- Once when a great roistering fellow was ill- tutional injunction to promote the general treating a horse, Dorothy ran .up to him with welfare. her face all ablaze and fairly shamed him by her passionate indignation; he went away mumbling out something like an excuse, at A MADRIGAL. all events in a different tone from the oaths To Ike Rev. Mr. FLEMYNG, MA., IbIS SOUTHEAST VIEw and curses he had been letting fly. Dorothy of his SCHOOL in ASHWOOD, near MILDON, e7-ecled remained triumphant, and then suddenly be- AD. 1770, ~O Gloriam Dei Opt. Max. in Ufum Ec- gnu to tremble, and went home looking pale clefin & Reipublicn, is Resg5eclfuiiy Inscribed by hiS and scared. Du4/ni Sernsnl. GEG. MARWOOD. How wicked those men she said, ~flHJS is the inscription under a quaint with a sort of sob in her voice, laying her old nut which, keeping its dingy frame little broWn head upon Mrs. Harriots shoul- of black wood, hangs above the book-case in der. my bedroom. It is the ugliest picture pos- What has hap~iened, niece ? said the sible: the house, drawn in careful perspec- old lady, a wistful look of trouble creeping tive, stands grimly forward without a pro- into her faded eyes. Is it any thing more jection about roof or window, except a lit- that they want to do to poor Austin I? Be- tle attempt at a porch over the door on the cause then we had better go away, he east side; there are six windows on the and I. ground-floor of the south front, six windows Dorothy put up her little hands and drew on the first floor, and above these twelve the tender, troubled old face down to her smaller ones in a row, evidently dormitories, own, kissing it. cold, hot, staring, unbeautiful, unsuggestive. Now you are fancying things, she said, A large walled inclosure, half garden and half chidingly, half protectingly; and, to half paddock, runs down the eastern side; be sure, I had no business to make you sad. the garden has a round bed in its centre and Has Molly told you that the roses are ready seven or eight square beds on either side, for the pot-pourri I Come and see whether pointed at intervals with Irish yews, and set she has put cloves enough. in gravel instead of turf. There is a man in And ~o the two went up the narrow stair- a three-cornered hat vaguely walking in the case together, a tall stooping elderly wom- garden, and a serving-man holding a horse an, and this little alert eager creature, with in the paddock beyond; while on the south hair and eyes of bright warm russet-brown, side is a kind of pleached alley with a don- who could defend dumb animals, and sup- ble row of sycamore-trees, odd little groups port poor Mrs. Harriots failing age, and keep of boys with long hair and long coats and the house, and teach the little boys, and be long waistcoats, frilled collars and knee- altogether brave and dauntless, and yet breeches, strolling about beneath them, and would color crimson and look beseechingly two grave divines walking sedately toward if Sir Jasper Harrington did but stop them you on the extreme left. That is my picture. in the road, and jump off his horse to wish And for all its grayness and its ugliness good-day. It was a strange little household and its stiff lines, I sit and look at it some- this school of Mr. Flemyngs, which might times until a change creeps over all. I hear rather have been called Dorothys kingdom, happy summer sounds, chirping of birds, the since here, as in other instances one could hum of tiny insects, the sweep of the scythe, name, they were not the nominal heads that boys voices. I see sweet flowers in the ugly ruled. Brother and sister were alike, tall, stiff beds, tender shadows nuder the flicker- gentle, listless peopleunready would per- ang sycamores, and, above all, I see Dorothy haps be the best word to useyet with a Flemyng, with her bright, flashing, sunny certain sweet dignity, a transparent simplic- face, with her soft dress of dainty muslin, ity, a trustfulness as beautiful as a childs, with her little delicious old-fashioned great- and the shadow of a great trouble which A MADRIGAL. 51 they had shared together. It has nothing to do witli this story, and we need not sad- den ourselves with talking of it; but per- haps it was this which had brought a cloud half ~piteous but altogether merciful over Mrs. Harriot Fosters old age, like one of those soft autumnal mists which creep up- ward at the close of day, and soften but do not mar the landscape. Why Mr. Flemyng ever thought of becom- ing a school-master it is impossible to say, for never was a man more absolutely unfit- ted for the task. The greatest dullard among the boys could have read off his lessons un- der his very eyes without fear of discovery; and as for punishments, at a time when birchen rods ruled young lives they were utterly abhorrent to his nature. It was not to be expected but that these little long- coated, big-collared grandfathers of ours should take advantage of such peculiarities, but yet this may be said for them, that on the whole there was a fine, high-spirited, honorable tone about the little fellows. It was considered sneaking and mean to trade upon Mr. Flemyngs gentle trustfulness; so that if they did not gain much else at the school, here was something not to be de- spised, and it was chiefly owing to Dorothys influence. They worshiped her. They would fight battles in her honor, only the difficulty was to find an enemy; a black eye gained in such a cause was a distinction at which all the others gazed enviously. It was little Marwood, whose father drew that picture, and composed the flourishing inscription about the church and state, etc., altogether out of gratitude for Dorothys care of his little motherless, timid lad. It was Master Stephen Harrington, who, being left one holiday time in her charge, was nursed by her through some childish disorder, and talked about her afterward until my lady sent for her to the Grange to thank her. Dorothy went to the Grange several times after that, and young Sir Jasper, who at first only looked at her brown eyes a little cnn- ouffly, began to find a strange sort of pleas- ure in making those brown eyes flash or droop as he liked. What odd, similar, con- tradictory, like-minded creatures we are! How century after century, generation aft- er generation, we go on crowned with bob- wigs, perukes, cropped curls, cavalier locks, horned caps, shock heads, Roman heimets, Greek fillets, Syrian turbans, as the case may be, all at the same game; one after an- other going through the same little throbs and jumps, the same experiences and hopes and fears and disappointments! Do you not know that when Socrates opened his heart to Xantippe he held her hand and looked into her eyes, and felt his great strong soul rejoice when she lifted them shyly to his, never seeing, poor foolish phi- losopher, the flash which lurked behind the soft veil? And here is young Sir Jasper Harrington, in sober, industrial England, be- ginning the same little play as then made the Athenian groves glow with a deeper beauty when the sun sent golden shafts into their cool shades; walking up his great lime avenues, switching his riding-whip, and wondering what the plague there was in Dorothy Flemyngs face which made it worth all the fine ladies that came to the Grange. The old, new story; always, and yet, after all, never the same. Ah, and there are other things as newas old. About Socratess wooing we do not know much. Xantippe gave him trouble enough in after-days for one to suppose that every thing went smoothly at first, that there were no obdurate parents, no money- seeking guardians. But what of poor Hero and her Leander, separated from her by those devouring waves? What of Romeo and Juliet, Montagues and Capulets? and Tasso and Leonora? and sweet Duchess May, riding to death with her Sir Guy, while thin-lipped Lord Leigh battered at the gates? What of all these,and what of Lady Harrington at the Grange, with her old Bruce blood, and the Harrington sup- porters, and the grim men in armor, ranged round the hall? My poor little Dorothy, what of her? Why, all the world knew that there was no one so suitable for Sir Jasper to marry as Miss Montagu, the heir- ess, whose lands touched his own. Or if he were obstinate and would not have her, my lady had a host in reserveLady Mary Ben- tiuck, daughter of the old Tory earl; Sir Charles Bassetts eldest girl, Charlotte; ei- ther one of the Misses Fitz-Aubyn; Lady Di Riverstoneob, Dorothy, Dorothy, why were you walking back from the village that evening in May! She saw him coming while he was yet at some distance. She was in a lane with bor- dering turf, and dewy hedge-rows fragrant with hawthorn, and delicate opening flow- ers, and yellow - green oak- trees growing bravely up on either side. Just in front of her stretched a picturesque bit of broken common, and there in the openthe low sun throwing long slanting shadows on the gorse, the blue distant hills for a back- ground, the breeze stirring the grassJas- per Harrington was riding slowly toward her. Of whom was be thinking? Lady Di? Philippa Fitz-Aubyn? Perhaps George Sel- wyns latest jest, or the American war, or the last balloon excitement, or, more likely, his new young setter Juno. At all events, on he came, with his reins on his horses neck, and the sun shining kindly upon him, and the breeze lifting his hair, and Dorothy, who, every now and then, was seized with a terrible fit of bashfulness, looked round longingly for a possibility of escape. There was not so much as a gap in the hedge, and 52 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. she could not turn and run when he might already have seen her as she had seen him; and besides all this, she could have beaten herself for the dread which was half pain- ful and half delicious, but as yet altogether mysterious to the young girl. So they came on toward each other, he passing out of the sunshiny open into the quiet dewy shade of the young trees, still riding carelessly, with his three-cornered hat, and his riding- coat of claret-colored cloth, and his hair tied behind by. a black ribbon, little Dorothy walking swiftly in her soft girlish dress, some sort of pearly tint relieved by the gleaming grass behind her, and by a kind of black scarf which crossed in front and tied at the back in a great bow. Her large hat shaded her face. Perhaps, after all, he will not see me,~ she thought, with a thrill of hope and disappointment, for Sir Jasper was looking down, and her step upon the turf was noiseless. Not see her? There are other perceptions than seeing and hearing, which come into play on some oc- casions. Before Dorothy had time to think, Jasper was off his horse, standing, hat in hand, with his honest blue eyes looking into hers. This is good fortune, Miss Flemyng, he said, eagerly. Were you going to the Grange? Will you allow me to escort you ? Dorothy, who had made him a little de- mure courtesy, shook her head. I am only going round by the farm, Sir. I hope my lady is quite well ? she said, with an effort, thinking that now surely he had shown all the necessary courtesy, and would let her go on her way. She was dismayed ~o see him pass the bridle round his arm, turn his horses head, and, still holding his hat in his hand, prepare to walk by her side along the road he had just come; but when she glanced in his face to remonstrate, she with- drew her eyes, coloring brightly, and walked on as quickly as she could, without a word. I wanted to speak to you about Ste- phen, said Jasper. Dorothy slackened her pace a little. If this was his object in joining her, there was a legitimate reason in it. Your father has done so much for him. He is improving vastly in his Latin, she said, with a grave air of business, which enchanted Jasper. So we find. Our cousin Parker has been staying at the Grange, and my mother asked him to examine Stephen: twas rather an ordeal, poor little lad, but he came out tri- nmphantlyI never saw my mother so pleased and he said twas all owing to Miss Flemyng. Oh no, no, she interrupted. But I am so glad; it will give him confidence. Thank you for telling me of it, Sir. Iweowe Miss Flemyng still more, he went on, quickly, with a good deal of feeling in his tone. Poor little Stephen! I dont think my mother, in spite of her fondness, ever took the right line with him. Twas a chance whether he would not grow up a poor, puny llttle fellow without the spirit of a mouse. Every thing seemed to scare him until he was sent to youto your father, said Jasper, correcting himself with great propriety. And now ? Dorothy asked, looking up with a smile on the rosiest lips in the world. Oh, nownow he is a hero. He shall ride after the hounds with me next winter. Only this morning he jumped the sunk fence on Rattler. How is it? Your father does not teach fox-hunting with declensions, does he? Nor yet fighting? Because yesterday Stephen came home with a black eye which it did one good to see. It seems twas a fight with young Bassett, whom he met on his way home, and quite vanquished. The cause of battle This is the road to the farm, interrupt- ed Dorothy, desperately. She kiiew the cause of battle as well as Jasper, and the scarlet color flashed into her cheek at his mischievous words. This is the road to the farm; I will wish you good-evening, Sir ; and she dropped another little courtesy, and was turning away when he stopped her. Oh, Jasper! There were Miss Montagus woods lying in the distance before his very eyes, soft, rounded masses, purple with even- ing lightsa wild bit of moor, the envy of all the neighboring squires as the best wood- cock cover in the county; there was Miss Montagu herself at this very moment at the Grange, taking a dish of tea with my lady, in her silk slip of tawny orange, just suiting her dark complexion, and her powdered hair drawn high over a cushionthe very dress in which the court painter pictured her she and her woods and her covers for Jasper to put out his hand and take, and instead of this, he put out his hand and stopped poor little Dorothy Flemyng, the school- masters daughter. Dorothy, he said, Dorothy, I ne~rer loved Stephen so well as when he told me this. Let me go, Sir; let me go ~ she cried, struggling with hersell for he was not hold- ing her except by a hand laid very lightly on her arm; and when she said this he drew it back, and stood before her as if she had been a queen, his hat in his hand, lookiug a very gallant gentleman indeed, with the sun shining on his face, and his eyes shining more brightly than the sun on her. I cant go; tis impossible, he said. I love you so dearly I must speak and say so. Wont you love me? Wont you be my wife? Why should it frighten you? My life, sure you are not afraid of me ? Of him? No! But of herseli, of the ten- derness in his voice. Ah! and he knew it; A MADRIGAL. 53 he read it in tlie one glance she dared ven- ture. His eyes grew triumphant, his voice steadied. One little wordthat is all. What, wont Miss Flemyng take so much pity upon a poor fellow as to tell me at least I do not displease her ? he said, troubled again; for she had turned her back and was wringing her hands with a kind of childish impa- tience. And then she flashed round upon him impetuously. How can you be so cruel ? she cried, passionately, her eyes full of burning tears. Cruel? I! Yes, you! Do you suppose that my lady will take me for a daughter? that I, poor Dorothy Flemyng, Stephens teacher, am a fit wife for Sir Jasper Harrington, the fine gentleman at the Grange ? Sir Jasper interrnpted her hotly, jerking his horses bridle as he spoke. Because you are poor, madam? Fie upon it! I have heard my mother say that Mr. Flemyngs family is as good as any round. She shook her head sadly. What do I care for it all ? he said, ea- gerly, clasping her hand in his. Only say you love me, and set my heart at rest. The fire had gone out of her eyes; she let her hand remain, and looked at him with a certain sweet, sorrowful dignity new to her. Will that content you ? she asked. Well, then, I do not deny it. No, no; wait un- til you have heard me out. For see you here, Sir Jasper, she went on with a trem- bling voice, but standing erect and looking straight in his face, to pleasure you Phave let you know what I thought death itself should never draw from meyou are a trne gentleman, Sir, and I do not repentbut here it ends. Do you not suppose but that I know as well as Lady Harrington at the Grange that I am no match for her son? And do you not suppose that we Flemyngs have our pride also, and that I could not bear even to hear her say this to me ? Jasper interrupted her again, aud as he spoke he bent low over her hand and kissed it with the beautiful courtly grace of the time. She never shall, he said. You dont know, cried poor Dorothy, still fighting valiantly against her own heart. It was very hard to resist him when he looked like that, and when all her soul seemed to cry out on his side. Surely there had never been so hard a struggle for a poor girl as this. And just then a nightingale began her pathetic song in a little brake close by. You dont know, you dont know, she repeated, imploringly. I know that I shall never changenor you, said Jasper, softly. My mother loves me too well to cross my happiness.~~ Oh, tis impossible ! Only trust me. But he could gain no more. She loved him, she confessed, but they must not meet, nor should he come to the school unless it was with Lady Harringtons consent to ask her of her father. She would not even let him turn down the little lane with her, al- though he chafed a little at the refusal. He stood watching the dainty little figure going down the lane through the shadowy evening lights, with a step not so firm as usual, a little hesitating, a little shaken, for all her brave words. She wants me to take care of her, my darling, said the young man to himself with a glad, triumphant gleam in his eyes, as he mounted his horse and rode away again home. Miss Montagus woods grew dim and dusky in the twilight, and Miss Montagu herself rumbled by in her great chariot, and sighed a little as she caught a glimpse of Sir Jasper riding home as she came away, with a smile on his face which even the twilight could not hide from her. As for him, he had forgotten her before she was out of sight. Just at present he held something in his heart which sent all possibilities, anxieties, every thing but the bright present, out of mind. Twenty-four, in love, and beloved! Is there any magic like this? A few years later a hundred wiser thoughts would have come to him, but no such perfection of ecstatic bliss. Doro- thy, younger in years, was older in her wom- anhood, and in a sadder experience of life. She was going home troubled and happy at once, while Jaspers dreams were not cloud- ed by any such contradictions. He had had his way from his boyhood, and do you think a barrier could spring up now? Oh, foolish prophets, when from the days of fairy tales was any thing impossible to princes in love? Almost every one has seen the Grange, or some place like it. One of those beautiful, old, gray, tenderly tinted houses, lying a lit- tle low, with two magnificent lime avenues leading to it, and curved sweeps of turf stretching away from the front. It had been a long time in the family, and out of it, too, once or twice; for the Harringtons, like oth- ers, had their ups and downs. Nor could it be said to be very firmly fixed in the family now; for it had only been brought back by Sir Charless marriage with Miss Bruce, the present Lady Harrington, and there had been a little soreness about her fathers determi- nation that it should be settled unreserved- ly upon her. Watched and waited for for a generation or two, this half possession was galling. Women are unstable creatures, whom a little pique, a little flattery, will in- fluence. Your madam may upset the coach again, said the old grandfather, in a fume. Nevertheless, Colonel Bruce would hear no other terms, and here was Lady Harrington reigning at the Grange, and all the worid feeling comfortably assured that Sir Jasper 54 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. would reign after her, and a strict entail Never, once more guard their old home for the Har- She was silent for a moment, a vexed shade ringtons. on her face. Then she said, quietly, In My lady was in the drawing-room expect- that case you are right; we may considcr ing her son, when she heard his step in the tis settled. But there are othersMiss Fitz- halL There was a table in the centre of the AubynCharlotte Bassett room, a nosegay in a bean-pot, one or two She is worth a thousand of them all I arm-chairs deserving of the name, worsted- burst out Jasper, rapturously, to his moth- work, pencil drawings and chalk heads round ers amazement. Mother, cried the young the walls, wax-lights standing about in sil- man, springing up, theres no one half so ver branches, old cabinets, a spinet, and an good nor so pretty in the world! What does abundance of Chelsea china figures. At the it matter about the money? We can do as table sat a handsome woman of about fifty, we are. I shall die if I dont marry her, and with powdered hair, and ruffles of delicate she would be the dearest daughter iu the lace hanging at her elbows, who looked up world to you ! and shook her head with a reproachful smile He had her by the hands, looking into her at Jasper, as he came in, all eagerness, face with his young, eager eyes, pouring out At last, Sir! Out on you for a laggard a torrent of incoherent words. The win- wooer ! dows were open to let in the soft cool air, a The young man flushed. He had forgot- great moth went blundering and whirring ten all about Miss Montagu, and I am afraid about the ceiling, and outside the nightin- the recollection did not affect him pleasant- gales were singing their chorus to Jaspers ly. He said Pish ! a little angrily, and words. I love her! I love her ! he said; then recovered himsell, went up to his moth- I shall never care for any but her ! Was er, and kissed her. ever so tender a tale so little varied in all I had to ride down and speak to Dacres these years? this evening, he said, flinging himself into Whowhat do you mean ? cried Lady an arm-chair by her side. Harrington, with a sickness at her heart. You look as if he had given good news Who? Who ~ut Dorothyyou know of the pheasants, said Lady Harrington, Dorothy Flemyng? Theres no one like her! knotting again. But I wish you had come Oh, mother, you will care for her for my home earlier: Miss Montagu staid until dusk. sake ! She looked very well in her orange silk. Jasper, let go my hands! Are you mad, I hate orange, muttered Jasper. Sir? The school-masters daughter ! So do I, in itself. But she is so dark, it People were fond of saying that Lady becomes her admirably. Harrington looked like a queen. She might Dark, yes. I dont like dark people. have been Catherine of Aragon now, stand- Youre fair, you know, madam, said the ing up with that imperious splendor in her young man, with a pretty little air of gal- eyes. It tamed even the young lovers pas lantry, to which she was not insensible. sion. She laid her hand on his shoulder caress- The Flemyngs are gentlefolk, he said, ingly. in a changed voice, turning from her and See here, Sir, I wont have you setting walking a few steps toward the window. up your old mother for a standard. Im not Then he came back and stood before her a fool, and I know that when twenty and again. I would have given worlds not to fifty are put side by side, fifty fares poorly in have vexed you in this matter. the comparison; and sure I am not a dragon, Vexedme! she interrupted, coldly. Im- either, to grudge because tis so. I should possibilities can scarcely vex me. like to welcome a young face here, Jasper, to But twas not possible to help it. She brighten the old Grange. is the sweetest creature that breathes. No Not Miss Montagus. heart could resist her. Why not ? she asked, laying down her So yours has fallen into the springe at work, and turuing her beautiful grave face once, said Lady Harrington, in the same toward him. Believe me, my first thought cold, hard tone. is of your happiness. If I did not feel as- Jasper colored hotly. Any thingbut that, sured Miss Montagu could give you this, madam. Blame me as much as you will, but Heaven knows she might own the whole not her. The poor little heart is as innocent county, yet I would never seek her for my of design in the matter as yourself. Is it daughter. But she is young, amiable, hand- her fault to be so sweet ? some, richwhat more do you want ? Sweet, indeed! There are others as Only one thing. sweet. What ? Not to me. When you married my fa- Madam, before I married a woman, I ther, did you think there was ever any like should like to love her. And I dont love him in the world ? Miss Montagu. There never was. But you might. Nor ever was a girl like her ! he cried. A MADRIGAL. 55 She deserves to be a queentheres not one of them can hold a candle to her. Mother, mother, you dont want to break my heart ! He had her hands again and was kissing them, and Lady Harrington, although she stood erect and cold, did not repulse him. Were tender memories fighting within her? In Jasper, flushed and handsome, did she see his father again? Did she remember eager words that had leaped from lips now cold? And the nightingales, had they once sung a chorus such as they were singing this sweet May night? Jasper poured out his words in a passionate torrent foolish words, perhaps, but who knows? There is, after all, something higher than wisdom, and this may have been its shadow. Ring for Marsham. This has taken me by surprise, she said, faintly. We will talk more of it to-morrow, when we shall both be cooler. And then all of a sudden she bent down and kissed him passionately. Jasper, Jasper, what midsummer madness has seized you ? Oh, foolish prophets! The diamond may be hidden by enchantment when the prince rides forth on his quest, but do not the for- ests opeu and the dragons become harmless while he passes on triumphantly to win the lady-love whois waiting his return? Oris it only a fairy tale? Lady Harringtou, who was the dragon, lay awake all the night. She thought of the Grange, and the pictures in the long gallery, and of Dorothy Flemyng, the school- masters danghter, venturing to sit where Lady Di or Miss Montagu might have sat; but think as she would, there always came another figure before her eyesJaspers fa- ther, with the same light in his eyes, the same curl in his wavy hair. There had been a little difficulty at one period of their woo- ing about the settlements. Old Sir Hugh had turned sulky, sworn a good deal, and said those words to his son, Your madam will upset the coach again ; and Charles had knelt down and kissed her hand, saying, As to the Grange, my dearest life, let them do what they will, so only it does not stand between you and me. The word~s which had finally won her heart forever now seem- ed to stretch themselves and draw Jasper into their tender clasp. A school No, I can never consent. And yet, does he love her so dearly, I wonder ? Poor dragons! They have their treasures to defend, and get wounds which no one cares to bind up. Lady Harrington tossed and turned, think- ing more of Sir Charles than of Sir Jasper in spite of herself:, until at last she got up, went to a cabinet, took out a miniature with a curl of wavy brown hair at the back, and fell a - kissing it, with hot tears running down her cheeks all the while. We cover up our sorrows, and the turf grows over them, and sometimes even beautiful flowers, but every now and then there comes an earthquake and the graves open. In the morning Stephen ran into her room with a little puppet-show in his arms. I am to show it to Miss Flemyng. I may take it, maynt I, mother? We are going to make the puppets dance for Mrs. Harriot to see. You are too old for puppets, answered Lady Harrington, sharply. Sure a lad of your age might find better to do than to play with the women. And sol do, Stephen said,finshing. I fought with young Bassett the other day. And what for, then ? He said his sister was as pretty as Doro- thy, and I said that was a lie, and so we fought, and I licked him. It was hard upon Lady Harrington, this double devotion, and her face was at its coldest when she called to Jasper a little later to come into the morning-room. As for him, he had no fears. It is those who have felt the jolts in the road who are on the look-out for them, and with him there had been very easy going. Dorothy was his absolutely; his motherwould come round. He went after her, and stood waiting with a careless grace, one hand resting on the ta- ble, his face unclouded by any anxiety. It was she who was troubled. Jasper she began; and then, very abruptly, Were you in your senses last night I Why not, madam ? And you love thisthis girl ? I adore her. Think, Jasper. Are you sure of your- self? Could you not learn to like Miss Montagu ? Not if she were a queen and my swe~t Dorothy a beggar. You would swear it your- self:, if you were I ! cried the young man, ra- diantly. Do not say so, Sir. I should think of the Harringtons before I made love to a poor school-masters daughter. Madam, she would grace a dukedom. For Heavens sake, Jasper, spare me any fooling! I am in my dotage now, I belleve, to think of such madness. And I make no promises, remember I promise nothing; but I will see the girlhush! no raptures; I can not bear themI will see her. How the disgrace can be covered I do not know. Tis impossible, I belleve, to hide it. She must give up her own family absolutely: that is a necessity. The father must leave the place; you and she must remain absent for a time__ Any thing, any thing And I do not promise this. I must see her. She may not agree to the conditions. Nay, tis folly to hope it. She will not let the ladyship slip so easily, said Lady Har- rington, bitterly. 56 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. She will give up all for me, Jasper said, Harrington little thought that what ap- with easy confidence. peared most dreadful to Dorothy was that As I am doing, thought Lady Harring- any one should talk openly of this beautiful ton. But she did not speakonly glanced new happiness, which was happiness in spite at him and rang the bell. Let the chariot of all its thorns. It seemed profanity. She be got ready, and desire Marsham to go down felt it never could be hers, but meanwhile in it to Mr. Flemyng, with my compliments the dream of it was a sacred possession, too to Miss Flemyng, and I should be glad if she dear to be thus discussed. And the girl, on can spare an hour to come to speak with me. her part, knew as little of the storm in the Poor Dorothy! She had thought of many heart of the stern judge who sat opposite to things, but not of driving up to the Grange her, and clutched in her hand a little minia- in this desolate grandeur, with my ladys ture, with a brown curl set in its back, own woman opposite, and an oppressive which pleaded silently for the boy whose sense of guiltiness weighing her down. She father was dead. Pleaded, although she thought she must die of shame if Lady Har- went on inexorably! rington reproached her with all the things I must request you to review your own Jasper had said, and she could neither position as well as his. Neither in birth nor deny them nor forget their sweetness. Her position is there any thing to excuse such a heart bounded when she saw him standing marriage in the eyes of the world. Your fa- on the steps waiting her arrival, but then ther is a school-master, holding an obscure she felt as though she ought not to raise her preferment; nor am I aware that lie has eyes in answer to his eager whisper at the patrons likely to assist him to one more very door of my ladys room. There was a honorable. mist before her eyes as she went in and made She paused again. Dorothy was silent, a little courtesy, and stood trembling. Jas- but she lifted her head, and began to recover per had but opened the door for her, and her self-possession. whispered those words which added to her I may conclude, then, that he has no confusion, and then he closed it again, and such prospects I Pardon me for speaking left her, as it were, defenseless. The room openly: in such a case plain words are in was familiar to her, but now it all seemed every respect the best. My son has com- strange. Lady Harrington had twice re- mitted an act of egregious folly, and the quested her to sit down before she gathered most ordinary mode of proceeding would the sense of the words. There was a Chelsea have been to send for your father, but cir- china shepherdess close beside her, dancing, cumstances made me prefer this direct in- with pathetic, beseeching eyes. Why do terview these figures so often look at us with such Madam, interrupted Dorothy, in a low sad reproachfulness out of their merriment? voice; which was not altogether steady when Dorothy found herself vaguely pitying the she began, forgive me if I say that further little woman condemned to dance, until, in words are unnecessary. When Sir Jasper the midst of a whirl and hum, she began Harrington spoke to me last evening about to hear Lady Harringtons words resolving whatwhat you know, I told him that it themselves, would be presumption on my part to accept which I do not conceal from you has the honor. He knows I never thought of it. been a very unexpected blow. Sir Jasper There is no need for your ladyship to explain has, unless I misunderstand, spoken to you any thing more. with regard to the affection he professes to Her voice trembled, the bright color came entertain for you. and went in her cheek, but she stood up Lady Harrington scarcely required an an- resolutely, and made another little courtesy, swer, but she accepted the girls imploring as if to take leave, with a quiet dignity look, and the color that rushed swiftly into which ]~ady Harringtou noticed with ap- her face. proval. Dorothys words had given her a I am desirous not to blame you. You sudden hope. If the girls good feellng could may have been imprudent, but I am aware be worked upon, the tangle might yet be there are excuses to be made for a young smoothed, and Jasper would soon recover woman in your position, and lam willing to the little smart. take these into consideration. At the same Very well said, child, she returned, with time, it is scarcely necessary for me to point more kindness than she had yet spoken. out to you the difference between what he You have shown a very proper feeling, and desires and the prospects which lie before I shall not forget it. We will try to set this him; they are self-evident. matter right before you go; so you shall sit She waited for an answer, and something down again until I return. like a murmured Yes, madam, sounded. Dorothy would not sit down again. Her The little shepherdess looked at poor Doro- heart was full almost to bursting. Oh, what thy with sympathizing eyes. I danceI had she done to bring upon herself all this must dance, she seemed to say, but the dreadful delight, this sorrow which she could world is full of sadness all the time. Lady j not wish away! She might never speak to A MADRIGAL. 57 Jasper again; but lie had loved her, he had called her his life. Nothing can alter the past, for without it life would be too sad. And then in a moment there were voices outsidevoices and quick steps; the door was flung open, and Jasper came hurrying in with his mother. Her hand was on his arm, but he threw it off and strode up to Dorothy. Sweetest Miss Flemyngwithout giv- ing her a moment do you love me I That is un Madam, he said, turning quickly on his mother, pardon me, but this is a question solely between us two. Afterward others may arise, but I will ask for this assurance. Sure my dearest life will not refuse to give it me,~ he went on, with his voice full o2 tender persuasion. I have told my lady, faltered Dorothy. Tell me! I will not have you forsworn. H~ive you said you do not care for me, when you know you have all my heart I he said, impetuously. Oh no, Sir, no! But Therethats enough. Madam, tis not as you said. Jasper, you are dreaming; I protest I never asked such a question. Nay, you said she was willing to give me up. Dorothy, you will not do so I There never was any thing to give ~ said she, trying to speak resolutely. You say it since you think you must. But I knew I might trust you, although my mother wishes to break my heart. He was so full of contradictions, so loving, so petulant, so manly, and yet so boyish, that Lady Harrington, in spite of her vexation, could not help smiling. Then he was at her side in a moment with a hundred protesta- tions, and all the time the miniature clasped in her hand brought back Sir Charles with the same eagerness in his eyes. Any thing but that the Grange should come between us. A quarter of a century, and yet it seemed but one day. Jasper, she said, slowly, you take ad- vantage of my weakness. You will be the best and dearest of mothers; you will never repent. My Do- rothy, tell her she will never repent. But tbere are the conditions. Any thing, every thing. She will give up all for my sake, as I would for hers.Will you not, my life I Hush, Jasper; hear me out, Sir, went on Lady Harrington, keeping her eyes fixed on him. The connection would present an insuperable bar. Miss Flemyng must he content to break through it altogether; the school must be forgotten, and to that end Mr. Flemyng must leave the place at once. This time it was not Jasper, but Dorothy, who flashed out impetuously. Madam, my father, my dear father leave the place! Do you think I would give him up to win any man on earth l Out on me, that I have listened so long, and him so good, so gentle! What would hewhat would my aunt Har- riot do without me? Did you believe I could be so wicked as to desert them. Never, nev- er, madam! Lady Harrington was looking at her by this time, and not without admiration. There was something in the girls words which touched ber, and yet, perhaps, it was only natural she should accept the es- cape they opened. Nothing more, then, need be said, she answered, coldly. Madam ! cried Jasper, reproachfully. Dorothy, you do not mean ityou did not hear all. I heard sufficient, she said, trembling with emotion. I heard my father insulted, and there is no one but me to be on his side. Are the Flemyngs dirt under your feet, that they should be so scorned~ Sir, I never songht your love. What, will you not bear somewhat for melMother, you do not mean it ?~ I mean no insult; but for the rest, Jas- per, I have gone to the utmost. You have your choice.~~ He bent over Dorothy, and said, softly, I have chosen. Let the Grange go. But a storm of feeling was tearing her. She looked up and answered as proudly as his mother: It shall never be said that Dor- othy Flemyng stood between you and your birthright. And to leave this place would be to leave my father. You do not care for him more than for me I care for him so much that I will never go from him. He turned away, stung to the quick. A fine love, indeedt he muttered between his teeth. Madam, I think you were right; I care not much for a heart in which I come second. I will go, if you please, Dorothy said, breathing quickly, and struggling to keep - back tears which frightened her from their nearness. Lady Harrington, who saw it all going as she would have it, was able to look on with interest and a little reluctant admi- ration. Jasper, who thought Dorothy would have flown into his arms, was deeply hurt that any sacrifice should seem to her un- reasonable. He felt that he was giving up much, and he expected a return. Perhaps he would have been more than mortal not to recognize the advantages of his position; he loved Dorothy; but was he not Sir Jasper Harrington, young, rich, handsome, flatter- ed, and should she not at least be sensible of the honor done to her? Lady Harrington rang the bell; Jasper conducted Dorothy to the carriage; she dared not glance at him, nor did she see his low bow of farewell. 58 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Farewell, farewell. The footman clambered up; the old chariot rolled away. Was this the ending of it all, love changed to anger, Dorothy crying among the cushions of the old coach 0? It is not the dragons nor the forests barring the way, but the prince him- self who has turned aside. And so they go away from each other, and the shadows grow darker, and the clouds gather, and through the trees there floats a little sorrowful echo full of pain. Farewell, farewell. After the storm comes a lull, say the con- solers; only they forget that the lull is at all times harder to endure than the storm. Every sharp keen sorrow has its excitement. The ship is foundering, but who and what will reach the port 0? The hurricane is sweep- ing down the mountain-side, but there is the struggle to protect our dwelllng. It is after- ward, when all is calm again, that the deso- lation is most desolate. It had been very terrible to Dorothy to go np and confront grand Lady Harrington, and to drive away feellng that a worse gulf than rank or riches had suddenly gaped between her and Jasper; but her brave little heart had never sunk then as it sank when she was in the quiet, ugly, sheltering old home again, with its lit- tle expressionless windows, and the syca- more-trees shading the green alley, and a heap of blotted exercise-books lying before her on the window-seat. This quiet was a hundred times more oppressive than a whirl could have been; it lay like a dead-weight on her heart, where no one could share it with her; it stretched out before her like a nightmareso many days, so many nights. Nevertheless, she was spared many stings: she had a fine, just temper; she felt no bit- terness against Lady Harrington, scarcely a tender reproach against Jasper; what they had said was from their own side, and what it should have been. The little reproach that smarted was that Jasper should have asked her to sacrifice her father. How could he think I could be false to him, and yet trust me for true? said the faith- ful little daughter, with a sharp pang that he she loved should have tempted her to snch unworthiness. Do not think that Mr. Flemyng or poor Mrs. Harriot suffered for her suffering. Every act of hers toward them at this time was weighted with a double tenderness; she smiled bravely at them, although she fancied there could be no more smiles for herself through the long years. One day, when work was over, her father called to her from the garden. Dorothy knew directly that there was some diffi- culty on which she was to be consulted, some entanglement which it would tax her ingenuity to set right. She laid aside the muslin neckerchief she was hemming, and ran down the stairs. He was pacing up and down under the sycamores in the dim twi- light; and at first, beyond a kind smile, took no notice of her. 0 fallacem hominum spem, fragilemque Fortunam ! she heard him saying, under his breath. Dorothy was used to these fits of absence when his mind was in the old folios where he really lived; she waited a moment, and then touched his arm. You want me, Sir, do you not 0? I, child? No said Mr. Flemyng, mildly. Indeed, Sir, you called to me to come. Did I 0? There was something, I remem- ber. Perhaps my sister Foster knows. Is it the boys? suggested Dorothy. It was a letter, I believe. Ah, yes, said Mr. Flemyng, changing his tone into one of concern; it is here. See, Dorothy; you will grieve to part with one of your pu- pils, a pleasant little lad, too, of good parts. It must have been that of which I desired to speak, for the letter has just beenbrougftt. And stay; there was something else which Evans told me at the time~ some thing of Sir Jasper, I believe; but it does not concern us so nearly, and it has slipped my memory. Dorothy held the great gilt-edged sheet in her hand, and looked at her father with a quivering lip. It has slipped my memory, he repeated, dreamily; and then went on, Barbara (he often called her Barbara her mothers name), Rolston has been here this evening about taking away little Dick. It would be a pity, for the boy has most amazingly progressed of late. But I forget something Rolston told me about the crops. He can not pay, and I thought it better to tell him the lad might remain. Without payment, Sir? Nay, child, we can afford an act of kind- ness now and then. We have young Mor- ton, and young Harrington Dorothy held the letter to him silently. Mr. Flemyng took it, and glanced at it with a puzzled air. Ah, I had forgotten, he said, presently. We shall have little Harrington no longer. I have been rash again, I fear; but yet, if they are so poorchild, if they are so poor, he may come. We shall never be the losers; or,if we are, it will be made right one day. There was a tone of sincere gratitude about Lady Harringtons letter announcing Ste- phens withdrawal. She thanked Mr. Flem- yng cordially, almost warmly. Dorothy knew that she had only taken the step be- cause she thoughi it well to break all the links between the Grange and the school; and it was a link, as the girl felt, for with Stephen by her side the separation from Jas- per did not seem so entire. Nor was this all. Besides the great ache, a hundred little stings seemed to dart out at her, petty and hateful, but none the less real. For the payment they received from Stephen was of A MADRIGAL. 59 no small ~nsequence to the little household, old psalm seemed to arrest Dorothys wan- and with this loss Dick Rolston suddenly deriug fancies, and go direct to her heart. fell upon their charity. Dorothys patience She had done right, and though it had cost fled when she thought of Rolstons false her something, there was a sweet, serene tongue, and of Dicks appetite and copy- consciousness which by-and-by would grow books. And what tidings were those which into peace. Dorothy had conquered more Evans had brought of Sir Jasper 0? Wonkl nobly than Lady Harrington, althongh just she ever see him again? Could she ever now she was feeling the jar and whirl of bear to see him? Ah, yes, she could bear the conflict. Poor Mrs. Harriot clung to her any thing, so that every now and then her and looked down on the little figure with hungry heart might have its craving stilled wistful, tremulous looks, not even quite sure by a sight, however distant. To-morrow of the familiar tones, or whether it was was Sunday, and then he would be with his right they should be standing there singing; mother at church. Would the day ever and Dorothy caught Farmer Rolstons tri- come! It came at last, a sweet summer umphant eye. They wanted her indeed to day, with a sky of tender, unfathomable protect them. There had been Love, young, blue, with larks whistling exultingly, with strong, beautiful, opening wide his arms, honeysuckle flinging itself over the hedges, and calling; and another Love, sad, weak, and the country people strolling along the unconsciously pathetic, appealing mutely to deep lanes to the little ivy-covered, pictur- her. She had chosen the most divine, and esque, damp old church. Dorothy, Mrs. do you think that by-and-by.she would not Foster, and Mr. Flemyng, with a train of also learn its greater loveliness? Nay, why half a dozen little boys, reached the lich- do I say by-and-by? Though Jasper was gate just as the Grange carriage drove up. gone, and Lady Harrington was conqueror, Poor Dorothy! If only she could have sunk and the girls heart felt crushed and bruised, into the earth; if her father would but have it was with her now, pouring in oil and wine. hurried on. But no; his sister was on one But theie was something at hand which urm, his daughter on the other, and he stood she little expected. When she had reached back a little to let my lady get out, and to home, and had run up to her own room, a lift his hat to her in his gentle, courteous letter was lying on the table. How it got fashion. Stephen, in a little red coat, was there Dorothy never knew; but she did not with her, and when he saw Dorothy he tried think about that at first; she caught it up to break away, but my lady held his hand and kissed it, and opened it greedily, long- firmly. She never smiled more sweetly on ing for some line of reconcillation. the little group, wanting to show Dorothy For Heavens sake, madam, send me word that tis that now it was all at an end, and she was a cruel mistake, for I am almost distracted when I conqueror, and bore no malice. Conqueror think upon that day. Sure, I must have been a wretch, indeed, as the girl thought, with a sudden or you could not have cast me off so; but if you could flush; it had been but an unequal combat only know a little how I love you, you would not be so hard. What, do you not love me well enough to between this great lady, with her riches and give up your home fur me, when I am willing to give her rank and her jewels and her beauty, and up mine forever? My muther believes me to have herself. The tears rushed into her eyes as gone to London, and so I was on the road, not caring much what came of me; but every step away from she courtesied, and knew that Lady Har- you costs me so dear that I have stopped at Mildon, rington was smiling down upon her, and at Will Carters coffee-house, until I hear one word that Jasper was not there. They went into from you whether you be not a little relented to one the little church one after another. Could whose whole heart is yours. Dacres will send his boy for an answer to this. I could write forever, but that Dorothy ever forget that day? She had each moment seems an hour before I know my fate. thought that perhaps Jasper would go, but One word will bring me to your feetonly say that no now she was sure he had gone; and the shad- one shall stand between us. Sure you will not refuse to give up something for me ? ow and the reallty are different enough, as we have all found out by this time. For By the time she had finished it Dorothy some time she understood nothing, heard was kissing the letter again, and. raining nothing; the passionate throbbing of her down tears upon it, it was so sweet to feel heart stilled all sounds except a dull, monot- herself still loved, when she had been think- onous hum of voices, and every now and ing Jasper had cast her out of his heart for- then the shrill crow of a cock in the farm- ever. She was no haughty beauty, arrogant yard close at hand. By-and-by fiddles and of conquest, and secure in her own charms, hass-viols and flutes began to quaver from but rather thought so little of herself that the singing-loft, and they all stood up to it only seemed strange he should once have sing the morning hymn. It was an odd per- loved, and not that his love had ended. version of music, with quaint profane little Give up something? Ah! what would she runs and twirls about it; but the summer not have given up that was her own, were sunshine stole lovingly into the church, and it only out of gratitude for so sweet a plead- through the porch you could see cool green ing? It was not for herself; surely he shadows, and the people sang out cheerily, would understand that now. I think it and the straightforward simplicity of the was the truest unselfishness of love which 60 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. gave her strength to write the brave little words with which she answered that letter; but perhaps there are not many men who would have read them so, and Jasper could not see the tears or the kisses. DEAx Sea,The letter you have writ has given me a lively pleasure, for I feared I had not expressed myself in a proper manner, and that you had misun- derstood my meaning. I am very grateful for the honor you have showed me; hut, indeed, what you wish can never he, for my lady was quite right in what she said, and I could never give up my dear father nor my poor aunt, that need so much care. Pray, Sir, do not think any more ahout me, that am not worth it; hui he sure that you have the prayers and heart-felt wishes of your most humhle servant, Doaoruy FLEMYNG. And so he had. Innocent prayers that shielded him, perhaps, many a time. After that, although she heard no more from Jasper, Dorothys heart was lighter. She had a simple faith in his understanding. She thought he would think of her no more, and yet hoped he would think kindly. It would have hurt her terribly to know that foolish Jasper was away in London, fighting with love and pride and anger, vowing he would dream of her no more, and then, with a despairing fit upon him, that he would go fight the Americans, since life was not worth keeping with no hope of Dorothy. He went into many a wild place, but still I think those prayers shielded him. At home Lady Harrington ruled with a high hand, making no sign of missing her eldest son; and Miss Montagu would have nothing to say to her suitors, but drove over to the Grange periodically, and heard bits of Jaspers letters, and drove back again in her great chariot, as she had driven that May evening when Jasper was coming in triumph from his wooing, and thought of him, sighing, every time she passed the bit of heathery common along which she had seen him ride with a smile upon his face; and Dorothy struggled and fought for the two gentle, dependent old people who rested upon ber, and tamed the boys, and did bat- tle bravely with grim poverty, and never lost her brightness nor her lovable beauty in spite of all. It was only One Strength which could have made her so strong, for those were hard times with thema hard summer, a hard autumn, a hard winter. The merciful cloud lay heavily now on poor Mrs. Harriots feeble faculties. She needed more care and soothing every month, and there was no one togive it but Dorothy. When Mr. Flemyng awoke to it,it distressed him so greatly that his daughter could only gently try to lead him from the thought. She had a hun- dred little tender wiles and craftinesses which would have made you smileor per- haps cry, if their pathetic side had struck you. And as for him, she had always been forced to be his protector since her mother died. His gentleness, his sim~icity, his trustfulness, his fits of absenceall required her to be on the watch for him. He would give his coat to a beggaror his wig either, for that mattersuffer himself to be de- frauded glaringly, and yet somehow he al- ways shamed the people who cheated him. It was so impossible to his nature to believe in wrong, that wrong had at least a desire to deck itself in better clothing before him. So the little household fared as best they might. The boys appetites sometimes ap- palled Dorothy; but she was a rare little housewife, and then, as has been said, she was a queen among them, and liked them as they liked her. But there was one ele- ment of discord. Dick iRolston had always been a big, hulking, unmannerly fellow; but since Mr. Flemyngs charity had been ex- tended to him, the boy had become almost intolerable, especially to Dorothy. There had been one or two gallant fights on her behalf; but Dick was too big to be van- quished, and the boys could do nothing ex- cept agree to hate and despise himand avoid his great fist. Dorothy tried to con- quer him with her most winning ways, but in vain. He grudged even receiving her help in his lessons, and once was so insolent that it would have been open rebellion if she had not flashed round upon him in her spirited manner. To a woman! For shame, Sirt she said, with her eyes full on him; and my gentlemans color rose,and he was mute. It may be imagined how the school crowed after this at their enemys discomfiture; but still it was in the dark or in corners, for fear of his fist. Mr. Flemyng had ever a word of excuse, but Dorothy thought it hard they should do so much and get not even a grateful look for their pains. If she had possessed a wider experience of life, she might have found out that it was this very sense of obligation that goaded the boy. He knew that his father had taken in Mr. Flemyng, and he hated Mr. Flemyng for being a dupe, Dorothy for her kindness, him- self, perhaps, more than all. There was a heathenish whirl in his little heart, but it was not altogether what they fancied. Now and then would come a present of game from the Grange; otherwise all inter- course ceased. Once, when Dorothy went out through the great gates, which in my picture shut in the house and the play- ground, a pair of arms were flung round her neck, and there was Stephen, escaped from home and tutor, to bring her a little ship he had made out of a walnut-shell, and full of a letter from Jasper and a lottery- ticket, which he said he had had that day sennight, and would have fetched, if she had let him. She walked back with him as far as the lodge, over brown autumn leaves, between hedges in which scarlet berries burned. After that not much came A MADRIGAL. 61 to recall that strange, dreamy time: Lady Harrington at church, Jaspers horses exer- cising, his dogs bounding on lierthis was all she knew of the Grange through the long winter. She did not even hear the talk of the villagers that Miss Montagu was to be my ladys daughter-in-law, because she came so often to the Grange. Her step was as light, her coloring as bright as ever. No one noticed that she no longer sang about the house like a bird. She thought, when- ever she permitte~ herself to think, that the ache was dying out of her heart, and then suddenly, when she least expected it, the oddest, most trifling thing in the world, would seem to wake it up. So the days went byas the days go by for us alland tlie weeks and the months. In the spring Mrs. Harriot died, passing away very gently, until just at the last she cried out Austin! rapturously, and smiled at some one whom they did not see. Her death left a blank in the little household a blank, in Mr. Flemyngs case, mixed with a little vague trouble, which Dorothy no- ticed with a pang, lest it might be the faint shadowing of the same cloudbut there was no other change. No news of Jasperno break in the quiet monotony of the days. Lady Harringtons winter was worse than Dorothys, after all. She had lost Jasper, and a dreary foreboding of this came over her when she opened his letters, which were dry bones compared to his presence. Mr. Garrick has appeared in a new character, Mr. Burkes speech gave extraordinary dis- satisfaction, Tis said there was a high- way robbery last evening in Pall Mali, were like the maxims of an exercise, and distracted poor Lady Harringtou, who want- ed news of her boy himself:, and cared noth- ing in comparison for Garrick or Burke. She believed she had acted for the best; but yet, whenever she looked at the miniature the fathers eyes reproached her. What would the Grange have been between us ~ they said; there are higher things than rank or fortune. Once she went so far as to write to Jasper that if he would come back she be- lieved she could not be angry with hPn, what- ever he did. In his answer, which was slow in reaching her, he replied that he would never marry a woman who did not care enough for him to give up all, that he hated the Grange, and thought of going to the wars. But he did not go to the wars. One Sat- urday in April news came to the village that Sir Jasper was lying ill in London, and my lady had ordered post-horses to meet her at Mildon, and was gone as fast as they could carry her to nurse him. Ev- ans, the under -gardener, brought down the tidings, which spread pretty quickly, but had not reached Dorothy when, in the after- noon, she started on a message she did not like to Dick Roistons father at River Farm, a couple of miles from the school. Every now and then, on a half-holiday, she made these little unsatisfactory expeditions, which never produced any result. Rolston was as full of oily gratitude as Dick was surly, but times were always bad, and Mr. Flemyng had promised; and Dorothy walked away with a baffling sense of weakness. She came home by the river. All the way from Belford to Mildon it was a deep, broad stream, up and down which rafts used to creep, bringing coal and carrying back wood to the port. On one side the shore shelved very gradually, flat gravelly reaches ran into the water, green with patches of the fleshy glasswort; on the other there were steep in-and-out banks, with sweet little calm hollows, and trees dipping into them. As Dorothy came along these banks the sun was setting, and flooded every thing with intense golden light. The water blazed with it; two or three coal-rafts, going up the river in slow procession, had hoisted old square sails, which caught the glory and gleamed like cloth of gold. There are commonplace things about us which now and then also wear a glory, I fancyrug- ged, worn, battered lives, some of them. The softest, tenderest shadows lay in the little curves of the bank, tiny leaves dain- tily uncurled themselves, primroses peeped out of the grass, and beyond the rounded points the golden river, strong and stead- fast, flowed downward to the great sea. The girl gathered primroses with crumply leaves, and lingered to watch the rafts out of sight, when suddenly a rustle close at hand and a scream startled her Oh, I shall drown! I shall drown ! It was Stephens voice, and Dorothy flew. On the other side of the little hollow Into which she had been looking the bank rose abruptly from the water. She heard crack- ling, rustling; above it all that shrill, pite- ous childs cry, Oh, I shall drown, I shall ! Dorothy was on the spot in a moment, tear- ing aside the bushes, looking, scrambling, clutching. Down below her, in the swift, smooth water, the boy was hanging; the bough on which he was clambering had broken; he had caught at one weak branch after anotherthe last was even now crack- ing in his hold; his white, terrified face turned upward, the strong current sweep- ing round him, a little toy-ship entangled in the twigs. Dorothy was powerless. She had no time for more than one horror-struck look, one piercing scream for help, when the last feeble support broke; the poor little white face floated helplessly away. Oh, the anguish of that momentthe horror of see- ing him borne from her! And then sudden- ly she heard a shout, flying steps crashing through the brush-wood, and Dick Rolston came leaping toward her. He is in the 62 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. water I she cried. There, there ! Dick dragged off his coat, and was down the bank and in the river in a moment, strik- ing out gallantly for the spot where he had caught a glimpse of little Stephen. Dorothy ran along the bank crying for help, half blinded by the brush-wood that beat in her face, now and then catching sight of the golden gleaming river and Dicks round head. She saw it disappear, and thought he was sinking, and screamed again more hoarsely; but he came up and shook him- sell; and went on like a young otter, and disappeared once more; and then she saw him making heavily for the shore, and knew that he had Stephen in his clutch. It was a terrible struggle. The current ran strongly, and his helpless burden dragged him down; and when he had nearly reached the shore he was so spent that he and Stephen were sinking together, when two men ran down, attracted by the cries, and jumped into the river, and with some diffi- culty got them out, both unconscious. They lay on the bank side by side, fair, delicate, tender-looking Stephen, and Dick with the surly lines still about his mouth, set hard with the might of that great struggle. The men scratched their heads and looked with rueful perplexity, while Dorothy was on her knees beside them trying all the simple means she could remember. Better hold them up by their heels, and let the water run out. Noa, thee shouldnt. Thee should take a bit o ash, and lay un crosswise, and then car un Wili you carry them to the school? Dorothy said, getting up quickly. That is the nearest house. I will go on and have things ready. S?ie was as good as her word. When the men carrying their dripping burdens came in through the green gates, Dorothy was waiting at the door; beds and hot blankets were ready, and little Molly sent as fast as she could run for the doctor. Before Mr. Jones arrived Stephen was sensible again, and clinging to Dorothy; and then one aft- er another came terrified stragglers from the GrangeMrs. Williams the housekeeper, Mr. Ardley the tutor, Evans, and Dacres the gamekeeperall frightened out of their wits. Stephen had escaped from Mr. Ard- ley, it seemed, and made off to the river to sail his boat; and we know what followed. Mrs. Williams, panting out her gratitude, was ready to kiss Dorothy. Im sure, miss, if my lady had lost both in one day ! she cried, with a gasp. That was the first news Dorothy had of Jaspers illness. An amazing valuable life, vastly valu- able, said Mr. Jones, anxiously. He must remain here for the present, and the most absolute quiet must be preserved. No sacri flee is too great for a young gentleman of his condition. When Mr. Jones said that, the girls quick spirit revolted a little from Stephen, the culprit, about whom there was this ado, to poor surly Dick, the hero, over whom no one was fussing. But when she had carried off the reluctant Mr. Jones to his side, she found her father tenderly busied about him. I have sent Molly to the farm, my dear, he said, softly. Poor little lad, poor little lad ! My good Sir, said Mr.lones, pompously, permit me to congratulate you upon the favorable opinion which I believe I may venture to express upon young Mr. Stephen Harringtons ultimate recovery. I had the honor of inoculating him for the small-pox. A most valuable life, Sir, vastly valuable. Sir, answered Mr. Flemyng, mildly, perhaps not so valuable as this. The next morning Stephen lay tossing about in a feverish attack brought on by the shock and wetting. Mr. Ardley had written to Lady Harrington in St. Jamess Square. Mrs. Williams established herself at the school to nurse Stephen; but Stephen would be nursed by no one but Dorothy, so that her being there was of no particular service, except when now and then there came a few minutes of unquiet sleep, and the girl would slip her hand from the clasp of the little hot fingers, and steal into the other quiet room, from which they had not shut out the sunshine, although Dick Rol- ston lay theredead. Yes, Dick. Poor, suriy, gruff, brave Dick. He had never revived. Somehow, when Stephen came round, they thought the stronger lad would soon recover, but the exhaustion of the struggle must have been too great. He could have saved himselt no doubt; and who knows the force of the in- stinct that he resisted? But he had done something far grander, for he had given himself to save another, and in that mo- ment of heroism God had taken him. What would you have had better? Which of us would nqt ask for such an end, blotting out so much that was unworthy? Do you think it was nothing to have gained those pitiful tears that were shed over him, Mr. Flemyngs and Dorothys and little simple Mollys, and the boys, coming in with hushed voices, one by one, to look reverently on the stili young face wearing its new glory, and ever after- ward to talk proudly of their school-fellow who had died like a hero? That one look at his face swept away all remembrances that were not of the noblest. He was always brave, said one. He fought the fellows who were stoning the dog, said another. Was it nothing to have gained such a mem- ory? And he had no mother. Poor Dick! This was far better. THE ASTRONOMICAL YEAR. 63 Dorothy wept bitter tears for him during the long nights when Stephen tossed and fretted if she was not close at hand. She was wearied out with all she had to do, and with an ever-present longing to hear how it fared with Jasper, fancying him ill, perhaps dying, and no word ever again to pass between them. Mrs. Williams every day went to the Grange to look after her staff there, and Mr. Ardley wandered sadly backward and forward, until he fonnd a fel- low-student in Mr. Flemyng, and then the two used to pace up and down under the sycamores talking of this edition and that. Dorothy, sitting one afternoon at Stephens window, looked down with a little wonder at the long black figures with their wigs and three-cornered hats, and the boys play- ing solemnly, and the little silif garden with daffodils flaunting in the sunshine, and the old sun-dial in the middle. Perhaps we never get over that feeling of wonder that all around us the world is so little changed when we are shaken to the centre. Stephen was ill, and Jasper perhaps dying, and Dick lying dead, and all went on as if they had never been. Life brings an answer to the riddle, and a comfort from it, but it is al- ways wonderful, and for a time perplexing; and Dorothy leaned her head against the window and thought of it. She did not notice a little commotion at the gates, nor Mollys awe-stricken voice upon the stairs, but she heard the door open softly, and turned round to see Lady Harrington stand- ing there, with a face as white as her pow- dered hair. May I come in ? she said, in an eager whisper. That is mamma ! cried out Stephen; and she was at his side with her arms round him in a moment. The room swam before Doro- thy, for there was another figure in the door- wayJasper, in his caped riding-coatJas- per, pale, thin, changed, but with the old look ia his eyes. Oh, he must not come in ! Lady Har- rington said, quickly. Dorothy, run out and stop him ! Was she smiling? Was it a dream? What could she do? Oh, Sir, she was be- ginning, falteringly, when she found herself in his hold. Only say you do not hate meyou for- give me, my dearest life! Tis almost im- possible that you should, and yet if you knew what I have endured! Twas when I was ill that I saw my madness! What, wont you forgive me? Nay. I will be for- givenI must! I see it in your eyes, that were ever the sweetest. Sweetest eyes were ever 5een. It is the old love-song, eternally new. Look. In the little dingy passage there are two lovers, al- most silent in the depth of their great joy; by Stephens bedside is poured out the yearn- ing of a mothers love; in a quiet room hard by, still and peaceful, lies Dick ,who had given his life for another. Ay, look! For, thank Heaven, though we are sad and sin- ful, there come to us foreshadowings of what we may one day taste in its perfection and in its infinity. The old school-house passed into other hands when Mr. Flemyng went to live, in his gentle, lingering way, at the Grange. Lady Harrington tended him kindly. Stephen was sent to Westminster. Jasper and Dorothy are together in their peaceful home when we turn our backs upon them. It is a farewell again which the trees whisper, but a fare- well without the pain. And Dick is not forgotten. THE ASTRONOMICAL YEAR AMONG the places a stranger at Wash- ington visits with eagerness there is no one capable of giving more satisfaction to a thoughtful mind than the National Observ- atory. It is not so much what one sees of arrangements, instrnments, and achromatic glasses, as what these and kindred objects suggest, that makes the day one of red le~t- ters ever afterward in the memory. Take, for example, the series of observations, made in many countries, ext ending over centuries, which has at length determined with great precision that the astronomical or, as it i& sometimes called, civil year consists of 365 days, 5 hours~ 48 minutes, and 49.7 seconds. This length, as is generally known, is about six hours greater than it was according to the estimates relied upon at the beginning of the Christian era. Reckoning by the data these last give, one day is lost every four years. Such an error, standing uncorrected for any considerable length of time, would be certain to produce awkward results. The day might come when harvest-home would return before the seed had germinated, Michaelmas be postponed to the end of win- ter, and Christmas occur in the vernal equi- nox. In fact, winter and summer, spring and autumn, as the years went round, would be perpetually changing places. It became necessary, therefore, in all countries where the astronomical year was recognized, to correct the calendar at intervals to prevent the increase of an evil for which no provis- ion was made. Julius Ca~sar was probably the first man in authority who attempted a permanent correction of the calendar, assisted by So- sigenes, an Egyptian astronomer. Their de- vice was to add a day every fourth year to February, and the principle adopted was so excellent that it has been both retained and extended to the present time. This correc- tion of time was ordered to be made in all countries where the Roman authority was acknowledged, and to secure a uniformity of

N. S. Dodge Dodge, N. S. The Astronomical Year 63-65

THE ASTRONOMICAL YEAR. 63 Dorothy wept bitter tears for him during the long nights when Stephen tossed and fretted if she was not close at hand. She was wearied out with all she had to do, and with an ever-present longing to hear how it fared with Jasper, fancying him ill, perhaps dying, and no word ever again to pass between them. Mrs. Williams every day went to the Grange to look after her staff there, and Mr. Ardley wandered sadly backward and forward, until he fonnd a fel- low-student in Mr. Flemyng, and then the two used to pace up and down under the sycamores talking of this edition and that. Dorothy, sitting one afternoon at Stephens window, looked down with a little wonder at the long black figures with their wigs and three-cornered hats, and the boys play- ing solemnly, and the little silif garden with daffodils flaunting in the sunshine, and the old sun-dial in the middle. Perhaps we never get over that feeling of wonder that all around us the world is so little changed when we are shaken to the centre. Stephen was ill, and Jasper perhaps dying, and Dick lying dead, and all went on as if they had never been. Life brings an answer to the riddle, and a comfort from it, but it is al- ways wonderful, and for a time perplexing; and Dorothy leaned her head against the window and thought of it. She did not notice a little commotion at the gates, nor Mollys awe-stricken voice upon the stairs, but she heard the door open softly, and turned round to see Lady Harrington stand- ing there, with a face as white as her pow- dered hair. May I come in ? she said, in an eager whisper. That is mamma ! cried out Stephen; and she was at his side with her arms round him in a moment. The room swam before Doro- thy, for there was another figure in the door- wayJasper, in his caped riding-coatJas- per, pale, thin, changed, but with the old look ia his eyes. Oh, he must not come in ! Lady Har- rington said, quickly. Dorothy, run out and stop him ! Was she smiling? Was it a dream? What could she do? Oh, Sir, she was be- ginning, falteringly, when she found herself in his hold. Only say you do not hate meyou for- give me, my dearest life! Tis almost im- possible that you should, and yet if you knew what I have endured! Twas when I was ill that I saw my madness! What, wont you forgive me? Nay. I will be for- givenI must! I see it in your eyes, that were ever the sweetest. Sweetest eyes were ever 5een. It is the old love-song, eternally new. Look. In the little dingy passage there are two lovers, al- most silent in the depth of their great joy; by Stephens bedside is poured out the yearn- ing of a mothers love; in a quiet room hard by, still and peaceful, lies Dick ,who had given his life for another. Ay, look! For, thank Heaven, though we are sad and sin- ful, there come to us foreshadowings of what we may one day taste in its perfection and in its infinity. The old school-house passed into other hands when Mr. Flemyng went to live, in his gentle, lingering way, at the Grange. Lady Harrington tended him kindly. Stephen was sent to Westminster. Jasper and Dorothy are together in their peaceful home when we turn our backs upon them. It is a farewell again which the trees whisper, but a fare- well without the pain. And Dick is not forgotten. THE ASTRONOMICAL YEAR AMONG the places a stranger at Wash- ington visits with eagerness there is no one capable of giving more satisfaction to a thoughtful mind than the National Observ- atory. It is not so much what one sees of arrangements, instrnments, and achromatic glasses, as what these and kindred objects suggest, that makes the day one of red le~t- ters ever afterward in the memory. Take, for example, the series of observations, made in many countries, ext ending over centuries, which has at length determined with great precision that the astronomical or, as it i& sometimes called, civil year consists of 365 days, 5 hours~ 48 minutes, and 49.7 seconds. This length, as is generally known, is about six hours greater than it was according to the estimates relied upon at the beginning of the Christian era. Reckoning by the data these last give, one day is lost every four years. Such an error, standing uncorrected for any considerable length of time, would be certain to produce awkward results. The day might come when harvest-home would return before the seed had germinated, Michaelmas be postponed to the end of win- ter, and Christmas occur in the vernal equi- nox. In fact, winter and summer, spring and autumn, as the years went round, would be perpetually changing places. It became necessary, therefore, in all countries where the astronomical year was recognized, to correct the calendar at intervals to prevent the increase of an evil for which no provis- ion was made. Julius Ca~sar was probably the first man in authority who attempted a permanent correction of the calendar, assisted by So- sigenes, an Egyptian astronomer. Their de- vice was to add a day every fourth year to February, and the principle adopted was so excellent that it has been both retained and extended to the present time. This correc- tion of time was ordered to be made in all countries where the Roman authority was acknowledged, and to secure a uniformity of 64 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. dates, the sixth day before the kalends of March was to be reckoned twice, for which reason the fourth year, now called leap-year, was by the Romans designated bissextile. But this ingenious contrivance did not make the calendar perfectly correct. The civil year was still at variance with the astronom- ical. There was a surplusage of eleven min- utes in the former after the double day had been added to ita trifling error for a mans lifetime, but, when multiplied by centuries, a marked quantity, threatening to interfere not only with social arrangements, but with the very existence of ecclesiastical law. The new Julian year was indeed a great gain over the old Roman year. It was a close approximation to correct measurement of time. But it contained an element of error, and could not remain permanently in nse, unless a means of absorbing the miscalcula- tion it perpetuated could be discovered. The necessities of the Catholic Church ul- timately led to the requisite improvement. The Council of Nice, which had assembled in the year 325 A.Th~ ordered, among other matters, that Easter should be celebrated on the first Sunday after the full moon next following the vernal equinox. This was a guide to other church festivals. Advent-Sun- day, Ascension-day, Whitsuntide, Trinity- Sunday, the forty days of Lent, the Ember- days, the Rogation-days, and others depend- ed upon Easter. They had become, in the course of ages, fasts and festivals intermin- gled with daily concerns of life. Planting and harvesting, dairy-work and sheep-shear- ing, felling of timber and salving of kine, brewing ale, preparing conserves, curing meats, housing garden-stuffs, distilling do- mestic spirits, and drying medicinal herbs, grew during the Dark Ages into supersti- tious connection with certain holy days. But as every revolving year failed to bring the earth quite back to the same point in the ecliptic, the sun that warmed, the stars that were supposed to vivify, and the ele- ments that nourished the sown seed grew slack in their work. The value of old tradi- tionsdecreased. Calculations failed. Farm- ers believed the seasons to be changing. In the fifteenth century nine days of variation had taken place, and the gap was constant- ly widening. Even during the previous century the dif- ference between the two yearsastronom- ical and civilhad become sufficiently im- portant to force upon the attention of pope and conclave the necessity of correcting the calendar. At the Council of Nice the vernal equinox had fallen on the 21st of March: it now fell on the 12th of the same month. The celebration of Easter, and of all feasts and fasts depending npon it, was therefore put out of joint. This caused infinite confusion, and for at least two centuries before its ac- complishment the enterprise of bringing the two years together again was meditated and discussed by scholars. But for the interrup- tion of the preliminary calculations by the death of John MUller, the astronomer select- ed to advise the pontiff~, it would probably have been effected by Sixtus IV. instead of Gregory XIII. Being thus deprived of the assistance of the man best able to accom- plish his objectthe well-known founder of the Nuremberg printing-house, and the most eminent astronomer of the fifteenth centurySixtus lost the honor of effecting the useful design. There is little cause of regret, howevet, on that score. Pope Gregory XIII. was not only a friend to, but a devotee of science. The task of reform could not have fallen into better hands. He was distinguished for his learning, and although succeeding to the pontificate when past seventy years of age, made the thirteen years of his rule il- lustrious by the promotion of education at Rome and throughout his states. His change of the Julian calendar, in spite of bitter op- position, to that which has since been called the Gregorian, did much to redeem the Rom- ish Church from its reputation of universal hostility to science. To restore the civil year to a correspond- ence with the astronomical, he ordered that the 5th of October, 1582, shc~uld be called the 15th. To prevent the intrusion of the same errors in the measurement of time in future ages, and to secure the recurrence of the festivals of the church at the same period of the year, he further decreed that every year whose number is not divisible by four should consist of three hundred and sixty- five days; every year which is so divisible, but not divisible by one hundred, of three hundred and sixty-six days; every year di- visible by one hundred, but not by four hun- dred, of three hundred and sixty-five; and every year divisible by four hundred, of three hundred and sixty-six. A more perfect cor- respondence of the civil and astronomical years will probably never be obtained. Aft- er the lapse of four thousand two hundred and thjrty-seven years the error will be less than one day. In the preparation of this rule every source of disagreement is esti- mated, and as far as possible corrected. The allowance of an extra day every fourth year is indeed a small excess; but this is not al- lowed to accumulate, for at the commence- ment of every century the centennial year is not to consist of three hundred and sixty-six days, or, in other words, is not to be counted a leap-year, unless its number can be divided by four hundred. Thus the year 1600 was a leap-year, and the year 2000 will be the same; but the years 1700 and 1800 contained, and the ~year 1900 will contain, only 365 days. And now comes in a note from history which ought never to be forgotten. Thi8 IN THE SEED. 65 decree of Gregory XIII., exacted by necessi- ty, founded upon science, universal in bene- fit, recommended by common-sense, tainted with no superstition, and asking in its ac- ceptance no concession of religious faitha decree that commended its terms by their universal application, met a want that was every where felt, settled a question that had vexed the world for half a decade of centuries, and corrected, as it was allowed to do by men of science, an evil that was felt through every ramification of the social condition of Europewas accepted in Italy and Spain only. France partially adopted it, which was no better than to have reject- ed it. As for England, she would none of it; nor Germany, nor the Northern States, nor Holland, nor Russia. The authoritative demand of the pope for immediate and uni- versal adoption of the reformed calendar, no matter by what sufficient reasons recom- mended, ~or necessities required, or good ren- dered certain, was to be resisted. Con- science, stone-blind or enlightened, required opposition to whatever proceeded from Rome, and was to be obeyed. It reminds one of the couplet good, eccentric Rowland Hillnot he of the postag0 reform, but his godly ancestor of even higher renownused to repeat at his table whenever sectarian prejudices had hindered his philanthropic labors: Begone, old bigotry, abhorred By all who love our common Lord ! The states which acknowledged the ec- clesiastical sovereignty of the Bishop of Rome gave willing compliance to Pope Gregorys decree. The Protestant states delayed. All through the long reign of Elizabeth, tbe tyranny of James, the fickle- ness of Charles I., and the Commonwealth the old style obtained in England. It was not until the days of George the Second that England and her colonies adopted the Gregorian calendar. The decree was issued in 1582. Parliament established its pur- port as the law of the land in 1751. Other Protestant states followed always with protest, however, against the authority of the pope. Russia adheres, or did ten years ago, to the Julian calendar. The business incon- venience of this is great. Letters to foreign countries, orders for shipments, times of de- parture for steamers and sailing vessels, news from abroad, advertisements of the holding of international fairs, and one knows not what besides, must all bear two datesold style and new. The mariner can not read the nautical almanac, nor the merchant accept a draft from abroad, nor the broker determine foreign exchanges, without having two dates at hand. Ad- vices can not be understood, bills of lading can not be made effective, telegrams can not be comprehended, without an extra labor, small in each instance, but large in the ag- gregate, which the Julian calendar in Rus- sia imposes. Does he mean old style or new? is a question asked in St. Peters- burg and Moscow thousands of times in a day. IN THE SEED. You have chosen coldly to cast away The love they tell you is faithless found. Pity or trust it is vain to pray Your heart they have hardened, your senses bound. You have broken the wreaths that clasped you round, The strength of the vine and the opening flower: Love, torn and trampled on stony ground, Is left to die in its blossom hour. Well, go your ways; but, wherever they lead, They can not leave me wholly behind. From the flower, as it falls, there falls a seed Whose roots round the roots of life shall wind. So sure as the soul in the flesh is shrined, So sure as the fire in the cloud Is set, Be you ever so cold or ever so blind, You shall find and fathom and feel me yet. As the germ of a tree in the close dark earth Struggles for life in its breathless tomb, Quickening painfully into birth, Writhing its way up to light and room; As it spreads its growth till the great boughs loom A shade and a greenness wide and high, And the birds sing under the myriad bloom, And the top looks into the infinite sky; So shall it be with the love to-day Flung under your feet as a worthless thing. The hour and the spot I can not say Where the seed, fate-sown, at last shall spring: VOL. XLVI.No. 271.6 Beyond, it may be, the narrow ring Of our little world in swarming space, After weary length of journeying, It shall drop from the wind to its destined place. But somewhere, I know, it shall reach its height! Sometime it shall conquer this cruel wrong I The sun by day, and the moda by night, Shower and season, shall bear it along. You will sleep and wake while it waxes strong And green beside the appointed ways, Till, full of blossom and dew and song, You shall find it there after many days. Perchance it shall be amid long despair Of toiling over the desert sand; When your eyes are burned by the level glare, And the staff is fire to your bleeding hand. Then the waving of boughs in a silent land, And a wonder of green afar shall spread, And your feet as under a tent shall stand, With shadow and sweetness about your head; And my soul, like the unseen scent of the flower, Shall circle the heights and the depths of the tree: Nothing of all in that consummate hour That shall not come as a part of me! This worid or that may my triumph see But love and life can never be twain, And time as a breath of the wind shall be, When we meet and grow together again!

Kate Putnam Osgood Osgood, Kate Putnam In the Seed 65-66

IN THE SEED. 65 decree of Gregory XIII., exacted by necessi- ty, founded upon science, universal in bene- fit, recommended by common-sense, tainted with no superstition, and asking in its ac- ceptance no concession of religious faitha decree that commended its terms by their universal application, met a want that was every where felt, settled a question that had vexed the world for half a decade of centuries, and corrected, as it was allowed to do by men of science, an evil that was felt through every ramification of the social condition of Europewas accepted in Italy and Spain only. France partially adopted it, which was no better than to have reject- ed it. As for England, she would none of it; nor Germany, nor the Northern States, nor Holland, nor Russia. The authoritative demand of the pope for immediate and uni- versal adoption of the reformed calendar, no matter by what sufficient reasons recom- mended, ~or necessities required, or good ren- dered certain, was to be resisted. Con- science, stone-blind or enlightened, required opposition to whatever proceeded from Rome, and was to be obeyed. It reminds one of the couplet good, eccentric Rowland Hillnot he of the postag0 reform, but his godly ancestor of even higher renownused to repeat at his table whenever sectarian prejudices had hindered his philanthropic labors: Begone, old bigotry, abhorred By all who love our common Lord ! The states which acknowledged the ec- clesiastical sovereignty of the Bishop of Rome gave willing compliance to Pope Gregorys decree. The Protestant states delayed. All through the long reign of Elizabeth, tbe tyranny of James, the fickle- ness of Charles I., and the Commonwealth the old style obtained in England. It was not until the days of George the Second that England and her colonies adopted the Gregorian calendar. The decree was issued in 1582. Parliament established its pur- port as the law of the land in 1751. Other Protestant states followed always with protest, however, against the authority of the pope. Russia adheres, or did ten years ago, to the Julian calendar. The business incon- venience of this is great. Letters to foreign countries, orders for shipments, times of de- parture for steamers and sailing vessels, news from abroad, advertisements of the holding of international fairs, and one knows not what besides, must all bear two datesold style and new. The mariner can not read the nautical almanac, nor the merchant accept a draft from abroad, nor the broker determine foreign exchanges, without having two dates at hand. Ad- vices can not be understood, bills of lading can not be made effective, telegrams can not be comprehended, without an extra labor, small in each instance, but large in the ag- gregate, which the Julian calendar in Rus- sia imposes. Does he mean old style or new? is a question asked in St. Peters- burg and Moscow thousands of times in a day. IN THE SEED. You have chosen coldly to cast away The love they tell you is faithless found. Pity or trust it is vain to pray Your heart they have hardened, your senses bound. You have broken the wreaths that clasped you round, The strength of the vine and the opening flower: Love, torn and trampled on stony ground, Is left to die in its blossom hour. Well, go your ways; but, wherever they lead, They can not leave me wholly behind. From the flower, as it falls, there falls a seed Whose roots round the roots of life shall wind. So sure as the soul in the flesh is shrined, So sure as the fire in the cloud Is set, Be you ever so cold or ever so blind, You shall find and fathom and feel me yet. As the germ of a tree in the close dark earth Struggles for life in its breathless tomb, Quickening painfully into birth, Writhing its way up to light and room; As it spreads its growth till the great boughs loom A shade and a greenness wide and high, And the birds sing under the myriad bloom, And the top looks into the infinite sky; So shall it be with the love to-day Flung under your feet as a worthless thing. The hour and the spot I can not say Where the seed, fate-sown, at last shall spring: VOL. XLVI.No. 271.6 Beyond, it may be, the narrow ring Of our little world in swarming space, After weary length of journeying, It shall drop from the wind to its destined place. But somewhere, I know, it shall reach its height! Sometime it shall conquer this cruel wrong I The sun by day, and the moda by night, Shower and season, shall bear it along. You will sleep and wake while it waxes strong And green beside the appointed ways, Till, full of blossom and dew and song, You shall find it there after many days. Perchance it shall be amid long despair Of toiling over the desert sand; When your eyes are burned by the level glare, And the staff is fire to your bleeding hand. Then the waving of boughs in a silent land, And a wonder of green afar shall spread, And your feet as under a tent shall stand, With shadow and sweetness about your head; And my soul, like the unseen scent of the flower, Shall circle the heights and the depths of the tree: Nothing of all in that consummate hour That shall not come as a part of me! This worid or that may my triumph see But love and life can never be twain, And time as a breath of the wind shall be, When we meet and grow together again! 66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. [Jietter il.] CADALLAN IN ROME TO PENDA IN BRITAIN. Xth day of Quinctilis, Year of Rome DCCCXXXV. 1) ELOVED FRIEND,See how I keep my romise to tell you) by letter, all about the home life of Romans, who are just stow OUT masters. I write on triple-weft charta Augusta, as smooth as a ladys cheek, and which takes the color for my drawings more kindly than does any other sort of the paper of Egypt. I have come, as you know, as a messenger from Agricola, now among the hills of Cale- donia, bearing a laurel-decked letter to his late consular associate, Titus Flavius Domi- tian, for whom the soldiers shouted Impera- tor! and he now wears the purple. It is our best policy, dear Penda, to serve well when we can not reign; and it is for that reason that I joined the army and am now here. I am lodged in the house of the young pa- trician Caius Cornelius Tacitus, who, you know, married Julia, the sweet daughter of Agricola, in the very year when her father was made governor of Britain. I will not now tell you of our perilous journey through Gaul. I will only write that I crossed the Channel from the chalk cliffs to Gessoriacum in a large galley on a calm day, with ten horsemen who composed my guard, and their spirited little beasts and mine from the pastures of Plavia Cmsa- riensis, as our masters call the country of our beloved Iceni. Across broad plains and dismal marshes, and over great wooded hills and lofty mountains, we made ~ur way into Italy, and entered Rome by the Flavinian Way, which is lined with tombs or sepulchral urns. The laws of the Twelve Tables for- bid all burials within the city, and so the graves of the poor and the stately urns hold- ing the ashes of the rich (for they burn the bodies) are by the way-side. These tombs are sometimes made at the public expense. I send you a drawing of one of the plainer sort. It is that of Marcus Aurelius Seena- dus, one of Augustus Cmsars veteran sol- diers. It bears his effigy, by which you may see how honored men dress on public occa- I also send you one of an elegant urn u stands upon a pedestal of porphyry, not distant from the other. It is wrought of eck marble, sueh as the statue of Seneca as just been made of. Upon the lid stands sorrowing boy with a torch inverted so as it. This is a favorite way here A syr sing the end of life. So soon as we had entered Rome my guards, before partaking of refreshments, hurried to the Temple of Concord, on the slope of the Capitoline, to pay their vows to their gods; while I, with better knowledge, learned from the venerated priests of the groves, breathed a silent hymn of gratitude to the Omnipotent One whose chief minister MONUMENTAL cau.

Benson J. Lossing Lossing, Benson J. The Old Romans At Home 66-79

66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. [Jietter il.] CADALLAN IN ROME TO PENDA IN BRITAIN. Xth day of Quinctilis, Year of Rome DCCCXXXV. 1) ELOVED FRIEND,See how I keep my romise to tell you) by letter, all about the home life of Romans, who are just stow OUT masters. I write on triple-weft charta Augusta, as smooth as a ladys cheek, and which takes the color for my drawings more kindly than does any other sort of the paper of Egypt. I have come, as you know, as a messenger from Agricola, now among the hills of Cale- donia, bearing a laurel-decked letter to his late consular associate, Titus Flavius Domi- tian, for whom the soldiers shouted Impera- tor! and he now wears the purple. It is our best policy, dear Penda, to serve well when we can not reign; and it is for that reason that I joined the army and am now here. I am lodged in the house of the young pa- trician Caius Cornelius Tacitus, who, you know, married Julia, the sweet daughter of Agricola, in the very year when her father was made governor of Britain. I will not now tell you of our perilous journey through Gaul. I will only write that I crossed the Channel from the chalk cliffs to Gessoriacum in a large galley on a calm day, with ten horsemen who composed my guard, and their spirited little beasts and mine from the pastures of Plavia Cmsa- riensis, as our masters call the country of our beloved Iceni. Across broad plains and dismal marshes, and over great wooded hills and lofty mountains, we made ~ur way into Italy, and entered Rome by the Flavinian Way, which is lined with tombs or sepulchral urns. The laws of the Twelve Tables for- bid all burials within the city, and so the graves of the poor and the stately urns hold- ing the ashes of the rich (for they burn the bodies) are by the way-side. These tombs are sometimes made at the public expense. I send you a drawing of one of the plainer sort. It is that of Marcus Aurelius Seena- dus, one of Augustus Cmsars veteran sol- diers. It bears his effigy, by which you may see how honored men dress on public occa- I also send you one of an elegant urn u stands upon a pedestal of porphyry, not distant from the other. It is wrought of eck marble, sueh as the statue of Seneca as just been made of. Upon the lid stands sorrowing boy with a torch inverted so as it. This is a favorite way here A syr sing the end of life. So soon as we had entered Rome my guards, before partaking of refreshments, hurried to the Temple of Concord, on the slope of the Capitoline, to pay their vows to their gods; while I, with better knowledge, learned from the venerated priests of the groves, breathed a silent hymn of gratitude to the Omnipotent One whose chief minister MONUMENTAL cau. THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 67 rules the day. After ablutions at the ther- m~e on the Via Lata, I passed slowly along the Via Saera in meridian heat, resting a little in the shade of the Arch of Titus, and thence to the audience chamber of the im- perial home on the Palatine. I put Agric- olas dispatches into the hands of the em- peror, and then sought the houselof Tacitus in the Carina~, at the corner of a little angi- portus. The emperor treats me kindly, for I bore him good news. He commended me to sen- ators and nobles, who call me Cadallan the Pictor; and sometimes, in good nature, they fondle me as they would a girl, for I am fair and ruddy, and they look upon picture-mak- ing, in which I delight, as effeminate busi- ness, fitting for the occupation of the de- spised Greeks only. But it suits my fancy and serves us both, for by a few lines and a little color I can tell you more about the home life of this people than by writing over many leaves. I have been a welcome guest in some of the best houses in Rome; and with the bright young Cams Plinius Cecilins Secundus, who pleads so eloquently before the courts of the centumviri and the senate, I have visited his country house at Laurentum, seventeen miles from the city, which belonged to his uncle and foster-father, the admiral who lost his life at Stabhn when Pompeii and Heren- laneum were buried in lava and ashes seven years ago. He is enlarging and adorning it. I have also been to Varros villa at Casinum, which Antony plundered and greatly in- jured; but it is magnificent even now. I have learned much of Roman life by con- tinued observation and inquiry, and what I have learned I will now tell you. There re two sorts of houses in Rome. One is for the common peol)le, merchants and me- chanics, and they are called insuiw, because there are several of them in a group, like lit- tle islands. Those of each group are gener- ally owned by one man, who hires the houses to others. In one of these, close by the Ap- pian Way, lived that Paulus, a Jew (whom your father, as he told me, saw here), who was brought to Rome a prisoner about twen- ty years ago, accused by his countrymen of sedition, because he proclaimed a new relig- ion started in Jud~a by a man who, they say, declared himself to be King of the Jews, and which has made so great a stir there an here that the emperor has forbidden these Christians, as they are called, assembling to- gether. These plainer houses are usually one story in height, with only three, and some- times four, rooms. The other sort of houses, belonging to people of quality, is called domus. Some of these are magnificent, and have as many as four floors, one above the other. The first floor is for the use of the servants, and the bath. The second floor contains the grand apartments for guests and the fam- ily, including the great eating-hall. The new city will be mnch more magnificent than the old one was when Nero, as many believe, set it on fire eighteen years ago. The streets are made wider, and are kept clean by great sewers, and rivers of water that flow through it from the distant hills KEYS. 68 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. aloug magnificent aqueducts. The houses are larger than before, aud niany are built f Alban stone, and are so made fire-proof. Before the better sort of houses are vesti- bules, or opeu courts, adjoining the street. ~ach house incloses a vestibule on three sides. In the middle portion is the front- door, two-leaved in form, furnished with a movable lock, and also bolts and bars. Some of these doors are very elegant. I have seen one made of polished marble, and two others were of bronze. Such is the janna of the son of Neros wealthy freed- man on the Vicus Tuscus. Rich ornaments cover many of them, and the locks also bear beautiful devices. The keys are multiform, as the drawings show. Some smaller keys, for securing chests and cabinets, are fasten- ed to finger-rings, and used as seals upon the mouths of the amphor~ of the wine-cel- lar, which none but the master dare break. Most of the doors have knockers made of bronze, often of curious workmanship, such as you see here, which shows a satyrs head. Many have bells hangin~ outside. These knockers and bells summon the por- ter, who is chained within the ostium, or front hall, close to the door (with a fettered dog for his companion), and has a little room within reach of his tether. Some of these bells are beautifully wrought, as you see; and on one of them, used in this hos- pitable house, is a Greek inscription in Ro- man letters th~ t signifies Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, which, Senea taught, are the four elements of nature. The same bells are used for calling the family from bed and to their meals. They are also hung at the gates of the temples, and smaller ones are often fastened to the necks of horses, oxen, and sheep, attached to straps. The city watchmen carry them at night. I give you the forms of some of them, but I can not send you their sweet sounds, which often rival the melody of the nightingale in your own dear Cauti. I am told that in Athens the doors of houses close upon the streets open outward, and that persons about to go out knock on the inside to notify the passer- by on the narrow pavement to get out of the way. In the event of a marriage the doors here are adorned with pots and wreaths of bay and myrtle, and musicians play in the vesti- bule, while the people stand in crowds at the gate, and there receive each a little bride - cake, made of white flour from the corn of Dalmatia, mixed with anise and new wine. A birth is announced by suspending a ehaplet of sweet flowers, such as the rose of Persia and the heliotrope of Sicily, upon the front-door. A death is indicated by pots of cypress set in front of the door. Some- times, on festive occasions, the whole vesti- bule is covered with branches of trees and flowering shrubs. So covered was the street court of Senator Dentatus, the other day, when his daughter was married to a nephew of Flavius Josephus, an honored Roman Jew BELLS. KNOcKER. THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 69 now living here, and a great favorite of the Empress Domitia. In the evening the whole space was lighted by manycolored I lanterns, which made the falling waters of [ the fountain appear like a shower of pre- I - dons stones. I have spoken of the bath oil the lower floor. There is one in every good house, for the Romans have learned from the Greeks t e advantages of cleanliness. Tbey never ail to bathe just before the evening meal, the principal one of the day, which is par- taken of by the higher classes at abont the ninth hour. There are magnificent public baths open every day from sunrise till sun- set to all classes of people. Connected with those are ample places for exercise and a ausement, schools, and hall for eating, where the bathers pay for what they con- sume. The price for a bath is only one ~uadrans, the smalles copper coin in use here. Children are admitted free. Men ail women have generally bathed together; but a more decent way has been introduced ~n the new thermie, where they have sepa- l-ate apartments. Bathers who can afford it :iire men or boys to rub them with pumice, ~j7 Iii \\ / or with an iron instrument called a strigil, an also with a sponge or towel. The poor rub themselves. The baths are generally divided into five compartments. The bather first enters a cold room called the frigidarium, where the dis- robing is done. From this he passes into V e tepidariuni, or warm room. Out of the w2irin-alr room he goes into the sudotio, or sweating-room, which is filled with warm vapor, and thence into the bath-room, which is furnished with a large marble basin with a wide rim, whereon the bathers sit waiting their turn to be rubbed, or rub themselves. Under the sweating and bath rooms are the fires that give heat to the air and water. After leaving the bath the bather passes slowly througb the sweating-room into the tepidarium. There he is anointed with per- fumed oils brought from room back of the frigidarium, where it is kept in jars on shelves like those in the shop of an apoth- ecary. After remaining in tile tepidarium long enough to become cool, the bather go& into the frigidarinm and dresses himself The several rooms which form a complete batil may be seen in the drawing, beginning with the hot bath on the left, and passing to the rigllt, through the sweating, the warm. an tile cold room to chamber. the perfume V ry rich women sometimes bathe in milk, because it makes the skin soft and white. Neros queen, Poppma Sabina, the marvelous- ly beautiful as well as the marvelously wick- ed usurper of Octavias bed, kept fifty she- asses, even when journeying, whiell were milked to furnish her with the means for a daily bath in the fluid. The atrium, or large family apartment, is the most important room in the house. The rich fit it up in great splendor sometimes. for in it they receive their guests, and also A QUADRANS. INTEliIOR OF I3ATnINQ-RooM. STRIOILS. 70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the train of people who come daily to pay their respects to the master of the house, or to accept presents of food or money, or fa- vors of some kind. Many rich and grw t men have a host of such retainers, who are called clients, and take pride in the number of them. In the more simple days of the re- public they were often invited to dine with the master, but now they accept food, which they carry aw~ y in a basket, or take an equivalent in money. With this custom the wits are making merry. Sometimes the ceiling of the atrium may be seen painted in gay colors, or covered with beaten gold. The walls have pictures painted on them representing the gods, or scenes of love, war, and of the chase, or are hung with rich stuffs from the loonis of Per- sia and lad, while the floors are often made of many-colored stones in beautiful forms. In niches stand marble statues, and upon brackets are busts, and from the ceiling hangs a lamp of excellent workmanship. In this room the family daily assemble, and here the morning sacrifice is made at a little altar. Here also the wax figures of the an- cestors of the family are kept. In the atrium the pedagogne often teaches the children grammar, and there the motber, if she be faithful, instructs them in the higher moral- ities of life. Alas! there are few Cornelias now. Most of the Roman matrons ought to blush if they look upon her statue when they cross the Forum Romanum. The spinning and weaving implements of the household may be often found in the atrium, and scattered about are the toys of children, In one corner, covered with a cur- tain, may be seen a case filled with books from Greece and a few from the pens of Ro- mans, and to these the booksellers from the Vicus Sandalarius-where the shoe-makers aboundoften make additions. It seems a little curious, dear Penda, that these two trades should be carried on together in the same street, jointly supplying the head with- in and the feet without ivith needful things. But I must not pause to reflect, but will proceed to say that in this atrium is the focus, or fire-place, dedicated to the lares of the family. It is the family altar, for these people really worship fire nuder gross sym- bols, as we do in more ethereal similitudes. Until the reign of Tiberius C~esar the cook- ing was done at the fire in the atrium, for there was none elsewhere; but now there is a separate apartment for that business. In the atrium yen may also see many seats, some very pkin, and nothin more than a wooden stool with three legs. Others arc more elegantly wrought, and have cushioned backs, with cushions on the seats, made of down or feathers or the blossom of the sweet calamus, covered with cloth made brilliant m ith Tyrian dyes. Sometimes they are made of osiers, with high hollow backs, and some- times they are curiously inlaid with wood, ivory, gold, and silver. I saw one that was brought from Persia, and presente to Augustus Cnsar, that was made wholly of ivory, and has cushions covered with silk from Damascus. Here, too, may be see lit- tIe tables for the seamstresses and for other purposes, some elegantly wrought after the manner of the eats. There, too, are chests with drawers, presses for clothing, amid cask- ets with jewels; and at wedding times the n ptial couch is placed in the atriumthe room most sacred to the familyopposite to the entrance door. The cnlina, or kitchen, is near the eating- hail. There all the cooking is done, amid from it the filled dishes are carried to the eatnir-hall or to the diwta. The utensils in the kitchen are mammy in number amid kind, from the little short-handled spoon to the ROOMS IN A BATh. THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 71 great long -handled one (with which the chief cook, sitting like a king upon a high stool, reaches to every kettle and tastes the broth), or the stately cald on in which the meats and vegetables are seethed. The cooks here require a great number of utensils, for they have a larger variety of food from the earth, air, and water to pre- pare than those of Britain, where diet is sim- he. Some of the caklrous, made of cop- per, are of enormous size. The saucepans are also made of copper, and often have or- namented handles. There are skillets of pottery and iron; small pots and kettles; frying-pans, broilers, and steamers; ladles, flesh-hooks, colanders and fine strainers; salt-cups, and with powdered boxes~Jlled spices from the East; jars of honey; knives with curiously wrought handles of wood, stags horns, and ivory; dishes for gravy, sometimes made of silver; broad plates for the flesh, and deep dishes for soups; and vases for oil, vine0ar, and liquors. I might mention otherthings; butwhatlhave said, with the drawings and explanations, will give you an idea of the furnishing of a Ro- man kitchen for cooking, with a kind of stove made of baked earth, and a charcoal fire. Among the drawings is one of a beautiful strainer, which a client of Cossus gave to that master of oratory not more than a month ago. It came from a Corinthian kitchen; and as you are little acquainted with the re- ligion of ti e Greeks, I will explain the fig- ures in the device, which are made of raised silver, on the handle. At the lower end is the god Pan, with a goats ears, horns, and less, pushing a full boat that is standing upon its hinder feet. Between them is a Pans pipe, an instrument of music made of reed, on which is a horn full of fruit, denot- ing plenty. Above them are two wild-boars. and again above these is a sheep. Near th( TABLES. ( I~ CHAIRS. 72 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. KITChEN UTENSILS. strainer is an idol fixed upon a stick, at the foot of a tree, in front of an altar on which are two pomegranates; by it are seen a spear and harp. Cossus tells me that his client says these figures have a symbolical rela- tion to some religious rites of the Greeks in the worship of Bacehus, an ancient Indian godthe god of wine, and drunkards who are made half beasts by itand that this strainer was used for clearing the liquors in A WINh~ ,~EMNEE. the kitchen by the butler before the cup- bearer carried them to the master and hi guests at table. The ordinary meats used here are veal, beef:, lamb, mutton, pork, the flesh of goats, and poultry, such as geese, hens, ducks, Ca- pons, and pullets. The deer, hare, rabbit, and dormouse rank among the delieacies. So also do peacocks, partridges, hens from Africa, pigeons, and several smaller kinds of birds, such as the thrush, woodcock, and turtle-dove. The wild-boar is occasionally seen upon table; so also is the flesh of the bear. Fish of many kinds are plentiful; and some are regarded not only as delicacies, but as luxuries. The turbot is a favorite on the royal table, where ~ is drowned in olive- oil from Venafrum. ~ullets are dainties, and herrings from Lipara are eagerly sought. Lampreys from the Sicilian whirlpool are eaten only by the rich, and delight the epi- cure. Lobsters and crabs are eaten cold, with sliced eggs; and oysters from Pelorus are great dainties. They have a variety of sauces; and at the table of Licetus I partook of a dish highly seasoned with pepper from the Indian isles and salt from Sarmatia. It was composed of flesh small minced, and mixed with vinegar, blood, toasted cheese, parsley, cummin, thyme, coriander, and oth- er odoriferous herbs and seeds, onions roast- ed in ashes, poppies, dried grapes, honey, and pomegranate kernels, and made into the con- sistency of a pudding or sausage. Here we have vegetables unknown in our dear Britain. The delicious asparagus from the gardens of Lanrentum, radishes from THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 73 rtin~, turnips from Thebes, beets from Ascra, cabbages, musbrooms, and truffles from the surrounding fields, are all plentiful in their season. Cucumbers and water-mel ons abound. Peaches come from the Levant, ud delicious apples from the orchards of Tivoli. Nuts, and cakes rich with butter, line-flavored with almonds, or sweet with honey, are served with the wine, which is often spiced and sweetened and cooled into delicious draughts by snow brought from the Apennines, which is carried about the streets in little chariots lined with straw. The cooks are mostly Greeks or Sicilians, a d are very expert. It is said that one in the emperors kitchen has boiled and roast- A the two halves of a pig at the same time vithout dividing it; and another has made pork appear to the taste like fish and wood- ~igeon; while a third, from Syracuse, so dis- guised a herring that Domitian thought it was a lamprey. But the emperor is no epi- cure, and is as easily served as deceived. lie cares not whether lie washes down his Malian apple with a draught of cold water or of the costliest wine. And now, dear Penda, having shown you the kitchen and the food there prepared for the table, I will lead you into the great ban- met-hall, that you may see in what manner the patricians of Rome take their meals. In ancient days the eating-hall was on the lower floor; bnt in the course of time, when ktxury brought in new manners, and the soft Greek habit of lying upon a couch at table, instead of sitting upright as the stur- tier old Romans and the Greeks own stur- dier ancestors did, became fashionable, the dining-room was placed on the same floor with the atrium. It was anciently called the cwnacitlu ,or room to dine in, but now it is called the tricliniurn, because the table- couches are generally made to hold three persons each. There is also in each house a smaller room for children and others to eat in, calle the diwta. Sometimes this contains a sleeping-bed, and is used as a sort of nurs- ery; and herein little games and amusements are carried on. That the Greeks, from whom the Romans learned the use of the bath and the lazy cus- tom of lying down to eat, sat upright in their olden time, I learned only yesterday, when the master now teaching the little children of Cossus read to me the account given by an old Greek poet of the arrival of Ulysses, a celebrated prince, at the palace of Alcinous of Ph~acia, after a shipwreck, who caused his guest to sit at table in a magnificent chair. And it was not until the end of the second Punic war, two hundred and fifty years ago, I am told, that the Romans adopted the luxurious habit of lying at meat. It soon became fashionable all over the Roman empire; and now, when luxury in every form and voluptuous ease have taken the place of simplicity, frugality, a d useful activity, it is practiced even by the common people, who lie upon benches when they eat their brown bread and acorns and fish from the Tiher. This custom began with the daily use of the bath, which was takeu just before the evening meal, when the bathers lay down upon a couch and there received food from their attendants. The eating-bed, or conch, as I have said, was usually made for three persons. I send you a drawing of one with only two persons upon itCossus and his wifewith the lit- tle table in general use before them, on which is a small loaf of bread, a vase of mixed wine and milk, and a lamprey. They are reclin 9 __ -~ / I / F7~ LYINC AT TABLE. 74 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ing at the head of the banquet. Their guests are three, six, or nine in number, upon one, two, or three conches. And here I will give you the reason for each couch holding three persons. The rule laid down by Varro, the most learned and elegant of the Romans, they tell me, was that the number of guests should never be less than the Graces (three) nor more than the Muses, or nine. This rule is sometimes disregarded, for I have seen twelve guests at supper. In the frigidari- am of the baths of Tiberins C~sar, which the great fire spared, I have seen a painting on the wall of eleven guests at a feast with the master and mistress of the house, all on one long couch of semicircular form There is a sort of battlement in front of the feast ers, beautifully cushioned, on which they lean and receive their food and wine, and under them is a soft mattress. Attendants are in waiting. Among them is a woman giving them musical entertainment with a double flute, such as are used in the theatres. The greatest luxury and extravagance are sometimes displayed by the rich at their banquets. Sometimes the table - beds are made of costly wood, adorned with tortoise- shells, ivory, or some more valuable thing, and glitter with precious stones. Rich quilts or mattresses, purple in color, em- broidered with gold, and adorned with leaves and flowers of all colors, cover the couches. Cups and goblets of silver, gold, and crystal, and drinking-horns adorned with the heads of animals, abound, and are arranged in perfect order. Glasses, vials, vases, and other objects, curiously wrought, stand before the guests with sauces and spices; and beautiful boys are usually em- A OUP-BEARER. ployed as cup-bearers and waiters, often not so much for real service as for the pleasure which their sweet faces and graceful forms give to the guests. Some pour out the wine, and others bear it to the company Their faces are painted to heighten their beauty, and the hair of each is arranged in a pleasiiig manner, sometimes with a wreath of laurel, fastened with a eparkling buckle. rJ7llelr tunics are fine and thin, so as to dis- play all motions of the body, and are girt about the waist with ribbons, and tucked up in such a manner as to leave them hang- ing in folds on all sides, so that they do not fall quite to the knee. There are sometimes as many as seven conrses, each served upon a different table to each guest. The feast ends with pastry and fruit as a dessert. The tables are brought in, at each course, fully set, and the guest may choose what he pleases from that which is before him The guests are often enlivened by the music of the flute and lyre Public banquets are given on occasions. At these one of the cempany is chosen to preside as rex conrivii, or king of the feast, whose business is to assign to each guest his place according to rank and circumstance. His will is law during the feast, which every one is compelled to obey. Sometimes he plays the petty tyrant, and exercises his ca- price in a most annoying manner, such as pouring wine upon the head of a guest who may refuse to drink. All of the great ban- quets are given in the evening, as well as private suppers The breakfast an dinner are slight iepasts taken by the family in the di~ta. The Egyptians, I am told, had a strange custom at their public feasts and the entertainments of the rich in the old r ages of the nation. At the end of the feast a bier with a small wooden or clay figure of a dead corpse was brought in, and the bear- er of it went to each guest and said, Look upon tbis. Eat, drink, and be merry; hul know that you shall one day be like it. I have seen here in the booksellers shops lit- tle earthen figures of such corpses, a span ion0, tha.t were 1)1 aced upon the tables of the Egyptians at the end of their feasts. This maybe pleasant to the spirits of that strange people, who neitber burn nor bury their dead, but perfume them and box them up in wooden cases for preservation, as we do s~ it- ed stur~,eon for the Levantine market. But we, dear Penda, do not like the intrusion of such reminders of destiny, and would regard a deaths-head where there is good cheer as an impertinence. The furniture of the tables of rich Romans shows a great variety of forms and workman- ship. It consists chiefly of vases of all sizes for liquors, oils, and perfumes; flagons, bot- tles, goblets, pitchers, salvers, plates, bowl., milk and houey pots, dishes for meats mud vegetables, gravy dishes, drinking cups a THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 75 pots, standing cups, chalices, vials, craters, knives, spoons, small flesh-hooks; fruit dish- es of wood, clay, and metal; and linen nap- kins and towels, sometimes richly embroid- ~red. The vessels are made of brass, bronze, wood, clay, stone, glass, silver, gold, and precious stones, such as onyx, agate, jasper, ad carnelian. Among the vessels of his table most prized by Nero were his magnifi- cent goblets of rock-crystal wrought by the best Etruscan artists. The most beautiful of the vases that I have seen were brought from Corinth long after Mummins bnrned that city. They were found buried in ruins. One of these, made of terra cotta, with the figures of the nine Muses in relief on the sides, belongs to Trebins, a senator. I send you a drawing sorts, and in temples, vessels c. lied craters in ~hich wine is mixed with water, for the mire juice of the grape is seldom nsed. These craters are of variens sizes, according to the nnmber of guests or other nses to which they are pnt. They are employed in the dedication of temples, and in making offerings of wine, milk, and honey. Sailors take libations frem them in cups, and ponr them into the sea before departing on a voy- age. They have been nsed in Greece for at least a thousand years. Livins Andronius says in a book I have seen that Agamem on returned from Troy with no less than three coRINTIIIAN VASE. of it. Most of the other vases, large and small, seen on tables are the work of the old Etruscans or their Romau imitators. Tue earthen ones are painted in sub ned colors. I give you a drawing of one used for water at the banquet that is made of a kind of jasper, with a lid bearing the image of a mans head. I have seen six little table vases which Pompey brought among his tro- phies of triumph in the East, and dedicated to Jupiter Capitolinus. They are made of a curious mineral found in Parthia, that has the dim lustre of the pearl, hut is of a bright flame-color. There are also seen npon tables little vases for oils, called gutti, because of their narrow throats, through which the fluid trickles, a ~iugle drop at a time. Pitchers of curious Rd elegant forms abound; and you will see every where, in private houses, public re PITOITER ANn OUTTtTS. JASPER VASE. 76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ated to the use of the women, where much of the spinning and needle-work is done Near the triclinium is the exedrw, or small room for conversation and other social pur- poses. Another room, more spacious than the eating-hall, with columns, and often highly ornamented, is devoted to the occa- sional gatherings of a large number of friends, and sometimes as a dining - hall. The winter apartments are on the upper floor at the south side of the house, where the heat of the sun is generally sufficient to make them comfortable in this mild cli- mate. Into these, on the coldest days, a fo- culus, or small portable fire-place, is carried, with hot ashes or burning charcoal, whose fnnies escape by the windows or an opening in the roof. A CRATER. thousand craters as a part of his spoil. They are often highly ornamented, and are made in curious forms. I give you a drawing of one made in the shape of a human head, which Drnsns, a friend of Taeitus, and a eenturion, brought from Syracuse last year. It is made of red earth hard baked. Vessels of glass, particularly those used for drinking, are common, and some of them are very elegant. I have seen glass goblets The peristyliurn is a pleasant part of the the colors of which changed in different house. It is an inner court, open to the sky, lights as do those of the feathers on the with columns and a gallery, and the area neck of a pigeon. Others are ornamented planted with flowers and shrubbery, among with figures cut by a revolving wheel in a which the family take delight, for it is a lit- curious manner, and others have glittering tle garden, bright and sweet. On the tops l)ands of gold around them, and are marked of houses are often seen small terraces for with their owners names, and expressions basking in the sun, called solaria, and a few such as I thirst. So, also, were their have little gardens on their roofs. On one great earthen vessels. The names are near the Porta Plaminia is a small fish-pond. stamped upon the soft clay before it is And now, dear Penda, go with me in im- baked, with seals of metal and wood. These agination, as you read this portion of my let- seals are sometimes made quite fanciful in ter, to a villa not far from Rome where na- shape~ That of the human foot is a favorite ture and art conspire to delight the senses in form, giving the idea that the impression a marvelous manner. A week ago I went was made by the pedal pressure. with the young Phinius to his country house, to which I have alluded. Being only three miles from Laurentum, he calls it Laurentin- mm. We rode out in a small chariot along A - the highway to Ostia, six miles from the villa, where we took a common country road that led us through woods and open fields abounding with flowery nieadows and A STAMP, rich pastures, where flocks and herds were grazing. We approached the villa by a I have told you of several principal apart- pleasant shaded avenue that leads to a ments of a fine Roman house. I will now large circular space they call a portico. write of others. Around this are the buildings or apart- The cubicmlum,orbed-chamber,is verysmall, ments, one story in height, which compose and there are separate ones for the day and the villa. These are built in various styles night. They are placed, if possible, in the for various uses. The trichinium, or grand eastern part of the house, so that the sleeper eating-hall, is upon the sea-shore, and when may have the light and warmth of the morn- the south wind blows from Africa the waves lug sun, which excites his gratitude to ado- wash its walls. The room has on all sides ration. Sometimes they are connected with spacious doors and windows, from which, as a little Jressing-room. In the most remote it is upon a point of land, you may hook out part of the house is the eone1avi~, appropri- and seem to behold three different seas. PORTABLE FIRE-PLACE. THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 77 From another front you have a view of an inner court, the portico, the avenue, and the near woods and distant mountains. Not far from this hall, across a court, is a large and small bedroom with east and west windows, from which you have a prospect of the sea. These chambers and the triclin- jam make an angle, upon which the rays of the sun fall all the day long, making the apartments warm in winter, when the domes- tics occupythem, and the master is away from the chilling fogs of the sea-shore in his house in the city. In a room at that angle, con- necting by a wainscoted passage with the larger bed-chamber, is a library. Other lodgings are on the same side, which the slaves and freedmen occupy. Near these, separated only by a court, are two spacious rooms, illuminated by the sunlight direct, and reflected from the sea. From one of these, which is used for an eating-hall, you pass into the bathing-rooms, arranged after the manner of the public baths in the city. In one of these are two bathing basins large enough to swim in, and are so situated that the bathers may look out upon the sea. Close by the baths is a tennis-court that faces the setting sun. There a tower is car- ried up, with two rooms at the bottom and two above. From the latter you have an extensive prospect of the sea and the neigh- boring country-seats, which line the shore along a distance of at least a hundred stadia. Not far off is a similar tower, which the sun lights up all the day; and beyond it are store- houses for grain and servants rooms, and an eating-hal] that overlooks a garden and a walk that surrounds it. That broad walk is bordered with box and rosemary, fringed with myrtle, and shaded by grape-vines. The garden is planted with fig, plane, and mulberry trees. Passing on, you come to the kitchen-garden, which is overlooked by an- other eating-hall. Close by is an arched gallery with windows on both sides, that may be open or closed, as the weather may ~ require. Before this gallery is a gymnasium for exercise, pleasantly exposed to the sea- air, but so arranged that it may be closed against the frequent chilling winds. Here are sun - heated apartments, built by the young Plinius but a year ago. These give him special delight. One looks out upon the gallery and into the bed-ch~nbers, and is so curiously contrived that y6~u may join it to that chamber as one room, or separate them with ease by transparent stone tablets or curtains. The chamber contains two chairs and a bed, and from its open win- dows you may look out upon both the sea and the country. It is in so quiet a place that the noise of the servants when they keep the Saturnalian feast, and even the roar of the sea, can not be heard. The windows may be so tightly closed as to keep out the sunbeams in the daytime, and the lightning at night. Under one of the windows is a small stove, with which the room may be pleasantly heated in chilly weather. In this room, Plinius says, I retire when I please, for study or meditation, and am never dis- turbed. He lacks only one felicity. He has no water - pipes to bring streams from the hills for baths and fountains, such as most of the other villas have, but his wells are many, and give him sweet and soft water in abundance, which is drawn by swapes and buckets. Such, my dear Penda, is one of the plain- est of the country houses of rich Roman citi- zens that line the sea-shore. Some of them are truly magnificentalmost beyond de- scription. Every one has a tower from which to look over wide ranges of land and sea. Some have fountains, cascades, and pebbly brooks. Some have extensive gardens filled with fruits and vegetables, but many are houses and grounds for pleasure only, with neither fruit nor kitchen garden, whose own- ers buy all they need for food in the city. This folly of buying the products of the fields in a town for use in the country has just been sharply ridiculed by a young poet named Martial, lately come from Spain, and who is already so great a favorite of Domi- tian that he lives in the palace and eats at the royal table, while grizzly-haired Juve- nal, the Voiscian, a far wiser man, is intense- ly hated by the emperor because he severely satirizes Paris, a young pantomime dancer, who is Domitias special favorite. I have lately visited the once magnificent villa of Yarro, at Casinum, which I have already mentioned. Though half in ruins, it is magnificent still. The general arrange- ment of the apartments is similar to that in the villa of Plinius, but on a much grander scale, and one more gorgeous in its structure and adornments. The grounds around it are extensive. They were laid out in unsur- passed landscape beauty, and are now dotted with overturned statues of white marble. But I will not weary you with repetition in describing this villa, but rather delight you, I hope, with a description and drawing of his superb aviary, wherein he kept large numbers of rare and costly birds. It, too, is partly in ruins, but I have delineated it as in perfection. This aviary forms a part of the villa. It is upon an eminence overlooking the sea. At the entrance are two porticoes, or large cages, with columns all around, and cover- ed with wire netting at top and sides, so as to give the birds plenty of air and freedom, but not their natural liberty. Between these immense cages is the entrance to the court, on each side of which is a long pool for water-fowl. From this court you pass to a large double colonnade, the outward cir- cumference of which is built of Alban stone, and the inner one of fir from the Apennines. 78 IIAEPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The space between them is about five feet, and is covered, like the cages at the entrance, with a wire netting. This space was filled with the rarest singing -birds from many lands. The colonnade rested upon a sub- stantial stone quay that projected several feet beyond the inner circle, and was raised two feet above the inclosed pool. This pro- jection afforded a pleasant walk for the guests from which to view the singin~-birds and the water-fowl. In the centre of the pool is a round isl- and covered by a dome supported by col- niuns. Here Varro and his friends ate and conversed. Under the centre of the dome is a round table that moves upon an axis, by wbich the boys in attendance might turn to each guest such viands as he iaight rilE AVIARY OF VARRO S VILLA. OLD KENSINGTON. 79 choose. Witliin the dome is a hemisphere, i4~on which was delineated in bright colors the celestial sphere; but those colors are now dim and the lines obscure. There was also a picture of the winds, so arranged upon an axle that when a vane on the top of the dome was turned in the direction it might be blowing at any time, the finger of c~ hand within pointed toward the picture of that wind. Over the table was a water- clock made of glass by which to count the hours at day or night; and at the entrance to the dome is a brazen sun- dial, whose guomon was solid silver. This gnomon was carried away when Antony plundered the villa. I will only add that Varro had here an extensive museum of curious objects of nature and art, and many strange animals from foreign lands, with which he some- times supplied the circus in Rome on great show days. I expect to stay here until the next spring, having leave of absence from Agricola, and the permission of the emperor to do so. This letter I send by the hand of Cams Sul- pitius, a trusty freedman, who will start two days hence with imperial dispatches for the governor. Another messenger will leave at about the beginning of the vintage, when I will send you another letter, in which I will tell you more about the home life of these Romans: their manner of dressing, both men and women; their personal adorw ments, domestic employments, courtships, weddings, funerals, amusements and other things that may inPsrest you. Salute all our friends. Vale! CADALLAN. OLD KENSINGTON. By MISS THACKERAY. CHAPTER XXVIII. UNBORN TO-MORROW, AND DEAD YESTERDAY. ~7 HATEVER Lady Sarah may have on ht, Mrs. Palmer used to consider Dolly a most fortunate girl, and she used to say so, not a little to Lady Sarahs annoy- ance. Extremely fortunate, repeats Dollys mamma, looking thoughtfully at her fat satin shoes. What a lottery life is! I was as pretty as Dolly, and yet dear Stanham had not any thing like Roberts excellent prospects. Even the Ad Dont go, Sa- rah. Poor Lady Sarah would start up, with an impatient movement, and walk across the room to get away from Philippas retrospec- tions. They were almost more than she had patience for just then. She could scarcely have found patience for Philippa herself, if it had not been that she was Dollys moth- er. What did she mean by her purrings and self-congratulations? Lady Sarah used to feel most doubtful about Dollys good fortune just when Philippa was most enthu- siastic on the subject, or when Robert hir*- self was pointing out his excellent prospects in his lucid way. Philippa would listen, nodding languid approbation Dolly would make believe to laugh at Roberts accounts of his coming honors; but it was easy to see that it was only make-believe incredulity. Her aunt could read the girls sweet con- viction in her eyes, and she loved her for it. Once, remembering her own youth, this fan- tastic woman had made a vow never, so long as she lived, to interfere in the course of true love. True love! Is this true love, when one person is in love with a phantom, another with an image reflected in a glass? True love is something more than phantoms, than images and shadows; and yet, stirred by phantoms and living among shadows, its faint dreams come to life. Lady Sarah was standing by the book- case, in a sort of zigzag mind of her own old times and of Dollys to-day. She had taken a book from the shelfa dusty vol- ume of Burnss poemsupon the fly-leaf of which the name of another Robert Henley was written. She holds the book in her hand, looks at the crooked writing S. V., from Robert Henley, May, 1808. She beats the two dusty covers together, and puts it back into its place again. That is all her story. Phiippa never heard of it; Robert

Miss Thackeray Thackeray, Miss Old Kensington 79-91

OLD KENSINGTON. 79 choose. Witliin the dome is a hemisphere, i4~on which was delineated in bright colors the celestial sphere; but those colors are now dim and the lines obscure. There was also a picture of the winds, so arranged upon an axle that when a vane on the top of the dome was turned in the direction it might be blowing at any time, the finger of c~ hand within pointed toward the picture of that wind. Over the table was a water- clock made of glass by which to count the hours at day or night; and at the entrance to the dome is a brazen sun- dial, whose guomon was solid silver. This gnomon was carried away when Antony plundered the villa. I will only add that Varro had here an extensive museum of curious objects of nature and art, and many strange animals from foreign lands, with which he some- times supplied the circus in Rome on great show days. I expect to stay here until the next spring, having leave of absence from Agricola, and the permission of the emperor to do so. This letter I send by the hand of Cams Sul- pitius, a trusty freedman, who will start two days hence with imperial dispatches for the governor. Another messenger will leave at about the beginning of the vintage, when I will send you another letter, in which I will tell you more about the home life of these Romans: their manner of dressing, both men and women; their personal adorw ments, domestic employments, courtships, weddings, funerals, amusements and other things that may inPsrest you. Salute all our friends. Vale! CADALLAN. OLD KENSINGTON. By MISS THACKERAY. CHAPTER XXVIII. UNBORN TO-MORROW, AND DEAD YESTERDAY. ~7 HATEVER Lady Sarah may have on ht, Mrs. Palmer used to consider Dolly a most fortunate girl, and she used to say so, not a little to Lady Sarahs annoy- ance. Extremely fortunate, repeats Dollys mamma, looking thoughtfully at her fat satin shoes. What a lottery life is! I was as pretty as Dolly, and yet dear Stanham had not any thing like Roberts excellent prospects. Even the Ad Dont go, Sa- rah. Poor Lady Sarah would start up, with an impatient movement, and walk across the room to get away from Philippas retrospec- tions. They were almost more than she had patience for just then. She could scarcely have found patience for Philippa herself, if it had not been that she was Dollys moth- er. What did she mean by her purrings and self-congratulations? Lady Sarah used to feel most doubtful about Dollys good fortune just when Philippa was most enthu- siastic on the subject, or when Robert hir*- self was pointing out his excellent prospects in his lucid way. Philippa would listen, nodding languid approbation Dolly would make believe to laugh at Roberts accounts of his coming honors; but it was easy to see that it was only make-believe incredulity. Her aunt could read the girls sweet con- viction in her eyes, and she loved her for it. Once, remembering her own youth, this fan- tastic woman had made a vow never, so long as she lived, to interfere in the course of true love. True love! Is this true love, when one person is in love with a phantom, another with an image reflected in a glass? True love is something more than phantoms, than images and shadows; and yet, stirred by phantoms and living among shadows, its faint dreams come to life. Lady Sarah was standing by the book- case, in a sort of zigzag mind of her own old times and of Dollys to-day. She had taken a book from the shelfa dusty vol- ume of Burnss poemsupon the fly-leaf of which the name of another Robert Henley was written. She holds the book in her hand, looks at the crooked writing S. V., from Robert Henley, May, 1808. She beats the two dusty covers together, and puts it back into its place again. That is all her story. Phiippa never heard of it; Robert HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 5 5 5 S 0 S 0 0 S S * S 0 S 5 0 0 never heard of it, nor did he know that Lady Sarah loved his namewhich had been his fathers toobetter than she loved him. Perhaps her happiness had all gone to Dolly, the widow thought, as she stood, with a troubled sort of smile on her face, looking at the two young people through a pane of glass; and then, like a good wom- an as she is, tries to silence her misgivings iuto a little prayer for their happiness. Let us do justice to the reluctaut prayers that people offer up. They are not the less true becanse they are half-hearted, and be- cause those who pray would sometimes glad- ly be spared an answer to their petitions. Poor Lady Sarah! her prayers seemed too much answered as she watched Dolly day by day more and more radiant and absorbed. My dear creature, what are you doing with all those dusty books? Can you see our young people ? says Mrs. Palmer, lan- guidly looking over her arm-chair. I ex so OLD KENSINGTON. 81 pect Colonel Witherington this afternoon. Lie admires Dolly excessively, Sarah; and I really think he might have proposed, if Robert had not been so determined to carry her off. Yon dear old thing, forgive me; I dont believe she would ever have married at all if I had not come home. Yon are in the clouds, yen know. I remember saying so to Hawtry at Trincomalee. I should have disowned her if she had turned out an old maid. I know it. I detest old maids. The Admiral has a perfect craze for them, and they all adore him. I should like you to see Miss Macgrudderthere never was any thing so ludicrous, asthmatic, sentiment- alfrantic. We must introduce Miss Moi- neaux to him, and the Morgan girls. I oft- en wonder how he ever came to marry a widow, and I tell him so. It was a great mistake. Can you believe it ?Hawtry now writes that second marriages are no mar- riages at all. Perhaps you agree with him? Im sure Dolly is quite ready to do so. I never saw a girl so changednever. We have lost her, my dear; make up your mind to it. She is Robert, not Dolly any more no thought for any one else, not for me, dear child! And dont you flatter yourself she will ever Dear me! Gone? What an ex- traordinary creature poor Sarah is! touched, certainly; and such a wet blanket ! Mrs. Palmer, rising from her corner, floats across the room, sweeping over several foot- stools and small tables on her way. She goes to the window, and not caring to be alone, begins to tap with her diamond finger upon the pane, to summon the young couple, who pay not the slightest attention. For- tunately the door opens, and Colonel With- erington is announced. He is a swarthy man, with shiny boots, a black mustache; his handkerchief is scented with Esse bou- quet, which immediately permeates the room; he wears tight dog-skin gloves and military shirt collars. Lady Sarah thinks him vulgar and odious beyond words ; Mrs. Palmer is charmed to see him, and gracious- ly holds out her white hand. She is used to his adoration, and accepts it with a cer- tain swan-like indifference. People had different opinions about Mrs. Palmer. In some circles she was considered brilliant and accomplished; in others, silly and affected. Colonel Witherington never spoke of her except with military honors. Charming woman, he would say; highly cultivated; you might give her five-and- twenty at the outside. Utterly lost upon that spluttering old psalm-singing Palmer. Psalms are all very well in their proper place in the prayer-books, or in church; but aft- er dinner, when one has got a good cigar, and feels inclined for a little pleasant conversa- tion, it is not the time to ring the hell for the servants, and have em down upon their knees all of a row, and up again in five mm- VOL. XLYJ.No. 21t6 utes to listen to an extempore sermon. The Admiral runs on like a clock. I used to stay with them at the Admiralty House. Pity that poor woman most heartily! Cant think how she keeps up as she does ! Little brown Lady Henley at Smoke- thwaite would not have sympathized with Colonel Witheringtons admiration. She made a point of shrugging her shoulders whenever she heard Philippas name men- tioned. If you ask me, she would say, I must frankly own that my sister-in-law is not to be depended on. She is utterly selfish; she only lives for the admiration of gentlemen. My brother Hawtry is a warm- hearted~ impulsive man, who would have made any woman happy. If he has looked for consolation in his domestic trials, and found it in religious interests, it is not Iwho would blame him. Sir Thomas feels as I do, and deeply regrets Philippas deplorable fri- volity. I do not know much of that poor girl of hers. I have no doubt Robert has been dazzled by mother and daughter. They are good-looking, and, as I am told, thorough- ly well understand the art of setting them- selves off to the best advantage. I am fond of Robert Henley, but I can not pretend to have any feeling for Dorothea one way or another. We have asked them here, of course. They are to come after their mar- riage. I only hope my sister-in-law appre- ciates her daughters good luck, and has the sense to know the value of such a man as Robert Henley. Mrs. Palmer was perfectly enchanted with her future son-in-law. He could scarcely get rid of her. Robert, with some discomposure, would find himself sitting on his aunts sofa, hand in hand, listening to long and very un- pleasant extracts from her correspondence. You dear boy ! Mrs. Palmer would say, with her soft, fat fingers firmly clasped round his, you have done me good. Your dear head is able to advise my poor perplexed heart. Dolly, he is my prop. I give you up, my child, gladly, to this dear fellow ! These little compliments mollified the young man at first, although he found that by degrees the tax of his aunts constant dependence became heavier and heavier. Briareus him- self could scarcely have supplied arms to support her unsparing weakness, to hand her parcels and footstools about, to carry her shawls and cushions, and to sort the packets of her correspondence. She had the Admi- rals letters, and tied up with various col- ored ribbons, and docketed, Cruel, Mod- erately Abusive, Apologetic, Canting, Business. She was always sending for Robert. Her playful tap at the window made him feel quite nervous. Mrs. Palmer had begun to knit him a pair of muffatees, and used slowly to twist pink silk round ivory needles. Lady Henley laughed very loud when she heard this. 82 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Poor Robert! He will have to pay dearly for those mittens, she said. For a long time past Mrs. Palmer had rare- ly left the house, but the trousseau now be- gan to absorb her; she used to go driving for long hours at a time with Dolly in a jaded fly; she would invite Robert to ac- company themto Baker Street Bazar, to Soho Square, to St. Panls Church-yard, back again to Oxford Street, a corner shop of which she had forgotten the number. On one occasion, after trying three or four cor- ner shops, Robert called to the coachman to stop, and jumped out. I think Dolly and I will walk home,~~ he said, abruptly; ~ afraid you must give up your shop, Aunt Philippa. It is impossible to find the place. Poor Dolly, who was longing to escape, brightened up, but before she could speak Mrs. Palmer had grasped her tightly by both hands. My dear Robert, what a proposal! I could not think of letting Dolly walk all the way home. She would be quite done up. And it is her business, her shopping, you know. Then, reproachfully and archly, And I must say that even the Admiral would scarcely have deserted us so ungallantly, with all this work on our hands, and all these parcels, and no servant. You dear fel- low,. you really must not leave us. Robert stood holding the door open, and looking particularly black. I am very sorry indeed, he said, with a short laugh, but you will be quite safe, my dear aunt, and you really seem to have done enough shopping to last for many years to come.~~ And he put out his hand as a matter of course, to help Dorothea to alight. But she can not leave me, says Philippa, excitedly; she would not even wish it. Would you, my child? I never drive alone never; I am afraid of the coachman. It is most unreasonable to propose such a thing. I will answer for your safety, persisted Robert. My dear aunt, you must get used to doing without your Dolly now. Come, Dora, the walk will freshen you up. But I dont want to walk, Robert, ~ said poor Dolly, with a glance at her mother. You may come for me to-morrow instead. You will, wont you I she added, as he sud- denly turned away without answering, and she leaned out of the carriage window, and called after him, a little frightened by his black looks and silence. Robert! I shall expect you, she said. I shall not be able to come to-morrow, Dora, said Henley, very gravely; and then, raising his hat, he walked off without an- other word. Even then Dolly could not believe that he was seriously angry. She saw him striding along the pavement, and called to him, and made a friendly little sign with her hand as the brougham passed close by a place where he was waiting to cross the road. Robert did not seem to see either the brougham. or the kind face inside that was smiling at him. Dorotheas eyes suddenly filled up with tears. Boorish! boorish ! cried Mrs. Palmer, putting up both hands. Robert is like all other men; they leave you at any moment, Dollythat is my experience, bitterly gain- edwithout a servant even, and I have ever so much more to do. There is Par- kins and Gottos for India-paper. If only I had known that he was going to be so rude, I should have asked for old Sam. Mrs. Palmer was still greatly discomposed. Pray put up that window, Dolly, she said, and I do wish you would attend to those parcels they are all falling off the seat. Dolly managed to wink away her tears as she bent over the parcels. Forgive her for crying! This was her first quarrel with Robert, if quarrel it could be called. She thought it over all the way home; surely she had been right to do as her mother wished! Why was Robert vexed? Philippa was in a very bad humor all that evening. She talked so pathetically of a mothers feelings, and of the pangs of part- ing from her child, that Lady Sarah for once was quite sorry for her she got a little shawl to put over Philippas feet as she lay beating a tattoo upon the sofa. As for Dol- ly, she had gone to bed early, very silent and out of spirits. That evenings post brought a couple of letters: one was from George to his mother, written in his cranky, blotted handwriting: CAMBRIDGE; ALL-SAINTS COLLIIGE. DEAREST MAMMA,I am coming up for a couple of days. I have, strange as it may sound, been work- ing too hard. Tell Aunt Sarah. Love to Dolly. Yours affectionately, GaoacE. The other was for Dolly, and Marker took it up to her in her room. This letter flowed in even streams of black upon the finest hot- pressed paper. DEAREsT DoRA,I was much disappointed that you would not come with me, and condemned me to that solitary walk. I hope that a day may come, be- fore very long, when your duty and your pleasures may seem less at variance to you than at present; otherwise I can see little chance of happiness in our future life. Yours, II. v. H. Was he still vexed ? Dolly, who had relented the moment she saw the handwrit- ing, wrote him a little note that evening by moonlight, and asked Marker to post it. I could not leave mamma all alone, she wrote. I wanted to walk home with youcouldnt you see that I did? I shall expect you to come to luncheon to- morrow, and we will go wherever you like. D. Dolly lay awake after this for a long moon- light hour. She was living in what people call the world of feeling. She wan absorbed, she was happy, but it was a happiness with a reserve in it. It was peace, indeed, but Dolly was too young, her life had been too OLD KENSINGTON. 53 easy, for peace to be all-sufficient to her. the evening, a~td George filled the cans with Slie had found out by her new experience water from the tank and brought them to that Robert loved her, but in future that he her. Splashing and overflowing, the water would rule her too. In her life, so free lapped into the dry earth and washed the hitherto, there would be this secret rule to baked stems of the rose-trees. George said be obeyed, this secret sign. Dolly did not suddenly, Dolly, do you ever see Eaban know whether on the whole she liked the now, and do you still snub him~ thought, or whether she resented it. She I dont snub him, said Dolly, blushing. had never spoken of it, even to Robert. He does not approve of me, George. Heis You see you have to do as you are told, so bitter, and he never seems satisfied. Henley sometimes said; he meant it in fun, George began to recite but Dorothea instinctively felt that there Ali, love! could you and I with fate conspire was truth in his wordshe was a man who To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, held his own. He was not to be changed Would we not shatter. it to bits, and then by an impulse. Dolly, conscious of some Remould it nearly to the Hearts Desire? hidden weakness in her own nature, deified There is Robert at last, Dolly. obstinacy, as many a woman has done before Dolly looked wonderingly at her brotler. her, and made excuses out of her own loving He had spoken so pointedly tbat she could heart for Henleys selfish one. not help wondering what he meant; but the It was summer still,though August had next moment she had sprung forward to come again; the Virginian creepers along meet Henley, with a sweet face alight. the west wall glowed; crimson-tinted leaves Oh, Robert, why have you been so long fell in golden rainthe gardener swept up coming I she said. Did you not get my golden dollars and fairy money into heaps note P and carted them away; the geraniums put out shoots; the creepers started off upon excursions along the gravel-paths; it was a CHAPTER XXIX. comfortable old-fashioned world, deep-col- ored, russet-tijited, but the sun was hot still UNDER THE GREAT DOME. and burning, and Dolly dressed herself in Tim wedding was fixed for the middie of white, and listened to every bell. September. In October they were to sail. The day passed, however, without any Dolly was to be married at the Kensin,, sign of Robert, or any word from him. But ton parish church. Only yesterdaythe brown George walked in just as they were sitting churchwas standingto-day a white phenix down to luncheon. He looked very pale is rising from its ashes. The old people and and yellow, and he had black llnes under the old prayers seem to be passing away with his eyes. He had been staying down at the brown walls. One wonders as one looks Cambridge, actually reading for a scholar- at the rising arches what new tides of feel- ship that Raban had advised his trying for. ing will sweep beneath them, what new It was called the Bulbul scholarship for On- teachings and petitions, what more instant ental languages, and it had been founded charity, what more practical faith and hope. by an enlightened Parsee, who had traveled One would be well content to see the old in Europe in shiny boots and an oil-skin hat, gates fall if one might deem that these new and who had been so well received at Cam- ones were no longer to be confined by bolts bridge that he wished to perpetuate his of human adaptation, against which, day name there. by day, the divine decrees of mutation and George had taken up Persian some time progress stnikewith blows that are vibrating ago, when he should have been reading through the aisles, drowning the voice of the mathematics. He was fond of quoting the teaQhers, jarring with the prayers of the Roubaiydt of Oman Khayyam, of which faithful. the beautiful English version had lately ap- As the doors open wide the congregations peared. It was this poem, indeed, which of this practical age in the eternity of ages had set him to study the original. He had see on the altars of to-day the new visions a turn for languages, and a fair chance of of the time. Unlike those of the fervent and success, Raban said, if he would only go to mystical past, when kneeling anchorites be- bed, and not sit up all night with soda-water held, in answer to their longing prayers, and wet towels round his head. This time pitiful saints crowned with roses and radi- he had nearly made himself ill by sitting up ant with llght, and, vanishing away, visions three nights in succession, and the doctor of hearts on fire and the sacred stigmata, the had sent him home for a holiday. My rewards of their life-long penance; to-day, dear child, what a state your complexion is the Brother whom we have seen appears to in! How ill you look ! said his mother. us in theplace of symbols of that which it It is all those horrid examinations ! hath not entered into the heart of man to Restless George wandered out into the conceive. The teaching of the Teacher, as garden after dinner, and Dolly followed him, we undemrstand it now, is translated into a She began to water her roses in the cool of new language of daily toil and human sym 54 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZLNE. pathy; our saints are the sinners helped out of the mire; our visions do not vanish; our heavenly music comes to us in the voices of the school-children: surely it is as sweet as any that ever reached the enraptured ears of penitents in their cells. If people are no longer on their knees as they once were, and if some are afraid and cry out that the divine images of our faith are waxing dimmer in their nichesif in the Calvaries of these modern times we still see truth blasphemed, thieves waiting on their crosses of ignorance and crime, sick people crying for help, and~children weeping bitter- lywhy should we be afraid if people, rising from their knees, are setting to their days work with honest and loving hearts, and go- ing, instead of saying, I go, and remain- ing and crying, Lord, Lord. Once Dolly stopped to look at the gates as she was walking by, thinking, not of church reform, in those old selfish days of hers, but of the new life that was so soon to begin for her behind those baize doors, among the worm-eaten pews and the marble cherubs, nuder the window, with all the leaden- patched panes diverging. She looked, flush- ed up, gathered her gray skirts out of the mud, and went on with her companion. The old days were still going on, and she was the old Dolly that she was used to. But there was this difference now: at any time, at any hour, coming into a room sud- denly, she never knew but that she might find a letter, a summons, some sign of the new existence and interests that were crowd- ing upon her. She scarcely believed in it all at times; but she was satisfied. She was walking with her hand on Roberts strong arm. She could trust to Robertshe conid trust herself. She sometimes wondered to find herself so calm. Robert assured her that, when people really loved each other, it was always so; they were always calm; and, no doubt, he was right. The two were walking along the Sunday street on their way to St. Pauls. Family groups and prayer-books were about; mar- ketcarts, packed with smiles and ribbons, were driving out in a long train toward the river. Bells far and near were ringing fit- fully. There is no mistaking the day as it comes round, bringing with it a little ease into the strain of life, a thought of peace and home-meeting and rest, and the echo of a psalm outside in the City streets, as well as within its churches. Robert called a hansom, and they drove rapidly along the road toward town. The drifting clouds and lights across the parks and streets made them look changed from their usual aspect. As they left the sub- urbs and drove on toward the City, Henley laughed at Dorotheas enthusiasm for the wet streets, of which the muddy stones were reflecting the lights of a torn and stormy sky. St. Clements spire rose sharp against a cloud, the river rolled, fresh blown by soft winds, toward the east, while the lights fell upon the crowding house- tops and spires. Dolly thought of her moonlight drive with her mother. Now every thing was alight and awake again, she alone was dreaming, perhaps. As they went up a steep crowded hill the horses feet slipped at every step. Dont be afraid, Dora, said Robert, protectiugly. Then they were driving up a straighter audwider street, floodedwith this same strange light, and they suddenly saw a solemn sightof domes and spires uprearing; of mist, of stormy sky. There rose the mighty curve, majestically flung against the dome of domes! The mists drifting among these mountains and pinnacles of stone only seemed to make them more stately. Robert, I never knew how beautiful it was, said Dolly. How glad I am we came! Look at that great dome and the shining sky. It is like See how high the heavens are in comparison with the ~ I forget the exact height, said Robert. It is between three and four hundred feet. You see the ball up at the topthey say that twenty-four people I know all that, Robert, said Dolly, impatiently. What does it matter ~ I thought it might interest you, said Robert, slightly huffed, since you appear to be so little acquainted with St. Pauls. It is very fine, of course; but I myself have the bad taste to prefer Gothic architecture; it is far more snitable to our church. There is something painfullyhow shall I express it ?paganish about these capitals and pi- lasters. But that is just what I mean, said Dolly, looking him full in the face. Think of the beautifni old thoughts of the pagans helping to pile up a cathedral here now. Dont you think, she said, hesitating, and blushing at her own boldness, that it is like a voice from a long way off coming aud~ harmonizing now with ours ~i Robert, imag- ine building a curve that will make some one happy thousands of years afterward I am glad it makes you happy, my dear Dorothea. I tell you I have the bad taste not ~ admire St. Pauls, Robert repeated. But here is the rain; we had better make haste. They had come to an opening in the iron railings by this time, and Robert led the waya stately figureclimbing the long flight of weather-worn steps that go cir- cling to the peristyle. Dolly followed slow- ly: as she ascended the lights seemed to up- rise, the columns to stand out more boldiy. Come in, Robert said, lifting up the heavy leather curtain. Dolly gave one look at the city at her feet, flashing with thb many lights and OLD KENSINGTON. 85 shadows of the impending storm, and then she followed him into the great cathedral. They were late. The evening service was already begun, and a voice was chanting and ringing from column to column. Re- joice in the Lord alway, it sang, and again I say, again I say nnto you, rejoice! rejoice ! A number of people were stand- ing round a grating listening to the voice; but an old verger, pleased with the looks of the two young people, beckoned to them and showed them np a narrow stair into a little oaken, gallery, whence they could look down upon the echoing voice and the great crowd of people listening to it: many lights were bnrning, for it was already dark with- in the building. Here a light fell, there the shadow threw some curve into sudden re- lief; the rolling mist that hung beyond the distaut aisles and over the heads seemed like a veil, and added to the mystery. The mu- sic, the fire, the arches overhead, made Dol- lys heart throb. The cathedral itself seem- ed like a great holy heart beating in the midst of the city. Once, when Dolly was a child in the green ditch, her heart had over- flown with happiness and gratitude; here she was a woman, and the future had not failed her; here were love and faith to make her life completeall the vibration of fire and music, and the flow of harmo- nious lines, to express what was beyond words Oh ! Robert, what have we done to be so happy ? she whispered, when the service was over and they were coming away in the crowd. It almost frightens me, the girl said. Robert did not hear her at first; he was looking over the peoples heads, for the clouds had come down and the rain was falling heavily. Frighten you, said Robert, presently, opening his umbrella. Take my arm, Dol- ly: what is there to frighten you? I dont suppose we are any happier than other peo ple under the same circumstances. Come this way, let us get out of the crowd. Robert led the girl down a narrow lane closed by an iron gate. It looked dark and indistinct, although the west still shone with changing lights. Dolly stood up under a doorway, while the young man walked away down the wet flags to look for a cab to take them home. The rain fell upon the pave- ment, upon the stone steps where Dolly was standing, and with fresh cheeks blooming in the mist, and eyes still alight with the radiance and beauty of the psalm she had been singing in her heart. I dont sup- pose we are any happier than other people. She wished Robert had not said that; it seemed cold, ungrateful almost. The psalm in her ears began to die away to the dull patter of the rain as it fell. What was it that came to Dolly as she stood in the twi light of the doorwaya sudden chill com- ing she knew not from whencesome one llght put out on the altar? Dolly, strung to some high quivering pitch, felt a sudden terror. It was noth- ing; a doubt of a doubta fear of a terror fearing whatdoubting whom? The service was very well performed, said Robert, coming up. I have got you a cab. He helped her in, and then, as he seated himself beside her, began again: We shall not have many more opportu- nities of attending the cathedral service before we start. Dolly was very silent; Robert talked on. He wondered at her seeming want of inter- est, and yet he had only talked to her about her plans and things that she must have cared to hear. I shall know definitively about our start to-morrow or the day aft- ~ he said, as the cab drew up at the door of Church House. Poor Dolly! She let him go into the drawing-room alone, and ran up to her own little nest up stairs. The thought of the possible nearness of her departure had suddenly overwhelmed her. When it was still far off she had never thought about it. Now she saf down on the low window-sill, leaned her head against the shutter, and watched the last light die out above the ivy wall. The garden shadows thickened; the night gathered slowly; Dollys heart beat sadly, oh! how sadly. What hopeless feeling was this that kept coming over her again and again? coming she knew not from what recesses of the empty room, from be- hind the fleeting clouds, from the secret chambers of her traitorous heart? The voice did not cease persecuting. So much of you that lives ~ it said, will die when you merge your life into Roberts. So much love will be more than he will want. He takes but a part of what you have to give. The voice was so distinct that she wondered whether Marker, who came in to put away her things, would hear it. Did she love Robert? Of course she loved him. There was his ring upon her linger. She could hear his voice sound- ing from the hall below Were they not going off alone together to a lonely life, across a tempestuous sea? For a moment she stood lost, and forgetting that her feet were still upon the home hearth, and that the far-off sea was still beating upon distant shores. Then she started up impatiently, she would not listen anymore. With a push to the door she shut her doubts up in the cupboard where she was used to hang her cloak, and then she came slowly down the wooden stairs to the oak room below. Dolly found a candle alight, a good deal of darkness, some conversation, a sofa drawn out with her mamma reposing upon it, Rob- ert writing at a table to Mrs. Palmers dicta tion. 86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. My child, said Mrs. Palmer, come here. You have been to St. Pauls. I have been alone the whole afternoon. Your aunt Sarah never comes near me. I am now getting this dear fellow to write and order a room for us at Kingston. I told you of my little plan. He is making all the arrangements. It is tobe a littlefesta on my husbands birth- dayshall we say Tuesday, if line, Robert? The Admiral will hear of it, and understand that we do not forget him. People say I have no resentment in my nature, said Mrs. Palmer, with a smile. It is as well, perhaps, that I should leave untasted a few of the bitter dregs of my hard lot. My spir- it is quite broken, continned Mrs. Palmer, cheerfully. Give me that small hand- screen, Dolly. Have you written to Ra- ban, Robert? My George would wish him remembered. Oh, dont let us have Raban, Aunt Phi- lippa, said Robert. There will be Mor- gan and George and Colonel Witherington and myself, and your little friend Rhoda will like to comeand any one else? I am thankful to say that Mrs. Morgan and those dreadful two girls are going into the country for two days; that is one reason for fixing upon Tuesday, says Mrs. Palmer. I dont want them, Dolly dearest. Really the society your poor aunt lives in is some- thing too ludicrous. She will be furious; I have not dared tell her, poor creature. I have accepted an invitation for you on Wednesday. Colonel Witheringtons sister, in Hyde Park Gardens, has a large dinner- party. She has asked us all three iii the kindest manner. Colonel Witherington call- ed himself with the note this afternoon. I wanted him to stay to dinner. Im afraid your aunt was vexed. Robert, whileyou are about it, just write a line for us all to Mrs. Middleton. Robert wrote Mrs. Palmers notes, sealed and stamped them, and, between whiles, gave a cheerful little description of their expedition. Dolly was delighted with the service, said he; but I am afraid she is a little tired. Then he got up and pulled an armchair for her up to the fire, and then he went back and finished putting up Mrs. Palmers correspor deuce. He was so specially kind that evening, cheerful, and nice. to Mrs. Palmer, doing h~r behests so cleverly and naturally, that Dolly forgot her terrors, and wondered what evil spirit had possessed her. She began to feel warm and happy once more, and hopeful, and she was unaffectedly sorry when Henley got up and said he must go. He was no sooner gone and the door shut than Mrs. Palmer said,languidly, I think I should like Frank Raban to be asked, poor fellow. It will please Rhoda, at all events. Just write, dear. Dolly blushed up crimson. She had not seen him since that curious little talk she had had with George. But Robert doesnt want it, mamma, said Dolly. Nonsense, child. I want it. Robert is not your husband yet, said Mrs Palmer~ and if he were Shall I bring you a pen and ink? Dolly asked, shyly. Just do as I tell you, dearest, said her mother, crossly. Write, Dear Mr. Raban, my mother desires me to write and tell you with what pleasure she would welcome you on Tuesday next, if you would join a small expedition we are meditating, a water-party, in honor of Admiral Palmers fifty-seventh birthday. That is not a bit like one of my letters, said Dolly, finishing quickly. Where can Aunt Sarah be? Jam sure I dont know,my dear. She left in the rudest manner when Withering- ton called. I have seen nothing of her. Lady Sarah was sitting up stairs alone oh, how alone !in the cheerless bedroom overhead, where she used to take her griefs and her sad mistrusts. They seemed to hang from the brown faded curtains by the win- dow; they seemed to haunt all round the bed, among its washed-out draperies; they were ranged along the tall chimney-piece in bottles. Here is morphia and chiorodyne, or its equivalent of those days; here is the liniment liniment for a strained heart! chloroform for anxious love! Are not each one of those the relics of one or another wound, reopening again and again with the strains of the present? Sarahs hands are clasped and her head is bent forward as she sits in this half darknessleaden gray without, chill withinby the empty hearth. Did Robert love Dolly? Hadhe love in him? Had she been right to see him through Dol- lys eyes? Just then the dooropens, audDolly, flushed, brightening the dull twilight, comes into the room. Come down directly, you wicked wom- an, she says. You will be catching cold here all by yourself. CHAPTER XXX. WAVE OR FLAME. How sweet they are, those long sunset evenings on the river! The stream, flow- ing by swift and rippling, reflects 4he sky: sometimes, in the still gleams and depths of dying light, it would seem as if the sky it- self reflected the waters. The distant woods stand out in bronzed shadow; low sunset fires burn into dusk beyond the fringe of trees; sudden sweet glooms fall upon the boats as they glide in and out by dim creeks OLD KENSINGTON. 57 ~and ridges. Perhaps some barge travels past through the twilight, drawn byliorses tramp- ing along the towing-path, and dragging against the sky. As the boats float shore- ward peaceful sights and sonnds are all about, borne upon the flowing water. I am so sorry it is over, said Dolly, ty- ing on her straw hat. The sun was setting, a little star was shining overhead, the last bird had flown home to its nest. Robert pushed them right through a bed of rustling reeds on their way to the lauding-place. It was crowded with dancing boats; many people were standing along the shore; the gables of the Red Lion had been all aglow for a few minutes past. They could hear the laugh of a boat- ing party scrambling to land. Here and there heads were peeping from the l~ridge, from the landing-places and windows; some twinkled with the last sunset gleams, others with lights already burning. Dolly had been silent for the last half hour, scarcely listen- ing to its desultory talk. They had ex- ~changed broadsides with George and John Morgan in the other boat; but by degrees that vigorously manned craft had outrun them, rounded a corner, and left them float- lug mid-stream. Robert was in no hurry, and Frank was absent, and sometimes al- most forgot to row. Looking up now and then, he saw Dollys sweet face beaming be- neath her loose straw hat, with Hampton Court and all its prim terraces for a back- ground. You are not doing your share of the work, Raban, by any means, said Robert, laboring, and not overpleased. Oh, let us float, murmured Mrs. Palmer. She was leaning over the side of the boat, weighing it heavily down, and dabbling one fat white hand in the water; with the other she was clasping Dollys stiff young fingers. Truant children ! she said, you dont know your own happiness. How well I remember one evening just like this, Dolly, when your papa and I were floating down the Hoogly; and now that I think of it, my Admiral Palmer was with ushe was captain then. How little we either of us thought in those days! The Palmers are so close, one needs a lifetime to understand their ways. I should like to show you a letter, Mr. Raban, that I received only this morning from my sister- in-law, Joanna. Was that a fish or a little bit of stick~ Sweet calm! Robert,I am thankful you have never been entangled by one of those ugly girls at Smokethwaite. I know Joa~nna and her There was never any thought, I assure you, interrupted Robert, not displeased, and unable to refrain from diselaiming the acen- sation. My aunt has always been most kind; she would never have wished to influ- ence my inclinations. She is very much tried just now, parting from Jonah, who joins his regiment immediately. They are coming up to London with him next Saturday. Ah, I know what it is to part from ones child, said Philippa, tapping Dollys fingers. I am glad to hear Joanna shows any feel- ing. My Dolly, if it were not to Robert, who is so thoughtful, should I be able to bear the thought of parting from you ~ Take carepray take care! You are running into this geutlemans boat! Push offpush off! Ah! ah! thank you, Mr. Raban. Look, there is John Morgan. I wish he were here to steer us. Dont be frightened, dear, said Dolly, still holding her mothers hand, as the little rocking boat made toward the steps, where John Morgan was standing welcoming them all with as much heartiness as if they were returning from some distant journey, and had not met for years. Some people reserve themselves for great occasions, instead of spending their sympathies lavishly along the way. Good old John certainly never spared eitber sympathy or the expression of his hearty good-will. I dont know that the people who sometimes smiled at his honest exuberances found that he was less reliable when greater need arose because he had been kind day after day about nothing at all. He saved Mrs. Palmer from a ducking on this occasion as she precipitately flung herself out of the boat on to his toes. Frank Raban also jumped on shore. Robert said he would take the Sarah Anne back to her home in the boat-house. Then I suppose Dolly will have to go too, said Mrs. Palmer, archly; and Dolly, with a blush and a smile, settled herself once more comfortably on the low cushioned seat. She looked after her mother trailing up the slope, leaning on the curates arm, and wav- ing farewells until they passed by the gar- den gate of the inn. Frank Raban was slowly following them. Then Dolly and Robert were alone, and out on the river again. The llghtened boat swayed on the water. The air seemed to freshen, the rip- ples flowed in from a distance, the banks slid by. Robert smiled as he bent over the sculls. How often Dolly remembered the last golden hour that came to her that day before the lights had died away out of her sky, before the waters had risen, before her boat was wrecked, and Robert far away out of the reach of her voice! There were many other people coming back to the boat-house. The men were busy, the landing was crowded, and the Sarah Anne had to wait her turn. Robert disliked waiting extremely. He also disliked the looks of open admiration which two canoes were casting at the Sarah Anne. There are some big stones by the shore, Dolly, said Robert. Do you think you could manage to land l Of course I can, said active Dolly; 88 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and then you can tie the boat to that green stake just beyond them. As she stood up to spring on shore, she looked round once more. Did some instinct tell her that this was the end of it all, and the last of the hap- py hours I She jumped with steady feet on to the wet stone, and stood balancing her- sel~, for a moment. The water rippled to her feet as she stood, with both hands out- stretched, and her white dress fluttering, and all the light of youth and happiness in her radiant face. And then with another spring she was on land. Well done ! said one of the canoes. Robert turned round with a fierce look. When he rejoined Dolly he found her looking about in some distress. My ring, my pretty ring, Robert, she said; I have dropped it. It was a ring he had given her the day before. Dolly had at last consented to wear one, but this was large for her finger. You careless girl, said Robert; here are your gloves and your handkerchief? Do you know what that ring cost? Oh, dont tell ~ said Dolly; some- thing dreadful, I know. And she stood penitently watching Robert scrambling back into the boat, and overthrowing and thump- ing the cushions. And yet, as she stood there, it came into her mind how many treasures were hers just then, and that of them all a ring was that which she could best bear to lose. One of the canoes had come close into shore by this time, and the young man, who was paddling with his two spades, called out, saying, Are you looking for anything? Is it for this? and carefully putting his hand into the water, he pulled out something shining. The ring had dropped off Dollys finger as she jumped, and was lying on a stone that was half in and half out of the water, and near to the big one upon which she had been standing. How very fortunate ! exclaimed Henley from the boat. Miss Yanborough was pleased to get back her pretty trinket, and thanked the young man with a very becoming blush. It is a very handsome coral, Robert said; it would have been a great pity to lose it. We must have it made smaller, Dora. It must not come off again. Dolly was turning it round thou~ghtfully, and looking at the Medusa head carved and set in gold. Robert, she said once more, does hap- piness never frighten you? Never,~ said Henley, smiling, as she look- ed up earnestly into his face. The old town at Kingston, with its many corners and gables, has something of the look of a foreign city heaped upon the river- side. The garden of the old inn runs down with terraces to the water. A side-door leads to the boat-houses. By daylight thia garden is somewhat mouldy; but spiders webs do not obtrude on summer evenings, and the Londoners who have come out of town for a breath of fresh air stroll along the terraces, and watch the stream as it flows, unconscious of their serenity. They come here of summer evenings, and sit out in the little arbors, or walk along the ter- races and watch the boats drift with the stream. If they look to the opposite banks they may see the cattle rearing their homed heads upon the sunset, and the distant chest- nut groves and galleries of Hampton Court at the bend of the river. Near the corner of one of these terraces a little green weather-cocked summer-house stands boldly facing the regattas in their season4 and beyond it again are a steep bank and some steps to a second terrace, from whence there is the side-door leading to the boats. On this particular evening Frank Raban came quietly zigzagging along these terraces, perhaps with some vague hope of meeting Dorothea on her return. There are some years of ones life when one is less alive than at others, as there are dif- ferent degrees of strength and power to live in the course of the same existence. Frank was not in the despairing state in which we first knew him, but he was not yet as other people are, and in hours of depression such as this he was used to feel lonely and apart.. He was used to see other people happy, anx- ious, busy, hurrying after one another, and~ he would look on as now, with his hands in his pockets, not indifferent, but feeling as if Fate had put him down solitary and silent into the worlda dumb note (so he used to think) in the great music. And yet he knew that the music was therethat mighty hu- man vibration which exists independent of all the dumb notes, cracked instruments,~ rifted lutes, and broken lyres of which we hear so much, and he had but to open his. ears to it. Two voices any thing but dumb were talk- ing inside the little summer-house. Raban had scarcely noticed them as he came along,. listening with the vaguest curiosity, as peo- ple do, to reproaches and emotions which do not concern them; but presently, as he ap- proached the summer-house, a tone struck him familiarly, and at the same instant he saw a dark figure rush wildly from the little wooden house, and leap right over the side of the terrace on to the path below ; and then Frank recognized the frantic action it could only be George. A moment after- ward a womanhe knew her toocame out of the summer-house and stood for an in- stant panting against the doorway, leaning with her two hands against the lintel. She looked pale, troubled; her hair was pushcd~ back from her white face; her eyes looked~ OLD KENSINGTON. dark, beautiful. Never before had Raban seen Rhoda (for it was Rhoda) so moved. When she saw him a faint flush came into her cheeks. She came forward a few steps, then she stopped short again. She was dragging her silk mantle, which had fallen off. One end was trailing after her along the gravel. Mr. Raban, is that you ? she said, in an agitated way. Why did you come? Is itis it nearly time to go? Is Mrs. Palmer come back? Oh, please take me to her ~ And then she suddenly burst into tears, and the long black silk mantle fell to the ground as she put out two fluttering hands. Raban had flung his cigar over the terrace after George. What is it ? he said, anxiously. Can I help you in any way? What has hap- pened ? The young man spoke kindly, but in his usual matteroffact voice; and Rhoda,even in her distress, wondered at his coldness. No one before ever responded so calmly to whom she had appealed. Oh, you dont know, she said; I cant tell you. And the poor little hands went up again with a desperate gesture. Raban was very much touched; but, as I have said, he had little power of showing his sympathy, and, foolish fellow, doing unto others as he would be done by; he only said, I have guessed something before now, Miss Parnell. I wish I could help you, with all my heart. Does not Miss Yanborough know of this? Can not she advise Rhoda was in no mood to hear her friends praises just then. Dolly ! cried Rhoda, passionately; she would have every one sacrificed to George. I would love him if I could, she said, pite- ously, but how caa I? he frightens me and raves at me how can I love him? Oh! Mr. Raban, tell me that it is not wrong to feel thus ? And once more the fluttering hands went up, and the dark wistful eyes gazed childishly, piteously into his face. Rhoda was looking to Frank for the help that should Liave come to her from her own heart; she dimly felt that she must win him over that if he would, he could help her. One has heard before this of women who are only half women, who saug their charmed songs and beguiled luckless mariners into their nets. How many woman mermaids there are who go through life unconscious of the tribe to which they belong! Rhoda pitied herself sincerely; she sobbed out her history to Frank with many tears. How can I tell them all ? she said; it will only make wretchedness, and now it is only I who am unhappy.~~ Was it only Rhoda who was unhappy? George, flying along the garden half dis- tracted, aching, repentant, might have told another story. She had sent him away. He would do nothing that she wished, she said; he would not accept the independence that Lady Sarah had offered him; Rhoda did not believe in his love, she only wanted him to go, to leave her. Yes, she meant it. And poor George had rushed away frantic and indignant. He did not care where he went. He had some vague idea that he would get a boat and row away forever, but as he was hurrying headlong toward the boat-house he saw Dorothea and Robert coming arm in arm up the little path, and he turned and hurried back toward the inn. Dolly called to him, but he did not answer. Rhoda had sent him away, poor Dolly could not call him back. Robert shrugged his shoulders. Why do you do that ? said Dolly, an- noyed; he looked quite ill. CHAPTER XXXI. A BOAT UPON THE WATER. GEORGE was shivering and sick at heart; the avenue led to a door that opened into the bar of the hotel, and George went in and called for some brandy. The spirits seemed to do him good; no one seeing a clumsy young fellow in a boating-dress tossing off one glassful of brandy after another would have guessed at all the grief and passion that were tearing at his poor foolish heart. Rhoda had sent him away. Had he deserved this? Could not she read the truth? Poor timid faithless little thing. Why had he been so fierce to her, why had he told her he was jealous? George had a curious quick- ness of divination about others, although he was blind about his own concerns. He had reproached Rhoda because she had been talk- ing to Frank, but he knew well enough that Frank did not care for Rhoda. Poor child, did she know how it hurt him when she shrank from him and seemed afraid? Ah! she would not have been so cruel if she liad known all. Thinking of it all, he felt as if he had had some little bird in his rough grasp, frightened it, and hurt its wings. Then he suddenly said to himself that he would go back and find his poor frightened bird and stroke it and soothe it, ask it to forgive him. And then he left the place, and as hastily as he had entered; there was a last glass of brandy untasted on the coun- ter, and he hurried back toward the terrace. He passed t~he window of the room where Mrs. Palmer was ordering tea from the sofa. Dolly, who had just come in, saw him pass by; she did not like his looks, and ran out after him, although both Rohert and her mother called her back. George did not see her this time; he flew past the family groups sitting out in the warm twilight; he came to the terrace where he had been a few minutes before, and where the two were still standing 90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Raban, of wliom lie had said he was jealous, Rhoda, whom he lovedthe two were slowly advancing, flanks square shoulders dark against the light, aud Rhodas slight figure bending forward; she was talking to Raban as she had so often talked to George himself with that language of earnest eyes, tremu- Ions tones, shrinking movementshow well he knew it all. What was she saying? Was she appealing to Frank to protect her from his love and despair, from the grief that site had done her best to bring about? Rhoda laid her hand upon Rabans arm in her agita- tion. It maddened George beyond bearing, and he stamped his heavy foot upon the gravel. $ome people passing up from the boats stared at him, but went on their way; and Frank, looking up, saw George coming up swinging his angry arms; his eyes were fierce, his hat was pushed aside. He put Rhoda aside very gently, and took a step forward between her and George, who stood for a minute looking from one to another, as if he did not understand, and then he sud- denly burst out, with a fierce oath, Who told you to put yourself in my way ~ And, as he spoke, he struck a heavy blowstraight at Raban, who had barely time to parry it with his arm. It was an instants angerone of those fatal minutes that undo days and months and years that have gone before; and that blow of Georges struck Rhodas feeble little fancy for him dead on the spot, as she gave a shrill cry of For shame ! and sprang for- ward, and would have clung to Rabans arm. That blow ached for many and many a day in poor Dorotheas heart, for she saw it all from a turn of the path. As for Frank, he recovered himself in an instant. Go back, George, he said; I will speak to you presently. He did not speak angrily. His voice and the steady look of his resolute eyes seemed to sober the poor reprobate. Not so Rhodas ery of; Go, yes, go, for shame ! Go! What is it to you if I go or stay? Am I in your way ? shouts George. Have you promised to marry him too? Have you tortured him too, and driven him half mad, and thenaird then Oh, Rhoda, do you really wish me gone ? he cried, breaking down. There was a tone in his voice that touch- ed Raban, for whom the cry was not intend- ed. Nothing would have melted Rhoda just then. She was angry beyond all pow- er of expression. She wanted him gone, she wanted him silent; she felt as if she Ihated him. You are not yourself; you are not speak- ing the truth, said the girl, in a hard voice, drawing herself up. Then, as she spoke, all the brandy and all the fury seemed to mount once more into Georges head. I am mysell; and that is why I leave you, he shouts; you are heartless; you have neither love nor charity in you at all; and now I leave you. Do you hear me ? he cried, getting louder and louder. Any one could hear. Dolly could hear as she came hurrying up from the end of the terrace to the spot where her poor boy stood shouting out his hearts secret to unwilling ears. More than one person had stopped to listen to the angry voice. The placid still- ness of the evening seemed to carry its echo along the dusky garden bowers, out upon the water flowing down below. Some boat- men had stopped to listen; one or two peo- ple were coming up through the twilight. He is not sober, said Rhoda to Dolly. She spoke with a sort of cold disgust. Dolly hardly heard her at the time. All she saw then was her poor George, with his red angry faceFrank trying to pacify him. Should she ever forget the miserable scene? For long years after it used to rise before her; she used to dream of it at nightof the garden, the river, the figures advancing in the dark~ Dolly ran up to her brother, and instinct- ively put out her arms as if to shield him from every one. Come, dear; come with me, she said, fiurriedly; dont let them see you like this. It would shock their elegant suscepti- bilities, cries the irrepressible George; it dont shock them to see a woman playing fast and loose with a poor wretch who would have given bis life for heryes, his life,andhislove,andhisheartsblood! Dolly had got her arms tight round George by this time. She had a shrinking dread of Henley seeing him sohe might be com- ing, she thought. Robert might see you. Oh, George, please come, she whispered, still clinging to him; and suddenly, to Dollys surprise, George collapsed, with a sigh. His furious fit was over, and he let his sister lead him where she would. Go down by the ~ said Raban, coming after them; there are t~o many people the other way. He spoke in a grave, anxious tone, and as the brother and sister went their way he looked after them for a moment. Dolly had got her arm fast linked in Georges. The young man was walking listlessly by her side. They neither of them looked back; they went down the steps and disappeared. The place was all deserted by this time the disturbance being over, the boatmen had gone on their way. The two went and sat down upon a log which had been left lying near the water-side; they were silent; they could see each others faces, but little more. He sat crouching over, with his chin resting on his hands. Dolly was full of compassion, and longing to comfort; but REPRIEVE. 91 bow could she comfort ~ Such pain as his is getting late: why dont they come in to was not to be eased by words spoken by an- tea ~ I must say it is nasty stuff, and not other person. When George began to speak to compare to that delicious Rangoon fla- at last his voice sonuded so sad and so jarred vor. He paused for a moment; her voice from its nsual sweetness that Dorothea was died away, and then all was silent. The frightened, as if she conld hear in it the echo evening was growing chill; some mists were of a coming trouble. rising. George felt the cool damp wind I wanted that woman to love me, he against his hot brow as he rowed doggedly said. Dolly, you dont know how I loved onpast the lights of the windows of the her. He was staring at the stream with inn, past the town, under the darkness of his starting eyes, and biting his nails. We the bridge. have no luck, either of us, he said; I He left them all behind, and his life, and dont deserve any, bnt you do. Tell Frank his love, he thought, and his mad passion; Im sorry I struck him; she had made me and himself, and Dolly, and Rhoda, and all half mad; she looks at me with those great the hopeless love he longed for and that was eyes of hers, and says, Go! and she makes never to be his. There were other things me mad; she does it to them all But now in life. So he rowed away into the darkness I have left her! left her! left her ! repeated with mixed anger and peace j~ his heart. ngly George, with a sort of sob. What What would Rhoda say when ~he heard he does she care ~ and he got up and shook was gone? Nothing much! He knew her himself, as a big dog might have done, and well enough to know that Dolly would un- went out a step into the twillght, and then derstand, but her new ties would part them came back. more entirely than absence or silence. Thank you, old Dolly, for your good- There is a song of Schuberts I once heard ness, he said, standing before her. I cant a great singer sing. As she sang, the dull face them all again, and Robert, with his gray river flowed through the room, the confounded supercilious airs. I beg your bright lamp-lit walls opened out, the mists pardon, Dolly; dont look angry. I see how of a closing darkness surrounded us, the good you are, and I see, he said, staring monotonous beat of the rowlocks kept time her full in the face, that we have been both to the music, and the man rowed away, and running our heads against a wall. silence fell upon the waters. He walked on a little way, and Dolly fol- So Dolly stood watching the boat as it lowed. She could not answer him just then. disappeared along the dark~wall; for a time She felt with a pang that George and Robert she thought she heard the plash of the oars would never be friends; that she must love out upon the water, and a dark shade glid- them apart; even in heart she must keep ing away past the wharves and the houses them asunder. that crowd down to the shore. They had come to the place where not an She was saying her prayers for her poor hour ago she had jumped ashore. The boat boy as she walked back slowly to join the was still there, as they had left ittied to others. Robert met her with a little remon- the stake. The boatmen were at supper, st~nce for having hidden away so long. and had not yet taken it in. What are She took his arm and clung to it for a mm- you doing? said Dolly, as George stooped ute, trembling, with her heart beating. Oh! and began to untie the rope; George, be Robert; you wont let things come between careful. us, said the girl, greatly moved: my poor The fresh air will do me good, he said George is so unhappy. He is to blame, but dont be afraid; Ill take care, if you wish Rhoda has been hard upon him. Have you it. Then he nodded and got into the boat, guessed it all? My dear Dolly, said where the sculls were lying, and he began Robert, gravely, Rhoda has told us every to shove off with a rattle of the keel upon thing. She is most justly annoyed. She is the shore. I will leave the boat at Ted- quite overcome. She has just gone home dington, he said, and walk home. Good- with her uncle, and I must say Dont, night! Good-by ! he said. A boatman, dont say any thing, said Dolly, passionate- hearing the voices, came out of the boat- ly, bursting into tears; and her heart went house close by, and while Dolly was explain- out after her poor George rowing away along ing, the boat started off with a dull plash the dark river. of oars falling upon dark waters. George was rowing very slowly, his head was turned toward the garden of the inn. There were~ REPRIEVE. lights in the windows, and figures coming OVER the brink of the place I bent, and going; the water swirled against the And glanced in the darkling pool below wall of the terrace; the scent of the rhodo- Darkling with heavy hemlock shadows, And the gloom where sunbeams never go. dendrons seemed to fill the air and to stifle him as he passed; a bird chirped from the And a low, slow wind stirred the veiling branch darkness of some overhanging bushes. He With a ghastly twilight downward thrown, And I saw a face, the face of a woman, could hear his mothers voice: Robert! it A white dead face I had thought my own I

Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spofford Spofford, Harriet Prescott, Mrs. Reprieve 91-92

REPRIEVE. 91 bow could she comfort ~ Such pain as his is getting late: why dont they come in to was not to be eased by words spoken by an- tea ~ I must say it is nasty stuff, and not other person. When George began to speak to compare to that delicious Rangoon fla- at last his voice sonuded so sad and so jarred vor. He paused for a moment; her voice from its nsual sweetness that Dorothea was died away, and then all was silent. The frightened, as if she conld hear in it the echo evening was growing chill; some mists were of a coming trouble. rising. George felt the cool damp wind I wanted that woman to love me, he against his hot brow as he rowed doggedly said. Dolly, you dont know how I loved onpast the lights of the windows of the her. He was staring at the stream with inn, past the town, under the darkness of his starting eyes, and biting his nails. We the bridge. have no luck, either of us, he said; I He left them all behind, and his life, and dont deserve any, bnt you do. Tell Frank his love, he thought, and his mad passion; Im sorry I struck him; she had made me and himself, and Dolly, and Rhoda, and all half mad; she looks at me with those great the hopeless love he longed for and that was eyes of hers, and says, Go! and she makes never to be his. There were other things me mad; she does it to them all But now in life. So he rowed away into the darkness I have left her! left her! left her ! repeated with mixed anger and peace j~ his heart. ngly George, with a sort of sob. What What would Rhoda say when ~he heard he does she care ~ and he got up and shook was gone? Nothing much! He knew her himself, as a big dog might have done, and well enough to know that Dolly would un- went out a step into the twillght, and then derstand, but her new ties would part them came back. more entirely than absence or silence. Thank you, old Dolly, for your good- There is a song of Schuberts I once heard ness, he said, standing before her. I cant a great singer sing. As she sang, the dull face them all again, and Robert, with his gray river flowed through the room, the confounded supercilious airs. I beg your bright lamp-lit walls opened out, the mists pardon, Dolly; dont look angry. I see how of a closing darkness surrounded us, the good you are, and I see, he said, staring monotonous beat of the rowlocks kept time her full in the face, that we have been both to the music, and the man rowed away, and running our heads against a wall. silence fell upon the waters. He walked on a little way, and Dolly fol- So Dolly stood watching the boat as it lowed. She could not answer him just then. disappeared along the dark~wall; for a time She felt with a pang that George and Robert she thought she heard the plash of the oars would never be friends; that she must love out upon the water, and a dark shade glid- them apart; even in heart she must keep ing away past the wharves and the houses them asunder. that crowd down to the shore. They had come to the place where not an She was saying her prayers for her poor hour ago she had jumped ashore. The boat boy as she walked back slowly to join the was still there, as they had left ittied to others. Robert met her with a little remon- the stake. The boatmen were at supper, st~nce for having hidden away so long. and had not yet taken it in. What are She took his arm and clung to it for a mm- you doing? said Dolly, as George stooped ute, trembling, with her heart beating. Oh! and began to untie the rope; George, be Robert; you wont let things come between careful. us, said the girl, greatly moved: my poor The fresh air will do me good, he said George is so unhappy. He is to blame, but dont be afraid; Ill take care, if you wish Rhoda has been hard upon him. Have you it. Then he nodded and got into the boat, guessed it all? My dear Dolly, said where the sculls were lying, and he began Robert, gravely, Rhoda has told us every to shove off with a rattle of the keel upon thing. She is most justly annoyed. She is the shore. I will leave the boat at Ted- quite overcome. She has just gone home dington, he said, and walk home. Good- with her uncle, and I must say Dont, night! Good-by ! he said. A boatman, dont say any thing, said Dolly, passionate- hearing the voices, came out of the boat- ly, bursting into tears; and her heart went house close by, and while Dolly was explain- out after her poor George rowing away along ing, the boat started off with a dull plash the dark river. of oars falling upon dark waters. George was rowing very slowly, his head was turned toward the garden of the inn. There were~ REPRIEVE. lights in the windows, and figures coming OVER the brink of the place I bent, and going; the water swirled against the And glanced in the darkling pool below wall of the terrace; the scent of the rhodo- Darkling with heavy hemlock shadows, And the gloom where sunbeams never go. dendrons seemed to fill the air and to stifle him as he passed; a bird chirped from the And a low, slow wind stirred the veiling branch darkness of some overhanging bushes. He With a ghastly twilight downward thrown, And I saw a face, the face of a woman, could hear his mothers voice: Robert! it A white dead face I had thought my own I 92 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD STAGER. Notices of conspicuous Public Men, with char icr tic Anecdotes illustrating their Peceeliarities.Accounts of Congressional and other Duels, and personal Col- lisions in Congress, includi a Glance at Washing- ton Public Life during several Administrations. ROTATION IN OFFICE. ROTATION in office is all very well in theory, and it makes a jingle of words so pleasant to the ear that many people have accepted it as sound doctrine, without an examination of its scope and tendency. A fundamental error lies at its base, and it works mnch injury in its practical opera- tion. It rests on the hypothesis that every competent s~n has a claim to office or pub- lic favor of some kind, and that when one has enjoyed the emoluments or distinction of place for a time he should give way to his neighbor. In other words, official benefits are the property of individnals, and not of the nation, and are to be bestowed with ref- erence to the profit and convenience of those who seek them, irrespective of the manner in which their duties are performdd. This is true of elective as well as executive or judicial offices. In the towns of New En- gland men are chosen to the Legislature simply because it is their turn. Mr. Bar- tholomew goes this year, has his ride on the railways free, aiid pockets his per diem of two dollars. Next year Mr. Doolittle urges his claim for the same purpose. Probably Mr. Bartholomew and Mr. Doolittle take their seats as perfect ignoramuses, who will gain nothing in wisdom and experience dur- ing the session, and in failing to re-elect them, their constituents do no injury to the interests of the State. But when this prmc- tice obtains in Congressional elections it may happen that a man of intellect and culture, whose modesty and inexperience have deterred him from taking part in the current discussions of the House at his first session, will be rotated out of office, who might become an influential member, capa- ble of looking efficiently after the interests of his constituents, when he has worn off his rus- tic bashfulness, studied parliamentary law, and familiarized himself with the rules of the House. The business of legislation requires practice and experience as much as the law or the mechanic arts. The Southern States, from the early days of the republic up to the revolt in 1860, always exercised a degree of influence in the councils of the nation largely disproportioned to their numerical strength. To be sure, they sent their best men to Congress; and when they proved themselves worthy of confidence they kept them there for a long period of years. Thus mediocre mesi became influential legislators by dint of observation and experience, and were able to impress themselves upon Con- gress far more effectively than others of su- perior endowments and culture, but who remained only a short time in public life. William R. King came to the Senate when Alabama was admitted into the Union, and was continuously re-elected until his term of service reached the ordinary lifetime of a generation. He was not a man of brilliant intellect, and his education was principally gained in Congress. But he had dignity of mind, elevation of character, sincerity, and honesty, and although he always acted with the Democratic party, was distinguished for fairness, impartiality, and patriotic inten- tions. He was chairman of the Committee on Commerce for many years, and was re- peatedly chosen President of the Senate. He was in the House from North Carolina when quite a young man, and subsequently was appointed secretary of legation at Mad- rid. He was a wise, prudent, and safe leg- islator, industrious, attentive to his duties, and his opinions and judgment were always respectfully considered. He was appointed minister to France by President Tyler, and was elected Vice-President on the ticket with General Pierce, but died before taking his seat as presiding officer of the Senate. An anecdote will illustrate the difference be- tween the notions of a high-toned Southern gentleman and a worthy Democrat from the North on party ethics and political ma~nage- ment. I was playing a rubber of whist at the old Indian Queen Hotel, the winter aft- er the inauguration of General Taylor, with Mr. King, Governor Van Ness, of Vermont, and Colonel Richardson, of Illinois, then in the House of Representatives. Richardson inquired of Colonel King whether a certain gentleman nominated for register of the land- office in Dixon, Ilinois, had been confirmed. The Senator replied in the negative.. Then you will oblige me by voting against him. What is the objection to him ? was the inquiry. Nothing, that I know of, except that he is a bitter Whig, and he is to supplant a good Democrat, said Richardson. That is not a sufficient reason with me, answered Colonel King. If I were Presi- dent of the United States, I should probably appoint political friends, but my duty as a Senator, acting upon a nomination, is rather judicial than partisan. I have only to in- quire whether the nominee is a competent and proper man for the office, not whether he is a Whig. As the Senator left the room, Richardson remarked, What a old fool of a poli- tician that is ! Another instance where long service in Congress secured a dull man of moderate ca- pacity a distinguished position, was in the case of Liun Boyd, of Kentucky. He was below the average of talent and culture in

Recollections of an Old Stager 92-97

92 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD STAGER. Notices of conspicuous Public Men, with char icr tic Anecdotes illustrating their Peceeliarities.Accounts of Congressional and other Duels, and personal Col- lisions in Congress, includi a Glance at Washing- ton Public Life during several Administrations. ROTATION IN OFFICE. ROTATION in office is all very well in theory, and it makes a jingle of words so pleasant to the ear that many people have accepted it as sound doctrine, without an examination of its scope and tendency. A fundamental error lies at its base, and it works mnch injury in its practical opera- tion. It rests on the hypothesis that every competent s~n has a claim to office or pub- lic favor of some kind, and that when one has enjoyed the emoluments or distinction of place for a time he should give way to his neighbor. In other words, official benefits are the property of individnals, and not of the nation, and are to be bestowed with ref- erence to the profit and convenience of those who seek them, irrespective of the manner in which their duties are performdd. This is true of elective as well as executive or judicial offices. In the towns of New En- gland men are chosen to the Legislature simply because it is their turn. Mr. Bar- tholomew goes this year, has his ride on the railways free, aiid pockets his per diem of two dollars. Next year Mr. Doolittle urges his claim for the same purpose. Probably Mr. Bartholomew and Mr. Doolittle take their seats as perfect ignoramuses, who will gain nothing in wisdom and experience dur- ing the session, and in failing to re-elect them, their constituents do no injury to the interests of the State. But when this prmc- tice obtains in Congressional elections it may happen that a man of intellect and culture, whose modesty and inexperience have deterred him from taking part in the current discussions of the House at his first session, will be rotated out of office, who might become an influential member, capa- ble of looking efficiently after the interests of his constituents, when he has worn off his rus- tic bashfulness, studied parliamentary law, and familiarized himself with the rules of the House. The business of legislation requires practice and experience as much as the law or the mechanic arts. The Southern States, from the early days of the republic up to the revolt in 1860, always exercised a degree of influence in the councils of the nation largely disproportioned to their numerical strength. To be sure, they sent their best men to Congress; and when they proved themselves worthy of confidence they kept them there for a long period of years. Thus mediocre mesi became influential legislators by dint of observation and experience, and were able to impress themselves upon Con- gress far more effectively than others of su- perior endowments and culture, but who remained only a short time in public life. William R. King came to the Senate when Alabama was admitted into the Union, and was continuously re-elected until his term of service reached the ordinary lifetime of a generation. He was not a man of brilliant intellect, and his education was principally gained in Congress. But he had dignity of mind, elevation of character, sincerity, and honesty, and although he always acted with the Democratic party, was distinguished for fairness, impartiality, and patriotic inten- tions. He was chairman of the Committee on Commerce for many years, and was re- peatedly chosen President of the Senate. He was in the House from North Carolina when quite a young man, and subsequently was appointed secretary of legation at Mad- rid. He was a wise, prudent, and safe leg- islator, industrious, attentive to his duties, and his opinions and judgment were always respectfully considered. He was appointed minister to France by President Tyler, and was elected Vice-President on the ticket with General Pierce, but died before taking his seat as presiding officer of the Senate. An anecdote will illustrate the difference be- tween the notions of a high-toned Southern gentleman and a worthy Democrat from the North on party ethics and political ma~nage- ment. I was playing a rubber of whist at the old Indian Queen Hotel, the winter aft- er the inauguration of General Taylor, with Mr. King, Governor Van Ness, of Vermont, and Colonel Richardson, of Illinois, then in the House of Representatives. Richardson inquired of Colonel King whether a certain gentleman nominated for register of the land- office in Dixon, Ilinois, had been confirmed. The Senator replied in the negative.. Then you will oblige me by voting against him. What is the objection to him ? was the inquiry. Nothing, that I know of, except that he is a bitter Whig, and he is to supplant a good Democrat, said Richardson. That is not a sufficient reason with me, answered Colonel King. If I were Presi- dent of the United States, I should probably appoint political friends, but my duty as a Senator, acting upon a nomination, is rather judicial than partisan. I have only to in- quire whether the nominee is a competent and proper man for the office, not whether he is a Whig. As the Senator left the room, Richardson remarked, What a old fool of a poli- tician that is ! Another instance where long service in Congress secured a dull man of moderate ca- pacity a distinguished position, was in the case of Liun Boyd, of Kentucky. He was below the average of talent and culture in RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD STAGER. 93 the House, never won any reputation either in committee or on the floor, but he had been re-elected from the Bardstown district for sixteen or eighteen years; and upon the strength of his experience, although singu- larly unfitted for the duties of the office, he was elected Speakera place, in the posses- sion of an able man and adroit manager, sec- ond in political importance only to that of President of the United States. RELATIVES IN CONGRESS. There was a spectacle in the Twenty-third Congress without precedent in the history of the government, and which has never since been witnessed ia the Capitol. Samuel L. Southard was a Senator from New Jersey, and his father was a member of the House of Representatives from the same State. Fa- ther and son are rarely seen in Congress together. The most notable instance is the Dodges, who represented respectively the Territories of Wisconsin and Iowa as Dele- gates, and as Senators when they came into the Uaion as States. Henry Dodge, the fa- ther, famous as an Indian fighter, was a citi- zen of Wisconsin; his son, C~esar Augustus Dodge, who achieved no great distinction in any way, was from Iowa. They were re- spectable men, of moderate ability, honest, and faithful to their duties. The younger Dodge was appointed minister to Spain by President Pierce. James Barbour was a member of the Senate from Virginia, while his brother Phil- ip was in the House of Representatives. They were both conspicuous in the public service, patriotic men of high character, but of different temperaments and qualities of mind. James Barbour was in the cab- inet of Mr. Adams as Secretary of War, and afterward represented the government at the court of St. James. Philip was ap- pointed a justice of the Supreme Court by GeneralJackson. James was a flowery, ver- bose, and rather pompons orator. His rhet- oric was unexceptionable, but he wrote and spoke in a diffuse, ornamental style, that was much criticised by the sharp scholars of his day. He presided in the Harrisburg Con- vention that nominated General Harrison, in 1839, and the survivors of that uncommon- ly brilliant body will remember his strik- ingly dignified and imposing appearance. Philip P. Barbour was a sharp, keen man of a metaphysical turn of mind. The differ- ence between the brothers is well described by the remark attributed to John Randolph. An acquaintance meeting him descending the steps of the Capitol, inquired what was going on. Not much, said the old cynic. Ive been in the Senate listening to Jeemes Barbour, and in the House hearing Phil. Jeemes fired at a barn door, and missed it; Phil fired at a hair, and split it. Henry R. Storrs was in the House from New York, while his brother William was a member from Connecticut. They were both uncommonly able men. I have spoken of the elder brother in another place. William did not shine specially as a floor member, but he was a sound lawyer, thoroughly edu- cated, of a fine comprehensive mind, quick perception, excellent judgment, and ofperfect probity and uprightness of character. He resigned his seat in the Twenty-sixth Con- gress, having been chosen a judge of the Supreme Court of his native State. He was afterward made Chief Justice, and died on the bencha jurist without reproach, pure, firm, en lightened, and wise. Connecticut has been distinguished for the elevated tone of her highest judicial tribunals, and few men have contributed more to her reputa- tion in that respect than William L. Storrs. Joseph R. Ingersoll and his brother Charles Jared were members of the Twenty- seventh Congress. They were on opposite sides in politics, and theywere whollynulike, mentally and morally. Joseph, the Whig, was a mild, amiable gentleman, with a kind word for every body; not distinguished for intellectual greatness, but an intelligent legislator, industrious and attentive to his duties, and conscientious in their discharge. Charles Jared was an irascible man, of gen- erous impulses, but inveterate in his preju- dices and vindictive in his resentments. He had a sort of morbid dislike to England and every thing English, which had settled into a feeling like personal malevolence. He had been engaged in a controversy with a Brit- ish writer in regard to the respective merits of England and the United States, which was conducted with much acrimony, and he never could speak of the people or govern- ment of Great Britain in terms of modera- tion. His historical knowledge was exten- sive and accurate, and his speeches, always interesting and instructive, were frequently garnished with apposite classical allusions and quotations that gave them additional zest. Sometimes his haured of John Bull broke out in a strain of vituperation so coarse as to shock the weak nerves of the more delicate brethren. John A. King, afterward Governor of New Yor~, was a member with his brother James G. in the Thirty-first Congress. The latter was a Representative from New Jersey. But brothers were so often in the House to- gether that the instances are hardly worth particularizing. The Washbnrne family was more numerously represented in Congress than any other of which we have any recol- lection. Four or five of them have been there, and sometimes three at once. Three or four generations of Bayards have succes- sively represented Delaware in the Senate. Richard H. Bayard was followed byhis broth- er James A., and the latter was succeeded by his son, who is now a member of the body. 94 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE NAVY. The officens of the navy constituted an important element in Washington society. They were generally more popular than the army officers. They had seen more of the world in foreign parts as well as in their own country, and hence were more enter- taining companions. And then a jolly sailor has always something attractive about him, particularly to young people. Even the diplomatic corps, which usually constituted a strong social force, was hardly able to hold its own against the dashing tars, with their rich uniforms and frank, easy manners. There was usually a large body of them in Washington, more especially in the winter. Navy men are divided into two classes: the sea-going fellows who are called upon for all the disagreeable serviceto command and officer ships ordered on unwholesome sta- tions, and generally to discharge the duties from which carpet sailors shrink, and man- a~,e to avoid. The other class hang about the seat of government, dance attendance upon the executive and the secretaries, have schemes of naval reform to press upon Con- gress, and fill the manifold bureaus of the department. It used to be a common saying in the navy that a winters cruise in Wash- ington was better than two years service on a foreign station, so far as promotion and government favors were concerned. For years the old Navy Board controlled the service in every respect. The secretary was generally nothing but a respectable figure- head who carried out the plans of the old commodores, who took care to fortify them- selves by showering favors upon such offi- cers as were willing to become their tools, and had influential connections in Congress. The navy had only a nominal existence prior to the war of 1812. The exigencies of the country in that momentous struggle neces- sitated a resort to the commercial marine for seamen to commaiid our national ships. Many of the bravest and best officers in the navy were recruited from the merchant serv- ice. A large proportion of the elder post- captains were obtained from that source. Of course they were imperfectly educated in the scientific requirements of the profession, and although skillful navigators, and every way competent to fight a ship, could not mancauvre a fleet, and probably not one of them could have answered the questions now propounded to midshipmen when un- der examination preparatory to promotion. Hence arose feelings of jealousy on the part of the old sailors toward their juniors after the war. The difficulty with the piratical states on the Mediterranean, and subse- quently the necessity of protecting our com- merce from the picaroons in the Gulf had rendered a large increase of the naval force indispensable. During the administration of Mr. Monroe the elder commodores, headed by Baiubridge, Rogers, Stewart, and Biddle, combined together with a determination to force the government to create the rank of admiral, post-captain then being the high- est grade in the service. And such was the pluck and influence of these brave old tars that for several years they were able to pre- vent promotions above the rank of lieuten- ant. A large naval force was maintained in the Mediterranean, Commodore Bainbridge being the senior officer. The most distin- guished officers of the service were there on duty, Perry, Macdonough, Biddle, Crane, and Shaw being among the most eminent. The oppressive course of the older post-captains was warmly resented by the younger officers, but etiquette and the rules of the service precluded a resort to the mode of redress used among military men. There was here and there a post-captain who did not ap- prove of the measures taken to compel a change in the policy of the government. Captain Shaw, a gallant Irishman, with a warm heart and a vivacious temper, dis- agreed with his brother captains, and often expressed himself without reserve in opposi- tion to the course they were pursuing. A story was told of a meeting of commanders of vessels on board the ship of the line Ohio for purposes of consultation. They were all post-captains, with the exception of Master Commandant Booth, who was temporarily in command of a frigate. Commodore Perry, covered with laurels by his gallant exploit on Lake Erie, and naturally rather an ar- rogant man, made a supercilious remark to Booth, which was sharply retorted. Perry rejoined, in a sneering tone, If you were my equal in rank, Sir, I should. hold you personally accountable for your language. Shaws blood was up at once. Do I un- derstand you to say, Commodore Perry, that if Captain Booth was your aqual you would challenge him for what he has just said ? I should, most certainly, was the reply. Then, Sir, I repate every word that Cap- tain Booth has said, and Paddy Shaw is your aqual the world over. Perry was always cocked and primed for a fight, and a duel was expected as a mat- ter of course; but judicious friends inter- posed, and the affair was arranged. The growing strength of the junior offi- cers, and the uneasiness of the government under the tyrannical course of the old com- modores, finally broke up the combination, and promotions were made according to the necessities of the service. The movement was a failure so far as the creation of a more elevated grade in the navy was con- cerned, and it was not until the extended maritime operations indispensable in the suppression of the rebellion that .Congress authorized the appointment of admirals. But the old commodores continued to 4 RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD STAGER. maintain tlieir power at Washington, the Navy Board remaining supreme in author- ity, in fact, until the administration of Mr. Tyler, when there was a reorganization of the civil branch of the service, several bu- reaus being substituted for the old board. The thing was a failure. There was a di- vision of power and responsibility, the old commodores procuring themselves to be placed in authority, although in separate positions and under different official titles. The secretary, nominally the head of the de- partment, was nothing but a clerk: in fact, with less real power than the chief clerk or the register. And this state of things has generally ob- tained in the department. Mr. Southard, the ablest man who ever held the office of Secretary of the Navy, exacted obedience and subordination from officers of every grade. And his immediate successor, Gov~ ernor Branch, of North Carolina, undertook som.e reforms in the service; but Mrs. Eaton blew up General Jacksons first cabinet be- fore he had time to carry them into effect. These were exceptional cases, however. In the main, the older officers have had full swing in the navy, the secretary being of the smallest possible account. GAMBLING IN WASHINGTON. Washington for many years had been a hot-bed for gamblers of high and low de- gree. There were a dozen faro banks on the Avenue within a stones-throw of Gadsbys, on the corner of Sixth Street. Many of these establishments had club rooms attached, where members of Congress and others amused themselves with brag, vingt-et-un, and whist. Draw-poker came into vogue at a later day. Gambling, and for large sums, was common, particularly among Southern and Western members. Scores of them from Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, and the Gulf States squandered their modest per diem, then eight dollars only, at the gaming table, and some impaired their private for- tunes by the same indulgence. S. S. Pren- tiss was reported to have lost thirty thou- sand dollars the first winter he was in Con- gress. The most notorious and dashing gambler of the day was Edward Pendleton. He came from Virginia, where he was well connected, his family being of the best blood in the State, and he married a most respectable and accomplished lady, whose father held a responsible office under the government. Pendleton gave sumptuous entertainments at his club-house, which were well attended by some of the most eminent pnbllc men in the district. Mr. Mangum, then President of the Senate, John J. Crittenden, John M. Botts, John B. Thompson, of Kentucky, and LinnJ3 oyd, afterward Speaker of the House, and ~hers of lesser note were frequently his guests. Congress had enacted stringent penal laws to prevent gambling, but they were a dead letter, unless some poor devil made a complaint of foul play, or some fleeced blackleg sought vengeance through the aid of the Grand Jury; and then the mat- ter was usually compounded by the payment of money. Whist was a favorite game with the for- eign ministers and the elder statesmen. Mr. Clay,_General Scott, Mr. Bodisco, and Mr. Fox~~!iepIiLew ~f ~Uharles James Foxwho represented William the Fourth and Queen Victoria, often played together, a hundred dollars being the usual stake. They gener- ally played well, as Hoyle taught the game; but many of the members of the fashionable clubs of New York play with more skill than was dreamed of forty years ago. Governor Marcy was a great lover of whist, but he would never bet money on the game. There were always inveterate whisters in the- Senate. A story was current at one time of a protracted sitting at the card-table, at which Governor Stokes, of North Carollna,, and Mountjoy Bailey, sergeant-at-arms of the Senate, were two of the players. It ran in this wise: the Senate adjourned from Thursday over to Monday. The party sat down to cards after dinner Thursday even- ing. They played all night and all the next day, only stopping occasionally for refresh- ments. The game was continued Friday night and Saturday, through Saturday night and all day Sunday and Sunday night, the players resting for a snatch of sleep as na- ture became exhausted. Monday morning the game was in full blast; but at ten oclock. Bailey moved an adjournment, alleging that. his official duties required his presence in the Senate-chamber. Stokes remonstrated, but the sergeant-at-arms persisted, and rose from the table. The Governor grumbled and scolded, but finally gave it up, swearing that if he had suspected Bailey would break up the game thus prematurely, he would have seen himany where before he would have invited him to join the party. Mr. Webster played whist, but indifferent- ly only. The Virginians were addicted to that stupid game known as shoe-maker loo. President Tyler was fond of loo, and on a rainy day, when there was no great pressure of public business, he has been known to make up a game at the White House, and play all day, having dinner in his chamber. His companions usually were William Sel- den, Treasurer of the United States, Cary Selden, his brother, store - keeper at the. navy-yard, and sometimes Governor Gilmer, of Virginia, with now and then another fa- vorite. The amount played for was always. small, but Mr. Tyler was as much delighted at taking a pool as if he had won hundreds. Public opinion was not so averse to gain- ing in Washington as in most of the North- 96 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. em cities. Probably the tone of public great deal of labor, and well fitted for cler- morals is no more elevated now than it was ical duties of any description, as lie wrote then, but there was then less pretense and a beautiful and expeditious hand, and was ostentation of purity. At a large party giv- steady and industrious in his habits. He en by the wife of a cabinet minister, Mrs. applied for a diplomatic appointment, but Clay, chaperoning a young lady from the failing in that, he was willing to accept of North, passed through a room where gentle- any respectable position where the emolu- men were playing cards, Mr. Clay among the ments would afford him a livelihood. He number. had all the simplicity of a child, was con- Is this a common practice ~ inquired fiding, credulous, and easily imposed upon, the young lady. and the wags about Washingtonfor the Yes, said Mrs. Clay; they always play city is always infested with great numbers when they get together. of practical jokersdeluded him with mag- Dont it distress you to have Mr. Clay nificent and impossible expectatiohs. Rob- gamble l ert Tyler, the Presidents eldest son, and No, my dear, said the good old lady, Fletcher Webster were warm friends of composedly: he most always. wins. Payne, and co-operating with them were In the winter of 1841 General Scott, Mr. several newspaper correspondents, all of Clay, Mr. Fox, and Mr. Bodisco played whist whom made a persistent effort to procure once a week for some time, the stake, as usu- him an eligible appointment in one of the al, being a hundred dollars. They played a departments. Mr. Webster, then Secretary match game, Scott and Bodisco against Clay of State, had taken a prejudice against poor and Fox. They were well matched, and for Payne, and nothing could be done for him a long time the game was pretty even. At in the diplomatic or consular line. After a length fortune favored Messrs. Clay and Fox, while, and by dint of persevering exertion, and they were ten or twelve games ahead. we obtained a place for him in the War De- Gentlemen, said the Russian minister, partment, under Mr. Spencer. He had a rising from the table, the game has closed comfortable room all to himself, and he was for the season. The appropriation is ex- charged with the task of collating, indexing, haust. And sure enough not another game and making an abstract of the treaties nego- would he play, much to the disgust and vex- tinted by the government with the several ation of General Scbtt, who, of course, was a Indian tribes. His annual salary was six- considerable loser, teen hundred dollars, at that time a compe- tent support for a bachelor of simple tastes JOHN HOWARD PAYNE. and inexpensive habits. Payne was delight- John Howard Payne came to Washington ed. Nothing could have suited him better, on his release by the Georgia Regulators. and he set to work with wonderful zeal and Payne had conceived a grand scheme for an intelligence. The arrangement was a great international magazine, to be published si- relief to his friends, and we determined that multaneously in London and New York, and he should not be displaced in a hurry. he visited that portion of Georgia where the Knowing the secretarys peculiarities, and Creek Indians had recently been driven from that he was a kittle creature to shoe be- their homes to gather materials for an article hind, as the Scotchman says, we instructed on their habits and mode of living, and he Payne in regard to the mode in which he had been held as a prisoner on suspicion of should bear himself toward his official supe- being a spy. He published an account of nor. He was advised to attend to his duties his capture and detention, on being libera- diligently, to steer clear of the secretary aft- ted, so amusing and entertaining that Col- er exhibiting to him a specimen of the man- onel Preston, Mr. Calhouns colleague in the ner in which he was performing his work, to Senate, a gentleman of elegant culture and draw his salary on the first of every month, a keen sense of the ludicrous, expressed the and to bother nobody with suggestions or hope that Payne might again fall into the advice on any subject. After a few days of hands of some lawless gang, as his individ- constant labor Payne showed the secretary nal inconvenience under such circumstances what he was doing, and how he was doing was of no consequence in comparison with it. Nothing could have been better done. the enjoyment and edification afforded to There was no more exquisite penmanship on the public by his charming account of his the files of the department, and the arrange- adventures. ment of the papers was perfect. Mr. Spencer Paynes literary project had failed, and expressed his gratification in warm terms, he sought employment from the adminis- and Payne was in high glee. He continued tration, being in straitened circumstances, his labors with increased activity, accom- with no more thrift, or providence, or capac- plishing more every day than any other two ity for taking care of himself than Harold clerks in the department, and in less thau Skimpole. He was a delightful companion, four months he had completed the job. Un- full of genius, of nice culture, of more taste mindful of our caution, and pluming ~self than strength, perhaps, but capable of a upon the dispatch with which he had a~om IMPROVISATIONS. 97 pushed the work, he carried the fruits of it to the Secretary, who said he had nothing more for him to do, and dismissed him from office. Here was poor Payne on our hands again, as helpless as an infant, smarting under a sense of wrong, querulous, complaining, and deeming himself the most, unfortunate of mankind~ He was a spoiled prodigy. When a mere child he was brought upon the stage, precocious and of great promise in the dra- matic line, but his subsequent performances did not fulfill this promise, and he was a disappointed, unhappy man, for whom his friends could never do enough. No place could be found for him after he had fallen a victim to Mr. Spencers caprice, and we were all perplexed and fatigued by his importu- nities. At this juncture Mr. Webster was called to Boston on business, leaving his son Fletcher acting Secretary of State. During his absence we managed to have Payne ap- pointed consul to Tunis, and he had his commission in his pocket before the Secre- tary returned to Washington. But there was no end to his troubles and embarrass- ments. Full of the dignity of his office, he insisted upon being conveyed to the scene of his labors in a vessel of war. The Secre- tary of the Navy hesitated about giving an order to that effect, and Payne invoked the authority of the President to accomplish his object. But Mr. Tyler had some ~1oubts of the propriety of granting his request, and things remained in statu quo. Meantime Payne, having raised a sum of money by virtue of his office, went to New York, and commenced the purchase of a library to oc- cupy his leisure time while not engaged in conference with the Bey of Tunis. The enemies of the administrationand they comprised a large majority of Congress, and throughout the countrywere all the time on the watch for causes of censure and re- proach, and Paynes long delay in departing for the site of old Carthage was made the subject of sharp animadversion. Dr. Heap, who had been a long time consul at Tunis, was a relative or intimate friend of Colonel Benton, who had strenuouslyresisted Paynes confirmation. Threatening an assault on Mr. Tyler in tbis connection, some anxiety was created, and the President swore that Payne should proceed immediately to his place of destination, or he would revoke the appoint- ment. He was still in New York making his arrangements, as he wrote in reply to an inquiry when he would be ready to sail, and I was sent on to take him in hand and see if it was possible to facilitate his depart- ure from the country. I found him penni- less, having spent his outfit in every sort of extravagant folly, unable to move in any direction, and in a state of despair. At the suggestion of Mr. Tyler we advanced him money enough to pay his passage across the VOL. XLVI.No. 27t7 Atlantic; and the next we heard from him was at Paris, destitute, and living on afriend, waiting for something to turn up. Obtain- ing relief from a gentleman whom he had slightly known in Washington, he made his way to Tunis at last. He soon ingratiated himself with the Bey, and in due time he compensated us for all our trouble by a long, charmingly written, and most interesting letter, descriptive of every thing that had occurred under his no- tice in Carthage. The Bey had given him the use of a palace larger than~the White House, and assigned him a retinue of Arabs for domestic service sufficient in number to form a body-guard to the Emperor of Moroc- co. Not one of them understood a word of any civilized tongue, and Payne, who spoke French like a native, and understood sev- eral of the modern European languages, had not included the lingo of the Mussulman in his studies. So the communication between the lord of the palace and his servants was confined to gestures and grimaces. His sit- ting apartment was about the size of the East Room in the White House, with a cool marble floor, furnished with divans and lounges. Here Payne sat in solitary splen- dor. If he needed any thing, he blew a sil- ver whistle, and there filed in at least a dozen tall Arabs, who placed themselves in a semicircle around him, as silent as graven images, but all of them salaming with the grace of sons of the desert, and informing him by smirks and signs that they were his slaves. The novelty of the thing afforded amusement for a while; but becoming fa- tigued of it, lie turned his attention to re- forming certain abuses which he assumed had been overlooked by his friend the Bey, and the result was that he came near falling a victim to the bow-string. IMPROVISATIONSV. WHAT if we lose the seasons That seem of our happiest choice, That Life is fuller of reasons To sorrow than rejoice, That Time is richer in treasons, And Hope has a faltering voice? The dreams wherewith we were dowered Were gifts of an ignorant brain; The truth has at last overpowered The visions we clung to in vain: But who would resist, as a coward, The knowledge that cometh from pain? For the love, as a flower of the meadow, The love that stands firm as a tree For the stars that have vanished in shadow, The daylight~ enduring and free For a dream of the dim El Dorado, A world to inhabit have we! BAYARD TAYLOR.

Bayard Taylor Taylor, Bayard Improvisations V 97-98

IMPROVISATIONS. 97 pushed the work, he carried the fruits of it to the Secretary, who said he had nothing more for him to do, and dismissed him from office. Here was poor Payne on our hands again, as helpless as an infant, smarting under a sense of wrong, querulous, complaining, and deeming himself the most, unfortunate of mankind~ He was a spoiled prodigy. When a mere child he was brought upon the stage, precocious and of great promise in the dra- matic line, but his subsequent performances did not fulfill this promise, and he was a disappointed, unhappy man, for whom his friends could never do enough. No place could be found for him after he had fallen a victim to Mr. Spencers caprice, and we were all perplexed and fatigued by his importu- nities. At this juncture Mr. Webster was called to Boston on business, leaving his son Fletcher acting Secretary of State. During his absence we managed to have Payne ap- pointed consul to Tunis, and he had his commission in his pocket before the Secre- tary returned to Washington. But there was no end to his troubles and embarrass- ments. Full of the dignity of his office, he insisted upon being conveyed to the scene of his labors in a vessel of war. The Secre- tary of the Navy hesitated about giving an order to that effect, and Payne invoked the authority of the President to accomplish his object. But Mr. Tyler had some ~1oubts of the propriety of granting his request, and things remained in statu quo. Meantime Payne, having raised a sum of money by virtue of his office, went to New York, and commenced the purchase of a library to oc- cupy his leisure time while not engaged in conference with the Bey of Tunis. The enemies of the administrationand they comprised a large majority of Congress, and throughout the countrywere all the time on the watch for causes of censure and re- proach, and Paynes long delay in departing for the site of old Carthage was made the subject of sharp animadversion. Dr. Heap, who had been a long time consul at Tunis, was a relative or intimate friend of Colonel Benton, who had strenuouslyresisted Paynes confirmation. Threatening an assault on Mr. Tyler in tbis connection, some anxiety was created, and the President swore that Payne should proceed immediately to his place of destination, or he would revoke the appoint- ment. He was still in New York making his arrangements, as he wrote in reply to an inquiry when he would be ready to sail, and I was sent on to take him in hand and see if it was possible to facilitate his depart- ure from the country. I found him penni- less, having spent his outfit in every sort of extravagant folly, unable to move in any direction, and in a state of despair. At the suggestion of Mr. Tyler we advanced him money enough to pay his passage across the VOL. XLVI.No. 27t7 Atlantic; and the next we heard from him was at Paris, destitute, and living on afriend, waiting for something to turn up. Obtain- ing relief from a gentleman whom he had slightly known in Washington, he made his way to Tunis at last. He soon ingratiated himself with the Bey, and in due time he compensated us for all our trouble by a long, charmingly written, and most interesting letter, descriptive of every thing that had occurred under his no- tice in Carthage. The Bey had given him the use of a palace larger than~the White House, and assigned him a retinue of Arabs for domestic service sufficient in number to form a body-guard to the Emperor of Moroc- co. Not one of them understood a word of any civilized tongue, and Payne, who spoke French like a native, and understood sev- eral of the modern European languages, had not included the lingo of the Mussulman in his studies. So the communication between the lord of the palace and his servants was confined to gestures and grimaces. His sit- ting apartment was about the size of the East Room in the White House, with a cool marble floor, furnished with divans and lounges. Here Payne sat in solitary splen- dor. If he needed any thing, he blew a sil- ver whistle, and there filed in at least a dozen tall Arabs, who placed themselves in a semicircle around him, as silent as graven images, but all of them salaming with the grace of sons of the desert, and informing him by smirks and signs that they were his slaves. The novelty of the thing afforded amusement for a while; but becoming fa- tigued of it, lie turned his attention to re- forming certain abuses which he assumed had been overlooked by his friend the Bey, and the result was that he came near falling a victim to the bow-string. IMPROVISATIONSV. WHAT if we lose the seasons That seem of our happiest choice, That Life is fuller of reasons To sorrow than rejoice, That Time is richer in treasons, And Hope has a faltering voice? The dreams wherewith we were dowered Were gifts of an ignorant brain; The truth has at last overpowered The visions we clung to in vain: But who would resist, as a coward, The knowledge that cometh from pain? For the love, as a flower of the meadow, The love that stands firm as a tree For the stars that have vanished in shadow, The daylight~ enduring and free For a dream of the dim El Dorado, A world to inhabit have we! BAYARD TAYLOR. 98 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. A SIMPLETON. A STORY OF THE DAY. By CHARLES READE. CHAPTER VI.( Continued.) ROSA got flushed, and her eye gleamed like a gamblers, and she bought away like wild-fire. In which sport she caught sight of an old gentleman with little black eyes, that kept twinkling at her. She complained of these eyes to Mrs. Cole. Why does he twinkle so? I can see it is at me. I am doing something foolishI know I am. Mrs. Cole turned and fixed a haughty stare on the old gentleman. Would you believe it? instead of sinking through the floor, he sat his ground, and retorted with a cool, clear grin. But now, whenever Rosas agent bid for her, and the other man of straw against him, the black eyes twinkled, and Rosas courage began to ooze away. Atlast she said, That is enough for one day. I shall go. Who could bear those eyes 0? The broker took her address; so did the auctioneers clerk. The auctioneer asked her for no deposit; her beautiful, innocent, and high-bred face was enough for a man who was always reading faces and inter- preting them. And so they retired. Butthis charming sexis likethat same auc- tioneers hammer, it can not go abruptly. It is always goinggoinggoinga long time before it is gone. I think it would perhaps loiter at the door of a jail, with the order of release in its hand, after six years confine- ment. Getting up to go quenches in it the desire. to go. So these ladies, having got up to go, turned and lingered, and hung fire so long that at last another set of oak chairs came up. Oh! I must see what those go for, said Rosa, at the door. The bidding was mighty languid now Rosas broker was not stimulating it; and the auctioneer was just knocking down twelve chairsoak and leatherand two arm-chairs, for twenty pounds, when, cast- ing his eyes around, he caught sight of Rosa looking at him rather excited. He looked inquiringly at her. She nodded slightly; he khocked them down to her at twenty guineas, and they were really a great bar- nain. Twenty-two, cried a dealer. Too late, said the auctioneer. I spoke with the hammer, Sir. After the hammer, Isaacs. Shelp me God, we was together. One or two more of his tribe confirmed this pious falsehood, and clamored to have them put up again. Call the next lot, said the auctioneer, peremptorily. Make up your mind a little quicker next time, Mr. Isaacs; you have been long enough at it to know the value of oak and moroccar. Mrs. Staines and her friend now started for Morleys Hotel, but went round by Re- gent Street: whereby they got glued at Peter Robinsons window and nine other windows; and it was nearly five oclock when they reached Morleys. As they came near the door of their sitting-room Mrs. Staines heard somebody laughing and talk. ing to her husband. The laugh, to her sub- tile ears, did not sound musical and genial,, but keen, satirical, unpleasant: so it wasp with some timidity she opened the door; and there sat the old chap with the twinkling eyes. Both parties stared at each other a moment. Why, it is them ! cried the old gentle- man; ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! Rosa colored all over, and felt guilty some- how, and looked miserable. Rosa dear, said Doctor Staines, thi& is our uncle Philip. Oh ! said Rosa, and turned red and pale by turns: for she had a great desire to pro- pitiate Uncle Philip. You were in the auction-room, Sir, said Mrs. Cole, severely. I was, madam. He! he ! Furnishing a house 0? No, maam. I go to a dozen sales a week; but it is not to buy; I enjoy the humors. Did you ever hear of Robert Bur- ton, maam 0? No. Yes; a great traveler, isnt he~ Discovered the Nileor the Nigeror some- thing. This majestic vagueness staggered old Crusty at first, but he recovered his equi- librium, and said, Why, yes, now I think of it, you are right; he has traveled farther than most of us; for about two centuries ago he visited that bourne whence no traveler returns. Well, when he was alivehe was a student of Christchurchhe used to go down to a certain bridge over the Isis and enjoy the chaff of the bargemen. Now there are no bargemen left to speak of: the mantle of Bobby Burtons bargees has fallen on the Jews and demi-semi-Christians that buy and sell furniture at the weekly auctions: thither I repair to hear what little coarse wit is left us: used to go to the House of Commons,

Charles Reade Reade, Charles A Simpleton 98-103

98 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. A SIMPLETON. A STORY OF THE DAY. By CHARLES READE. CHAPTER VI.( Continued.) ROSA got flushed, and her eye gleamed like a gamblers, and she bought away like wild-fire. In which sport she caught sight of an old gentleman with little black eyes, that kept twinkling at her. She complained of these eyes to Mrs. Cole. Why does he twinkle so? I can see it is at me. I am doing something foolishI know I am. Mrs. Cole turned and fixed a haughty stare on the old gentleman. Would you believe it? instead of sinking through the floor, he sat his ground, and retorted with a cool, clear grin. But now, whenever Rosas agent bid for her, and the other man of straw against him, the black eyes twinkled, and Rosas courage began to ooze away. Atlast she said, That is enough for one day. I shall go. Who could bear those eyes 0? The broker took her address; so did the auctioneers clerk. The auctioneer asked her for no deposit; her beautiful, innocent, and high-bred face was enough for a man who was always reading faces and inter- preting them. And so they retired. Butthis charming sexis likethat same auc- tioneers hammer, it can not go abruptly. It is always goinggoinggoinga long time before it is gone. I think it would perhaps loiter at the door of a jail, with the order of release in its hand, after six years confine- ment. Getting up to go quenches in it the desire. to go. So these ladies, having got up to go, turned and lingered, and hung fire so long that at last another set of oak chairs came up. Oh! I must see what those go for, said Rosa, at the door. The bidding was mighty languid now Rosas broker was not stimulating it; and the auctioneer was just knocking down twelve chairsoak and leatherand two arm-chairs, for twenty pounds, when, cast- ing his eyes around, he caught sight of Rosa looking at him rather excited. He looked inquiringly at her. She nodded slightly; he khocked them down to her at twenty guineas, and they were really a great bar- nain. Twenty-two, cried a dealer. Too late, said the auctioneer. I spoke with the hammer, Sir. After the hammer, Isaacs. Shelp me God, we was together. One or two more of his tribe confirmed this pious falsehood, and clamored to have them put up again. Call the next lot, said the auctioneer, peremptorily. Make up your mind a little quicker next time, Mr. Isaacs; you have been long enough at it to know the value of oak and moroccar. Mrs. Staines and her friend now started for Morleys Hotel, but went round by Re- gent Street: whereby they got glued at Peter Robinsons window and nine other windows; and it was nearly five oclock when they reached Morleys. As they came near the door of their sitting-room Mrs. Staines heard somebody laughing and talk. ing to her husband. The laugh, to her sub- tile ears, did not sound musical and genial,, but keen, satirical, unpleasant: so it wasp with some timidity she opened the door; and there sat the old chap with the twinkling eyes. Both parties stared at each other a moment. Why, it is them ! cried the old gentle- man; ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! Rosa colored all over, and felt guilty some- how, and looked miserable. Rosa dear, said Doctor Staines, thi& is our uncle Philip. Oh ! said Rosa, and turned red and pale by turns: for she had a great desire to pro- pitiate Uncle Philip. You were in the auction-room, Sir, said Mrs. Cole, severely. I was, madam. He! he ! Furnishing a house 0? No, maam. I go to a dozen sales a week; but it is not to buy; I enjoy the humors. Did you ever hear of Robert Bur- ton, maam 0? No. Yes; a great traveler, isnt he~ Discovered the Nileor the Nigeror some- thing. This majestic vagueness staggered old Crusty at first, but he recovered his equi- librium, and said, Why, yes, now I think of it, you are right; he has traveled farther than most of us; for about two centuries ago he visited that bourne whence no traveler returns. Well, when he was alivehe was a student of Christchurchhe used to go down to a certain bridge over the Isis and enjoy the chaff of the bargemen. Now there are no bargemen left to speak of: the mantle of Bobby Burtons bargees has fallen on the Jews and demi-semi-Christians that buy and sell furniture at the weekly auctions: thither I repair to hear what little coarse wit is left us: used to go to the House of Commons, A SIMPLETON. 99 but they are getting too civil by half for my money. Besides, characters come out iu an auction. For instance, only this very day I saw two ladies enter, iu gorgeous attire, like heifers decked for sacrifice, and reduce their spoliation to a certainty by employing a broker to bid. Now what is a broker? A fellow who is to be paid a shilling in the pound for all articles purchased. What is his interest, then? To buy cheap? Clearly not. He is paid in proportion to the dear ness of the article. Rosas face began to work piteously. Accordingly, what did the broker in ques- tion do? He winked to another broker, and these two bid against one another, over their victims head, and ran every thing she want- ed up at least a hundred per cent. above the -value. So open and transparent a swindle I have seldom seen, even in an auction-room. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! His mirth was interrupted by Rosa going to her husband, hiding her head on his shoulder, and meekly crying. Christopher comforted her like a man. Dont you cry, darling, said he; how should a pure creature like you know the badness of the world all in a moment? If it is my wife you are laughing at, Uncle Philip, let me tell you this is the wrong place. Id rather a thousand times have her as she is, than armed with the cunning and suspicions of a hardened old worldiing like you. With all my heart, said Uncle Philip, who, to do him justice, could take blows as well as give them; but why employ a broker? why pay a scoundrel five per cent. to make you pay a hundred per cent.? why pay a noisy fool a farthing to open his mouth for you when you have taken the trouble to be there yoursell and have got a mouth of your own to bid discreetly with? Was ever such an absurdity ? He began to get angry. Do you want to quarrel with me, Uncle Philip ? said Christopher, firing up; be- cause sneering at my Rosa is the way, and the only way, and the sure way. Oh no ! said Rosa, interposing. Uncle Philip was right. I am very foolish and in- experienced: but I am not so vain as to turn from good advice. I will never employ a broker again, Sir. Uncle Philip smiled, and looked pleased. Mrs. Cole caused a diversion by taking leave, and Rosa followed her down stairs. On her return she found Christopher telling his uncle all about the bijon, and how he had taken it for 130 a year and 100 pre- mium, and Uncle Philip staring fearfully. At last he found his tongue. The bijon ! said he. Why, that is a name they gave to a little den in Dear Street, Mayfair. You havent ever been and taken that! Built over a mews. Christopher groaned. That is the place, I fear. Why, the owner is a friend of mine; an old patient. Stables stunk him out. Let it to a man; I forget his name. Stables stunk him out. He said,I shall go. You cant, said my friend; you have taken a lease. Lease bed d,said the other; meyer took your house; heres quite a large stench not specified in your description of the prop- erty: it cant be the same place: flung the lease at his head, and cut like the wind to foreign parts less odoriferous. Id have got you the hole for ninety; but you are like your wife, you must go to an agent. What! dont you know that an agent is a man acting for you with an interest opposed to yours? Em- ploying an agent: it is like a Trojan seek- ing the aid of a Greek. You neednt cry, Mrs. Staines; your husband has been let in deeper than you have. Now you are young people beginning life: Ill give you a piece of advice. Employ others to do what you cant do, and it must be done; but never to do any thing you can do better for your- selves. Agent! the word is derived from a Latin word, agere, to do; and agents act up to their etymology; for they invariably do the nincompoop that employs them, or deals with them, in any mortal way. Id have got you that beastly little bijon for 90 a year. Uncle Philip went away crusty, leaving the young couple finely mortified and dis- couraged. That did not last very long; Christopher noted the experience and Uncle Phils wis- dom in his diary, and then took his wife on his knee, and comforted her, and said, Nev- er mind; experience is worth money, and it always has to be bought. Those who cheat us will die poorer than we shall, if we are honest and economical. I have observed that people are seldom ruined by the vices of others; these may hurt them, of course; but it is only their own faults and follies that can destroy them. Ah, Christie, said Rosa, you are a man. Oh, the comfort of being married to a man! A man sees the best side. I do adore men. Dearest, I will waste no more of your mon- ey. I will go to no more sales. Christopher saw she was deeply mortified, and he said, quietly, On the contrary, you will go to the very next. Only take Uncle Philips advice; employno broker, and watch the prices things fetch when you are not bid- ding, and keep cool. She caressed his ears with both her white hands, and thanked him for giving her an- other trial. So that trouble melted in the sunshine of conjugal love. Notwithstanding the agents solemn a~ surance, the bijou was out of repair. Doctor Staines detected internal odors, as well as those that flowed in from the mews. He 100 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. was not the man to let his wife perish by miasma; so he had the drains all up, and actually found brick drains and a cesspool: he stopped that up, and laid down new pipe-drains, with a good fall, and properly trapped. The old drains were hidden, after the manner of builders. He had the whole course of his new drains marked upon all the floors they passed under, and had sever- al stones and boards hinged, to facilitate ex- amination at any period. But all this, with the necessary cleaning, whitewashing, painting, and papering, ran away with money. Then came Rosas pur- chases, which, to her amazement, amount- ed to 190, and not a carpet, curtain, or bed among the lot. Then there was the car- riage home from the auction-room, an ex- pense one avoids by buying at a shop, and the broker claimed his shilling in the pound. This, however, Staines refused. The man came and blustered. Rosa, who was there, trembled. Then, for the first time, she saw her husbands brow lower; he seemed trans- figured, and looked terrible. You scoun- dtel, said he, you set another villain like yourself to bid against you, and you betrayed the innocent lady that employed you. I could indict you and your confederate for a conspiracy: I take the goods out of respect for my wifes credit, but you shall gain noth- ing by swindling her. Be oft; you heartless miscreant, or Ill Ill take the law if you do. Take it, then: Ill give you something to howl for ; and he seized him with a grasp so tremendous that the fellow cried out in dismay, Oh! dont hit me, Sir; pray dont. On this abject appeal, Staines tore the door open with his left hand, and spun the broker out into the passage with his right. Two movements of this angry Hercules, and the man was literally whirled out of sight with a rapidity and swiftness almost ludi- crous; it was like a trick in a pantomime: a clatter on the stairs betrayed that he had gone down the first few steps in a wholesale and irregular manner, though he had just managed to keep his feet. As for Staines, he stood there still lower- ing like thunder, and his eyes like hot coals; but his wife threw her tender arms around him, and begged him consolingly not to mind. She was trembling like an aspen. Dear me, said Christopher, with a ludi- crous change to marked politeness and re- spect; I forgot you in my righteous indig- nation. Next he becomes uxorious. Did they frighten her, a duck? Sit on my knee, darling, and pull my hair for not being more consideratetherethere. This was followed by the whole absurd soothing process as practiced by manly hus- bands upon quivering and somewhat hys- terical wives; and ended with a formal apology. You must not think that I am passionate; on the contrary, I am always practicing self government. My maxim is, Animum rege q i nisi paret imperat; and that means, Make your temper your servant, or else it will be your master. But to ill-use my dear little wife, it is unnatural, it is mon- strous, it makes my blood boil) Oh dear! dont go into another. It is all over. I cant bear to see you in a pas- sion; you are so terrible, so beautiful. Ah! they are fine things, courage and strength. Theres nothing I admireso much. Why they are as common as dirt. What I admire is modesty, timidity, sweetness; the sensitive cheek that pales or blushes at a word, the bosom that quivers, and clings to a fellow whenever any thing goes wrong. Oh, that is what you admire, is it? said Rosa, dryly. Admire it ? said Christopher, not seeing the trap; I adore it. Then, Christie dear, you are a simple- ton; that is all. And we are made for one another. The house was to be furnished and occu- pied as soon as possible; so Mrs. Staines and Mrs. Cole went to another sale-room. Mrs. Staines remembered all Uncle Philip had said, and went plainly dressed; but her friend declined to sacrifice her showy dress to her friends interests. Rosa thought that a little unkind, but said nothing. In this auction-room they easily got a place at the table: but did not find it heaven; for a number of second-hand car- pets were in the sale, and these, brimful of dust, were all shown on the table, and the dirt choked and poisoned our fair friends. Brokers pestered them, until at last Rosa, smarting under her late exposure, addressed the auctioneer quietly, in her silvery tones: Sir, these gentlemen are annoying me by forcing their services on me. I do not in- tend to buy at all unless I can be allowed to bid for myself. When Rosa, blushing and amazed at her own boldness, uttered these words, she little foresaw their effect. She had touched a pop- ular sore. You are quite right, madam, said a re- spectable tradesman opposite her. What business have these dirty fellows, without a shilling in their pocket, to go and force themselves on a lady against her will? It has been complained of in the papers again and again, said another. What, maXut we live as well as you? retorted a broker. Yes, but not toforce yourself on a lady. Why, shed give you in charge of the police if you tried it on outside. Then there was a downright clamor of dis- cussion and chaff. Presently up rises very slowly a country- A SIMPLETON. 101 man so colossal that it seemed as if he would never have done getting up, and gives his experiences. He informed the company, in a broad Yorkshire dialect, that he did a bit in furniture, and at first starting these bro- kers buzzed about him like flies, and pester- ed him. Ah damned em pretty hard, said he, but they didnt heed any. So then ah spoke em civil, and ah said, Well, lads, I dinna come fra Yorkshire to sit like a dum- my and let you buy wi my brass: the first that pesters me again ahll just fell him on t plaace, like a caulf, and ahm not very sure hell get up again in a hurry. So they dropped me like a hot potato; never pester- ed me again. But if they wont give over pestering you, mistress, ahll come round and just stand behind your chair, and bring nieve with me, showing a fist like a leg of mutton. No, no, said the auctioneer, that will not do. I will have no disturbance here. Call the policeman. While the clerk went to the door for the bobby a gentleman reminded the auctioneer that the journals had repeatedly drawn at- tention to the nuisance. Fault of the public, not mine, Sir. Po- liceman, stand behind that ladys chafr, and if any body annoys her, put him quietly into th~ street. This auctionroom will be to let soon,~~ said a voice at the end of the table. This auction-room, said the auctioneer, master of the gay or grave at a moments notice,is supported by the public and the trade; it is not supported by paupers. A Jew upholsterer put in his word. I do my own business; but I like to let a poor man live. Jonathan,~~ said the auctioneer to one of his servants, after this sale you may put up the shutters; we have gone and offended Mr. Jacobs. He keeps a shop in Blind Al- ley, Whitechapel. Now then, Lot 69. Rosa bid timidly for one or two lots, and bought them cheap. The auctioneer kept looking her way, and she had only to nod. The obnoxious broker got opposite her and ran her up a little out of spite; but as he had only got half a crown about him, and no means of doubling it, he dared not go far. On the other side of the table was a figure to which Rosas eyes often turned with in- terest: a fair young boy about twelve years old; he had golden hair, and was in deep mourning. His appearance interested Rosa, and she wondered how he came there, and why: he looked like a lamb wedged in among wolves, a flower among weeds. As the lots proceeded the boy seemed to get un- easy; and at last, when Lot 73 was put up, any body could see in his poor little face that he was there to bid for it. Lot 73, an arm-chair covered in morocco. An excellent and most useful article. Should not be at all surprised if it was made by Gil- low. Gillow would, though, said Jacobs, who owed him a turn. Chorus of dealers. Haw! haw ! The auctioneer. I like to hear some people run a lot down; shows they are going to bid for it in earnest. Well, name your own price. Five pounds to begin ? Now if nobody had spoken, the auctioneer would have gone on, Well, four pounds then, three, two, whatever you like, and at last obtained a bona fide offer of thirty shil- lings; but the moment he said Five pounds to begin, the boy in black lifted up his childish treble, and bid thus, Five pound ten six pounds six pound ten seven pounls seven pound ten eight pounds eight pound tennine poundsnine pound ten ten pounds ! without interruption, and, indeed, almost in a breath. There was a momentary pause of amaze- ment, and then an outburst of chaff. Nice little boy ! Didnt he say his lesson well ? Favor us with your card, Sir. You are a gent as knows how to buy. What did he stop for? If its worth ten, it is worth a hundred. Bless the child ! said a female dealer, kindly, what made you go on like that? Why, there was no bid against you! youd have got it for two poundsa rickety old thing. Young master began to whimper. Why, the gentleman said, Five pounds to begin. It was the chair poor grandpapa always sat in, and all the things are sold, and mamma said it would break her heart to lose it. She was too ill to come, so she sent me. She told me I was not to let it be sold away from us for less than ten pounds, or she shshould be ininmiserable, and the poor little fellow began to cry. Rosa fol- lowed suit promptly but unobtrusively. Sentiment always costs money, said Mr. Jacobs, gravely. How do you know ? asked Mr. Cohen. Have you got any on hand? I never seen none at your shop. Some tempting things now came up, and Mrs. Staines bid freely; but all of a sudden she looked down the table, and there was Uncle Philip twinkling as before. Oh dear! what am I doing now ? thought she. !J have got no broker. She bid on, bat in fear and trembling be- cause of those twinkling eyes. At last she mustered courage, wrote on a leaf of her pocket-book, and passed it down to him. It would be only kind to warn me. What am I doing wrong l He sent her back a line directly: Auc 102 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tioneer running you up himself. Follow his eye when he bids; you will see there is no bonafide bidder at your prices.~~ Rosa did so, and fonnd that it was true. She nodded to Uncle Philip; and, with her expressive face, asked him what she should do. The old boy must have his joke. So he wrote back, Tell him, as you see he has a fancy for certain articles, you would not be so discourteous as to bid against him. The next article but one was a drawing- room suit Rosa wanted; but the auctioneer bid against her; so, at eighteen pounds, she stopped. It is against you, madam, said th~ auc- tioneer. Yes, ~ said Rosa ; but as you are the only bidder, and you have been so kind to me, I would not think of opposing you. The words were scarcely out of her mouth when they were greeted with a roar of Ho- meric laughter that literally shook the room, and this time not at the expense of the in- nocent speaker. Thats into your mutton, governor. Sharps the word this time. I say, governor, dont you want a broker to bid for ye ? Wink at me next time, Sir; Ill do the office for you. No greenhorns left now. That lady wont give a ten-pound note for her grandfathers arm-chair. Oh yes, she will, if its stuffed with bank- notes. Put the next lot up with the owners name and the reserve pric3. Open business. And sing a psalm at starting. A littleless noise in Juda~a, if you please, said the auctioneer, who had now recovered from the blow. Lot 97. This was a very pretty marqueterie cab- inet; it stood against the wall, and Rosa had set her heart upon it. Nobody would bid. She had muzzled the auctioneer ef- fectually. Your own price.~~ Two pounds, said Rosa. A dealer offered guineas, and it advauced slowly to four pounds and half a crown, at which it was about to be knocked down to Rosa, when suddenly a new bidder arose in the broker Rosa had rejected. They bid slowly and sturdily against each other, until a line was given to Rosa from Uncle Philip. This time it is your own friend, the snipe - nosed woman. She telegraphed a broker. Rosa read, and crushed, the note. Six guineas, said she. Six-ten. Seven. Seven-ten. Eight. Eight-ten. Ten guineas, said Rosa; and then, with feminine cunning, stealing a sudden glance, caught her friend leaning back and signal- ing the broker not to give in. Eleven pounds. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Sixteen. Eighteen. Twenty guineas. It is yours, my faithful friend, said Rosa, turning suddenly round on Mrs. Cole with a magnificent glance no one would have thought her capable of. Then she rose and stalked away. Dumfoundered for the moment, Mrs. Cole followed her, and stopped her at the door. Why, Rosie dear, it is the only thing I have bid for. There Ive sat by your side like a mouse. Rosa turned gravely toward her. You know it is not that. You had only to tell me you wanted it. I would never have been so mean as to bid ~igainst you.~~ Mean, indeed I said Florencc, tossing her head. Yes, mean; to draw back and hide be- hind the friend you were with, and employ the very rogue she had turned off. But it is my own fault. Cecilia warned me against you. She always said you were a treacher- ous girl. And I say you are an impudent little minx. Only just married, and going about like two vagabonds, and talk to me like that ! We are not going about like two vaga- bonds. We have taken a house iu May- fair. Say a stable. It was by your advice, you false-hearted creature. You are a fool. You are worse; you are a Then dont you have any thing to do with me. Heaven forbid I should. You treacher- ous thing. You insolentinsolentI hate you. And I despise you. I always hated you at bottom. Thats why you pretended to love me, you wretch. Well, I pxetend no more. I am your enemy for life. Thank you. You have told the truth for once in your life. I have. And he shall never call in your husband; so you may leave Mayfair as soon as you like. Not to please you, madam. Wecanget on without traitors. And so they parted, with eyes that gleamed like tigers. Rosa drove home in great agitation, and tried to tell Christopher, but choked, and became hysterical. The husband physi- cian coaxed and scolded her out of that; and presently in came Uncle Philip, full of the humors of the auction-room. He told about the little boy with a delight that disgusted Mrs. Staines; and then was particularly merry on female friendships. ~ Fancy a man going to a sale with his friend, and bidding against him on the sly. ~She is no friend of mine. We are ene- mies for life. And you were to be friends till death, said Staines, with a sigh. Philip inquired who she was. Mrs. John Cole. Not of Curzon Street ~ Yes. And you have quarreled with her ? Yes. THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 103 Well, but her husband is a general prac- titioner. She is a traitress. But her husband could put a good deal of money in Christophers way. I cant help it. She is a traitress. And you have quarreled with her about an old wardrobe. No, for her disloyalty, and her base good-for-nothingness. Oh! oh! oh ! Uncle Philip got up, looking sour. Good- afternoon, Mrs. Christopher, said he, very dryly. Christopher accompanied him to the foot of the stairs. Well, Christopher, said he, matrimo- ny is a blunder at the best; and you have not done the thing by halves. You have married a simpleton. She will be your ruin.~~ Uncle Philip, since you only come here to insult us, I hope in future you will stay at home. Oh! with pleasure, Sir. Good-by. THE SCOTTISH THE lakes and glens, the brown and lofty hills, the wild and savage mountains, the swift and lovely streams of Scotland have been made illustrious by their own poets, their own novelist, with a rare good fortune that has befallen no other land; nor is there any other portion of Europe that is so familiar to transatlantic readers as that which has been painted for all ages by the magic touch of Scott, or whose more delicate and hidden charms live forever in the pas- sionate insight of Burns. Many a Bandusian fount or tall Soracte rises immortal in the pictures of the Scottish bards. The rushing Ayr, the mirk midnight, the morning break- ing blithe over Craigie-burn, Loch Leven, Ben Lomond, the Highland glens, the broom, the daisy, or the milk-white thorn, allure the traveler from Australia or the Rocky Mountains; and the narrow and barren land that pierces the solitude of the Northern se is peopled for all the world with friendly forms and faces, and shines in the light from heaven. Yet possibly he who wanders within the shadow of the Pentland Hills, or by Magus Muir, may sometimes forget that one of the fiercest, the most desperate strug- gles of the human intellect for freedom and progress was carried out in the lovely scenes around him ;2 that souls grand and immut- able as their native mountains here resisted COVENANTERS. temptation, defied tyranny, and lived and died for the countless generations of the future; that the seeds of Scottish genius were sown in the perils of Scottish martyrs; and that but for the gentle Hamilton, or the fervid Knox, the fierce Cameron, the saintly Renwick, Loch Katrine had wanted its min- strel and Ayr been left unsung; that the genius of civilization once struggled amidst these brown hills and silver streams with the genius of decay; that, like the spirits of the Arabian tale, they darted fire from their eyes and nostrils; that the world shook with the contest; and that often the fairer genie was forced to turn itself into a worm, a fish, or a seed, to escape the malice of its foe; but that, at the last, it consumed its enemy to ashes. The trials and the tears of Scotland began with the German impulse from Luther, when Patrick Hamilton, a student and a visitor at Wittenberg, first brought to his native shores a spark that was to kindle a general illu- mination; they were ended by the generous policy of William of Orange, whose decision and whose vigor fixed forever the course of modern civilization. Fair, gentle, learned, connected with the ruling families of Scot- land, of royal descent, and graced with all that high station, opulence, or power could give, Patrick Hamilton, by a heroic resolu- tion, dared first to speak the truth to the corrupt clergy of his country, repeated the lessons of reform he had heard from the German teacher, and perished at the stake, the first martyr of the Scottish Reformation. He was only twenty-three years old: youth, And yet the light that led astray was light from heaven. Burns, in his Cotters Saturdty Night, has painted tfie Covenanters home. 2 For the history of the Covenant, Wodrow is the fullest authority. See, too, Hetherington and Kirk- ton. Stanley, Church of Scotland.

Eugene Lawrence Lawrence, Eugene The Scottish Covenanters 103-116

And so they parted, with eyes that gleamed like tigers. Rosa drove home in great agitation, and tried to tell Christopher, but choked, and became hysterical. The husband physi- cian coaxed and scolded her out of that; and presently in came Uncle Philip, full of the humors of the auction-room. He told about the little boy with a delight that disgusted Mrs. Staines; and then was particularly merry on female friendships. ~ Fancy a man going to a sale with his friend, and bidding against him on the sly. ~She is no friend of mine. We are ene- mies for life. And you were to be friends till death, said Staines, with a sigh. Philip inquired who she was. Mrs. John Cole. Not of Curzon Street ~ Yes. And you have quarreled with her ? Yes. THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 103 Well, but her husband is a general prac- titioner. She is a traitress. But her husband could put a good deal of money in Christophers way. I cant help it. She is a traitress. And you have quarreled with her about an old wardrobe. No, for her disloyalty, and her base good-for-nothingness. Oh! oh! oh ! Uncle Philip got up, looking sour. Good- afternoon, Mrs. Christopher, said he, very dryly. Christopher accompanied him to the foot of the stairs. Well, Christopher, said he, matrimo- ny is a blunder at the best; and you have not done the thing by halves. You have married a simpleton. She will be your ruin.~~ Uncle Philip, since you only come here to insult us, I hope in future you will stay at home. Oh! with pleasure, Sir. Good-by. THE SCOTTISH THE lakes and glens, the brown and lofty hills, the wild and savage mountains, the swift and lovely streams of Scotland have been made illustrious by their own poets, their own novelist, with a rare good fortune that has befallen no other land; nor is there any other portion of Europe that is so familiar to transatlantic readers as that which has been painted for all ages by the magic touch of Scott, or whose more delicate and hidden charms live forever in the pas- sionate insight of Burns. Many a Bandusian fount or tall Soracte rises immortal in the pictures of the Scottish bards. The rushing Ayr, the mirk midnight, the morning break- ing blithe over Craigie-burn, Loch Leven, Ben Lomond, the Highland glens, the broom, the daisy, or the milk-white thorn, allure the traveler from Australia or the Rocky Mountains; and the narrow and barren land that pierces the solitude of the Northern se is peopled for all the world with friendly forms and faces, and shines in the light from heaven. Yet possibly he who wanders within the shadow of the Pentland Hills, or by Magus Muir, may sometimes forget that one of the fiercest, the most desperate strug- gles of the human intellect for freedom and progress was carried out in the lovely scenes around him ;2 that souls grand and immut- able as their native mountains here resisted COVENANTERS. temptation, defied tyranny, and lived and died for the countless generations of the future; that the seeds of Scottish genius were sown in the perils of Scottish martyrs; and that but for the gentle Hamilton, or the fervid Knox, the fierce Cameron, the saintly Renwick, Loch Katrine had wanted its min- strel and Ayr been left unsung; that the genius of civilization once struggled amidst these brown hills and silver streams with the genius of decay; that, like the spirits of the Arabian tale, they darted fire from their eyes and nostrils; that the world shook with the contest; and that often the fairer genie was forced to turn itself into a worm, a fish, or a seed, to escape the malice of its foe; but that, at the last, it consumed its enemy to ashes. The trials and the tears of Scotland began with the German impulse from Luther, when Patrick Hamilton, a student and a visitor at Wittenberg, first brought to his native shores a spark that was to kindle a general illu- mination; they were ended by the generous policy of William of Orange, whose decision and whose vigor fixed forever the course of modern civilization. Fair, gentle, learned, connected with the ruling families of Scot- land, of royal descent, and graced with all that high station, opulence, or power could give, Patrick Hamilton, by a heroic resolu- tion, dared first to speak the truth to the corrupt clergy of his country, repeated the lessons of reform he had heard from the German teacher, and perished at the stake, the first martyr of the Scottish Reformation. He was only twenty-three years old: youth, And yet the light that led astray was light from heaven. Burns, in his Cotters Saturdty Night, has painted tfie Covenanters home. 2 For the history of the Covenant, Wodrow is the fullest authority. See, too, Hetherington and Kirk- ton. Stanley, Church of Scotland. 104 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. genius, virtue alone could fill the yawning chasm of decay. It is easy to conceive what must have been the cruelty and the crimes of the monks, the abbots, the opnlent bishops, who saw from the windows of St. Andrews the slow lire wreathe around the fair form of Patrick Hamilton, his constancy, his ardor, and his faith. Yet the most con- spicuous trait of the Scottish Reformation is its rapidity. The ashes of Hamilton and his company of martyrs seemed borne on the winds to fertilize and awaken the remote glens, the distant hamlets, the rising cities. Nobles and commons, priests and monks, starting up as if from a hideous dream, threw off the visions of the papacy. The friendly hand of Elizabeth drove from Scot- land the trained soldiers of France and the Guises; and at the cry of the impetuous Knox the people dashed down the images and pictures of church and cathedral, and left shining over the Scottish scenery only the wrecks of the fallen monasterythe moon-lit ruins of Melrose. Whether cherishing some dim recollection of the pure faith of Jona and its early teach- ers, or moved by an innate taste for simple converse with the unseen world, Scotland, by a sudden stride, passed from the deepest gloom of superstition to a faith of intense purity. In its papal period it had been noted for its abject devotion to the faith of Rome. Its landscape was covered with fair, rich, and stately abbeys,3 and Cistercian and Benedictine, friars black or gray, con- sumed in opulent ease the wealth of the na- tion. Its bishops were temporal lords, rul- ing in no modest pomp over wide domains. The priests had engrossed one-half the land of a poor nation; the churches and the ca- thedrals glittered with the wealth that had been ravished from the cottages and the hovels of the peasant, or won from the su- perstition of feeble kings. Nor was there any land where the clergy were more cor- rupt, or the gross manners of a depraved hierarchy had been less hidden by a decent veil. Suddenly the fervid intellect of the gifted people tore down the whole fabric of Italian superstition; the worship of the Yfr- gin, the adoration of the saints, relics, im- ages, and pictures, were thrown aside with unfeigned disgust; the cruel bishops, monks, and priests were chased from the narrow Hetherington, Hist. Church Scot., 1. 26, 39. Ham- ilton was burned in 1328, at twenty-three. 2 Kirkton, i. p. 21, on Scotland. He says the whole nation was converted by lump, and within ten years after popery was discharged in Scotland there were not ten persons of quality to be found who did not profess the true reformed religion, etc. See, too, Knox, Works. These rude historians are often vig- orous. Scott, Prov. Ant. Scotland, ii. 296, describes the beauty of Ruslyn chapel. Tytler, Scotland, i. 329, ii. 391, numbers the rich monasteries, the fourteen Gothic churches. For the wealth of a monastery, see ii. 411. reaim; and of all the impulses of the Scottish nation the strongest, the most lasting, was its hatred for the papal rule. In the place of that pompous ritual which had graced the cathedral of St. Andrew or fill- ed the arches of Melrose with pagan splen- dors, of that faith which had been crowd- ed with legend and tradition, the Scottish reformers would accept only the simple rites, the unchanging doctrines of the Scrip- tures. Not from Luther or Cranmer, not even from Calvin and Geneva, but from the written thoughts of inspiration alone, would they build their church. The cathedral must be stripped bare and dreary; the con- vent perish; the very name of bishop, the symbol of that foul Italian heresy which had so long hung like a poisonous mist over Scotland, must be forgotten; no image nor saint must intervene~ between the believer and his Maker; no formal service must check the spontaneous utterances of an animated faith. To this bald yet majestic conception of a church the whole nation turned with singular unanimity. The peasant in the wilds of Nithsdale, the traders of Glasgow, the noble in his armed palace, accepted the novel doctrinenew to that barbarous age; all Scotland leagued together to maintain the presbytery, to repel popery or prelacy; a covenant wa~ signed in 1592 by the chiefs of the people, and even by the king; in the close of the sixteenth century the Reforma- tion seemed to rule safely and triumphantly over that distant land, which, in its earlier years apparently incapable of progress, had lain the willing prey of priests and friars. With one vigorous exercise of latent strength the Scottish intellect had freed itself from Italian bondage, and might well prepare for rapid progress in the new paths of reform. Nor could it have foreseen that a century of pains and woes, scarcely surpassed in the Vaudois valleys or in the fens of Holland, was to spring from a sister church and from its native kings, and that the darkest period in the history of its stern and barren land was to come from the malice of Rome dis- guised in the thin mask of bishops like Laud or Sharp, princes like the first and second. Charles and the first and second James. The part which the Church of England was induced to take in the persecution of the Presbyterians of Scotland has no de- fenders, and can scarcely admit of extenua- tion; it is one of those crimes over which posterity should lament, and strive by new acts of tenderness and of humility to hide in sad oblivion; a trait of barbarism which injudicious writers are apt to condone as. among the common vices of the age. Yet it Hetherington, Preface, xiii. 2 Stanley, Church of Scutland, is inclined to set off the faults of one sect against those of another. It would be probably better for each to study only its~ own guilt, and make suitable repentance. THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 105 is possible that had the Church of England remained what it was when it came freshly moulded from the hands of Latimer and Ridley, Cranmer and Rogers, no taint of Romish cruelty would have stained its purer progress, and it might have gladly nnited with its northern brethren in the pursuit of the germs of a lost Christianity. It was the well-known design of the English reformers of the reign of Edward VI. to receive into one commnnion the rising intellects of every land. Exiles from Italy, or Bucer from Al- sace, shared their hospitality; the question of rites and ceremonial was determined by a wide liberality; the doctrines of Luther and Calvin might blend in the same sect. But Hooper, Ridley, Latimer, and Cranmer perished in the flames; and when the En- glish Church was renewed under Elizabeth and James I., its expansive and liberal spirit was lost in the arbitrary tendencies of its rulers. It had ceased to sympathize with the people, and had learned to lean upon kings and nobles. Its rites were corrupted, its papal tendencies were fostered into bale- ful vigor; the Low-Churchmen and the Pu- ritans were driven from its communion, or held in unwilling bondage by stringent laws; and at length the insane dreamer and fanat- ic, Laud, a new Dominic or Loyola, assailed the lingering Protestantism of the people with bitter persecution, denounced the Low- Churchmen or the Puritans as worse than in- fidels, and amused his leisure hours by slit- ting the ears of honest reformers, and filling the prisons with reputable clergymen. Of the madness of princes, the least ex- cusable seems the attempt of the Stuart kings to force bishops and episcopal rites upon the Presbyterians of Scotland. They knew that three-fourths of the people hated the name of bishop as they hated that of pope; that, except a few traitors or hire- lings, no Scotchman could endure the En- glish rites and service; that the Scotch Church had resolved to adhere to its severe simplicity with heroic tenacity. Yet the Stuarts were equally resolute to put down religious insubordination. They saw, per- haps, that the Scotch Church was the crea- tion of the people rather than of kings; that it owed its existence to the human la- bors and the divine gifts of men to whom royalty and nobility seemed but paltry bau- bles, to be dashed to pieces when they stood in the pathway of advancing truth; and that the doctrine of passive obedience which the English prelates had accepted with easy sub- servience could never be made acceptable to the followers of Knox and Wishart. But whatever might be their motive, no entreat- ies, no menaces of the angry people, and even no real dangers could dissuade the stubborn Stuarts from their fatal resolution. James I. persisted in forcing upon Scotland his bar- ren scheme of episcopacy, amidst the scoffs and jeers of his countrymen. His successor, Charles I., animated by the daring bigotry of Laud, determined to convert the Scotch to the prelatical creed by the fiery sword of persecution. A service-book was prepared, under Lauds especial care, to be read in all the Scottish churches; the simple Presby- terian rites were to be suppressed by law; the arms of England and the authority of the king were to be employed in reducing to subjection that fervid intellect which had so vigorously cast off the spiritual tyr- anny of Rome. For a time it seemed as if Charles and Laud might prove successful. The Scottish clergy were apparently terrified and degen- erate. Lauds service-book was brought to Scotland by hireling curates, and amidst the horror and shame of the Presbyterian nation, the bishop and the priest prepared to celebrate their popish rites in Edinburgh and Glasgow. Then suddenly the nation rose, struck by the heroic act of a woman, whose name, made renowned by the wonder- ful results of her swift resolution, may well be associated with a. Joan of Arc or a Char- lotte Corday. On the day when the new rit- ual was to be performed in the High Church of St. Giles, at Edinburgh, vast throngs filled the streets, and followed the Anglican dean as he made his way to the pulpit. The church was crowded with an eager but hos- tile congregation; and scarcely had the first words of the service passed the lips of the reader when Jenny Geddes, an old woman, sprang up in her place and cried out, Vil- lain, will you read the mass at my lug U She lifted the stool upon which she had been sitting in her vigorous arms and flung it at the head of the astonished dean. Jen- nys decided act w s no doubt in singularly bad taste, but she became from that moment a leader of the people. The Bishop of Edin- burgh in vain strove to soothe the enraged congregation; the church was filled with uproar; the dean and bishop fled, and were saved with difficulty from the rage of the angry crowd; the impulse swelled over Scot- land, and in every hamlet or city the daring of Jenny Geddes was told with delight, and a fierce resolution was formed by ministers and people to live and die Presbyterian Protestants. The year 1638 is held sacred in the annals ~f the Scottish Church as the moment when its piety was most fervid, its courage un- I have followed the common story of Jenny Ged- des, though Burton, list. Scot., varies the narrative. So, too, Stanley, p. Ti. The liherality of the early English Church is whol- ly forgotten hy the ritualists, who trace their ceremo- nial to Edward VI. Bailie writes, Letter to Strang, 1638: Our maine feare is to have our religion lost, our throat cutted, our poor countrey made ane English province. 106 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. doubted; when, amidst a fierce enthusiasm that bound all Scotland in one united senti- ment,1 on the 1st of March, in the Greyfri- ars Church at Edinburgh, was laid out on a tombstone an immense parchment that pro- claimed the renewal of the Covenant; when with enthusiastic joy vast throngs pressed forward to sign the solemn league, until the roll was too narrow to contain the signa- tures; when many found room to sign only their initials, and some affixed their names in letters of blood. It was a covenant to defy papacy and prelacy, and to maintain the church of the Scriptures; but it was, too, the appeal of a free people against the claims of every form of despotism. Nor can it be doubted that this fervid outbreak of independent thought amidst the bleak hills of Scotland helped largely to rouse the peo- ple of England to rebellion, and to secure the liberties of Europe and America; that the shrill outcry of Jenny Geddes was the signal for a revolution whose waves are still swelling over the earth. In the autumn of the same memorable year, when the Ayr murmured mournfully through its barren fields and Ben Lomond was clad in snow, the General Assembly of the Scottish Church met at Glasgow. Henderson, the boldest of its leaders, presided. No terms were any longer to be kept with the faithless king or the intrusive bishops.2 The Protestant lords and their armed retainers guarded the pa- triotic Assembly; the royal commissioner was awed into silence; amidst a fierce ex- citement that had been gathering through generations of tyranny the Scottish clergy abolished episcopacy, declared the re-estab- lishment of the Presbyterian discipline, and, with deep and ominous applause, separated to arouse the nation to the necessity of de- fending by arms, on many a battle-field, the faith they had inherited from their fathers. The Bishops War followed, and twice the obstinate king led his English troops in vain efforts to force his prelates upon the united Scotch.3 But the most preposterous of invasions closed in the utter ruin of the plans of Laud and Charles; the Scotch forces under Leslie easily routed the disaffected English; and the king was forced, in No- vember, 1640, to assemble that great Parlia- ment that established Presbyterianism in England, and brought Laud and Strafford to the block. The crown and the prelatical church fell together. The compact which had been signed on the tombstone at Edin- burgh was enlarged into the Solemn League and Covenant, and ruled supreme from the 1 Stanley, p. 73, notices, with some carelessness of style, the universal rush. 2 Hetherington, i. 363, gives an account of the vari- ous covenants. See, too, Gilfihlans animated Mar- tyrs and Heroes. Milton began now to write against prelacy, and seems to have learned much from Scotland. Orkneys to the Straits of Dover. Yet when Charles I. had perished on the scaffold, the imprudent Scots, in a moment of intense loyalty, perhaps of uncontrollable remorse, gave their allegiance to his worthless son, and were conquered by the arms of Crom- well. But from 1640 to 1660 the Scottish Church enjoyed a golden period of compar- ative repose; papists and prelatists were chased from the barren glens and populous cities; Henderson and Baillie, Guthrie and Gillespie, adorned its pulpit with ardent if unpolished eloquence; the swift inroads of Montrose and the vigor of Cromwell checked its pride, but scarcely disturbed its supremacy. Nor when, in 1660, with fond and glad congratulations, the Scots wel- comed back the wandering Charles II. to his ancestral throne, could they have imag- ined that the ungrateful and cruel Stuart, as cold, as faithless as his ancestress, Mary, would commence a persecution against the Church of the Covenant that rivaled the atrocities of the pagan emperors, and hal- lowed the fairest landscapes of Scotland with the heroic memories of unconquerable spirits. In the period of twenty-eight years (1660 1688) between the accession of Charles and the flight of James II. occurred the final conflict of the Presbyterians with the prel- atists of England.2 The terrors of the spec- tacle deepened toward its close. Then were heard those heroic testimonies emitted by cultivated and resolute saints on the scaffold, in the noisome prison, or on the wintry heath; then a throng of involuntary anchorites, yet rejoicing in their desolation, fled like an Anthony or a Benedict to the caves and ravines of the wildest glens, were hunted with blood-hounds, and shot down as they shivered on the lonely moors; then, in the fairest retreats of the picturesque land, immense assemblages gathered around their field-preachers, and the joyful season of prayer and praise was often ended by the oaths of the wild dragoons and the ready pistol of Claverhouse; then terror, pains, and torture, fines and imprisonment, slowly seemed to corrode the vigor of the Scottish intellect. The conflict seemed near its close. The churches were held by prelatical curates. The Anglican bishops ruled with haughty supremacy over the Scottish Kirk. Its fair- est ornaments had been ravished away by death. Henderson had died early; Gilles- pie had preceded him; Livingstone was an exile. A throng of famous men, eminent for genius, eloquence, and moral worth, had yielded to the rigors of Bass Rock prison, 2 Hetheriugton, ii. p. 1. 2 During these twenty-eight years of persecution, says Howie (Worthies, p. 508), it is computed that not less than 18,000 persons suffered death, or the ut- most hardships and extremities, and this from a small population. THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 107 had found consumption and fever in their damp caves and forests, or had sought shel- ter in Leyden and Geneva. Of the men who in 1638 had signed the memorable Covenant that had given a foretaste of liberty to En- gland, few had escaped the rage of the per- secutor. The Scottish Church was lost: the people had been apparently won over to the side of bigotry and of despotism. A few wild Cameronians alone, half crazed or half inspired by suffering, foretold from their dismal retreats,where they hid from the troopers of Claverhouse, the discomfiture of their Neros and Domitians, the horrible judg- ments from above that awaited the last Stu- arts~ Nor was it until the reformers of Hol- land stretched out their friendly hand to the English as well as the Scottish Church, that the cloud of woe forever passed away, and the Scottish intellect began to ripen into mature vigor. No portion of his subjects haI reason to look for kindlier treatment or more grateful consideration from Charles II. than that vig- orous church which had first placed the crown upon his head when he was a power- less exile, which had fought in his cause, with useless valor, against the arms of Crom- well, and had welcomed with ardor lAs re- turn to his ancient throne; nor could Scot- land, ever full of a secret enthusiasm, be led to discover, except by terrible pains, the utter nnworthiness of its native kings. It was therefore with a kind of dull amaze- ment that the Scottish nation, almost with the first notes of the restoration sounding amidst its valleys, and echoing from the Frith of Forth to the Western Isles, felt the cruel hand of its destroyer. Charles II. had come back from Paris and Madrid a convert to the loose theories of the papal rule. He feared the rigid scrutiny of reform, and was resolved to involve the nation and the age in his own moral death. The English Church was once more made the instrument of a cruel king. On the plea of renewing prelacy in the heart of unwilling Scotland, bishops, priests, and curates, service-books and surplices, were ordered to be adopted by the astonished na- tion; the whole Scottish people were once more commanded to abandon Presbyterian- ism. The terrors of the Northern persecu- tion preceded and perhaps encouraged the massacre of the Vaudois and the expulsion of the Huguenots. At the head of the Scottish reformers stood Archibald Campbell, Marquis of Argyle.2 His gravity, his prudence, the purity of his Keith, Scottish Bishops, may be consulted for the Anglican side of the question, p. 492. He thinks that in the beginning of Charles the Seconds reign Scot- land was not averse to prelacy. But why, then, did it resist? 2 Wodrow, i. 130. He was the head of the Coy- enanters of Scotland. His death was a blow at the root of all that had been done, etc. life, and the ardor of his zeal had made him the chief agent in all the religious changes that had passed over his country since the famous rising of 1637; his scholarship was considerable, his courage, though sometimes wavering, had often been displayed in field as well as in council his territories had been ravaged by the predatory bands of Mon- trose and the Irish invaders. Yet his loyalty to Charles II. had been as conspicuous as his pious zeal, and when the youthful prince was proclaimed king at Scone, the Marquis of Argyle had placed the crown upon his head. When Charles was driven from Scotland he acknowledged the faithful services of the marquis, and promised, on the word of a king, that, should he ever be restored to his throne, he would repay with gratitude the favors he had received and the large sums of money for which he was indebted to Ar- gyle. The Restoration came. Charles was King of England. One of his earliest acts was to direct the trial and execution of his benefactor. The faithiess Stuart remembered the 1d words in which Argyle had reproved his vices; he resolved to strike down the most powerful of the Scottish Presbyterians, and intimate its doom to the unsuspecting church. The marquis, who had gone up to London, with some misgivings, to welcome his early friend and sovereign, was at once thrown into the Tower. He was afterward sent to Scotland, and confined in the common prison at Edinburgh. He was condemned to die. He parted from his faithful wife with words of resignation. I could die, he said, like a Roman; I would rather die like a Christian. He put on his hat and cloak, and, followed by several noblemen and friends, went down the street and with great serenity mounted the scaffold. He kneeled down,he prayed, gave the signal, and his head was severed from his body. It is easy to conceive with what indignation and what grief the Scottish Covenanters beheld the fate of the wise and generous Argyle, the first martyr of the new persecution; nor could presbyter or layman any longer doubt that the unsparing tyrant who sat on the English throne had resolved to repay with no less bitter ingratitude the early devotion of the Scottish Church. Nobler victims soon followed, more devo- ted and more resolute than Argyle. The fa- vorite pastors and teachers of Scotland were the shining marks of the English persecu- tors. Sharp, renegade and traitor, ruled over the Scottish prelacy; the Covenant was burn- ~ Iivthe commonhangman amidst the shouts of a disorderly throng, aid an edict was is- sued (1662) commanding all Presbyterian ministers to submit to the bishop of the dio- cese or be expelled from their livings. The 1 Howie, Scots Worthies, Marquis of Argyle. Wod- row, i. 157. 105 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. soldiers were ordered to drag them from their pulpits should they refuse to obey. But the clergy, animated by a heroism that has uo parallel, except, perhaps, in the same laud and under a not dissimilar impulse, prepared to abandon their comfortable homes in the depth of winter, when the chill winds and snow swept over the narrow borders of Scot- land, and with their wives and children go forth as beggars rather than submit to an episcopal rule. On a sad and memorable Sabbath, amidst the tears of crowded con- gregations, nearly four hundred ministers delivered their last sermons from their cus- tomary pulpits; the next week they were homeless wanderers, of hiding in caverns, or sleeping upon the lonely moors. In a re- cent example of Scottish devotion, almost in our own generation, the clergy once more abandoned their comfortable manses to live in pressing want and die in fatal privations yet the friendly hands of countless admirers at last relieved the sufferings of the Free Church. But for the Covenanters, with their starving families, no friend could give aid, except by stealth. The government pur- sued the helpless wanderers with ceaseless rigor. Sharp and his dreadful hierarchy laughed aloud at the feeble lamentations of aged Covenanters as they condemned them to the scaffold; and the Romish agents who ruled at the court of Charles exulted as they saw the tears of Scotland, the madness of the Anglican Churcli. Low as had fallen that solemn Covenant which in 1638 had been signed by Scotsmen in letters of blood, and in 1643 had been ex- tended over all England, the foundation of a commonwealth, its children still clung to its memory and prayed for its restoration, Driven from the cities and their usual pul- pits, the exiled ministers still gathered around them their faithful people, and preached in lonely glens and secret solitudes to vast and eager throngs. Tlie Church of the Covenant flourished with new strength amidst its desolation. The parish churches were abandoned; the gross and illiterate curates who had been installed by the bish- ops were met with jeers and mockery by their new congregations; but whenever it was whispered among the hills that a Welch or a Blackadder would preach in some se- cluded valley, troops of peasants and the more daring of the nobles and gentry climb- ed the rough country roads, crossed streams hills, and mountains, and gathered in thou- sands to listen to the touching exhortations of the heroic pastors. A deep religious so- lemnity filled all the land. New converts were won; the spirit of faith revived; the Covenant was taken anew, and the Presby- terian clergy, wandering from house to house, from shire to shire, saw with no com- mon joy the devotion of the people. But their persecutors, the bishops, resolved to deprive the Scottish Church of its refuge in the wilderness, and a law was passed making it sedition to hold religious meet- ings without the consent of a prelate. Troops were poured into the Presbyterian counties. The coarse soldiers invaded pious households with fierce oaths and painful rib- aldry; they robbed, they beat, they defiled; heavy fines impoverished the industrious, and the gross vices of the prelatical soldiers filled with disgust the stern and resolute Scots. At length the people (1666) rose in arms. A spectacle of intolerable cruelty roused them to hopeless rebellion. An aged man the story may recall one of the vivid pictures of Livywas seized by the soldiers of Sir William Turner for refusing to pay the bish- ops fine; they had bound his hands, andwere threatening to roast him on a gridiron, when two or three fugitive Covenanters inter- fered. The soldiers were made prisoners; the people sprang to arms, and Turner him- self was captured in his bed at Dumfries. Three thousand Covenanters gathered near the river Clyde, but at the approach of a hostile force under Dalziel they wandered thropgh storm and cold to the Pentland Hills, whose bold and massive outline bounds the scenery of Edinburgh, and with worn, dis- heartened, and diminished forces, awaited the attack of the foe. The Covenanters stood on a little knoll; Dalziel charged them, and was drivenback. The battle raged until evening, but the faint and famished peasants were no match for his trained soldiers. They fled, defeated, in the gloom of the dull No- vember night, and the hopes of Scotland seemed to perish forever in the battle of the Pentland Hills. A new and terrible severity was now exercised through all the rebellious districts ;2 men were hanged, shot, and tor- tured upon slight suspicion; a woman was thrown into a hole full of toads and reptiles because she refused to betray a friend; the timid Presbyterians began to frequent the prelatical services, and the more resolute hid in caves and forests. Yet the field meetings still renewed the dying intellect of the na- tion, and if Scotland failed to sink into the moral and mental feebleness of Italy and Spain under the tyranny of Sharp and his usurping church, the cause must be sought for in those centres of mental progress that were still kept open in the wilderness. It was death to attend one of these conventi- des. The dragoons shot down without re- morse the lonely Covenanter who was found climbing the hills to join his brethren in their solemn worship, or dashed, pistol in hand, into the pious gatherings. But the meetings increased in number and fervor.3 1 Hetherington, ii. 45. 2 Hetherington, ii. 35. The hands of the prisoners were cut off; they were racked and tortured. Wodrow, ii. 34T. See an account of the Pentland THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 109 Tlie awful majesty of wild and sterile nature looked down for many years npon the only services of the Presbyterian Church. The cry of the eagle and the ptarmigan, the bleating of the sheep upon the monntain pastures, the thunders of the mountain tor- rent, mingled with the psalms of happy mul- titudes, and blended not inharmoniously with the simplest form of religious adora- tion. Amidst savage hills and gloomy glens, beneath the blue or the clouded sky, the ex- iled church often celebrated its marriage rites, baptized its infants in the springs of living waters, pointed its mourners to the golden gates that were opening above, and recounted with exultation the growing cat- alogue of its martyrs. It is scarcely possi- ble that the Scottish intellect has ever since been wrought to such a pitch of heroic vigor as when Cameron denounced all tyrants in his wilderness, or Renwick opened in fancy the joys of paradise to suffering throngs; when the minister was lodged in a cave, and the congregation worshiped in the fields with dauntless fervor, in the expectation of instant death. It is plain that but for the ardor of the Presbyterian clergy one of the mightiest centres of mental progress would have perished in blind fanaticism. A painful and terrible event next deepen- ed the rigors of persecution, and threw some discredit upon the cause of the Covenant. As Sharp, Archbishop of St.Andrews, was driv- ing in his coach over Magus Muir, where the wild moor-land spreads away to the hills of Fife and touches the sandy shore of the Ger- man Ocean, he was met by a party of twelve Covenanters. Several of them were fierce and lawless men, who had felt the severe rule of the bishops in their own persons or in the fate of their friends and neighbors, and they were keeping watch on Magus Muir for one of the inferior persecutors, noted for torturing women and children. He did not come, but in his stead rode up Sharp, with his daughter Isabel, surrounded by the ~ state of his high office, and crowned with the wages of crime. Renegade from the Presby- terian faith, one of the chief authors of the miseries of his country, the Covenanters be- lieved that it was no mere chance that had delivered the archbishop into their hands. Heaven, they thought, had ordained that he should die. Balfour of Burley and his com- panions dragged the old man from the coach. Hackstoun stood apart, refusing to interfere. The Covenanters plunged their swords in the body of their chief foe, and laid him dead on the silent moor. His daughter Isa- bel, whose tears and prayers had failed to touch the iron hearts of Burley and his friends, was left to keep watch over the body of her father, and the twelve Cove- nanters rode safely away. Yet the death of Sharp was fearfully avenged in new perse- cutions. The Highland host of eight thou- sand savage clansmen poured down from the mountains to prey upon the hapless west ;1 all Scotland was racked by fines and tor- tures; and at the head of his dragoons Clay- erhouse began now that career of horrors that has made his name the symbol of mur- derous hate. He murdered women and chil- dren with his own hand; he shot down with his pistol John Brown, the Ayrshire carrier. To chase and kill a Covenanter was to Clay- erhouse no worse sport than to hunt and bring down a stag. The battle of Drumclog (1679) soon fol- lowed the outrages of Claverhouse and his dragoons. On the desolate and distant moors, amidst morasses and quaking fens, where London Hill rises majestic over the lonely landscape and looks down upon the Avon and the Clyde, on a Sabbath morning, June 1, assembled a great throng of men, women, children, to celebrate in the secure retreat the forbidden services of the Presby- terian faith. We may well conceive the singular aspect of these woodland congre- gations. The men were usually armed. Some were on horseback, experienced sol- diers from the European wars. Balfour of Burley stood amidst the throng, and not far off was Hackstoun, the sharer in his recent crime. Ministers, stealing from their caves, came to arouse the ardor of the people. Women, and even children, were ready to die for their faith; the blue banner of the Covenant, lifted in the wilderness, shone over the fells of IDrumclog; nor was there a coward or a traitor in all the animated throng. It was the first day of summer; the milk-white thorn was blooming in the lowlands; the yellow broom covered the sterile hills; the services began with un- usual fervor, and the exhortations of able pastors were heard with no common inter- est in the wide amphitheatre of morasses.2 But each man in the congregation felt the peril of his act. Claverhouse, it was known, was ranging over the country in search of conventicles. Balfour of Burley and the armed Covenanters had come to Drumclog resolved to defend themselves in case the dragoons should approach. A watchman was posted on a neighboring height to an- nounce the first appearance of the foe. While the vast throng were gathered around their preachers, the carbine of the sentinel startled them; he ran down from his station to warn his countrymen of their danger. Claver- house was near. The congregation was at 1 Wodrow, ii. 425, describes the terrible outrages of the Highianders. 2 Mr. Douglasled the services. Claverhouse had his horse shot under him. See a brief account in Howie, Worthies,~. 581. Keith, Bishops, 491, insists that the Covenanters were all rebels. rising in Howie, Worthies, p. 575, taken from Blacked- ders memoirs. 110 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. once arranged in the order of defense. The women and children were placed in the rear. Long lines of footmen stood before them, on either wing a band of horsemen. A broad morass covered the front of the Covenanters; their nnpracticed soldiers had been arranged with military skill; and when Claverhouse sent a flag, commanding them to snrrender, a shout of defiance rang along the ranks. After a few moments of silence, the whole army broke into a trumpet-like psalm, and, ruled by intense devotion, sang, In Judalis land God is well known, His name in Israels great and as all deep passion seems to exp~ess it- self in music, poetry, and song, so the wild landscape of Drumclog echoed to the peal- ing chant of a thonsand voices, resolved to perish that Scottish intellect might be free. With a fierce shout of malignant ha- tred, Claverhouse and his famous dragoons plunged into the morass to reach their un- offending foes, nor did they probably sup- pose that the Scottish peasants and their untried leaders would sustain for a mo- ment their impetuous charge. But a rain of bullets met them as they came on. The veteran soldiers wavered and fled before the impenetrable line of inspired peasants. Claverhouse, whose courage equaled his severity, was borne back by the fugitives. Charge ! cried a bold Covenanter, in the eventful moment. Burley, Hackstoun, or Hamilton led on their horse and foot across a morass, a ditch, and pursued the retreating soldiers, and Claverhouse, struggling with fierce obstinacy to repel the attack, was driven at last to fly up Calder Hill, and through the village of Strathaven. He cut his way through the country people who rose to capture him, and fled from Glasgow to Edinburgh. The victorious peasants treated their prisoners with signal mild- ness; but a wild thrill of hope ran through the cottages and the castles of the Low- lands, and thousands flocked to join the standard of the Covenant, trusting that the arm of the Lord was at length outstretched to shield his people. We have scarcely space to notice the brief period of hope be- tween the victory of Drumelog and the utter discomfiture at Bothwell Bridge. But the ministers now came forth from their caves to greet their rejoicing people. For a few weeks the Presbyterian services were cele- brated in the west, with no terrors of the wild dragoons. The army of the Covenant was swelled by steady accessions, and had some practiced leader arisen to rule and guide them, they might have driven the prel- ates from the borders of Scotland. Cour- age, intellect, vigor, enthusiasm, were never wanting, but the disorderly throng of fiery patriots never found a commander. .All was tumult and dissension in the camp of the Covenanters; the ministers, the generals, and the people aided the strange confusion, and even when at Bothwell Bridge the pow- erful English army, under Monmouth, ap- proached the unhappy Scots, i~he clergy and the commanders still contended with each other upon trivial points of doctrine and of discipline. Five thousand brave but disor- derly Scotsmen stood behind the rippling Clyde, guarding Bothwell Bridge; had they been united under a Cromwell or a Leslie, they had beaten back the invaders and driv- en the Stuarts over the Tweed. On another Sabbath morning, three weeks after the battle of Drumclog, the English forces, led by the Duke of Monmouth, ap- peared before the Scottish camp. They were ten thousand strong. Among their ranks were Claverhouse and his dragoons, Livingstone and the cruel Dalziel, the Highland host, fierce and savage, fresh from their merciless outrages in the west, and several English regiments, the flower of the invading troops. Struck with alarm, the Covenanters had sent deputies to Mon- mouth offering terms of submissian, but they were refused; they were ordered to lay down their arms and submit themselves to the mercy of the king. Half an hour was allowed them for reflection. When it ex- pired the enemy moved swiftly on to seize Bothwell Bridge or ford the narrow stream. Burley, Hackstoun, and Nisbet led on a por- tion of the Covenanters, and with fierce and desperate energy defended the river and the bridge. For an hour the English were held at bay by the furious fire; column after col- umn pressed forward and were driven back decimated and broken by the unyielding Scots; Clyde ran red with the blood of its children and its foes; and only when their ammunition failed were the brave Presby- terians forced from the shelter of their na- tive stream. At length the dragoons, the Highlanders, and the Life Guards poured over the bridge, swept through the flying host of Covenanters, now no longer offering ~ any resistance, and, led by Claverhouse, burning with revenge, indicted horrible atrocities among the helpless throng. Hun- dreds fell in the merciless massacre. Burley strove to rally his men for a last struggle; a random shot broke his sword-arm; he ut- tered a curse upon the hand that fired it, and sought safety in flight. He escaped to Holland, and there closed in peace his life. of stern and terrible labors. Claverhouse was now the conqueror of the Covenant,, and, although the gentler Monmouth strove to soften the horrors of the victory, could not be restrained from gratifying his rage against the vanquished. Sweeping at the head of his wild horsemen over the parishes of Galloway, he covered the land with mas- sacres, or filled the prisons with men, women,. and children. The cruelty of the victors,,. THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 111 indeed, can scarcely be equaled in history. Five Presbyterian clergymen, who had no share in the battle, were taken to Magus Muir, executed, and hung in chains on the spot where Sharp had perished. Twelve hundred prisoners were collected in Grey- friars church-yard at Edinburgh, where the Covenant had first been signed, with no shel- ter from the bleak sky, no bed but the damp, chill earth. Many died; seine escaped or were set free; the rest were sent as slaves to Barbadoes; but two hundred, happily for themselves, perhaps, were lost in a furious storm. All Scotland was now held in a ter- rible subjection, and its people submitted in rage and gloom to the general prevalence of the episcopal ritual. Yet still, in the deepest and wildest re- cesses of their native land, the more resolute and enthusiastic of the Covenanters kept untarnished the purity of the Scottish faith. On dank morasses, where the peat water was their only drink; in dark and misty glens, forests surrounded by lofty mount- ains, and rifts of the earth hidden deep amidst the bogs; in caves covered up by brush-wood, and wet with unwholesome dis- tillations from the rock, mi~ht be seen groups of wild and stalwart men, with grizzly beards, eyes gleaming with a strange light, and countenances often glowing amidst their sufferings with a holy joy. They were the persecuted remnant of the Covenanters. Each carried a sword and a little clasped Bible. They still held their forbidden serv- ices in the loneliest retreats, but they were no longer those vast and joyous throngs that in the less dangerous period had gathered on the banks of the Clyde or in the broad shelter of London Hill. A few famished and weary men, driven from the haunts of cultivated life, met to worship in some yawn- ing chasm or beneath a towering rock, and to gather those sweet visions of perpetual bliss for which they had exchanged all that the world held valuable. The cave of John Brown, the Ayrshire carrier, was a jutting rock,hidden far down in a ravine amidst the moors; yet here he heard the glad voices of pious exiles, and joined in the most joyous services he had ever known. The young, fair, consumptive Renwick slept on the wet moors; and John Welch eluded the keen pur- suit of Claverhouse by ceaseless wanderings over hill and dale. But the most secluded cavern often proved no safe retreat from the merciless dragoons. With blood-hounds and baying dogs they traversed the glens in search of their prey, and when they had found a cave tenanted by Covenanters, fired their carbines into its mouth, and massacred all its inmates.1 Nor is it wonderful that these stern and unyielding victims of an in- tolerable tyranny, shut out from the society 1 Wodrow, iv. 183. of their race, should have seen amidst their solitudes strange glimpses of the spiritual world, should have encountered Satan bodi- ly in the wilderness, and have beheld terri- ble visions of the final doom of their perse- cutors. To his devoted followers the hunted and weary pastor was often invested with magic and supernatural powers.1 He who refused him a shelter was crushed beneath his falling house. His reproof was often an omen of death; he foretold the fate of his friends or his enemies. In all their miseries the Scottish eremites were raised to a high pitch of spiritual gifts; and Alexander Fe- den, in his cave covered by a willow bush, was believed to possess the power to strike men dead by a word, and a clear insight into the future that opened to his followers the destiny of nations. One of the most successful of the wander- ing preachers in eluding the chase of the dragoons was John Welch, a descendant of~ John Knox.2 A high price was set on his head; avarice and hate stimulated his pur- suers. ClaverhousQ, on one occasion, rode forty miles to seize the valuable prize, yet. the gifted preacher disappeared at his ap- proach, and was enabled to escape to Lon- don, where he died (1681), and was afterward buried in his native land. For twenty years John Welch wandered amidst the mountains of Scotland, hunted with blood - hounds, chased by dragoons; and the spirit of John Knox seemed renewed in this wonderful man, who gave up all the advantages of ease and station to preserve the vigor of the na- tional faith. He was highly educated, one of the most successful preachers of his time, when, in 1661, he resolved to abandon his flourishing parish church, where his ances- tors had preached, and go forth, a homeless wanderer, rather than obey the intrusive bishops. On the last Sabbath of his service all the parish crowded to hear his parting words. They followed him with tears when he left the pulpit; many crossed with him through Cluden Water,3 and pursued him along the road with bitter lamentation as he passed from their sight. When a curate, some months afterward, attempted to take possession of his church, the people drove him out, and several of them were arrested and fined for the offense. But from that moment, for nearly twenty years, the voice of the mild, meek, yet eloquent and daring rebel never ceased to echo amidst his native hills, nor could all the vigilance of the bish- ops and the dragoons silence the perpetual protest of the descendant of Knox. He de- claimed against prelacy to immense throngs, that sprang up as if by magic in the lonely fields of Fife and the shadow of Falkland 1 Burton, lust. Scot., ii. 296, thinks these preachers a formidable body. 2 Howie, Worthies, John Welch. Howie, Worthies, 394. 112 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Wood. The parisli churches were deserted for many years from the hand of the exeen- whenever it was known that John Welch tioner. Cargill, worn by terrible emotion was lurking among the hills, and would meet and constant labors, once found that his his faithful people. He was no advocate voice was gone, and it was probably the of submission. He was active at Pentland bitterest of his paims that he could no longer Hills, and for four years after that fatal de- utter, to the vast assemblies of his people feat was hidden from sight, hunted upon his his well-known and startling exhortations. native mountains like a stag. In 1674 he But in a moment of inspiration his infirm- appears again, preaching to great throngs in ity was healed. His voice returned, clearer the county of Fife. Converts were made in and louder than before, and, with unpar- great numbers; the Countess of Crawford alelled spirit, he preached again to great cried out that she yielded to his eloquence, multitudes. Often he passed through the and the Chancellor Rothes, the bitterest of midst of his enemies, as if guided by an in- the persecutors, found in his own church at visible hand. Once, when the pursuers en- Leslie no one but his own familyall the tered his chamber, he was safely hidden be- people had stolen away to an armed con- hind a pile of books. The soldiers were venticle. Once more John Welch disap- about to remove them, when the faithful peared among the hills. Five hundred maid-servant cried out that they were tak- pounds were offered for his capture. He al- ing her masters books, and their commander ways traveled armed, and attended usually ordered them to desist. At Botliwell he was by several friends. In 1678 were celebrated seized, dangerously wounded, by the enemy, communion seasons of rare enjoyment, and but they allowed him to escape. Soon he the long tables, spread on lovely meadows was preaching again, baptizing and marry- beneath the open sky, were thronged with ing in the wild scenes of Galloway and 3000 members. Yet sometimes John Welch Nithsdale. A reward of several hundred preached on the frozen surface of the Tweed, pounds was set upon his head; for it was and had no better pulpit than a field of ice. known that he had invoked the judgment At Bothwell Bridge Welch was one of the of Heaven on the ~king and the bishops, and pastors who strove to unite the disordered stern Cameronians were fond of tracing in Covenanters. From its bloody scenes he the sudden or shocking deaths of Charles escaped by wonderful endurance. He was II. and Monmouth, of Dalziel and Rothes, sometimes three days on horseback without the fulfillment of Cargills prophecies and sleep. He crossed the border, and lied for- maledictions. At last he was taken. He ever from his native land. was hanged, defiant and triumphant, at the Donald Cargill and Richard Cameron Cross of Edinburgh, a man whose life had were types of the sternest and fiercest of been passed in ceaseless prayer and works the Scottish thinkers. Welch might have of boundless charity. Richard Cameron, yielded some points of doctrine, some traits prophet, priest, and revolutionist, was Car- of discipline, could he have hoped to win gill~s companion when, in 1780, at Sanquhar, peace for his suffering people. He could almostabandonedbytheScottishclergy,they forgive the timid Presbyterian who consent- denounced the Duke of York as antichrist ed to accept the indulgence offered by the or abjured all allegiance to the Stuarts. A bishops, or who was not willing to resist till fierce and energetic nature, a voice loud and death, in want, exile, or painful seclusion, terrible, a will that never bent to the fiercest the tyranny of a hostile government. But strokes of fate, made Cameron the founder to Cameron or Cargill the slightest submis- of a religious sect whose name is still pre- sion was a proof of a fallen nature or a served; nor did he ever spare in his male- craven heart. Stern and remorseless against dictions the race of his native kings, or hes- the time-serving offender, they held as more itate to foretell that the day was coming guilty even than the persecuting priest the when they should be driven forever from follower of the Covenant who wavered in the land they had filled with woe. Unhap- his faith, who shrank from maintaining its pily the brave preacher did not escape to most minute doctrinal distinctions, or who, witness the fulfillment of his prophecy. He having once possessed the truth, had lapsed whose malediction was a portent of death, into Erastian negligence and submission. whose prophetic glance rivaled the awful Wild, strange, and terrible were the llves penetration of Daniel or Isaiah, was shot led by these unrivaled heroes as they crept down on Airs Moss, and his body thrown from cover to cover amidst the hills of Scot- into a pit. Here came his friend Alexan- land, crying out against the backslider and der Peden soon after, and kneeling down, the prelatist, and welcomed by countless with upturned eyes, exclaimed, Oh, to be throngs of devoted followers. Only a series wi Richie ! A simple head - stone marks of the most wonderful escapes from their Camerons grave on Airs Moss; but ever in pursuers, which might well seem the inter- Scottish history, amidst the tears and the ventions of approving Heaven, saved them exultation of generations, will rise up the liowie, Worthies, 396. 1 Howie, Worthies, 369. THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 113 touching spectacle of the bereaved Cove- nanter lamenting for his friend, and utter- ing his memorable cry. From the craggy cliffs of Arthurs Seat may be seen, far out in the Frith of Forth, a huge mountain of stone rising over the restless sea. It is called Bass Rock.1 Soli- tary, bare, and treeless, the waves beat use- lessly against its firm foundations, and the sea-fowl cluster unharmed around its deso- late top. The rock was purchased by the crown from its private owner to be convert- ed into a prison for the Covenanters. The dungeons and the keep of its castle were filled with a sacred company of unbending spirits; from the grated windows looked out a group of stern and earnest faces, gasp- ing for air, or shivering with perpetual cold. Sometimes the wan and haggard cap- tives were permitted to wander alohg its narrow ledge, gaze on the swelling ocean, catch the fair outline of their persecuted land, and mingle their prayers with the voices of the restless waves. Here the wintry winds, the rage of the arctic storms, famine, confinement, ar~d noisome cells rack- ed the frames and broke the health of many of Scotlands noblest sons, but could never shake their resolution; nor has earth a more memorable prison-house, or Scotland a more sacred scene, than this barren rock where Peden, Gillespie, and Blackadder found an involuntary Patmos. John Blackadder was one of the mast eminent of the rigid Cove- nanters. He was descende4 from a race of scholars, and for many happy years shad preached the pure faith of the Covenant with singular success in the parish of Tro- queer. His church stood on a gentle emi- nence upon the banks of the Nith; a fair landscape opened around it; his garden and his manse, his wife, his young family, his faithful parishioners, employed his act- ive hours; but when the moment came for deciding between the claims of conscience rind the demands of kings and lcish~ps, the mild and gentle pastor, transformed into a hero, defied the overwhelming power of his foes. He was among the first to preach against prelacy. He was arrested, released, and at length driven from Troqueer, On a misty Sabbath, the last in October, when the parish tells were sounding cheerfully from village to village, his people gathered at ~in early hour to bid him farewell: his last sermon was broken by the sudden in- road of the soldiery, and he removed to a lonely parish in Glencairn. Here he was never allowed to rest. His son, then ten years old, relates one of the common inci- dents in the life of a Presbyterian clergy- man of the time. A party of soldiers at night broke into the ministers poor cottage, but, happily, he had gone to Edinburgh; they ordered the boy, with oaths and threats, to light a candle and lead them through the house in search of his father; they ran their swords through the beds where his sisters slept, threw the books from the shelves of the library, and devoured the contents of the scanty larder. Cold and shivering, for he had only his night dress, the poor child resolved to make his escape. He pretended to be playing in the yard, passed the sen- tries who stood at the door with drawn swords, and ran through the dark night to a neighboring village.. He was half naked and frozen; but all the town was asleep, and no door was open to receive him. He crept to the town cross, climbed to the upper step, and slept there till morning. Between five and six ocloc1~ a door opened, and an old woman came out. She saw a white object on the cross, and coming near, discovered that it was a little boy. Jesus save us ! she cried; what art thou ~ The child awoke from his frozen sleep, and told her that he was Mr. Blackadders son, and that a band of fearful men, in red coats, had burned his fathers house and all the family. Oh, puir thing! she exclaimed; come in and lie down in my warm bed. Which I did, adds the narrator, and it was the sweetest bed I ever met with. Many weary years of persecution and of ceaseless toils passed over the wandering pastor, during whi~i he held armed conven- tides amidst the moors, preached to joy~us throngs in distant solitudes, or hid in seet places, while his pursuers sought him with untiring malice. His health, always feeble, often forced him to seek rest in Holland, or to hide in close rooms at Edinburgh. Ih his last public service he stood on a hill in East Lothian, looking out on Bass Rock, and there prayed fervently for jts unhappy prisoners. Soon after he was apprehended, and sen- tenced to join the company of martyrs for whom he prayed. He was carried to Bass Rock, and for four years endured the pains and horrors of its inclement dungeons; was chilled by its fierce winds, or half stifled in its noisome gloom. Yet never would his lofty spirit descend to purchase release by consent- ingtothe tyranny of the bishops, and with his dying breath he proclaimed that religious and civil liberty was a birthright of which no persecutor could rob him. He died in his seventieth year, the victim of priests and kings. Nor of all the famous scenes qf Scotlandand it has manyof all its sacred spots, hallowed by deeds of enthusiasm, self- devotion, or romance, is there one to which the freemen of every land will turn with more deep and reverent interest than the huge rock that breaks the waves of the 1 Howie, Worthies, 502. Scott, Prov. Ant., ii. 296, has a good view of Bass Rock. See Bass Rock, by Hugh Miller and others. 2 Howie, Worthies, 499. VOL. xLvI.No. 271.S 114 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Frith of Forth, surrounded by the shrieking sea-fowl and the fickle mist, yet ever radiant with the memories of its countless martyrs. and speaking to all ages its heroic lesson of endurance till death in the cause of human progress. Not less renowned among the heroes of the Covenant are John Brown, the Ayrshire carrier, and his wife, Isabel Weir. He who wandered among the rocky districts of Ayr- shire two hundred years ago would have seen seated amidst its highest fells, looking from the brow of a hill upon a wide tract of moss and frioor, a cottage renowned as the home of one of the purest and mildest of the vic- tims of Claverhouse. The rude farm was known as Priesthill. Its house was of stone, covered with heather; yet from its modest hospitality no stranger was repelled, and the honest virtue ofJohnBrown had made Priest- hill famous as the home of piety and bound- less good-will. He had been designed for a clergyman, but was prevented from preach- ing by a defect in his voice. Grave, calm, moderate, forbearing, the father ruled over his rising family; bright, cheerful, hopeful, humorous, his wife, Isabel, softened the aus- terity of the Covenanters home. She was his second wife. He had met her in his wanaerings over his native hills, when they had conversed together over the sorrows of the church, and at length their wedding was celebrated in a solitary glen, amidst an un- expected throng of CoXenauters. Alexander Peden, prophet and prie~t, heard their vows be~eath the open sky, and uttered to Isabel, w~n he had joined them forever, one of his singular forebodings of coming woe. When you least expect ~ he said, your husband will be taken from you; and Isabel heard him without alarm. Several years passed on; peace and perpetual joy rested upon their modest home. When persecu- tion raged over the lonely district, John Brown was often obliged to hide in the cold uplands or fly to a friendly cave.2 One day, driven from his home, he wandered to one of those singular spots, so often the only refuge of the hapless Covenanters, to pass the hours in prayer. A torrent or a watemspout had formed a deep ravine, a frightful chasm, in the moor, down whose steep and rocky sides, hidden in bracken, only the most experienced climber could make his way. At its base, on each side of the immense rift, were a number of caves and dens, capable of holding a large congre- gation. John Brown had made his way into one of them, thinking himself alone, when a low, sweet sound struck his ear. It was a voice chanting a psalm in a subdued tone, as if the singer was afraid to attract atten- tion even in that awful solitude. But grad- ually it rose louder and more joyful, the chasm echoed with the song of praise, and John Brown discovered that three of his friends had fled, like himself to the wilder- ness to commune with God. They were living in a cave beneath a jutting rock; yet the peace of Heaven descended upon them. They were drinking from the river of life. They passed the night together in inexpress- ible bliss, until the lark rose above their heads in the morning, when they parted, thinking never to meet again. Climbing up the sides of the rocky chasm, they gazed around to see if an enemy were near. They sang again, when, to their surprise, a voice sweeter than any thing they had ever heard before seemed to resound through the bxack- en-covered cleft, cheering them with golden pictures of celestial bliss. They never dis- covered whence it came; but when his com- panions looked upon John Browns grave face, they saw that it was lighted with the sweet expression of an angel. Soon after, Claverhouse, Who had heard the fame of John Browns piety, came to Priesthull resolved to kill him.2 Isabel saw the company of horsemen riding over the hill, and knew that the hour had come which Alexander Peden had foretold at their wedding in the glen. Her husband was seized on the moor, where he was cutting peat, and was brought back to the house. Three companies of dragoons stood around John and Isabel and their trembling chil- dren. Will you pray for King James l exclaimed Claverhouse to the Covenanter. Not until he turns from his wicked ways, said the victim. Then go to your prayers, for you must die ! cried Claverhouse; and kneeling before his peaceful home, John Brown prayed for his wife, his children,and the church of God. Claverhouse interrupt- ed him with imprecations. Isabel, said John, the hour is come I told you of at our wedding. Are you willing to part from me l Heartily willing, she answered, if it must be. ~ said he, this is all I wait for. He kissed his wife and chil- dren tenderly. Fire ! cried Claverhouse to his dragoons. They stood motionless, ap- palled. He drew a pistol from his own belt and shot his captive through the head. While the fierce soldiers turned awayin hor- ror, Claverhouse, in an excess of wicked- ness, taunted with bitter words the weep- ing Isabel, who had gathered John Browns shattered head in her arms. What think- est thou of thy husband now, woman l he exclaimed. I ever thought mickle of him, she said, and now more than ever. It were justice to lay thee at his side, replied he. Thou art cruel enough to do it, she said; but how wilt thou answer for this mornings work I With fierce words but a pallid countenance, he put spurs to his horse Howie, Worthies, John Brown. Howie. Howie, 1. 4S1. 2 Wodrow, iv. 244. THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 115 and galloped away; and Isabel, with her children, drew a plaid reverently over her hnsbands body, and wept kneeling at his side. Yet the peace of God came to the stricken family; tender friends gathered aronnd them; and from the solemn moor and the poor Covenanters home is nttered a perpetual cry against priestly tyranny and spiritual pride. The last, perhaps the most interesting, of the victims of the prelacy was James Ren- wick, a yonng and gifted preacher.2 Sickly, frail, a scholar, almost a poet, he had given himself to the labors and dangers of a wan- dering life, preaching the Covenant among his native hills; nor could cold, want, fa- tigue, or failing health disturb the bright visions of a heavenly world that seemed to float aronnd him like a shield against every sensual pain. It was the second year after John Browns marriage to Isabel. The gude- man was away. Isabel was carding and spinning wool with her shepherds. The qni- et house was suddenly aroused at night by the entrance of a stranger. He was young, small, his countenance fair, but pale with hunger and sickness. His shoes were worn out, but though hewore a shepherds plaid, he was evidently of some higher profession. A little girl, John Browns daughter Janet,took off his wet plaid and placed him in the warm- est corner. The stranger burst into tears, and invoked for her the blessing of Heave& John Brown now came in and approach the poor wanderer with reverence, for he was James Renwick. All the family strove to soothe his suffering frame; the lassies left their wheels to wash his feet; the gude-wife prepared him a warm supper; and little Ja- net, who had been the ftrst to welcome him, fell fast asleep at his side. Yet James Ren- wick had no words of regret for the dark past or the sterner future. Our enemies are glad, he said, that we are driven to wander in mosses or on mountains; but even amidst the storms ofthelast two nights, I can not express what sweet times .1 have had when I had no covering but the dark curtains of the night. Yes, in the silent watch my mind was led out to admire the deep and inexpressible ocean of joy wherein the whole family of heaven swim.3 Each star led me to wonder what he must be who is the Star of Jacob, of whom all stars bor- row their shining. In the calm hospitality of Priesthill the young enthusiast passed a few happy days, and then went forth, amidst toil and pain, to keep alive the vital spark of a true faith among his countrymen. It was in the last years of the great persecution. A majority of the Scottish clergy had yielded to the professions of Englands papist king, and had accepted the indulgence he offered; but to James Renwick no compliance was possi- ble, and he inveighed sternly and boldly against all who consented to touch the fatal gift of toleration. His health was failing, his life ebbing away. Hecould scarcely sit upon his horse as he rode from glen to glen, from shire to shire, preaching.to the faithful people the joys of a sublime truthfulness. His enemies pursued the young, frail preach- er with unexampled malice. Fifteen times within five months diligent efforts were made for his arrest. A heavy reward was offered for his head. He escaped by a series of wonderful accidents that may well de- serve a more pious name; was now among the wildest hills of Fife, or now at Edin- burgh thrust a last protest against tolera- tion into the unwilling hands of the mod- erate clergy. A few months more and he might have seen the Church of Scotland set free from its persecutors, and heard the shouts of joy that welcomed the yellow flag of Orange and the triumph of the tolerant Presbyterian William. But in February, 1688, he was seized at Edinburgh, was strick- en down by a brutal blow as he tried to es- cape, and was laid in irons in the jail. What! said the captain of the guard, when he saw his feeble captive, is this the boy Renwick that the nation has been so troubled with ? He was condemned to death, but the glory of the ineffable bliss above hung around him, and when he was offered his lif# if he would sign a petition, he declared that no earthly gains could win him from the truth. From his mother and his sisters, who were allowed to see him, he parted with words of triumph. Even on the scaffold he declined the offer of pardon. An immense throng of spectators gathered around, and amidst the clash of drums and the clamor of his enemies he was heard ex- claiming, Dear friends, I die a Presbyte- rian Protestant. So fair and pure a vic- tim has seldom fallen before the malice of spiritual tyranny. He was just twenty-six years old. His complexion was ruddy and fair, his countenance of angelic sweetness. All the virtues that dignify human nature generosity, purity, meekness, courtesy adorned this remarkable young man. His el- oquence was long celebrated among his countrymen. Immense throngs gathered at his field-preaching to catch the fervor of his zeal. No one could paint so clearly the splendors of immortal bliss, or lift his trem- bling audiences to such perfect communion with the family of heaven. James Renwick Dean Stanley thinks the Church of Scotland was marked by its negations, p. 66, 61; but all its pro- tests were aimed against what was unscriptural. It affirmed only the Bible. 1 Wodrow, ii. 245. Claverhouse is said never to have forgotten the prayers of John Brown. 2 Howie, James Renwick. Wodrow, iv. 445. ilowie, Worthies, 448. Howies Testimonies may be consulted by those who would see how cheerfully the heroes of the Covenant died. 116 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. was the last of the Covenanters who died upon the scaffold, and the tears and trials of Scotland ended with the sacrifice of one of her purest sons. More potent than the fabled spells of en- chantment or the boldest visions of a poetic ~fancy, more wonderful than the achieve- ments of epic heroes, of Tancred, A~neas, or Achilles, are often the vigorous ~operations of common.sense. And no sooner had the calm and resolute William of Orange left his native fens, to carry reason and moderation to the counsels of the English court, than a sudden calm descended upon tlie blood- stained hills and glens of Sco~tland. The sorrows of the Scottish Church were over; the Cameronian might come boldly from his cave; the prisoners poured out of Bass Rock; toleration reigned where once had been heard only the fierce cry of the persecutor and his victim; and beneath the yellow flag of Orange and Nassau, Europe and America began a new career of swift advance. The enchanter, William, had tamed by a sudden spell the rage of persecution, and never again in any Protestant land were the cruelties of Dominic and Loyola to be emulated or re- vived. In France the ceaseless malice of the Romish Church still pursued the pious Huguenots to their deserts5 in Italy the Vaudois were still tormented amidst their beautiful valleys; Spain and Portugal still celebrated, though at rarer intervals, the fearful sacrifices of the Inquisition; but the humane principles of William and of his native Holland ruled over Germany and the British Isles, were enlarged and expand- ed in America, and laid the *m foundations of modern freedom. No nation profited more largely from the revolution of 1688 than the land which had suffered most deeply from the Romish instincts of the Stuart kings. A pure and rational faith spread over Scotland. Its brown moors and bracken-covered glens, its lowlands bright with broom and fragrant with the milk-white thorn, resounded with the cheerful voices of prosperity and peace. Its intellect, which had been tested amldst the bitterest pains of persecution, grew sud- denly into unlooked - for vigor; the same profound enthusiasm which had marked its wandering preachers in their caves and their conventicles was exhibited by its men of letters; its schools of metapbysics, history; poetry, and fiction have led the advance of modern thought, and the splendors of its literary career have covered its narrow realm with an immortal renown. But the most direct, the most important, result of the sorrows and the heroism of the martyrs of the Covenant is the almost unexampled growth of an evangelical church, which in 1 Wodrow, iv. 483, celebrates William Prince of Orange as the deliverer of his country, that glorious deliverer of those lands from popery and slavery. The Covenanters were not ungrateful. its native land has preserved the pure faith of Hamilton, Knox, and Renwick, and which in our own has spread from the Atlantic to the Pacific, always the friend ~f freedom, of education, and of mental and moral prog- ress. And as the various religious sects in the New World, forgetting their ancient rivalry in the Old, blend day by day in one common bond of sympathy and spiritual union, it will be seen that the martyrs and saints of Scotland and its church suffered not for any one Christian body, but for the liberties and the welfare of all; that they perished nobly in the cause of gver-living truth. Nor will the historian of the future, who, writing from some central home of freedom in the valleys of the Nevada or on thebauks of the Columbia, reviews and corrects the errors of the medieval story, forget, like Hume or Robertson or Scott, to celebrate the true historical characters of Scotland. He may pass with contempt the false men and shameless women who, robed in the trap- pings of kings, queens, and nobles, have formed the chief personages of the common narrative; he will scarcely linger over the fate of the anhappyMary,or lament her nec- essary woes; he will neglect the long line of barbarous kings and cruel priests to dwell upQn the rigid virtue and the generous sac- rifices of the martyrs of the Covenant. W iesthill, seated on its lonely fells, with its er-open Bible and its gentle inmates, will have for him a higher charm than Holyrood or Melrose Abbey; the caves and glens where honesty and virtue flourished in the days of persecution will seem the true sources of Scottish progress; and the stern and hag- gard Cameronian, giving forth his testimony in death against the faintest deviation from the path of strict integritya Cargill, a Peden, or a Renwickwill be found to have exercised no unimportant influence upon the free institutions of Oregon or of Montana. EOPE. IN the quiet garden of my life There groweth a red-rose tree; A little bird sits on the topmost bough, And merrily singeth he. The sun may shine in the happy sky Through the long and golden days, And the sweet spring blossoms veil the trees In a fragrant pearly haze; Or the pelting rains of autumn come, And the weary wintry wea#her, And weve naught to watch but the leaden clouds. My rose and I together. Come rain, come shine, so that bonny bird But warble his cheery tone; For whil~e he sings to my rose and me, To us it is always June. - And Death and Sorrow shall vainly sit The portals of life beside, For we float upborne on that soaring song Through the gates of heaven flung wide!

Kate Hillard Hillard, Kate Hope 116-117

116 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. was the last of the Covenanters who died upon the scaffold, and the tears and trials of Scotland ended with the sacrifice of one of her purest sons. More potent than the fabled spells of en- chantment or the boldest visions of a poetic ~fancy, more wonderful than the achieve- ments of epic heroes, of Tancred, A~neas, or Achilles, are often the vigorous ~operations of common.sense. And no sooner had the calm and resolute William of Orange left his native fens, to carry reason and moderation to the counsels of the English court, than a sudden calm descended upon tlie blood- stained hills and glens of Sco~tland. The sorrows of the Scottish Church were over; the Cameronian might come boldly from his cave; the prisoners poured out of Bass Rock; toleration reigned where once had been heard only the fierce cry of the persecutor and his victim; and beneath the yellow flag of Orange and Nassau, Europe and America began a new career of swift advance. The enchanter, William, had tamed by a sudden spell the rage of persecution, and never again in any Protestant land were the cruelties of Dominic and Loyola to be emulated or re- vived. In France the ceaseless malice of the Romish Church still pursued the pious Huguenots to their deserts5 in Italy the Vaudois were still tormented amidst their beautiful valleys; Spain and Portugal still celebrated, though at rarer intervals, the fearful sacrifices of the Inquisition; but the humane principles of William and of his native Holland ruled over Germany and the British Isles, were enlarged and expand- ed in America, and laid the *m foundations of modern freedom. No nation profited more largely from the revolution of 1688 than the land which had suffered most deeply from the Romish instincts of the Stuart kings. A pure and rational faith spread over Scotland. Its brown moors and bracken-covered glens, its lowlands bright with broom and fragrant with the milk-white thorn, resounded with the cheerful voices of prosperity and peace. Its intellect, which had been tested amldst the bitterest pains of persecution, grew sud- denly into unlooked - for vigor; the same profound enthusiasm which had marked its wandering preachers in their caves and their conventicles was exhibited by its men of letters; its schools of metapbysics, history; poetry, and fiction have led the advance of modern thought, and the splendors of its literary career have covered its narrow realm with an immortal renown. But the most direct, the most important, result of the sorrows and the heroism of the martyrs of the Covenant is the almost unexampled growth of an evangelical church, which in 1 Wodrow, iv. 483, celebrates William Prince of Orange as the deliverer of his country, that glorious deliverer of those lands from popery and slavery. The Covenanters were not ungrateful. its native land has preserved the pure faith of Hamilton, Knox, and Renwick, and which in our own has spread from the Atlantic to the Pacific, always the friend ~f freedom, of education, and of mental and moral prog- ress. And as the various religious sects in the New World, forgetting their ancient rivalry in the Old, blend day by day in one common bond of sympathy and spiritual union, it will be seen that the martyrs and saints of Scotland and its church suffered not for any one Christian body, but for the liberties and the welfare of all; that they perished nobly in the cause of gver-living truth. Nor will the historian of the future, who, writing from some central home of freedom in the valleys of the Nevada or on thebauks of the Columbia, reviews and corrects the errors of the medieval story, forget, like Hume or Robertson or Scott, to celebrate the true historical characters of Scotland. He may pass with contempt the false men and shameless women who, robed in the trap- pings of kings, queens, and nobles, have formed the chief personages of the common narrative; he will scarcely linger over the fate of the anhappyMary,or lament her nec- essary woes; he will neglect the long line of barbarous kings and cruel priests to dwell upQn the rigid virtue and the generous sac- rifices of the martyrs of the Covenant. W iesthill, seated on its lonely fells, with its er-open Bible and its gentle inmates, will have for him a higher charm than Holyrood or Melrose Abbey; the caves and glens where honesty and virtue flourished in the days of persecution will seem the true sources of Scottish progress; and the stern and hag- gard Cameronian, giving forth his testimony in death against the faintest deviation from the path of strict integritya Cargill, a Peden, or a Renwickwill be found to have exercised no unimportant influence upon the free institutions of Oregon or of Montana. EOPE. IN the quiet garden of my life There groweth a red-rose tree; A little bird sits on the topmost bough, And merrily singeth he. The sun may shine in the happy sky Through the long and golden days, And the sweet spring blossoms veil the trees In a fragrant pearly haze; Or the pelting rains of autumn come, And the weary wintry wea#her, And weve naught to watch but the leaden clouds. My rose and I together. Come rain, come shine, so that bonny bird But warble his cheery tone; For whil~e he sings to my rose and me, To us it is always June. - And Death and Sorrow shall vainly sit The portals of life beside, For we float upborne on that soaring song Through the gates of heaven flung wide! THE NEW MAGDALEN. 117 THE NEW MAGDALEN. By WILKIE COLLINS. CHAPTER IX. NEWS FROM MA4NHEIM. T ADY JANETS curiosity was by this time Jjthoroughly aroused. Summoned to ex- plain who the nameless lady mentioned in his letter conldpossiblybe,Juliau had looked at her adopted daughter. Asked next to ex- plain what her adopted daughter had got to do with it, he had declared that he could not answer while Miss Roseberry was in the room. What did he mean I Lady Janet .de- termi,ned to find out. iii hate all mysteries, she said to Julian. And as for secrets, I cousider them to be one of the forms of ill-breeding. People in our rank of life ought to be above whisper- ing in corners. If yon must have your mys- tery, I can offer yon a corner in the library. Come with me. Julian followed his anut very reluctantly. Whatever the mystery might be, lie was plainly embarrassed by being called upon to reveal it at a moments notice. Lady Janet settled herself in her chair, prepared to question and cross - question her nephew, when an obstacle appeared at the other end of the library, in the shape of a man-servant with a message. One of Lady Janets neigh- bors had called by appointment to take her to the meeting of a certain committee which assembled that day. The servant announced that the neighboran elderly ladywas then waiting in her carriage at the door. Lady Janets ready invention set the ob- stacle aside without a moments delay. She directed the servant to show her visitor into the drawing-room, and to say that she was unexpectedly engaged, bnt that Miss Rose- berry would see the lady immediately. She then turned to Julian, and said, with her most sat4ical emphasis of tone and manner, Would it be ait additional convenience if Miss Roseberry was not only out of the room before you disclose your secret, but out of the house I Julian gravely answered, It may possi - bly be quite as well if Miss Rose,berryis out of the house. Lady Janet led the way back to the din- ing-room. My dear Grace, she said, you looked flushed and feverish when I saw you asleep on the sofa a little while since. It will do you nq harm to have a drive in the fresh air. Our friend has called to take me to the corn- m~1te~ meeting. I have sent to tell her that I am engagedand I shall be much obliged if you will go in my place. Mercy looked a little alarmed. Does your ladyship mean the committee meeting of the Samaritan Convalescent Homn? The members, as I understand it, are to decide to-day which of the plans for the new build- ing they are to adopt. I can not surely pre- sume to vote in your place I You can vote, my dear child, just as well as I can, replied the old lady. Ar- chitecture is one of the lost arts. You know nothing about it; I know nothing about it; the architects themselves know nothing about it. One plate is no doubt just as bad as the other. Vote, as I should vote, with the majority. Or as poor dear Dr. Johnson said, Shout with the loudest mob. Away with youand dont keep the committee waiting. Horace hastened to open the door for Mercy. How long shall you be away I he whis- pered, confidentially. I had a thousand things to say to you, and they have inter- rupted us. I shall be back in an hour. We shall have the room to ourselves by that time. Come here when you return. You will find me waiting for you. Mercy pr~ssed his hand significantly and went out. Lady Janet tprned to Julian, who had thus far remained in the back- ground, still, to all appearance, as unwill- ing as ever to enlighten his aunt. Well I she said. What is tying your tongue now? Grace is out of the room; why dont you begin? Is Horace in the way I Not in the least. I am only a little un- easy Uneasy about what I lam afraid you have put that charming creature to some inconvenience in sending her away just at this time. Horace looked up suddenly, with a flush on his face. When you say that charming creature,~ he asked, sharply, I suppose you mean Miss Roseberry I -- Certainly,~ answered Julian. Why not I Lady Janet interposed. Gently, Julian, she said. Grace has only been introduced to you hitherto in the character of my adopt- ed daughter~~~ And it seems to be high time, Horace added, haughtily, that I should present her next in the character of my engaged wife. Julian looked at Horace as if he coul4 hardly credit the evidence of his own ears. Your wife ! he exclaimed, with an irre- pressible outburst of disappointment and surprise.

Wilkie Collins Collins, Wilkie The New Magdalen 117-126

THE NEW MAGDALEN. 117 THE NEW MAGDALEN. By WILKIE COLLINS. CHAPTER IX. NEWS FROM MA4NHEIM. T ADY JANETS curiosity was by this time Jjthoroughly aroused. Summoned to ex- plain who the nameless lady mentioned in his letter conldpossiblybe,Juliau had looked at her adopted daughter. Asked next to ex- plain what her adopted daughter had got to do with it, he had declared that he could not answer while Miss Roseberry was in the room. What did he mean I Lady Janet .de- termi,ned to find out. iii hate all mysteries, she said to Julian. And as for secrets, I cousider them to be one of the forms of ill-breeding. People in our rank of life ought to be above whisper- ing in corners. If yon must have your mys- tery, I can offer yon a corner in the library. Come with me. Julian followed his anut very reluctantly. Whatever the mystery might be, lie was plainly embarrassed by being called upon to reveal it at a moments notice. Lady Janet settled herself in her chair, prepared to question and cross - question her nephew, when an obstacle appeared at the other end of the library, in the shape of a man-servant with a message. One of Lady Janets neigh- bors had called by appointment to take her to the meeting of a certain committee which assembled that day. The servant announced that the neighboran elderly ladywas then waiting in her carriage at the door. Lady Janets ready invention set the ob- stacle aside without a moments delay. She directed the servant to show her visitor into the drawing-room, and to say that she was unexpectedly engaged, bnt that Miss Rose- berry would see the lady immediately. She then turned to Julian, and said, with her most sat4ical emphasis of tone and manner, Would it be ait additional convenience if Miss Roseberry was not only out of the room before you disclose your secret, but out of the house I Julian gravely answered, It may possi - bly be quite as well if Miss Rose,berryis out of the house. Lady Janet led the way back to the din- ing-room. My dear Grace, she said, you looked flushed and feverish when I saw you asleep on the sofa a little while since. It will do you nq harm to have a drive in the fresh air. Our friend has called to take me to the corn- m~1te~ meeting. I have sent to tell her that I am engagedand I shall be much obliged if you will go in my place. Mercy looked a little alarmed. Does your ladyship mean the committee meeting of the Samaritan Convalescent Homn? The members, as I understand it, are to decide to-day which of the plans for the new build- ing they are to adopt. I can not surely pre- sume to vote in your place I You can vote, my dear child, just as well as I can, replied the old lady. Ar- chitecture is one of the lost arts. You know nothing about it; I know nothing about it; the architects themselves know nothing about it. One plate is no doubt just as bad as the other. Vote, as I should vote, with the majority. Or as poor dear Dr. Johnson said, Shout with the loudest mob. Away with youand dont keep the committee waiting. Horace hastened to open the door for Mercy. How long shall you be away I he whis- pered, confidentially. I had a thousand things to say to you, and they have inter- rupted us. I shall be back in an hour. We shall have the room to ourselves by that time. Come here when you return. You will find me waiting for you. Mercy pr~ssed his hand significantly and went out. Lady Janet tprned to Julian, who had thus far remained in the back- ground, still, to all appearance, as unwill- ing as ever to enlighten his aunt. Well I she said. What is tying your tongue now? Grace is out of the room; why dont you begin? Is Horace in the way I Not in the least. I am only a little un- easy Uneasy about what I lam afraid you have put that charming creature to some inconvenience in sending her away just at this time. Horace looked up suddenly, with a flush on his face. When you say that charming creature,~ he asked, sharply, I suppose you mean Miss Roseberry I -- Certainly,~ answered Julian. Why not I Lady Janet interposed. Gently, Julian, she said. Grace has only been introduced to you hitherto in the character of my adopt- ed daughter~~~ And it seems to be high time, Horace added, haughtily, that I should present her next in the character of my engaged wife. Julian looked at Horace as if he coul4 hardly credit the evidence of his own ears. Your wife ! he exclaimed, with an irre- pressible outburst of disappointment and surprise. 118 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Yes. My wife, returned Horace. We are to be married in a fortnight. May I ask, he added, with angry humility, if you disapprove of the marriage ? Lady Janet interposed once more. Non- sense, Horace, she said. Julian congrat- ulates you, of course. Julian coldly and absently echoed the words. Oh yes! I congratulate you, of course. Lady Janet returned to the main object of the interview. Now we thoroughly understand one an- other, she said, let us speak of a lady who has dropped out of the conversation for the last minute or two. I mean; Julian, the, mysterious lady of your letter. We are alone, as you desired. Lift the veil, my reverend nephew, which hides her from mor- tal eyes! Blush, if you likeand can. Is she the future Mrs. Julian Gray ? She is a perfect stranger to me, Julfan answered, quietly. A perfect stranger! You wrote me word you were luterested in her. I am interested in her. And, whatis more, you are interested in her too. Lady Janets fingers drummed impatient- ly on the table. Have I not warned you, Julian, that I hate mysteries? Will you, or will you not, explain yourself I Before it was possible to answer, Horace rose from his chair. Perhaps I am in the way I he said. Julian signed to him to sit down again. I have already told Lady Janet that you are not in the way, he answered. I now tell youas Miss Roseberrys future husbandthat you too have an interest in hearing what I have to say. Horace resumed his seat with an air of suspicious surprise. Julian addressed him- self to Lady Janet. You have often heard me speak, he be- gan; of my 51d friend and school-fellow, John Cressingham I Yes. The English consul at Mann- heim U The same. When I returned from the country I found among my other letters a long letter from the consul. I have brought it with me, and I propose to read certain passages from it, which tell a very strange story more plainly and more credibly than I can tell it in my own words. Will it be very long ? inquired Lady Janet, looking with some alarm at the close- ly written sheets of paper which her nephew spread open before him. Horace followed with a question on his side. You are sure I am interested in it I he asked. The consul at Maunheim is a total stranger to me. I answer for it, replied Julian, gravely, neither my aunts patience nor yours, Hor ace, will be thrown away if you will favor me by listening attentively to what I am about to read. With those words he began his first ex- tract from the consuls letter: My memory is a bad one for dates. But full three months must have passed since information was sent to me of an English patient, received at the hospital here, whose case I, as English consul, might feel an in- terest in investigating. I went the same day t~ the hospital, and was taken to the bedside. The patient was a womanyoung, and (when in health), I should think, very pretty. When I first saw her she looked, to my unin- structed eye, like a dead woman. I noticed thai her head had a bandage over it, and I asked what was the nature of the injury that she had received. The answer informea me that the poor creature had been present, no- body knew why or wherefore, at a skirmish or night attack between the Germans and the French, and that the injury to her head had been inflicted by a fragment of a Ger- man shelL Horacethus far leaning back carelessly in his chairsuddenly raised himself and exclaimed, Good heavens! can this be the woman I saw laid out for dead in the French cottage U It is impossible for me to say, replied Julian. Listen to the rest of it. The con- suls letter may answer your question. He went on with his reading: The wounded woman had been reported dead, and had been left by the French iii their retreat, at the time when the German forces took possessiOn of the enemys posi- tion. She was found on a bed in a cottage by the director of the German ambulance Iguatius Wetzel U cried Horace. Ignatius Wetzel, repeated Julian, look- ing at the letter. It i8 the same ! said Horace. Lady Janet, we are really interested in this. You remember my telling you how I first met with Grace? And you have heard more about it since, nodoubt, from Grace herself? She has a horror of referring to that part of her journey home, replied Lady Janet. She mentioned her having been stopped on the frontier, and her finding herself acci- dentally in the company of another English- woman, a perfect stranger to her~ I nat- urally asked questions on my side, and was shocked to hear that she had seen the woman killed by a German shell almost close at her side. Neither she nor I have had any relish for returning to the subject since. You were quite right, Julian, to avoid speaking of it while she was in the room. I understand it all now. Grace, I suppose, mentioned my name to her fellow-traveler. The woman is, no doubt, in want of assistance, and she ap- plies to me through you. I will help her; THE NEW MAGDALEN. 119 but she must not come here until I have prepared Grace for seeing her agaiu, a living woman. For the preseut there is uo reason why they should meet. I am not sure about that, said Juli an, in low tones, without looking up at his auut. What do you mean? Is the mystery not at an end yet ? The mystery has not even begun yet. Let my friend the consul proceed. Julian returned for the second time to his extract from the letter: After a careful examination of the sup- posed corpse, the German surgeon arrived at the conclusion that a case of suspended animation had (in the hurry of the French retreat) been mistaken for a case of death. Feeling a professional interest in the sub- ject, he decided on putting his opinion to the test. He operated on the patient with complete success. After performing the oper- ation he kept her for some days under his own care, and then transferred her to the nearest ho~pitalthe hospital at Maunheim. He was obliged to return to his duties as army surgeon, and be left his patient in the condition in which I saw her, insensible on the bed. Neither he nor the hospital au- thorities knew any thing whatever about the woman. No papers were found on her. All the doctors could d~ when I asked them for information with a view to communica- ting with her friends, was to show me l~er linen marked with her name. I left the hos- pital after taking down the name in my pocket-book. It was Mercy ~ Lady Janet produced her pocket-book. Let me take the name down too, she said. I never heard it before, and I might other- wise forget it. Go on, Julian. Julian advanced to his second extract from the consuls letter: Under these circumstances, I could only wait to hear from the hospital when the patient was sufficiently recovered to be able to speak to me. Some weeks passed without my receiving any communication from the doctors. On calling to make in- qniries I was informed that fever had set in, and that the poor creatures condition now alternated between exhaustion and delirium. In her delirious moments the name of your aunt, Lady Janet Roy, frequently escaped her. Otherwise her wanderings were for the most part quite unintelligible to the peo- ple at he~ bedside. I thought once or twice of writing to you, and of begging you to speak to Lady Janet. But as the doctors informed me that thechances of life or death were at this time almost equally balanced, I decided to wait until time should deter- mine whether it was necessary to trouble you or not. You know best, ~ said Lady Jan- et. But I own I dont quite see in what way I am interested in this part of the story. Just what I was going to say, added Horace. It is very sad, no doubt. But what have we to do with it ? Let me read my third extract, Julian answered, and you will ~ He turned to the third extract, and read as follows: At last I received a message from the hospital informing me that Mercy Merrick was out of danger, and that she was capable (though still very weak) of answering any questions which I might think it desirable to put to her. On reaching the hospital I was requested, rather to my surprise, to pay my first visit to the head physician in his private room. I think it right, said this gentleman, to warn you, before you see the patient, to be very careful how you speak to her, and not to irritate her by showing any surprise or expressing any doubts if she talks to you in an extravagant manner. We differ in opinion about her here. Some of us (myself among the number) doubt wheth- er the recovery of her mind has accompanied the recovery of her bodily powers. Without pronouncing her to be madshe is perfectly gentle and harmlesswe are nevertheless of opinion that she is suffering under a spe- cies of insane delusion. Bear in mind the caution which I have given youand now go and judge for yourself. I obeyed, in some little perplexity and surprise. The sufferer, when I approached her bed, looked sadly weak and worn; but, so far as I could judge, seemed to be in fall possession of her- self. Her tone and manner were unques- tionably the tone and manner of a lady. After briefly introducing myself, I assured her that I should be glad, both officially and personally, if I could be of any assistance to her. In saying these trifling woes I hap- pened to address her by the name I had seen marked on her clothes. The instant the words Miss Merrick passed my lips a wild, vindictive expression appeared in her eyes. She exclaimed, angrily, Dont call me by that hateful name! Its not my name. All the people here persecute me by calling me Mercy Merrick. And when Jam angry with them they show me the clothes. Say what I may, they persist in believing they are my clothes. Dont you do the same, if you want to be friends with me. Remembering what the physician had said to me, I made the necessary excuses, and succeeded in soothing her. Without reverting to the irritating topic of the name, I merely inquired what her plans were, and assured her that she might command my services if she required them. Why do you want to know what my plans are ? she asked, suspiciously. I reminded her in reply that I held the posi- tion of English consul, and that my object was, if possible, to be of some assistance to her. You can be of th.p greatest assistance to me, she said, eagerly. Find Mercy 120 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Merrick ! I saw the vindictive look come back into her eyes, and an angry flush rising on her white cheeks. Abstaining from showing any surprise, I asked her who Mer- cy Merrick was. A vile woman, by her own confession, was the quick reply. How am I to find her ? I inquired next. Look for a woman in a black dress, with the Red Geneva Cross on her shoulder; she is a nnrse in the French ambulance. What has she done ? I have lost my papers; I have lost my own clothes; Mercy Merrick has taken them. How do you know that Mercy Merrick has taken them ? Nobody else could have taken themthats how ~ know it. Do you believe me or not ? She was beginning to excite herself again; I assnred her that I would at once send to make in- quiries after Mercy Merrick. She turned round contented on the pillow. Theres a good man ! she said. Come back and tell me when you have caught her Such was my first interview with the English patient at the hospital at Mannheim. It is needless to say that I doubted the existence of the absent person described as a nurse. How- ever, it was possible to make inqnjries by applying to the surgeon, Ignatius Wetzel, whose whereabouts was known to hi~ friends in Manuheim. I wrote to him, and received his answer in due time. After the night at- tack of the Germans had made them masters of the French position, he had entered the cottage occupied by the French ambulance. He had found the wounded Frenchmen left behind, but had seen no such person in at- tendance on them as the nurse in the black dress with the red cross on her shoulder. The only living woman in the place was a young English lady, in a gray traveling cloak, who had been stopped on the frontier, and who was forwarded on her way home by the war correspondent of an English journal. That was Grace, said Lady Janet. And I was the war correspondent, add- ed Horace. A few words more, said Julian, and you will understand my object in claiming your attention. He returned to the letter for the last time, and concluded his extracts from it as fol- lows: Instead of attending at the hospital myself, I communicated by letter the failure of ixiy attempt to discover the missing nurse. For some little time afterward I heard no more of the sick woman, whom I shall still call Mercy Merrick. It was only yesterday that I received another summons to visit the patient. She had by this time suffi- ciently recovered to claim her discharge, and she had announced her intention of re- turning forthwith to England. The head physician, feeling a~sense of responsibility, had sent for me. It was impossible to de tam heron the ground that she was not fit to be trusted by herself at large, in conse- quence of the difference of opinion among the doctors on the case. All that could be done was to give me due notice, and to leave the matter in my hands. On seeing her for the second time,I found her sullen and re- served. She openly attributed my inability to find the nurse to want of zeal for her in- terests on my part. I had, on my side, no authority whatever to detain her. I could only inquire whether she had money enough to pay her traveling expenses. Her reply informed me that the chaplain of the hos- pital had mentioned her forlorn situation in the town, and that the English residents had subscribed a small sum of money to en- able her to return to her own country. Sat- isfied on this head, I asked next if she had friends to go to in England. I have one friend, she answered, ~rho is a host in herselfLady Janet Roy. You may im- agine my surprise when I heard this. I found it quite useless to make any further inquiries as to how she came to know your aunt, whether your aunt expected her, and soon. My questions evidently offended her; they were received in sulky sile~ce. Under these circumstances, well knowing that I can trust implicitly to your humane sympathy for misfortune, I hav& decided (after careful reflection) to insure Thep oor creatures safe- ty when she arrives in London by giving her a letter to you. You will hear what she says, and you will be better able to discover than I am whether she really has any claim on Lady Janet Roy. One last word of in- formation, which it may be necessary to add, and I shall close this inordinately long letter. At my first interview with her I akstained, as I have already told you,, from irritating her by any inquiries on the sub- ject of her name. Ou this second occasion, however, I decided on putting the ques- tion. As he read those last words, Julian became aware of a sudden movement on the part of his aunt. Lady Janet had risen softly from her chair and had passed behind him with the purpose of reading the consuls letter for herself over her nephews shoulder. Julian detected the action just in time to frustrate Lady Janets intention by placing his hand over the last two lines of the letter. What do you do that for ? inquired his aunt, sharply. You are welcome, Lady Janet, to read the close of the letter for yourself, Julian replied. But before yon do so I am anx- ions to prepare you for a very great surprise. Con~ose yourself, and let me read on slowly, with yeur eye on me, until I uncover the last two words which close my friends letter. He read the end of the letter, as he had proposed, in these terms: I looked the woman straight in the face, 4 THE NEW MAGDALEN. 121 and I said to her,You have denied that the name marked on the clothes which you wore when you came here was your name. If you are not Mercy Merrick, who are you I She answered, instantly, My name is Julian removed his hand from the page. Lady Janet looked at the next two words, and started hack with a loud cry of aston- ishment, which brought Horace instantly to his feet. Tell me, one of you ~ he cried. What name did she give ? Julian told him: GRAcE ROSEBERRY. CHAPTER X. A COUNCIL OF THREE. Fon a moment Horace stood thunder- struck, looking in blank astoiiishment at Lady Janet. His first words, as soon as he had recovered himself; were addressed to Julian. Is this a joke ? he asked, sternly. II~ it is, I for one dont see the humor of it. Julian pointed to the closely written pages of the consuls letter. A man writes in earnest, he said, when he writes at such length as this. The woman seriously gave the name of Grace Roseberry, and when she left Maunheim she traveled to England for the express purpose of presenting herself to Lady Janet Roy. He turned to his aunt. You saw me start, he went on, when you first mentioned Miss Roseberrys name in my hearing. Now you know why. He ad- dressed himself once more to Horace. You heard me say that you, as Miss Roseberrys future husband, had an interest in being present at my interview with Lady Janet. Now yo know why. The woman is plainly mad, said Lady Janet. But it is certainly a startling form of madness when one first hears of it. Of course we must keep the matter, for the present at least, a secret from Grace. There can be no doubt, Horace agreed, that Grace must be kept in the dark, in her present state of health. The servants had better be warned beforehand, in case of this adventuress or madwoman, whichever she may be, attempting to make her way into the house. It shall be done immediately, said Lady Janet. What surprises me, Julian (ring the bell, if you please), is, that you should describe yourself in your letter as feeling an interest in this person.~~ Julian answeredwithoutringingthebell. I am more interested than ever, he said, now I find that Miss Roseberry herself~ is your guest at Mablethorpe House. You were always perverse, Julian, as a child, in your likings and dislikings, Lady Janet rejoined. Why dont you ring the bell ? For one good reason, my dear aunt. II dont wish to hear you tell your servants to close the door on this friendless creature. Lady Janet cast a look at her nephew which plainly expressed that she thought he had taken a liberty with her. You dont expect me to, see the woman ? she asked,in a tone of cold surprise. I hope you will not refuse to see her, Julian answered, quietly. I was out when she called. I must hear what she has to sayand I should infinitely prefer hearing it in your presence. When I got your re- ply to my letter, permitting me to presept her to you, I wi~ote to her immediately, ap- pointing a meeting here. Lady Janet lifted her bright black eyes in1 mute expostulation to the carved Cupids and wreaths on the dining-room ceiling. When am I to have the honor of the ladys visit ? she inquired, with ironical resignation. Today, answered her nephew, with impenetrable patience. At what hour ~ Julian composedly consulted his watch. She is ten minut~s after her ~ he said, and put his watch back in his pocket again. Atthe same moment the servant appeared, and advanced to Julian, carrying a visiting- card on his little silver tray. A lady to see you, Sir. Julian took the card, and, bowing, handed it to his aunt. Here she is 3~ he said, just as quietly as ever. Lady Janet looked at the card, and tossed it indignantly back to her nephew. Miss Roseberry ! she exclaimed. Printedact- ually printed on her card! Julian, even MY patience has its limits. I refuse to see her ! The servant was still waitingnot like a human being who took an interest in the proceedings, but (as became a perfectly bred. footman) like an article of furniture art- fully constructed to come and go at the word of command. Julian gave the word of command, address lug the admirably con- structed automaton by the name of James. Where is the lady nowI he asked. In the breakfast-room, Sir. Leave her there, if you please, and wait outside within hearing of the bell. The legs of the furniture-footman acted, and took him noiselessly out of the room~ Julian turned to his aunt. Forgive me, he said, for venturing to give the man his orders in your presence. I am very anxious that you should. not decide hastily. Surely we ought to hear whatthis lady has to say P Horace dissented widely from his friends opinion. Its an insult to Grace, he broke out, warmly, to hear what she has to say ! 122 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Lady Anet nodded her head in high ap- proval. I think so too, said her ladyship, crossing her handsome old hands resolutely on. her lap. Julian applied himself to answering Hor- ace first. Pardon me,~ he said. I have no inten- tion of presuming to reflect on Miss Rose- berry, or of bringing her into the matter at all.The consuls letter, he went on, speak- ing to his aunt, mentions, if you remem- ber, that the medical authorities of Mann- heim were divided, in opinion on their pa- tients case. Some of themthe physician- in-chief being among the numberbelieve th~t the recovery of her mind has not ac- companied the recovery of her body. In other words,~~ Lady Janet remarked, a madwoman is in my house, and I am ex- pected to receive her ! Dont let us exaggerate, said Julian, gently. It can serve no good interest, in this serious matter, to exaggerate any thing. The consul assures us, on the authority of the doctor, that she is perfectly gentle and harmless. If she is really the victim of a mental delusion, the poor creature is surely an object of compassion, and she ought to be placed under proper care. Ask your own kind heart, my dear aunt, if it would not be downright cruelty t& turn this forlorn woman adrift in the world without making some in- quiry first. Lady Janets inbred sense of justice ad- mittednot overwillinglythe reasona- bleness as well as the humanity of the view expressed in those words. There is some truth in that, Julian, she said, shifting her position uneasily in her chair, and looking at Horace. Dont you think so too ? she added. I cant say I do, answered Horace, in the positive tone of a man whose obstinacy is proof against every form of appeal that can be addressed to him. The patience of Julian was firm enough to be a match for the obstinacy of Horace. At any rate, he resumed, with undimin- ished good temper, we are all three equal- ly interested in setting this matter at rest. I put it to you, Lady Janet, if we are not favored, at this lucky moment, with the very opportunity that we want? Miss Roseberry is not only out of the room, but out of the house. If we let this chance slip, who can say what awkward accident may not ihap- pen in the course of the next few days I Let the woman come in, cried Lady Janet, deciding headlong, with her custom- ary impatience of all delay. At once, Ju- hanbefore Grace can come back. Will you ring the bell this time I This time Julian rang it. May I give the man his orders he respectfully in- quired of his aunt. Give him any thing you like, and have done with it ! retorted the irritable old lady, getting briskly on her feet, and taking a turn in the room to compose herself. The servant withdrew, with orders to show the visitor in. Horace crossed the room at the same time apparently with the intention of leaving it by the door at the opposite end. You are not going away I exclaimed Lady Janet. I see no use in my remaining here, re- plied Horace, not very graciously. In that case,retorted Lady Janet, re- main here because I wish it. Certainlyif you wish it. Only remem- ber, he added, more obstinately than ever, that I differ entirely from Julians view. In my opinion the woman has no claim on us. A passing movement of irritation escaped Julian for the first time. Dont be hard, Horace, he said, sharply. All women have a claim oat us. They had unconsciously gathered togeth- er, in the h~at of the little debate, turning their backs on the library door., At the last words of the reproof administered by Jullan to Horace, their attention was re- called to passing events by the slight noise produced by the opening and closing of the door. With one accord the three turned and looked in the direction from which the sounds had come. CHAPTER XI. THE DEAD ALIVE. JUST inside the door there appeared the figure of a small woman dressed in plain and poor black garments. She silently lifted her black net veil, and disclosed a dull, pale, worn, weary face. The forehead was low and broad; the eyes were unusually far apart; the lower features were remark- ably small and delicate. In health (as the consul at Mannheim had remarked) this woman must have possessed, if not absolute beauty, at least rare attractions peculiarly her own. As it was now, sufferingsullen, silent, self-contained sufferinghad marred its beauty. Attention and even curiosity it might still rouse. Admiration or interest it could excite no longer. The small, thin, black figure stood immov- ably inside the door. The dull, worn, white face looked silently at the three persons in the room. The three persons in the room, on their side, stood for a moment without moving, and looked silently at the stranger on the threshold. There was something, either in the woman herself or in the sudden and stealthy manner of her appearance in the room, which froze, as if with the touch of THE NEW MAGDALEN. 123 an invisible cold liand, the sympathies of all three. Accustomed to the world, habit- ually at their ease in every social emergency, they were now silenced for the first time in their lives by the first serious sense of em- barrassment which they had felt since they were children in the presence of a stranger. Had the appearance of the true Grace iRoseberry aroused in their minds a suspicion of the woman who had stolen her name, and taken her place in the house? Not so much as the shadow of a suspicion of Mercy was at the bottom of the strange sense of uneasiness which had now deprived them alike of their habitual courtesy and their habitual presence of mind. It was as practically impossible for any one of the three to doubt the identity of the adopted daughter of the house as it would be for you who read these lines to doubt the iden- tity of the nearest and dearest relative you have in the world. Circumstances had for- tified Mercy behind the strongest of all nat- ural rightsthe right of first possession. Circumstances had armed her with the most irresistible of all natural forces-the force of previous association and previous habit. Not by so much as a hair-breadth was the position of the false Grace Roseberry shaken by the first appearance of the true Grace Roseberry within the doors of Mablethorpe House. Lady Janet felt suddenly repelled, without knowing why. Julian and Horace felt suddenly repelled, without knowing why. Asked to describe their own sensa- tions at the moment, they would have shaken their heads in despair, and would have answered in those words. The vague presentiment of some misfortune to come had entered the room with the entrance of the woman in black. But it moved invis- ibly; and it spoke, as all presentimeuts speak, in the Unknown Tongue. her. That is Julians businessnot mine. Dont stand, Horace! You fidget me. Sit down. Armed beforehand in her policy of silence, Lady Janet folded her handsome hands as usual, and waited for the proceed- ings to begin, like a judge on the bench. Will you take a chair ? Julian repeated, observing that the visitor appeared neither to heed nor to hear his first words of wel- come to her. At this second appeal she spoke to him. Is that Lady Janet Roy ? she asked, with her eyes fixed on the mistress of the house. Julian answered, and drew back to watch the result. The woman in the poor black garments changed her po~ition for the first time. She moved slowly across the room to the place at which Lady Janet was sitting, and ad- dressed her respectfully with perfect self- possession of, manner. Her whole demean- or, from the moment when she had appeared at the door, had expressedat once plainly and becominglyconfidence in the recep- tion that awaited her. Almost the last words my father said to me on his death-bed, she began, were words, madam, which told me to expect pro- tection and kindness from you. It was not Lady Janets business to speak. She listened with the blandest attention. She waited with the most exasperating si- lence to hear more. Grace Roseberry drew back a stepnot intimidatedonly mortified and surprised. Was my father wrong ? she asked, with a simple dignity of tone and manner which forced Lady Janet to abandon her policy of silence, in spite of herself. Who was your father I she asked, coldly. Grace Roseberry answered the question in a tone of stern surprise. Has the servant not given you my card ? she said. Dont you know my name ? A moment passed. The crackling of the Which of your names I rejoined Lady fire and the ticking of the clock were the Janet. only sounds audible in the room. I dont understand your ladyship. The voice of the visitorhard, clear, and I will make myself understood. You quietwas the first voice that broke the asked me if I knew your name. I ask you, silence. in return, which name it is? The name on Mr. Julian Gray ? she said, looking in- your card is Miss Roseberry. The name terrogatively from one of the two gentle- marked on your clothes, when you were in men to the other. the hospital, was Mercy Merrick. Julian advanced a few steps, instantly re- The self-possession which Grace had main- covering his self-possession. I am sorry I tamed from the moment when she had en- was not at home, he said, when you called tered the dining-room, seemed now, for the with your letter from the consul. Pray take first time, to be on the point of failing her. a chair. She tnrned, and looked appealingly at Ja- By way of setting the example, Lady han, who had thus far kept his place apart, Janet seated herself at some little distance, listening attentively. with Horace in attendance standing near. Surely, she said, your friend, the co~i- She bowed to the stranger with stuijous sul, has told you in his letter about the mark pohitene~s, but without uttering a word, be- on the clothes ? fore she settled herself in her chair. I am Something of the girlish hesitation and obliged to listen to this person, thought the timidity which had marked her demeanor Gld lady. But I am not obllged to speak to at her interview with Mercy in the French 124 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. cottage reap~peared in her tone and manner as she spoke those words. The changes mostly changes for the worsewrought in her by the suffering through which she had passed since that time, were now (for the moment) effaced. All that was left of the better and simpler side of her character as- serted itself in her brief appeal to Julian. She had hitherto repelled him. He began to feel a certain compassionate interest in her now. The consul has informed me of what you said to him, he answered, kindly. But, if you will take my advice, I recommend you to tell your story to, Lady Janet in your own words. Grace again addressed herself with sub- missive reluctance to Lady Janet. The clothes your ladyship speaks of, she said, were the clothes of another woman. The rain was pouring when the soldiers de- tained me on the frontier. I had been ex- posed for hours to the weatherI was wet to the skin. The clothes marked Mercy Merrick were the clothes lent to me by Mer- cy Merrick herself while my own things were drying. I was struck by the shell in those clothes. I was carried away insensible in those clothes after the operation had been performed on me. Lady Janet listened to perfectionand did no more. She turned confidentially to Horace, and said to him, in her gracefully ironical way, She is ready with her ex- planation. Horace answered in the same tone, A great deal too ready. Grace lQoked from one of them to the oth- er. A faint flush of coloV showed itself in her face for the first time. Am I to understand, she asked, with proud composure, that you dont believe me ? Lady Janet maintained her policy of si- lence. She waved one hand courteously to- ward Julian, as if to say, Address your in- quiries to the gentleman who introduces you. Julian, noticing the gesture, and ob- serving the rising color ia Graces cheeks, interfered directly in the interests of peace. Lady Janet asked you a question just now, he said; Lady Janet inquired who your father was. My father was the late Colonel Rose- berry. Lady Janet made another confidential re- mark to Horace. Her assurance amazes me ! she exclaimed. Julian interposed before his aunt could add a word more. Pray let us hear her, he said, in a tone of entreaty which had something of the imperative in it this time. He turned to Grace. Have you any proof to produce, he added, in his gentler voice, which will satisfy us that you are Colonel Roseberrys daughter l Grace lookedat him indignantly. Proof! she repeated. Is my word not enough l Julian kept his temper perfectly. Par- don me, he rejoined, you forget that you and Lady Janet meet now4or the first time. Try to put yourself in my aunts place. How is she to know that you are the late Colonel Roseberrys daughter ~ Graces head sunk on her breast; she dropped into the nearest chair. The ex- pression of her face changed iustautly from anger to discouragement. Ah,~ she ex- claimed, bitterly, if I only had the lettcr~ that have been stolen from me ! Letters, asl~ed Julian, introducing you to Lady Janet I Yes. She turned suddenly to Lady ,Janet. Let me tell you how I lost them, she said, in the first tones of entreaty which had escaped her yet. Lady Janet hesitated. It was not in her generous nature to resist the appeal that had just been made to her. The sympathies of Horace were far less easily reached. lie lightly launched a new shaft of satirein- tended for the private amusement of Lady Janet. Another explanation ! he exclaim- ed, with a look of comic resignation. Julian overheard the words. His large lustrous eyes fixed themselves on Horace with a look of unmeasured contempt. The least you can do, he said, sternly, is not to irritate her. ft is so easy to irritate her ! He addressed himself again to Grace, endeavoring to help her throughherdifficulty in a new way. Never mind explaiaing your- self for the moment, he said. Intheab- sence of your letters, have you any one in London who can speak to your identity ? Grace shook her head sadly. I have no friends in London, she answered. It was impossible for Lady Janetwho had never in her life heard of any body without friends in Londonto pass this over without notice. No friends in Lon- don ! she repeate~l, taming to Horace. Horace shot another shaft of light satire. Of course not ! he rejoined. Grace saw them comparing notes. My friends are in Canada,~~ she broke out, im- petuously. Plenty of friends who could speak for, me, if I could only bring them here. As a place of referencementioned in the capital city of EnglandCanada, there is no denying it,is open to objection on the ground of distance. Horace was ready with another shot. Far enough off, certainly, he said. Far enough oft; as you say, Lady Janet agreed. Once more Julians inexhaustible kindness stro~e to obtain a hearing for the stranger who had been confided to his care. A lit- tle patience, Lady Janet, he pleaded. A little consideration; Horace, for a friendless woman. 125 THE NEW MAGDALEN. Thank you, Sir, said Grace. It is He spoke, in the warmth of his indigna- very kind of you to try and help me, but it tion, loud enough for Grace to hear him. is useless. They wont even listen to me. What is there monstrous in it l she asked, She attempted to rise from her chair as she advancing a step toward him, defiantly. pronounced the last words. Julian gently Julian checked her. He toothough he laid his hand on her shoulder and obliged had only once seen Mercyfelt an angry her to resume her seat. sense of the insult offered to the beautiful I will listen to you, he said. You re- creature who had interested him at his first ferred me just now to the consuls letter. sight of her. Silence ! he said, speaking The consul tells me yon suspected some one sternly to Grace for the first time. You of taking your papers and your clothes. are offendingjustly offendiPgIiady Jan- I dont suspect, was the quick reply; I et. Yon are talking worse than absurdly am certain! I tell you positivelyMercyMer- you are ~talking offensivelywhen you rick was the thief. She was alone with me speak of another woman presenting herself~ when I was struck down by the shell. She here in your place. was the only person who knew that I had Graces blood was up. Stung by Julians letters of introduction about me. She con- reproof, she turned on him a l6ok which was fessed to my face that she had been a bad almost a look of fui~y. womanshe had been in a prisonshe had Are you a clergyman? Are you an edu- come out of a refuge cated man l she asked. Have you never Julian stopped her there with one plain read of cases of false personation, in news- question, which threw a doubt on the whole papers and tooks? I blindly confided in story. Mercy Merrick before I found out what her The consul tells me you asked him to character really was. She left the cottage search for Mercy Merrick, he said. Is it I know it, from the surgeon who brought not true that he caused inquiries to be made; me to life againfirmly persuaded that the and that no trace of any such person was to shell had killed me. My papers and my be heard of ? clothes disappeared at the same time. Is The consul took no pains to find her, there nothing suspicious ia these circum- Grace answered, angrily. He was, like starice~? There were people at the hospital every body else, in a conspiracy to neglect who thought them highly suspiciouspeo and misjudge me. ple ~ ho warned me that I might find an im Lady Janet and Horace exchanged looks. postor in my place. She suddenly paused. This time it was, impossible for Julian to The rustling sound of a silk dress had caught blame them. The farther the strangers her ear. Lady Janet was lenying the room, narrative advanced, the less worthy of sen- with Horace, by way of the conservatory. ous attention he felt it to be. The longer With a last desperate effort of resolution, she spoke4he mom disadvantageously she- Grace sprang forward and j~laced herself in challenged comparison with the absent worn- front of them. an, whose name she so ohstina~ely and so One word, Lady Janet, before you turn audaciously. persisted in~ assnming as her your back on me, she said, firmly. One own. word, and I will be content. Has Colonel Granting all that you have said, Ja- Roseberrys letter found its way to this han resumed, with a last effort of patience, house or not? If it has, did a woman bring what use could Mercy Merrick make of it to yon I your letters arid your clothes I Lady Janet lookedas only a great lady What. use ? repeated Grace, amazed at can look, when a person of inferior rank has his not seeing the position as she saw it. presumed to fail in respect toward her. My clothes were marked with my name. You are surely not aware, she said, One of my papers was a letter from my fa- with icy composure, that these questions ther, introducing me to Lady Janet. A are an insult to Me I woman out of a refuge would be quite capa- And worse than an insult, Horace add- ble of presenting herself here in my place. ed, warmly, to Grace ! Spoken entirely at random, spoken with- The little resolute black figure (still bar- out so much as a fragment of evidence to ring the way to the conservatory) was sud- support them, those last words still had their denly shaken from head to foot. The worn- effect. They cast a reflection on Lady Jan- ans eyes traveled backward and forward ets adopted daughter which was too out- hetween Lady .Janet and Horace with the - rageous to be borne. Lady Janet rose in- light of a new suspicion in them. stantly. Give me your arm, Horace, she Grace ! she exclaimed. What Grace? said, turning to leave the room. I have Thats my name. Lady Janet, you have got heard enough. the letter! The woman is here ! Horace respectfully offered his arm. Lady Janet dropped Horaces arm, and Your ladyship is quite right, he answer- retraced her steps to the place at which her ed. A more monstrous story never was in- nephew was standing. vented. Julian, she said. You force me for 126 HARPEWS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the first time in my life to remind you of the respect that is due to me in my own house. Send that woman away. Withont waiting to be answered, she turn- ed back again, and once more took Horaces arm. Stand back, if you please, she said, qui- etly, to Grace. Grace held her ground. The woman is here ! she repeated. Confront me with herand then send me away, ifyou like. Julian advanced, and firmly took her by tlie arm. You forget what is due to Lady Janet, he said, drawing her aside. You forget what is due to yourself. With a desperate effort, Grace broke away from him, and stopped Lady Janet on the threshold of the conservatory door. Justice ! she cried, shaking her clinch- ed hand with hysterical frenzy in the air. I claim my right to meet that woman face to face! Where is she? Confront me with her! Confront me with her ! While those wild words were pouring from her lips, the rumbling of carriage-wheels be- came audible on the drive in front of the house. In the all-absorbing agitation of the moment, the sound of the wheels (followed by the opening of the house door) passed unnoticed by the persons iu the dining- room. Horaces voice was still raised in angry protest against the insult offered to Lady Janet; Lady Janet herself (leaving him for the second time) was vehemently ringing the bell to summon the servants Julian had once more taken the infuriated woman by the arm, and was trying vainly to compose herwhen the library door was opened quietly by a young lady wearing a mantle and a bonnet. Mercy Merrick (true. to the appointment which she had made with Horace) entered the room. The first eyes that discovered her presence on the scene were the eyes of Grace Rose- berry. Starting violently in Julinas grasp, she pointed toward the library door. Ah ! she cried, with a shriek of vindictive delight. There she is ! Mercy turned as the sound of the scream rang through the room, and metresting on her in savage triumphthe living gaze of the woman whose identity she had stolen, whose body she had left laid out for dead. On the instant of that terrible discovery with her eyes fixed helplessly on the fierce eyes that had found hershe dropped sense- less on the floor. A PICTURESQUE TRANSFORMATION. 1 N the , romance, genius and afflu- ence are inversely proportional. Mr. Ed- ward Tremaines studio presented a striking confirmation of the theory. Upon the im- mediate receipt of pecuniary equivalent for the picture on his easel depended the pacific adjustment of his board bill; and the pic- ture was unquestionably a work of genius. It would perhaps be premature to assert that the artist was at that time a full-fledged genius; there were hardly sufficient data as yet from which to judge. Safer to regard him merely as a talented young fellow who, by a combination of fortunate external and internal conditions, had produced an immor- tal work. If subsequent productions sus- tained it, admit him a genius; otherwise, otherwise. The subject was simple: three facestwo, bright and vivid, in the foreground; a third, grave and shadowy, appearing from behind. Pleasing at first glance, as you gazed the pic- ture gradually satisfied your inmost heart, flooding every nook and cranny with delight. All elements to kindle human interest were there, yet was every thing idealized, thus widening the pictures sway. Love was the key-notelove in its highest phase, dimmed by no touch of sensuality or sordidness. And whether gazing at the young girl who, with sweet, appealing eyes, and blushing, as it were, at her own modesty, shrank while she clung to the vigorous vitality of the youth; or, again, at his fair young face, which, bright with the first light of lofty thoughts and pas- sionate impulses, was softened ~d subdued by her trust and reliance on his strength; or, finally, at the grave eyes, thoughtful brow, and eloquent lips of the sage in the background, made yet more gracious by their aspect of sympathy and interest in the untried young lives before him: toward whichever of these the glance was turned it still recognized, underlying and elevating all, the deathless sentiment of love in all its varied forms. Mr. Tremaine, having added the finishing touch, stepped back a few paces, with his head on one side, and stood contemplating his work in silence. I call that good, he remarked at length, with all the candor of one who is by himself. Hope it 11 prove a true symbol, and that the Professor will take the hint. Dont see how he can help it. Young men are not invariably gifted with one idea to the exclusion of others, any more than any body else; and what they do ma~y sometimes happen to be done with more than one purpose. A work of genius may elevate posterity a hundred years from now, yet be thereby in no way incapacitated from min- istering to the immediate wants, or even ne- cessities, of its author. Following close upon Mr. Tremaines re

Julian Hawthorne Hawthorne, Julian A Picturesque Transformation 126-132

126 HARPEWS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the first time in my life to remind you of the respect that is due to me in my own house. Send that woman away. Withont waiting to be answered, she turn- ed back again, and once more took Horaces arm. Stand back, if you please, she said, qui- etly, to Grace. Grace held her ground. The woman is here ! she repeated. Confront me with herand then send me away, ifyou like. Julian advanced, and firmly took her by tlie arm. You forget what is due to Lady Janet, he said, drawing her aside. You forget what is due to yourself. With a desperate effort, Grace broke away from him, and stopped Lady Janet on the threshold of the conservatory door. Justice ! she cried, shaking her clinch- ed hand with hysterical frenzy in the air. I claim my right to meet that woman face to face! Where is she? Confront me with her! Confront me with her ! While those wild words were pouring from her lips, the rumbling of carriage-wheels be- came audible on the drive in front of the house. In the all-absorbing agitation of the moment, the sound of the wheels (followed by the opening of the house door) passed unnoticed by the persons iu the dining- room. Horaces voice was still raised in angry protest against the insult offered to Lady Janet; Lady Janet herself (leaving him for the second time) was vehemently ringing the bell to summon the servants Julian had once more taken the infuriated woman by the arm, and was trying vainly to compose herwhen the library door was opened quietly by a young lady wearing a mantle and a bonnet. Mercy Merrick (true. to the appointment which she had made with Horace) entered the room. The first eyes that discovered her presence on the scene were the eyes of Grace Rose- berry. Starting violently in Julinas grasp, she pointed toward the library door. Ah ! she cried, with a shriek of vindictive delight. There she is ! Mercy turned as the sound of the scream rang through the room, and metresting on her in savage triumphthe living gaze of the woman whose identity she had stolen, whose body she had left laid out for dead. On the instant of that terrible discovery with her eyes fixed helplessly on the fierce eyes that had found hershe dropped sense- less on the floor. A PICTURESQUE TRANSFORMATION. 1 N the , romance, genius and afflu- ence are inversely proportional. Mr. Ed- ward Tremaines studio presented a striking confirmation of the theory. Upon the im- mediate receipt of pecuniary equivalent for the picture on his easel depended the pacific adjustment of his board bill; and the pic- ture was unquestionably a work of genius. It would perhaps be premature to assert that the artist was at that time a full-fledged genius; there were hardly sufficient data as yet from which to judge. Safer to regard him merely as a talented young fellow who, by a combination of fortunate external and internal conditions, had produced an immor- tal work. If subsequent productions sus- tained it, admit him a genius; otherwise, otherwise. The subject was simple: three facestwo, bright and vivid, in the foreground; a third, grave and shadowy, appearing from behind. Pleasing at first glance, as you gazed the pic- ture gradually satisfied your inmost heart, flooding every nook and cranny with delight. All elements to kindle human interest were there, yet was every thing idealized, thus widening the pictures sway. Love was the key-notelove in its highest phase, dimmed by no touch of sensuality or sordidness. And whether gazing at the young girl who, with sweet, appealing eyes, and blushing, as it were, at her own modesty, shrank while she clung to the vigorous vitality of the youth; or, again, at his fair young face, which, bright with the first light of lofty thoughts and pas- sionate impulses, was softened ~d subdued by her trust and reliance on his strength; or, finally, at the grave eyes, thoughtful brow, and eloquent lips of the sage in the background, made yet more gracious by their aspect of sympathy and interest in the untried young lives before him: toward whichever of these the glance was turned it still recognized, underlying and elevating all, the deathless sentiment of love in all its varied forms. Mr. Tremaine, having added the finishing touch, stepped back a few paces, with his head on one side, and stood contemplating his work in silence. I call that good, he remarked at length, with all the candor of one who is by himself. Hope it 11 prove a true symbol, and that the Professor will take the hint. Dont see how he can help it. Young men are not invariably gifted with one idea to the exclusion of others, any more than any body else; and what they do ma~y sometimes happen to be done with more than one purpose. A work of genius may elevate posterity a hundred years from now, yet be thereby in no way incapacitated from min- istering to the immediate wants, or even ne- cessities, of its author. Following close upon Mr. Tremaines re A PICTURESQUE TRANSFORMATION. 1527 mark was heard the well-known knock of the Professor, who, having been cordially if not obsequiously admitted, sat down in a chair opposite the picture, and studied it a while in silence. He wa~s not given to unnecessary conversation. Brains,learning, and money, taken in sufficiently large quan- tities, will cure any one of loquacity, and the Professor bore evidence of free indul- gence in all three. Nevertheless his ex- pression was simple and kindly, and he looked like a benevolent old fellow enough, as why should he not? Youve, been more than successful here, Edward, said he at last. The world might remember you for this. Edward flushed. So far, very good in- deed. The idea of a board bill having ever caused him uneasiness! To look behind the veil society draws over our real selves, continued the Profess- or, and paint what we are inwardly con- scious of being, or of the capability of be- coming, is a great feat. You have at once caught and idealized the likenesses; and in the most difficult part of your subjectthe maiden, Hildegardeyou bave best succeed- ed. Beautiful as she is, you have painted her soul rather than herself. Edwards flush hereupon so deepened that one might have imagined other sentiments than pleasure concerned in its production. Such, at any rate, was the fact; he had long loved Hildegarde, the lovely ward of his pa- tron, the Prof ; and in painting this pic- ture had doubtless thought to shadow forth the fact to .that gentleman, and prepare his mind to know the hitherto carefully con- cealed secret. He now awaited the next remark with some anxiety; much might depend on it. Tis a confirmation of my theory, said the Professor, musingly. Who looks at life dispassionately, alone portrays it clear ly. Now in this idealized conjunction of maidenhood and youth of yourself and Hildegnrdeis embodied the very essence of love; but had you been under the influ- ence of the passion, you could never thus have painted it. Rather a damper. Confound his theo- ries ! ejaculated Edward, very much below his breath. Evidently paint-brush language wasnt plain enough.. Must try the other way, then. I dont quite agree with you there, Pro- fessor, he began, in a gently argumentative manner. Love, it strikes me, is the best teacherthe truest expounder. What suc- cess has been achieved in this picture is due to the ser4iment inspiring the artist rather than to his skill. Not in~p ossible. When people hear what he have no wish to hear, they sometimes say, in a harsh tone, I dont understand you ! That was exact- ly what the Professor said. Then he added, You dont .mean that and paused, looking full at poor Edward. Had Edward been older, or wiser, he would have perceived that the Professor wanted, not an explana- tion, bnt a disclaimer, and bad made the pause in order to give him a chance to put one in before it was too late. But he was young and foolish, and bestowed not a thought upon the matter. Having before- hand decided that this would be a good op- portunity for a confession, he was blind to all bad omens, and out h~ blurted the whole story. The burden of which was that Edward loved Hildegarde, and Hildegarde Edward; only, by way of eloquence, or to impress the facts on the Professors mind, the unhappy youth so amplified, varied, befiowered, and bespangled them that redundancy could no further go. Had his listener been thirsting all his life long to hear just this communi- cation, he would have repented ere it were well begun; but he had not thirsted. The end canie at last, leaving Edward with glow- lug cheeks, kindling eyes, and the convic- tion that he had made a deep impression; and the Professorwell, the Professors face was shaded by his hand, but it was likely he had been deeply impressed for all that. He remained undemonstrative so long that Edward began to grow restless. Not that he doubted of the result; his cause was too reasonable, too well pleaded for that; but he did feel a slight disappointment that the response had not come with more gush and spontaneity. To do him justice, he had as good grounds for hope as most young men in his position; and had it not been for one untoward circumstance, which he could not be blamed for overlooking, all might have, been well. Inasmuch as a knowledge of, this circumstance will throw considerable light on subsequent developments, be the reader informed that it was simply this: the Professor himself was in love with Hilde- garde! If Edward had only known that! The Professor, as the world goes, had al- ways been an excellent man; he had not had much occasion to be any thing else. Now men with a great amount of uniuvested in- tellect are not always safe, as regards them- selves or others, but it was not exactly to be expected that he should enrich a rival at the expense of both purse and heart, in spite of current fiction. Nor could he be severely~~ blamed for taking such advantage of a young and handsome rival as a gentleman on the shady side of liD might find possible. He held two trumpshis wealth, and Edwards ignorance of his rivalship. Who will say he had no right to play them? At any rate, he resolved to do so: the best way, was the next question. The Professor pressed, the fingers and thumb of his right hand across his eyes and down the sides of his nose, then looked up 128 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. at Edward. His expression was inscruta- ble, his voice unusually musical. Edward, I will be frank with you. You have surprised, even shaken, me not alit- tle. A fathers love and care toward Hilde- garde could hardly equal mine; but I am not therefore blind to her highest good. And if I must be conscientious and judicious, do not think me selfish. Oh dear, no! Edward would do nothing of the sort. He was poor, he knew, but trusted not to be always so; hoped that in time The practice of your art will enrich you, interposed the Professor, stroking his nose gently. Yes, but does genius always mean wealth? Doesnt the very excellence of your picture, for instance, pronounce against its popularity? Tis a rule of na- turethe loftier, the more isolated. But might not even that narrow circle be sufficient ? Well objected! Command the right audience, no matter how limited, an dyour fortune may still be secure. Nay, gain the patronage of but a single individual whose means and taste are alike of the first order~ and why seek farther? Do you take my meaning ? As the Professor at this juncture inserted his hand into his pocket and elicited thence a gentle clinking sonnd, the inference was irresistible. Edward started, with a glance of questioning surprise. The other nodded his head slowly. On two conditions, said he, both sim- ple and easy of fulfillment, I engage to as- sure youi fortune. First, all pictures you paint are to belong to me; second, you are to paint nothing but copies of the picture now on your easel. Do you agree ? Edward grasped the Professors hands fervently. Could it be true? How good! how kind! how The Professors mouth wore a peculiar smile. Now as to terms, said he. For the first copy Ill give you one thousand dollars, fifteen hundred fo.r the second, two thousand for the third, and so on, raising five hundred dollars on every successive copy. On your diligence, therefore, will it depend in how many months or years you are rich. But remember, emphasized the Professor, embracing the end of his nose with his forefinger, if you paint for any one but me, or any thing else than copies of this picture, you forfeit all money up to that time received. You und~tand P Perfectly, dearest Profes~or. And when Im rich I may marry Hildegarde ? The Professor rose, laid his hand on Ed- wards shoulder, and looked fixedly at him. When you feel no further need for money, she is yours, said he. Edward burst forth in incoherent gratitude, but his benefactor turned away, and the peculiar smile was broader than ever. I have him safe, he murmured, as he descended the stairs. And sheis a beautifulyoung~,irl ! Alone, Edward lit a pipe and sat down to reflect on his good fortune. But he was not as cheerful as he had expected to be; he looked almost discontented. Somehow the glow and enthusiasm for his art which he had felt an hour ago had vanished. He had a vague idea of a desecration some- where. A certain throb of the heart, half fearful, half exultant, which, when antici- pating .the battle of life, it had been his wont to feel, was missing now.~ Natural: his future was a thing of the past already; it stood there on his easel, or chinked in the Professors capacious pocket; it was all the same. What was the picture but a huge roll of bank-bills, cunningly contrived to give the appearance of a work of art? What was he but a coiner of money? Artist in- deed! But, again, what more absurd than to in- dulge such feelings! Was not loveHilde- garde his aim and object? Therefore, what fear of harm? With the right to pos- sess must come the power to support her. Why be f4~olish and romantic? Life was nowadays a serious, practical business, not a gilded vision. Money first, then and aft- erwardHildegarde. That was the correct principle. How gratified would have been his friend the Professor could he. have heard Edward enunciate it! He reclined in his favorite easy-chair, and stroked his nose abstracted ly. His face seemed to have lost in a meas- ure the grave calm customary to it. It now wore an expression of, let us say, astuteness. He was playing a very neat little game, in which his penetrating intellect and worldly knowledge were serving him well. A deep- ly interesting game, too. l,~That more fas- cinating than to take a nice fresh young soul, and, by virtue of your knowledge of the principles of its construction, mould it into something quite at variance with the original design? What an indescribable superadded charm, should the issue of the experiment be fraught with the most desir- able results to yourselfnothing less than the successful consummation of a romautic attachment! Therefore, thrice happy Pro- fessor! no wonder he smiled so peculiarly! True, carping persons might inquire whether, in reconstructing other peoples na- tures, he might not risk the symmetry of his own; whether the record of his researches might not be read on his own countenance. The Professor, of course, was superior to such innuendoes; but I am not prepared to maintain that he was acting blamelessly, for this reasonthat he subsequently be- came the victim, of a ghastly punishment, which, by the eternal fitness of things, he must have somehow provoked. Let the A PICTURESQUE TRANSFORMATION. 129 reader, if he finishes the narrative, judge for beside the inspired features of his first himself. creation. Meanwhile the innocent and lovely cause But it was not to be altered; and so su- of these effects was diligently occupied in perlative was the excellence of the other her two avocations of lying on the sofa and two faces that he feared not but that the novel-reading, when she was interrupted by picture would be approved, and forthwith a note, the perfume of which recalled the invited Hildegarde and the Professor to see pipe of her darling Edward. While she it. The latter took his seat in the critics perused the contents, her novel fell unheed- chair with an aspect of unusual gracious- ed to the floor. Of the depth and sincerity ness, but ere he had beeu looking at the pic- of her love there could be no question. ture a minute Edward saw something was The letter read, the hand which held it out of the way. Had ho also discovered the fell to her lap; the others taper little fore- defective youth? finger found its way to her rosy mouth; her My dear Edward, is there not the pic- tender blue eyes opened very wide at noth- ture in all other respects is excellentbut ing, and she sighed. is there not a considerable deterioration in Oh dear ! she murmured, how dread- the expression of the sage in the back- ful men are! And now Edward is going to ground? Methinks there is less of philo- be just like the rest of them. He never used sophic repose, and more of a certain crafty to say any thing except that he loved me dissimulation observable in the copied than better than his own soul, and that I was the in the original countenance. Dont you inspiration of his art, and all nice things of agree with me, Hildegarde ? that kind; but now hes begun about mon- I think, replied that young lady, that ey, and supporting, and business. I think your portrait and Edwards are perfect im- its too bad. Hell be practical and hateful ages; but I think its very mean in him to like other men. I wish there wasnt any have made such a looking thing of me. I such thing as money! -It was sweet of dear look as though I cared a great de~ more for old Guardie, though, to be so nice to Ed- my dress and pearl necklace than or the ward. And I suppose one must have mon- the ey to marry on. though its horrid to be al- Hildegarde pouted her pretty lip; it was ways talking about it so. I wonder how too much to expect of her to finish the sen- much 11 be enough! Ill ask Edward next tence. But enough had been said to prove time I see him. to Edwards satisfaction that very nice peo- Such a sustained stretch of thought, rea- ple might be very stupid critics. He forbore, soning, and speculation was too exhausting nevertheless, to make his indignation known, for our sweet Hildegarde. She resumed the more especially since the Professor hesitated slighted novel, and her tender eyes con- not to place one thousand dollars to his ac- templated nothing in another form. But count at the bankers. But he also forbore the contraction of her delicate little eye- to demand of the Professor the hand of Hil- brows when she appeared at tea that even- degarde, as he had intended to do on receipt ing could scarce be accounted for by the of this first installment of his fortune. A d6nouement of the tale, harrowing though thousand dollars in the hand did not appear it was. The Professor, however, was un- equal to that sum in the bush; it would be usually entertaining, even for him, and told wisermore prudentto paint one or two a most absurd story about the misfortunes more copies first: better be on the safe side. of a couple of young people who had gotten The Professor, under guise of caressing h~s married without money enough to pay the nose, watched the young gentleman covert- minister. Hildegarde laughed her eyes full ly, and with manifest satisfaction. Really of tears, and in the midst of it was horror- it was a very interesting experiment. struck at the thought that no longer ago When he and Hildegarde had taken their than the day before she would have thought departure Edward stood for a few moments nothing of doing just such a thing herself. regarding the two pictures. There was no How much she had learned since then! As use denying the fact; the copy might be the Professor had said, she 4as now nothing better painted, but equal to the original in but a beautiful young girl, ready to learn point of expression it was not! What should any thing. be done? Edward set to work on the first copy of After a pause Edward took the original his picture, and by diligent application picture, carried At to the dark closet, and completed it wonderfully soon. He consid- placed it in the furthest corner, with its face ered it the superior of the original in all re- toward the wall. spects but one; that, strange to say, was Ill copy my copy for the future, said the portrait of the youth. Something was he to himself. As long as Im paid for it, wrong about it, yet he could not but con- whats the odds ? fess it a better likeness of himself than Was it not, after all, a sign of progress? the original. Surely that could not be the Is not our improvement marked by a sense reason it appeared almost commonplace of our early deficienciesa perception of a Voa. XLvLNo. 271.9 130 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. certain crudityan unrealityabout them, She was very pretty aud very stylish. which is abhorrent to our maturer and bet- Hat, chignon, panier, high heelsall in per- ter-trained taste l And granting the diversi- fection; very bright-colored kids, and a par- ty of opinionsome preferring the chaste, asol with a big hook on the end of the shaft. delicate coloring and expression of the inde- Her countenance evinced self-possession of scribably awkward pre-Raphuelite Madon- the most firmly established description; evi- nas to the matchless, grace and warm flesh, dently she could have held her own among blood, and human nature of the modern a corps of medical students without blush French schoolis it not generally notice- or shiver. Her expression was smart and able that upholders of the former style are knowing; no fool, but not averse to a little deficient in that practical, business view of fooling. In short, she was an example of all life which, after all,.is the ~urnmum bonum of the virtues appertaining to the girl of the the present day? period; and had it not been for something strangely familiar in the contour of her face, Two years gone, and not married. By we should dismiss the discussion of her per- Jove ! ejaculated Mr. Tremaine, leaning fections with a sigho,f admiration. back in his chair and yawning. But can That you, Hildy?inquiredMr. Tremaine, that be the boyish, immature young fellow glancing over his shoulder. Whereve.you we have heretofore known by that name? been these two days? Why, what a change! what an improvement! Hildegardefor she it was, albeit so im- Married or not, he is positively transfigured, proved from the simple, child-like, innocent- Stouter; hair short, and partedbehind; love- eyed little girl we last sawsank into a ly scarf; entire absence of soft sentimental- rocking-chair, and fanned herself with one ity and dreamy abstraction; instead, the of Dumass novels, just taken from the libra- shrewd, calculating glance of one under- ry. It was a hot day. standing, and not to be cheated out of, his Youve missed me, havent you ? said highest od; and the scarcely perceptible she, countering Mr. Tremaines question with lines at tfle corners of his eyes and about great piquancy. I declare, she continued, his mouth spoke volumes. His friends if the man hasnt nearly finished another ! should congratulate him; his best friend, bringing a pair of tortoise-shell eyeglasses the Professor, often did. to bear on the canvas. But his artistic had kept pace with his Im a hard-working man, Hildy, replied moral, mental, and physical advancement. Mr. Tremaine, laying down his palette and Marvelous was the rapidity and proficiency brushes, and heaving a business-like sigh. of execution to which he had attained. So Yes, returned Hildy the arch, and you well did he understand the mixing of each dont make any thing in the way of money tint, graduating of each shadow, and bright- out of it either, do you? All for love of me, ening of each light that he could almost isnt it? Ha! ha! ha! have managed it with closed eyes. It is To this spicy sally Tremaine made no re- worth while to copy ones self; if for nothing ply. He sat staring at the door of the dark else, for the sake of the great perfection cer- closet, plunged in a brown-study. Then his tam to be arrived at. eyes reverted to the picture on the easel, Mr. Tremaine, after the remark above re- and finally they rested on Hildegarde as she corded, produced a small leather-bound book sat with her chair tipped back against the from his left breast pocket, and proceeded, wall, turning over the pages of her noveL with absorbed and corrugated brow, to con- She had changed, and no mistake. sult it. Probably, judging from the interest, Do you ever think of when well be mar- the affection, with which he lingered over ned, Hildy? he demanded, abruptly. the contents, it contained extracts from the Why, of course I do, you goose, replied more tender passages of Hildegardes letters, she, dropping the book to her lap, and re- interspersed, perhaps, with profound obser- garding him without a particle of prudish- vations, wise maxims, and beautiful thoughts ness. Havent I decided on my dress, and on art and the artistic life, what its to cost, and who are to be the Hm ! said Mr. Tremaine. Let me see. bridemaids, and Twenty-fourthirty~sixand five times six And when the weddings to be, I sup- thirty-nine thousand. Hm! No, not he pose, put in Tremaine, with some asperity. concluded, carefully replacing the book in Oh, thats your business, retorted Hil- his pocket. Cant afford it sooner than degarde, righting her chair and rising. If next year, anyway; and I dont believe youd ever thought of any thing but money shell mind waiting. And forthwith he set youd have married me long ago, you old to work with renewed vigor upon the half- stingy! But you neednt be cross; I didnt finished picture before him, come to discuss the matrimonial, but just to In a few minutes a smart rap on the door tell you that Guardies coming over here caused him to pause; but before he had made this afternoon, and says he wants to see that up his mind to say Come in, the door was old thing you painted years agothe first opened, and a young lady entered, one, you know; so youd better set to work A PICTURESQUE TRANSFORMATION. 131 and hunt it up. By-by ! And the panier vanished. Mr. Tremaine must have been in an un- commonly sensitive mood that morning; his usual imperturbability seemed to have been ruffled to quite a perceptible degree. Per- haps he had been thinking of past days, when the old thing was yet in the first blush of creation, and Hildegarde was all unversed in the accomplishments which now distinguished her; in which case he may per- haps be excused for feeling somewhat jarred at the violence of the contrast so abruptly obtruded upon his meditatAns. Some peo- ple appear to regret old times, however com- paratively undesirable, merely because they are old. After sitting in moody contemplation for a while, he went to the door of the dark closet and opened it. The light from the outer room fell into it, disclosing piles of confused rubbish of all kinds; and in the furthest, duskiest recess, standing with its face against the wall, appeared the long-hid- den picture, npon which the superstructure of his present prosperity had been built. Stepping across the piles of rubbish encum- bering the floor, he brought forth the anti- quated production, and set it onachair by the side of his latest copy. Then, having brushed off the accumulated dust with his handkerchiet he applied himself to a critic- al comparison of the two. His first criticism was an involuntary cry of surprise. Surely that could not be the original which he had believed himself to be all this time reproducing! Impossible that the same man, with the same soul, should have painted the first and the last. How then? The identity of his soul or the iden- tity of the picturewhich should he trust? It does not often occur to any one, the op- portunity to place side by side (and exam- ine) the individual of the past with him of the present. Probably when it does the sensations experienced are such as would not have been anticipated. Memory fur- nishes no test; it is too thoroughly impreg- nated with the coloring matter of life to be trustworthy. Only that into which the very essence of our existence has been breathed in a visible form can serve. Mr. Tremaines picture, embodying as it 4id the innermost traits of his disposition and character at the time of its production, afforded unsurpassed advantages for this interesting experiment. But Mr. Tremaines face, instead of express- ing, as one would have expected, the grati- fied vanity of him who feels a just pride in the proofs of his advancement, obstinately persisted in presenting the aspect of one who has, unknown to himseli been nourish- ing f9r years a loathsome and deadly disease in his very vitals, and has unexpectedly come to a realization of the startling fact. On co.nsideration, of conrse, the result of these two years work, startling as it ap- peared, was the most natural thing in the world, and but for the element of abrupt- ness would have produced not the slightest impression on Mr. Tremaine. He had laid away the first picture from a half-acknowl- edged ~feeIing that it contained a subtle something which he had lost the power to repeat, if, indeed, it be ever possible to re- peat what is completely excellent. But once freed from the presence of the irritant, the irritation had soon subsided and been for- gotten, and consequences are inevitable. It is hardly necessary to remark that the astute Professor had foreseen the catastro- phe, had reasoned that the demolition of one sentiment would invalidate the foundations of a kindred onethe corruption of an ar- tistic would but precede the decay of a hu- man love; and on these principles had he played his neat little game. He deserved to win; but his success, in its ultimate results, was perhaps a trifle too complete to be al- together enviable. How the question as to identity of soul, which the comparison of the pictures had raised, was settled has never been definitely ascertained. After a prolonged scrutiny, Mr. Tremaine took up his brushes and palette, seated himself before his last copy, and be- gan to paint with great earnestness and ra- pidity, and with a whollyindescribable smile playing about his lips. With what object and issue will presently appear. But by the time the Professor and his ward were due the picture was completed, after a fashion, and was placed side by side with the other in a favorable light at the end of the room. And then he waited, with a hectic flush in his cheeks, eyes bright, and thrilling all overwithuncontrollable excitement, for their arrival. Very undignified conduct on the part of so indifferent and self-poised a gen- tleman as Mr. Tremaine. Had he been going on trial for his life, or more than that, he could not have appeared more agitated. The knock at last! Now for it ! mut- tered Tremaine; and opening the door, he admitted the suave Professor and the fash- ionable Hildegarde arm in arm. The former greeted him with his customary oily and im- pressive courtesy; but with unprecedented rudeness Tremaine turned from him and directed a glance of as unprecedented ear- nestness and feeling on Hildegarde. She, however, was equal to the occasion, and by devoting her entire mind to the shaking out of her skirts, rearrangement of her scarf and adjustment of her hair-pins, adminis- tered wholesome rebuke to his bad man- ners. He addressed himself to the Professor: You wished to see the original design, Sir, of which every thing that I have since accomplished has been a reproduction. The request has led to an important discovery. If you recollect the exact terms of our agree- 132 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. meat, you will not require to be informed what that discovery is. Be kind enough to compare the first and the last. Thus adjured, the Professor put on his spectacles and turned his attention in the direction indicated. Ah! Yes! Beauti Hm! Eh? Whats this 1 he exclaimed, in his harshest tones, as he for the first time took in the signifi- cance of the comparison. And he directed a glance of savage malignity toward Tre- maine, who returned it with a somewhat haughty smile. As for Hildegarde, she evinced her appreciation of the situation by remarking, vaguely, Oh, how mean ! and giggling incoherently. For whatever doubts may heretofore have existed in regard to Edward Tremaines claims to genius were forever settled now. The Professor felt it, and trembled while he hated; poor Hildegarde, in her poor way, acknowledged it; and Tremaine himself knew it, and his eyes kindled, and his form seemed to dilate with the majesty of the conviction. The two pictures were perfect in their way. The perfection in each brought out and rendered more startlingly defined the perfection in the other. Each seemed to borrow from the other an awful power that penetrated the soul, and made it quiver to the core. Between them was dissimilarity as wide as the universe, and yet a terri- ble relationship, impossible to mistake, that bound them inseparably together. Such is the relationship and such the bonds by which heaven and hell are united. In the hasty touches which the artist had given his latest picture he had but carried out and completed the fearful change that had all along gradually but surely been working up to this result. The three faces that now looked forth from the canvas were those of three condemned souls; but deep as were the marks of misery, degradation, and despair written on each of them, these could not hide the awful likeness to the divinely inspired countenances that shone from the neighboring canvas. And the brightness and ineffable sweetness of the one cast an additional gloom over the murky darkness of the other. There was a silence: then the Professor laughed shortly and derisively. He leaned back in his chair, his bony forefinger sought his thin nose, and he glanced up at Tre- maine with a sly, malicious leer. Are you aware youve broken your con- tract I said he. You cant pretend to call this picture a copy of the original there; so all the money youve heretofore received re- verts to me. Contrary to the good Professors expecta- tion, Tremaine broke forth neither into tears nor entreaties. He scarcely seemed, indeed, to hear what was said, but turned his eyes full on Hildegarde, who shrank somewhat nearer to her guardian as his glance fell on her. When he spoke, his voice was resonant with power, yet thrilling with an under-tone of sad and yearning tenderness. Come, it is not yet too late. See, our souls are painted herepure and loving as they were once, and cloudy and hateful as they now are. But the spell he has thrown on us is broken at last! Oh, sweep away the dust and stains that have settled on your heart! Cast off this slavery, andbe my dar- ling little Hildegarde again. But by this tRne the Professor had recov- ered his rarely disturbed equanimity, and he interposed in his blandest tones: What has occurred, my dear Edward, painful in itself yet renders easier the task of acquainting you with an important alter- ation in the relations of yourself and Hilde- garde. The regard I am pleased to observe you still retain for her is, I am sure, greater than to desire her marriage to a penniless artist; and I am convinced you will be de- lighted to hear she has this day consented to become my wife, thereby securing both the luxury and the tender care which other- wise she must have lost. Oh, Hildegarde, cried Tremaine, in deep, tremulous tones, can this be the truth? Can you leave me now, and unite yourself to him I But youve lost all your money, whim- pered Hildegarde, pettishly; and Guardies more my style, too ! The Professor offered his future wife his arm, and they turned to go; but the artist detained them, pointing to a Satanic phys- iognomy peering from the smoky back- ground of his latest work. Its my duty to tell youwhat seems to have escaped your noticethat both speci- fications of our contract are violated. This last copy was painted for some one else than the Professor ! Well, did the Professor marry Hilde- garde? Certainly! But thenwhat be- came of that ghastly pnnishment you spoke of? A FLOWERS EPITAPH. THESE dead leaves were a violet once, A tender, timid thing, A sleeping beauty, till the wind Kissed it awake in spring. Then for one little, little hour It knew loves deep delight: Unto the wooing wind it gave All that a violet might. And then it drooped and faded happily; For, having loved, it is not pain to die.

Nelly M. Hutchinson Hutchinson, Nelly M. A Flower's Epitaph 132-133

132 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. meat, you will not require to be informed what that discovery is. Be kind enough to compare the first and the last. Thus adjured, the Professor put on his spectacles and turned his attention in the direction indicated. Ah! Yes! Beauti Hm! Eh? Whats this 1 he exclaimed, in his harshest tones, as he for the first time took in the signifi- cance of the comparison. And he directed a glance of savage malignity toward Tre- maine, who returned it with a somewhat haughty smile. As for Hildegarde, she evinced her appreciation of the situation by remarking, vaguely, Oh, how mean ! and giggling incoherently. For whatever doubts may heretofore have existed in regard to Edward Tremaines claims to genius were forever settled now. The Professor felt it, and trembled while he hated; poor Hildegarde, in her poor way, acknowledged it; and Tremaine himself knew it, and his eyes kindled, and his form seemed to dilate with the majesty of the conviction. The two pictures were perfect in their way. The perfection in each brought out and rendered more startlingly defined the perfection in the other. Each seemed to borrow from the other an awful power that penetrated the soul, and made it quiver to the core. Between them was dissimilarity as wide as the universe, and yet a terri- ble relationship, impossible to mistake, that bound them inseparably together. Such is the relationship and such the bonds by which heaven and hell are united. In the hasty touches which the artist had given his latest picture he had but carried out and completed the fearful change that had all along gradually but surely been working up to this result. The three faces that now looked forth from the canvas were those of three condemned souls; but deep as were the marks of misery, degradation, and despair written on each of them, these could not hide the awful likeness to the divinely inspired countenances that shone from the neighboring canvas. And the brightness and ineffable sweetness of the one cast an additional gloom over the murky darkness of the other. There was a silence: then the Professor laughed shortly and derisively. He leaned back in his chair, his bony forefinger sought his thin nose, and he glanced up at Tre- maine with a sly, malicious leer. Are you aware youve broken your con- tract I said he. You cant pretend to call this picture a copy of the original there; so all the money youve heretofore received re- verts to me. Contrary to the good Professors expecta- tion, Tremaine broke forth neither into tears nor entreaties. He scarcely seemed, indeed, to hear what was said, but turned his eyes full on Hildegarde, who shrank somewhat nearer to her guardian as his glance fell on her. When he spoke, his voice was resonant with power, yet thrilling with an under-tone of sad and yearning tenderness. Come, it is not yet too late. See, our souls are painted herepure and loving as they were once, and cloudy and hateful as they now are. But the spell he has thrown on us is broken at last! Oh, sweep away the dust and stains that have settled on your heart! Cast off this slavery, andbe my dar- ling little Hildegarde again. But by this tRne the Professor had recov- ered his rarely disturbed equanimity, and he interposed in his blandest tones: What has occurred, my dear Edward, painful in itself yet renders easier the task of acquainting you with an important alter- ation in the relations of yourself and Hilde- garde. The regard I am pleased to observe you still retain for her is, I am sure, greater than to desire her marriage to a penniless artist; and I am convinced you will be de- lighted to hear she has this day consented to become my wife, thereby securing both the luxury and the tender care which other- wise she must have lost. Oh, Hildegarde, cried Tremaine, in deep, tremulous tones, can this be the truth? Can you leave me now, and unite yourself to him I But youve lost all your money, whim- pered Hildegarde, pettishly; and Guardies more my style, too ! The Professor offered his future wife his arm, and they turned to go; but the artist detained them, pointing to a Satanic phys- iognomy peering from the smoky back- ground of his latest work. Its my duty to tell youwhat seems to have escaped your noticethat both speci- fications of our contract are violated. This last copy was painted for some one else than the Professor ! Well, did the Professor marry Hilde- garde? Certainly! But thenwhat be- came of that ghastly pnnishment you spoke of? A FLOWERS EPITAPH. THESE dead leaves were a violet once, A tender, timid thing, A sleeping beauty, till the wind Kissed it awake in spring. Then for one little, little hour It knew loves deep delight: Unto the wooing wind it gave All that a violet might. And then it drooped and faded happily; For, having loved, it is not pain to die. THERE is a class of men whom we all know, of the utmost delicacy and purity of nature, of quick sympathy and admirable accomplish- ment, who influence us like exquisite music, and who, without marked originality or commanding force, are remembered only like music when they are gone. Indeed, the fineness of nature which is most attractive, the conscientious intellect, so to speak, to which partisanship is impossible, and which pensively sees the equal reason of the other view, is incompatible with the quality which makes leadership, and which most im- presses mankind. Pray continue to be orna- mentrt, said an accomplished ~voman of the world to a young man who began to feel a de- sire to take his share of the worlds work. She forgot that the most exquisitely wrought column is yet of stone, and helps support the architrave. The Chevalier Bayard or Sir Philip Sidney car- ries a guitar upon a ribbon, but his sword is hung upon leather beneath it. He kneels in graceful compliment to the queen, but he kneels also in prayer to his Maker. The charm of such a character is resistless. How little Sidney did, yet how much he is the darling of the history of his time, as he was of his contemporaries! Horace Walpole, who call- ed Goldsmith an inspired idiot, is the only En- glishman who sneers at Sidney. lie was a kind of flower of men, and, like other flowers, he nei- ther toiled nor spun. A cumbrous and stately novel in the affected style of his time, a nohle essay upon poetry, and a fexv memorable sonnets, with his letter to Elizabeth against the French marriage, are all that remain to us of what he did. Nobody reads his Arcadia; few know his sonnets; his letter to the queen is forgotten. But Sidney survives. His name is the synonym of courtesy and grace, of accomplishment and valor. And he names for us a whole class of men, gentle and spirited as he was, men of the truest temper, of rare gifts, of subtile fascina- tion, whose coming is bright as daylight, and whose refining influence is a permanent benedic- tion. Some of our readers may have seen the name of a young man of this kind who died not long ago in EnglandJulian Fane. A memoir of him hy his friend, Robert Lytton, hetter known, perhaps, by his authors name, Owen Meredith, was lately published, in which the simple tale of the wholly uneventful life of Mr. Fane is so well told that the character of the man himself is clearly conveyed, with the beautiful impression of his purity and grace, and some conception of that personal influence which Mr. Lytton truly calls incommunicable. Yet, he adds, the influence of these men upon the society they adorn is too beneficent to be altogether evanes- cent. Their presence animates and sustains whatever is loveliest in sock 1 life. The worlds dim and dusty atmosphere grows golden in the light of it. Their mere look rebukes vulgari- ty. Their conversation elevates the lowest and brightens the dullest theme. Their intellectual sympathy is often the unacknowledged begetter of other mens intellectual labor; and i~ the charm of their companionship we are conscious of those benignant influences which the Greeks called Graces, but which Christianity has con- verted into Charities. Julian Fane was the son of a nobleman, the Earl of Westmoreland, and he was born in 1827, at Florence, the city of flowers, where his father was the British minister; nor was he in England until he was three years old. From the first there was the most intimate, affection- ate, and inspiring relation between Julian and his mother; nor did that lovely and beneficen,t friendship ever fail. Every year, upon her birth- day, he wrote to her sonnets of the utmost ten- derness and thoughtfulness, even to the anniver- sary which recurred but a very short time before his death. In 1841 his father went as minister to Prussia, and with his own fondness for music and art, and the singular charm of Lady West- moreland, the British legation became one of the most delightful honses in Berlin a sort of Continental Holland House,says Mr. Lytton, where Genius and Beauty, Science and Fash- ion, Literature and Politics, could meet each other with a hearty reciprocal welcome. Indeed, Hum- boldt, Mendelssohn, Meyerbeer, Ranch, Magnus, Begas, Hensel, were all frequent guests of that happy home. Among such influences the boy, sensitive to beauty of every form and degree, rapidly devel- oped. His musical instinct especially was ex- traordinary; and while yet very young he played in the presence of Meyerbeer parts of one of the composers new operas which had been produced only the evening before, and of which he had carefully concealed the score. He asked in great agitation who could have given the boy the mu- sic, and would not believe that it was played from memory after one hearing. When Julian was seventeen his father officially attached him to his embassy, and he tasted with every advan- tage every wholesome pleasure of the life of a great European capital. But in 1846, when he was nineteen, he returned to England to fit for the university at Cambridge, which he entered in 1847. All his friends at Cambridgeand any man might be proud of thembreak out into praises of him, like all the English historians when they mention Sidney. He caine, an earls son, of singular and winning beauty, which is not lost in the portrait published in the memoir, of un- usual accomplishment, speaking three foreign languages fluently, with the self-possession of such an experience of the best society in Europe as few men ever enjoy, but without the least pride or assumption or bumptiousness, a sim- ple, earnest, lofty-minded youth. He instinct- ively sought the best men, morally and intellect- ually. One of his most intimate friends was a sizar, a charity student, and a man of fine char- acter and cultivation. Fane was very tall, very graceful, and with a ready wit and constant play of humor. Mr. Lytton, in personally describing him, says: His extraordinary mimetic power may be im- agined from the fact that he could, without the aid of voice or action, and solely by a rapid van- ation of physiognomy, conjure up before the eyes of the most unimpressionable spectator the whole pageant and progress of a thunder-storm. I have

Editor's Easy Chair Editor's Easy Chair 133-137

THERE is a class of men whom we all know, of the utmost delicacy and purity of nature, of quick sympathy and admirable accomplish- ment, who influence us like exquisite music, and who, without marked originality or commanding force, are remembered only like music when they are gone. Indeed, the fineness of nature which is most attractive, the conscientious intellect, so to speak, to which partisanship is impossible, and which pensively sees the equal reason of the other view, is incompatible with the quality which makes leadership, and which most im- presses mankind. Pray continue to be orna- mentrt, said an accomplished ~voman of the world to a young man who began to feel a de- sire to take his share of the worlds work. She forgot that the most exquisitely wrought column is yet of stone, and helps support the architrave. The Chevalier Bayard or Sir Philip Sidney car- ries a guitar upon a ribbon, but his sword is hung upon leather beneath it. He kneels in graceful compliment to the queen, but he kneels also in prayer to his Maker. The charm of such a character is resistless. How little Sidney did, yet how much he is the darling of the history of his time, as he was of his contemporaries! Horace Walpole, who call- ed Goldsmith an inspired idiot, is the only En- glishman who sneers at Sidney. lie was a kind of flower of men, and, like other flowers, he nei- ther toiled nor spun. A cumbrous and stately novel in the affected style of his time, a nohle essay upon poetry, and a fexv memorable sonnets, with his letter to Elizabeth against the French marriage, are all that remain to us of what he did. Nobody reads his Arcadia; few know his sonnets; his letter to the queen is forgotten. But Sidney survives. His name is the synonym of courtesy and grace, of accomplishment and valor. And he names for us a whole class of men, gentle and spirited as he was, men of the truest temper, of rare gifts, of subtile fascina- tion, whose coming is bright as daylight, and whose refining influence is a permanent benedic- tion. Some of our readers may have seen the name of a young man of this kind who died not long ago in EnglandJulian Fane. A memoir of him hy his friend, Robert Lytton, hetter known, perhaps, by his authors name, Owen Meredith, was lately published, in which the simple tale of the wholly uneventful life of Mr. Fane is so well told that the character of the man himself is clearly conveyed, with the beautiful impression of his purity and grace, and some conception of that personal influence which Mr. Lytton truly calls incommunicable. Yet, he adds, the influence of these men upon the society they adorn is too beneficent to be altogether evanes- cent. Their presence animates and sustains whatever is loveliest in sock 1 life. The worlds dim and dusty atmosphere grows golden in the light of it. Their mere look rebukes vulgari- ty. Their conversation elevates the lowest and brightens the dullest theme. Their intellectual sympathy is often the unacknowledged begetter of other mens intellectual labor; and i~ the charm of their companionship we are conscious of those benignant influences which the Greeks called Graces, but which Christianity has con- verted into Charities. Julian Fane was the son of a nobleman, the Earl of Westmoreland, and he was born in 1827, at Florence, the city of flowers, where his father was the British minister; nor was he in England until he was three years old. From the first there was the most intimate, affection- ate, and inspiring relation between Julian and his mother; nor did that lovely and beneficen,t friendship ever fail. Every year, upon her birth- day, he wrote to her sonnets of the utmost ten- derness and thoughtfulness, even to the anniver- sary which recurred but a very short time before his death. In 1841 his father went as minister to Prussia, and with his own fondness for music and art, and the singular charm of Lady West- moreland, the British legation became one of the most delightful honses in Berlin a sort of Continental Holland House,says Mr. Lytton, where Genius and Beauty, Science and Fash- ion, Literature and Politics, could meet each other with a hearty reciprocal welcome. Indeed, Hum- boldt, Mendelssohn, Meyerbeer, Ranch, Magnus, Begas, Hensel, were all frequent guests of that happy home. Among such influences the boy, sensitive to beauty of every form and degree, rapidly devel- oped. His musical instinct especially was ex- traordinary; and while yet very young he played in the presence of Meyerbeer parts of one of the composers new operas which had been produced only the evening before, and of which he had carefully concealed the score. He asked in great agitation who could have given the boy the mu- sic, and would not believe that it was played from memory after one hearing. When Julian was seventeen his father officially attached him to his embassy, and he tasted with every advan- tage every wholesome pleasure of the life of a great European capital. But in 1846, when he was nineteen, he returned to England to fit for the university at Cambridge, which he entered in 1847. All his friends at Cambridgeand any man might be proud of thembreak out into praises of him, like all the English historians when they mention Sidney. He caine, an earls son, of singular and winning beauty, which is not lost in the portrait published in the memoir, of un- usual accomplishment, speaking three foreign languages fluently, with the self-possession of such an experience of the best society in Europe as few men ever enjoy, but without the least pride or assumption or bumptiousness, a sim- ple, earnest, lofty-minded youth. He instinct- ively sought the best men, morally and intellect- ually. One of his most intimate friends was a sizar, a charity student, and a man of fine char- acter and cultivation. Fane was very tall, very graceful, and with a ready wit and constant play of humor. Mr. Lytton, in personally describing him, says: His extraordinary mimetic power may be im- agined from the fact that he could, without the aid of voice or action, and solely by a rapid van- ation of physiognomy, conjure up before the eyes of the most unimpressionable spectator the whole pageant and progress of a thunder-storm. I have 134 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. often watched him perform this tour de force, and never without seeming to see before me, with unmistakable distinctness, the hovering transit of light and shadow over some calm pas- toral landscape on a summers noon; then the gradually gathering darkness in the heaven above, the sultry suspense of Natures stifled pulse, the sudden flash, the sportive bickering play of the lightning, the boisterous descent of the rain, the slow subsidence of all the celestial tumult, the returning sunlight and blue air, the broad repose and steady gladness of the reno- vated fields, with their tinkling flocks and rainy flowersthe capacity of producing at will such effects as these by the mere working of a coun- tenance which Nature had carved in the calmest classic outlines, could only have resulted from a very rare correspondence hetween the intellectual and physical faculties: and it is no slight moral merit in the possessor of such gifts that he rarely exercised them at all, and never for the purpose of ungenerously ridiculing his fellow-creatures. There is universal testimony to this goodness of the man. Its gracious memory inspires every one who speaks of him. His familiar compan- ions were not many, and like other men of a del- icate habit, he turned night into day. His in- terest in politics was strong, and he was inclined to philosophical studies, while his fondness for music and poetry was passionate. But all his friends felt in him chiefly the practical under- standing and grave sense of justice which were the solid basis of all his brilliancy. Leaving the university in 1850, he returned to Berlin, and the next year was transferred to Vienna, where he remained until 1855. In 1856 he was at- tached to Lord Clarendons special mission to Paris, and in the same year he was made Sec- retary of Legation at St. Petersburg, where he remained for two years, returning in 1858 to Vienna, where he remained until 1865. It was during this time that Lytton was intimate with him, and his sketch of their life together is de- lightful. They were hard workers, for England requires labor of her young diplomatists, and Pane had withdrawn from what is called society, but only for the greater pleasure of a small circle of friends. The works of Henry Heine deeply interested him, and he translated many of the smaller poems, and was always, doubtless, haunt- ed by the hope of a literary career. His liter- ary acquirements were very large and various, and always available. His was one of the cul- tivated minds which are like well-ordered arse- nals, where every weapon is in its place, and burnished and ready for instant use. How fine his poetic taste, and how remarkable his literary skill, the series of sonnets to his mother shows a filial tribute of affection such as few mothers have ever received. He was modern in his svm- pathies, and although he was entirely familiar with the best older English literature, he was very fond of Tennyson and Iluskin. But the allurements of poetry did not win him from the faithful pursuit of his diplomatic profession, in which he had a much higher consideration than rank; and his professional memoirs and reports were of the highest character. In 1866 he was secretary at Paris, and, al- though supposed to be a hopeless bachelor, he was suddenly betrothed and married to Lady Adine Cowper, with whom Lytton says that his life was of a felicity which any Greek philosopher would have deemed dangerously great. In the same year he resigned his post, and, to the sor- row and surprise of many of his friends, left the diplomatic profession. Mr. Lytton says that he felt that it was a career which could not satisfy his strongest moral and intellectual requirements, and would prove fatal to the developuient of powers which he perceived in himself. Doubt- less, also, he felt his hold upon life insecure, and his inclination to a literary career was shared by his wife. He returned to England, and seemed to rally. In 1868 he took a house at Fotherin- gay, near to Apethorpe, the seat of the family, where his wife sank after the birth of a second child, and died. Pane was himself ill, and from that moment he drooped. In two years~ie suf- fered with a cruel illness, which yet could not touch his serene soul, and on the 18th of April, 1870, he was apparently free from all suffering save that of extreme debility. Midnight came. He told his servant to remove the candle from before his eyes, saying that he wished to sleep. The room was darkened; he turned softly to his rest; and those that watched him withdrew into the next chamber in order not to disturb the sleeper. When, shortly afterward, his brother re-entered from the adjoining room to see if he were yet asleep, he was lying quite still, with a deep smile upon his face. He seemed to be (and was) in a sweet sound slumber. It was the slumber of death. Such was the eventless life of a man who has left a profound impression upon the best men who knew him. Mr. Vernon llarcourt, a gen- tleman who, as Historicus, was deeply honored in this country, writes a letter about Pane which is full of interest. It is pleasant to read in it that on the American civil war, which I have always regarded as the true touch-stone in our times of real liberal belief, his sympathies were wholly on the side of constitutional freedom. And Mr. Motley, the historian, who was the American minister at Vienna while Juliaii Pane was the English secretary there, says, I never found any one out of America more unswerving in his belief and sympathy, or more intelligent and appreciative as to the causes and progress of that great conflict, than he was. Mr. Harcourts last words of his friend are very touching: That so finished and complete a man should have perished so uiitirnelythat the world should know so little of that which is best and highest and most lovely in the midst of it, is not less sad because it is so common. You and I, my dear L , were among the few, the very few, to ~vlmom it was permitted to know all that Julian was; and whatever else may come to us. it is a gift for which we shall always feel supremely gratefuL If you are able in any degree to con- vey to others less fortunate a sense of that de- light which we have so often drunk in his com- panionship, you will have achieved a work well worthy of achievement, and I cordially hid you Godspeed, wishing that I had the power, as I have the will, to assistyou in it. Here was a man who passed unscathed the tremendous ordeal of prosperity and praise and fascinated devotion, who cultivated carefully and to the best purpose his gifts of nature, and who, above all tind through all, was a good man, and whose influence was always most elevating and EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 135 purifying. He is a name only, and, nnassociated with any conspicuous achievement, it is a name which will presently perish. But there have been, few memoirs lately published which reveal a character so beautiful oP a life more opulent in ennobling influences. THE Easy Chair was amused and amazed the other day upon being told that it was unfriendly to the clerical profession. It was the more sur- prising, because it is often told that it preaches and proses, and makes itself a kind of pulpit at the back-door of the Magazine, so that the reader can not escape without a sermon. There is no doubt that most readers need the sermon, and they are at perfect liberty to choose their preacher. But if the Chair may honestly prefer any claim to the cloth, it is upon the ground of friendship for it. How often has it not exposed the real hardships of the clerical life, the enor- mous and various expectation, and the wretched remuneration! The clergyman is expected to be both master and servant; to be at every bodys call for any purpose all the week, and on Sunday to be learned and eloquent, both in the morning and in the evening. If a parishioner strolls into church, and, arousing from his nap during the sermon, thinks that he recognizes some sentence that he has heard before, how ~vroth he is with a minister who is always preaching old sermons! The recent jubilee at Mr. Beechers church, in Brooklyn, was not only very beautiful and touch- ing, but it was a text for many meditations. With the immense growth of the press and the development of the lyceum in this country, the standard, both of expectation and of perform- ance, in all kinds of oratorical appeal, is swiftly raised. If you add the fact that the official dig- nity of the clerical profession necessarily de- clines when men are measured not by the function, but by the manner in which it is dis- charged, many of the phenomena of clerical life are explained. The strict and universal eccle- siastical organization of the Roman Church, which no other has equaled, is rivaled in effect among the other churches by the social and resthetic appliances of another kind. There is now a tendency to a union of club life with the church organization. The church parlor, with all its resources, is the sign that the time de- mands something more than the solemn Sab- bath appeal. The old Puritan New England meeting-house, bare and cold and repulsive, in which comfort was a sin, and whose hard and straight pews and universal severity proclaimed that asceticism is itself a virtue, was hardly more different from the mass house than from the luxurious modern temple, with all its secular accessories. But the modern spirit is the true one, for it does not postpone religion to one day and to a gloomy place, but mingles it with the week and with the common details of life. The clergy- man is no more an austere and separate being, a part of a system, a functionary. He is not a lay figure, draped with respectable robes, nor reverend ex officio, but he is tried as all other men are, and is powerful and influential as they are, only by the force of his own individuality. Of course this tends to make the profession a reality. Intellect and character are the only vital personal forces; and the eloquence which charms is no longer permanent in the pulpit if it be not sustained by character. The answer which was made for Pope Alexander, that he had done something not as pope, but as Rod- rigo Borgia, no longer avails. The rejoinder to that answer is now the controlling faith of soci- ety: When Rodrigo Borgia goes to torment for that offense, what will become of Pope Alex- ander ? The man is no longer separated from the priest. The new faith is that the goodness of the man is the power of the priest. And it is due to the same tendency that relig- ion is more and more felt to be a life, and not a cereniony or a creed. John Wesleys fancy that creeds were only the fashion of spiritual clothes, so to speak, is not a figure only, but a profound truth. The important fact is the substance that is, clothes, not the fashion in which they are made, which is the creed. And nothing is more evident than the relaxation of rigorous sec- tarian lines. The difference between Mr. Beech- ers father in Park Street Church, in Boston, half a century ago, and Mr. Beecher himself in his own Plymouth Church, in Brooklyn, to-day, is the most striking illustration of the change. The gain to the clergyman, both in influence and self-respect, is immense. He is honored not as a piece of a hierarchy and ceremonially, but for himself and actually. Naturally, also, this fact has t~vo results: those who still hold by the old ceremonial tenure lose consideration; and those who stand upon their own feet are proportionally honored. The cry of sensationalism in preaching comes mainly from the former. It means that which im- presses and attracts the multitude. But there is scarcely one great preacher to-day who is not, in a certain way, sensational. To use all the legitimate resources of the orator is to be sensa- tional; and therefore all the famous orators of the church have been of this kind. Indeed, how can any man who believes that Christianity verified itself by miracles complain of sensation- alism in preaching? On the other hand, as the ceremony vanishes, and the reverend robes dis- appear, leaving the man below, he must be a man who stands firmly and squarely upon his feet, brave, clear-eyed, sincere, lofty, simple, devoted, or he will go with his clothes. All men naturally follow a leader. But he must be a leader, and ~ie must show that he is a leader. This is what the chiefs of sects have always done Calvin, Pope Gregory, George Fox, John Wesley. The rule is now becoming universaL It is not enough to wear the badge of any of these, if you have not the character and the power which no badge can confer. But the demands upon a clergyman, as we have often said, are excessive and unreasonable. To demand of a preacher two finished and admi- rable sermons every week is preposterous. If, however, he chooses to preach them, and can preach them, nobody will complain. But to the critical, intelligent, trained, and thoughtful au- dience of to-day a sermon must have something of the quality of Bossuets before the French court, or it will seem halting and vapid. Such sermons as were formerly acceptable could not now satisfy. When, as in many Catholic coun- tries, the mass of people depend upon the pulpit both for secular and for religious instruction, a 136 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. plain, didactic homily is enough. But when the people are cultivated, quick, and perceptive; when they read the best hooks, are familiar with the progress of scientific and moral speculation, and every ~veek hear upon the lyceum platform the most accomplished scholars and the trained masters of certain departmentsthe Sunday preacher must not hope that he can charm them or hold them hy any thing which is mere- ly perfunctory. Nor can he reply that the Sunday object is worship and not instruction, for the modern church magnifies the sermon: and the sermon, not the prayer, is the real in- terest. Preaching, indeed, is hut a part of the clerical duty. The great ordinances of marriage and burial, and in general of what is called religious care, are attached to the clerical profession. But all these now depend upon character, and not upon the cloth. Even the Pope. Alexander could not console the dying sinner who despised Rodrigo Borgia. And the law is universal. A perfunctory consolation no self-respecting man would administer. True consolation, elevation, support, so far as they can proceed from another, proceed from character only. This was the moral of the beautiful festival at Plymouth Church. And as the clerical profession is ben- eficially powerful in the degree that it is not ceremonial merely, and as this is the l)lain tend- ency of the time, how could the Easy Chair that thinks ~o be in any just sense indifferent or unfriendly toward it? THE pleasure of Mr. Easy Chairs company was lately requested at what was called a childs hop, and Mr. Easy Chair accepted the invitation with very great satisfaction. He had some knowledge of children, and a great deal of love for them. He knew that it is their nature to hop and to run and to shout and to rejoice, and he repaired to the proper place at the hour named. That hour, indeed, was suspicious, for it was eight oclock, and that is very nearly the hour when most children should be going to bed. Mr. Easy Chair found the room brilliantly light- ed, and decorated ~vith beautiful flowers; and presently the guests began to assemble. There were, first of all, a party of ladies and gentlemen in full dress, and then a larger party of very much smaller ladies and gentlemen in the same general kind of magnificence. Indeed, there wasp an extravagance of costliness and richness in the dresses of the smaller people which caused Mr. Easy Chair to suppose them to belong to some imperial or royal embassy lately arrived from Lilliput. He therefore presently turned and asked a neighbor of his own size when the children might be expected to appear. And to his a~mazement, he received a look of astonishment arid no an- swer. But I pray you, madame, who are these vonderfully dressed small people whose costume is a grotesque reproduction of yours and that of the other ladies? and who in particular is that re- mark-able little figure with a fan in her hand, and simpering to the little fellow in velvet beside her? Are they indeed princes and princesses of Lil- ~ipnt ? That is my daughter, Sir, was the reply of Mr. Easy Chairs neighbor, glaring at him, as it were, and sweeping away with a rustling dignity that was withering. Then it was explained. These elaborately dressed little people were the children who were to hop. Futile exp~ctation! Mr. Easy Chair might as well have expected to see his grand- mother hop at the age of ninety. These superb small people did only what their elders would have- done. They looked at each others fine dresses and displayed their own. Those who had not necklaces envied those who had. The hoys who were fairly out of the nursery had an air of grave seniority that was profoundly de- pressing. There were even signs of ennui, as if dancing were very well for those ~vho were still young. And by-and-by there was supper, and truly it was splendid. Then more dancing; and later, at Mr. Easy Chair knows not what hour, there was the gay confusion of departure, and the pretty parody was over. It was certainly pretty, but it was a very sober spectacle. Children are naturally gay, and they frolic and dance and romp with a will. But childhood seemed to have been eliminated from these little folks. They were sallow and anx- ious and worn. And ho~v stupid and sleepy they must have been next morning! And how unwillingly, with no shining morning face, they must have crept to school! And what poor lit- tle abused bodies they are, and how surely the freshness and charm of life are being destroyed for them! Yet, Mrs. Ad sends her children, and what can Mrs. Bad, Cad, and Dad do but send theirs? And if Mrs. Thompsons daughter has a silk dress caught up and flounced with lace and flowers, I know, my dear, that you do not wish to have your daughter disgraced, and I take care that our dear girl shall be as splendid as any of them! These are the lessons that the children learn, and in turn, as parents, teach. And it is curi- ous that the American theory of every bodys being as good as any body has this perversion, that every body must dress and do as any body does. Every body who yields to the mania of extravagance for children makes it harder for every body else not to yield. But there is no use in preaching about it, if only the pleasure of your company is requested at a childs hop. Then you see for yourself. There is nothing more melancholy than such a spectacle at a watering-place hoteL The forward rudeness of the poor little overdressed figures is pitiful. The sweet modesty of childhood, the hreezy bloom of health upon the cheek, the plain, sim- ple dress, the artless ardor of joyall that is loveliest in the lovely age is wanting at the childs hop. Mr. Easy Chair sought the neighbor of whom he had asked information, and said to her: Madame, who is responsible for all this ? But she eluded him with terror, as if he had been a maniac. Yes, she really fled before the terror of hearing, Thou art the woman. For that is the answer to the question. Every parent who fosters this kind of extravagance steals the bloom from her childs cheek and the freshness from her heart and the charm from her life. The one question of her destiny becomes, Who can give me pearls and fine dresses, equipages and a splendid house ? As Mr. Easy Chair gazed at the melancholy scene he recalled the EDITORS LITERARY RECORD. 137 bitterness of Swift and of Carlyle. The unutter- able anguish of Carlyle, his stormy and Titanic contempt, are due to his clear perception of the fact that the misery could be so easily avoided. If it were fate, he could be as calm as the Greek. But his feeling is rage that we who might so easily make the world a heaven, choose to make it a hell. In the fear of the Lord, said an old preacher, fervently train up your child in the fear of the Lord, and then he will make the devil and all his angels fear him. Mr. Easy Chair was about saying something of the kind to the mother of the most extrava- gant little person in the room, when he sa~v her precipitately escaping. THE arrival from England of Mr. Froude, of Professor Tyndall, of Mr. George Macdonald, and of Mr. Edmund Yates, to lecture in this country during the winter, only shows how the lyceum, which was so often thought to be a transient popular fancy, has become a fixed pop- ular institution. There are no names more emi- nent in contemporary literature and science than those of Mr. Froude and of Mr. Tyndall, and Mr. Macdonald and Mr. Yates come to America to find multitudes of friends awaiting them. The themes of the lecture system in this coun- try are various and amusing. The fact is that it is a ne~v and eclectic form of popular enter- tainment. For some years courses of lectures by the same speaker, or, indeed, by different speakers, have not been well sustained in some of the larger cities, except when the lecturer was a person of great fame. The old course of grave literary lectures was modified for some time be- fore the war by the introduction of politics, or rather of political morality, as a topic. Since the war it has been further changed by a large infusion of the purely humorous element; and at present the great and most successful courses the star courses, as they are calledin the chief cities comprise lectures of every kind, lit- erary, scientific, political, humorous, with read- ings of every kind, concerts, and even dramatic performances. A Western paper says that the lyceum is now a system of strolling players for the amusement of the country. It says so de- risively. But if Froude and Tyndall, and Beech- er and Phillips, and Anna Dickinson and Mrs. Stowe, and Theodore Thomass orchestra and Rubinstein, are the stock company, the strolling players are perhaps likely to be of some service to the country. The old sarcasm was that they were peripatetic philosophers, lay circuit riders, vagabonds, who declaimed articles from the encyclopedia to won- dering rural audiences, and were exceedingly overpaid. That, indeed, seemed to be a peculiar grievance. But who that heard the dear vaga- bond Thackeray, or listened to the Christmas chimes ringing from the tongue of Dickens, or sa~v the aboriginal glacier with Agassiz, but counts the event among the happiest, in its kind, of his life? It is as well to call them strollers as by any other name. But over that platform are likely to stroll many of the famous men and women who have made themselves our friends before we see them, and with whom we thus have a personal association forever. And it is not the least valuable or significant fact in the history of that platform that it is likely to attract such men as England has now sent to us, and who have been every where most kindly welcomed. HISTORY AK]~ BIOGRAPHY. THERE are, we trust, a great many who will become acquainted with the life and char- acter of Michael Faraday through Mr. J. H. GLADSTONES little book, Michael Faraday (Har- per and Brothers), ~vho ~vould be deterred from attempting the larger biography by I)r. Bence Jones. The volume before us is a small one of 220 pages, and is divided into five chapters, or sections, containing respectively the story of his life, a study of his character, the fruits of his experience, his method of writing, and a consideration of the value of his discoveries. There are many considerations which snake the life of this great and good man a worthy sub- ject of study, and cause us to congratulate our readers that it is thus put within the reach of every one. What Sir Humphrey Davy told young Faraday echoes the popular impression respecting science She is a harsh mistress, and in a pecuniary point of view but poorly re- wards those who devote themselves to her serv- ice. Yet Michael Faraday, who commenced life as an errand-boy, and who throughout life depended on his o~vn exertions for his daily bread, by his assiduity, earnestness, and single- heartedness of aim, climbed from the lowest round as a laboratory assistant to the highest, the superintendent of house and laboratory, with the subsequent offer, declined, of the presidency of the Royal Society, and by his simple and temper- ate habits reserving time sufficient for those inves- tigations and experiments in science which place him among the leaders in the scientific world. We have no desire to underrate a classical and collegiate education, yet the life of Michael Fara- day is an inspiration to every man who in his youth has been denied the privilege of the high- est and best culture, and yet whose matured tastes all tend toward scholarship. One of the ablest geologists of England, Hugh Miller, was a stone-mason; the ablest of modern geogra- phers, Dr. Livingstone, was a factory hand; one of the ablest linguists of the age, Elihu Burritt, was a blacksmith; and one of .th~ chief scientists of this scientific age, Michael Faraday, was a booksellers errand-boy, who never had any ac- quaintance with Greek, but depended on friends for the nomenclature of his chemical substances, and yet, though he never passed through a uni- versity, was made a member of the Senate of the University of London. He combined in a re- markable degree the skepticism of the man of science and the faith of the humble Christian. The scientist is almost of necessity a skeptic. It is his business to doubt, and, doubting, to test,

Editor's Literary Record Editor's Literary Record 137-142

EDITORS LITERARY RECORD. 137 bitterness of Swift and of Carlyle. The unutter- able anguish of Carlyle, his stormy and Titanic contempt, are due to his clear perception of the fact that the misery could be so easily avoided. If it were fate, he could be as calm as the Greek. But his feeling is rage that we who might so easily make the world a heaven, choose to make it a hell. In the fear of the Lord, said an old preacher, fervently train up your child in the fear of the Lord, and then he will make the devil and all his angels fear him. Mr. Easy Chair was about saying something of the kind to the mother of the most extrava- gant little person in the room, when he sa~v her precipitately escaping. THE arrival from England of Mr. Froude, of Professor Tyndall, of Mr. George Macdonald, and of Mr. Edmund Yates, to lecture in this country during the winter, only shows how the lyceum, which was so often thought to be a transient popular fancy, has become a fixed pop- ular institution. There are no names more emi- nent in contemporary literature and science than those of Mr. Froude and of Mr. Tyndall, and Mr. Macdonald and Mr. Yates come to America to find multitudes of friends awaiting them. The themes of the lecture system in this coun- try are various and amusing. The fact is that it is a ne~v and eclectic form of popular enter- tainment. For some years courses of lectures by the same speaker, or, indeed, by different speakers, have not been well sustained in some of the larger cities, except when the lecturer was a person of great fame. The old course of grave literary lectures was modified for some time be- fore the war by the introduction of politics, or rather of political morality, as a topic. Since the war it has been further changed by a large infusion of the purely humorous element; and at present the great and most successful courses the star courses, as they are calledin the chief cities comprise lectures of every kind, lit- erary, scientific, political, humorous, with read- ings of every kind, concerts, and even dramatic performances. A Western paper says that the lyceum is now a system of strolling players for the amusement of the country. It says so de- risively. But if Froude and Tyndall, and Beech- er and Phillips, and Anna Dickinson and Mrs. Stowe, and Theodore Thomass orchestra and Rubinstein, are the stock company, the strolling players are perhaps likely to be of some service to the country. The old sarcasm was that they were peripatetic philosophers, lay circuit riders, vagabonds, who declaimed articles from the encyclopedia to won- dering rural audiences, and were exceedingly overpaid. That, indeed, seemed to be a peculiar grievance. But who that heard the dear vaga- bond Thackeray, or listened to the Christmas chimes ringing from the tongue of Dickens, or sa~v the aboriginal glacier with Agassiz, but counts the event among the happiest, in its kind, of his life? It is as well to call them strollers as by any other name. But over that platform are likely to stroll many of the famous men and women who have made themselves our friends before we see them, and with whom we thus have a personal association forever. And it is not the least valuable or significant fact in the history of that platform that it is likely to attract such men as England has now sent to us, and who have been every where most kindly welcomed. HISTORY AK]~ BIOGRAPHY. THERE are, we trust, a great many who will become acquainted with the life and char- acter of Michael Faraday through Mr. J. H. GLADSTONES little book, Michael Faraday (Har- per and Brothers), ~vho ~vould be deterred from attempting the larger biography by I)r. Bence Jones. The volume before us is a small one of 220 pages, and is divided into five chapters, or sections, containing respectively the story of his life, a study of his character, the fruits of his experience, his method of writing, and a consideration of the value of his discoveries. There are many considerations which snake the life of this great and good man a worthy sub- ject of study, and cause us to congratulate our readers that it is thus put within the reach of every one. What Sir Humphrey Davy told young Faraday echoes the popular impression respecting science She is a harsh mistress, and in a pecuniary point of view but poorly re- wards those who devote themselves to her serv- ice. Yet Michael Faraday, who commenced life as an errand-boy, and who throughout life depended on his o~vn exertions for his daily bread, by his assiduity, earnestness, and single- heartedness of aim, climbed from the lowest round as a laboratory assistant to the highest, the superintendent of house and laboratory, with the subsequent offer, declined, of the presidency of the Royal Society, and by his simple and temper- ate habits reserving time sufficient for those inves- tigations and experiments in science which place him among the leaders in the scientific world. We have no desire to underrate a classical and collegiate education, yet the life of Michael Fara- day is an inspiration to every man who in his youth has been denied the privilege of the high- est and best culture, and yet whose matured tastes all tend toward scholarship. One of the ablest geologists of England, Hugh Miller, was a stone-mason; the ablest of modern geogra- phers, Dr. Livingstone, was a factory hand; one of the ablest linguists of the age, Elihu Burritt, was a blacksmith; and one of .th~ chief scientists of this scientific age, Michael Faraday, was a booksellers errand-boy, who never had any ac- quaintance with Greek, but depended on friends for the nomenclature of his chemical substances, and yet, though he never passed through a uni- versity, was made a member of the Senate of the University of London. He combined in a re- markable degree the skepticism of the man of science and the faith of the humble Christian. The scientist is almost of necessity a skeptic. It is his business to doubt, and, doubting, to test, 138 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. try, investigate. As a scientist Michael Faraday was peculiarly skeptical. I~says he, Grove, or Wheatstone, or Gassiot, or any other, told me of a new fact, and wanted my opinion either of its value, or the cause, or the aid it could give on any subject, I never could say any thing until I had seen the fact. He was thus a constant experimenter, relied wholly on personal observa- tion, never on the testimony of others; and yet, along with this intense determination to base every scientific conclusion on actual and ob- served trial, was a simple and single-hearted faith in God and Divine truth. Michael Fara- day was throughout his life a member of the Sandemanian Church, a simple Scotch sect of Congregationalists, during most of his life an elder, and he frequently preached on the Sabbath. He was not only intensely conscientious, he was sincerely and simply devout, a man of prayer, a lover of Scripture, ~vhich he quoted frequently and fluently, and a firm believer in Divine Prov- idence. Apart from these isolated facts and traits, which bear their own peculiar lesson, Mi- chael Faraday was a man so genial, so quiet, so faithful to truth and duty, so assiduous, so reso- lute in the pursuit of his single aim in life, so truly great and good in the highest and best sense of the term, that it does one good to become ac- quainted with him, and the reader rises from the perusal of this little volume inspired with a new purpose to achieve, by the same habits of tem- perance and industry, and by the same virtues of simplicity, sincerity, and single-heartedness, a success in his chosen life, whatever that life may chance to be. WILLIAM L. STONE embodies in one handsome volume of over seven hundred pages the History of New York City from theDiscovery to the Pres- ent Day (Virtue and Yorston). This history is divided into three periods: the first, the era of the Dutch possession; the second, the era of En- glish possession, ending with the evacuation of the city in 1783; the third, the history of the American metropolis from that time to the pres- ent day. The volume is handsomely illustrated with twenty engravings on steel, including por- traits of several prominent governors of the State and generals in the American army, and with over eighty wood-engravings. These last afford in themselves a curious illustration of the progress of history. The pen could not possihly describe the changes which two centuries have produced as graphically as the artist has done by reproducing in fac-simile a view of the city of New Amsterdam as it appeared toward the middle of the seventeenth century, at which time it contained a hundred and twenty houses and one thousand inhabitants; nor is the contrast less striking ~vhich is afforded by a comparison of some of the public buildings of even half a century ago with those of to-day, or Fultons first steamboat, the Glermont, with the Thomas Powell of to-day. Mr. Stone has had access to much original material never before published, embracing reported conversations with such man as Aaron Burr, Chancellor Livingston, John Jay, Robert Morris, and Josiah Ogden Hoffman. His pages give unmistakable evidence that he has been careful and conscientious in the examina- tion of every question, and fearless in the ex- pression of the results to which his investigations have led him. He does not hesitate, for instance, to deny to Hendrick Hudson the credit of being the first to land on the island of Manhattan, and impugns the claim of Robert Fulton to be the inventor of the steamboat. Thus, while his vol- ume is written in a style whose simplicity and perspicuity will render it attractive to the gen- eral reader, it can also hardly fail to be regard- ed as a standard history of the city by the stu- dent. We dare not open the book and attempt here to trace the thread of the marvelous changes which in two centuries have transformed Man- hattan Island from a wilderness to a metropolis; but no reader, we think, can peruse this story and sigh for the good old times, or doubt that this city is, upon the whole, better governed than it was seventy, or even fifty years ago, and that in proportion to its size it possesses a larger measure of intelligence, virtue, and liberality. rfhe volume practically closes with an account of the overthrow of the Ring in 1871, a hope- ful consummation of a history which, though marred by corruption and crime, is nevertheless one of the most striking and brilliant of all the remarkable records of municipal progress and prosperity. We receive from Chase and Town nine months numbers of an illustrated magazine en- titled The American Historical Record and Re- pertory of Notes or Queries, edited by BENsON J. Lossi~. We speak of it as a magazine, because it is issued in monthly numbers, and is apparently intended to be continued as a perma- nent monthly publication; but it is otherwise, to all intents and purposes, a volume issued in monthly parts. There is no man in the coun- try, perhaps, better fitted to edit such a work than Mr. Lossing. He is an enthusiastic inves- tigator of history; he has traveled much and read much, always with a keen appetite for his- torical disclosures; he is also an excellent art- ist; and these numbers are very rich in narra- tives and documents gathered from family ar- chives and recollections which otherwise would never probably have seen the light. POPULAR SCIENCE. WE have so recently had occasion to speak of Sir CHARLES LYELL5 Elements of Geology that it hardly seems necessary, in calling attention to the eleventh edition of his Principles of Geolo- gy (D. Appleton and Co.), to speak at length of those traits of his character which make him, in our opinion, the most trustworthy of all modern writers on science. Unlike most of his contem- poraries, he has no theories to advocate; his mind is eminently judicial, his work is that of an inves- tigator, his interest appears to be aroused chiefly to ascertain what are the facts of nature, and he records them with an impartial and supreme in- difference respecting their effect upon the con- flicting dogmas of contending schools. We in- stinctively turn, therefore, to see what in the latest additions to this standard work Sir Charles Lyell has to say in regard to the recent discus- sions respecting the origin and geographical dis- tribution of the races of men. From the debates of such writers as Darwin, Blichner, Mivart, and Wallace we turn to the calm and impartial sum- ming up of Sir Charles Lyell with a feeling of relief akin to that experienced by the jury at the end of a long and perplexing trial, when the counsel have concluded their forensic displays EDITORS LITERARY RECORD. 139 and the judge rises to deliver his charge. Sir Charles Lycli shows that hunting acts as a principle of repulsion, causing men to spread with the greatest rapidity over a country until the whole is covered with scattered settlements. He gives illustrations from history of accidental jonrneyings by savages in their canoes, drifting through the sea distances varying from two hun- dred to fifteen hundred miles; and he draws the conclusion that if the whole of mankind, with the exception of a single family, were now cut off; we might expect their descendants to spread iu the course of ages over the whole earth, diffused part- ly hy the tendency of population to increase in a limited district heyond the means of subsistence, and partly by the accidental drifting of canoes by tides and currents to distant shores. He concludes that it is reasonable to infer that the whole human race has spread from a single start- ing-point, hut asserts that it does not follow that all are descendants of a single pair; gives a quali- fied indorsement to the opinion ofProfessorAgas- siz that the great divisions of the human race pos- sess each a distinct parentage; regards it as es- tablished that man lived upon the earth at a pe- riod far anterior to that indicated in the Scriptur- al account of the creation, and that it has risen from a lower to a higher state of civilization, its earlier stages being those of a rude barbarism. He admirably though concisely states some of the criticisms of Mr. Wallace, Mr. Mivart, and the Duke of Argyle on Mr. Darwins theory of natural selection, and after giving considera- ble weight to them, and making some abatement from Mr. Darwins theories in consequence, con- cludes that Mr. Darwin, without absolutely prov- ing, has made it appear in the highest degree probable that the changes of the organic world may have been effected by the gradual, insensi- ble modification of older pre-existing forms, while he strongly protests that the amount of power, wisdom, design, and forethought required for such a gradual evolution of life is as great as that which is implied by a multitude of separate, special, and miraculous acts of creation. Finally, he uncon- sciously affords an admirable portraiture of his own spirit in the following fine description of the spirit which should always, but does not always, actuate the scientists: It is by faithfully weigh- ing eVidence, without regard to preconceived no- tions, by earnestly and patiently searching for what is true, not what we wish to be true, that we have attained that dignity which we may in vain hope to claim through the rank of an ideal parentage. FICTION. Hope Deferred, by ELIZA F. POLLARD (Har- per and Brothers), is, as its title indicates, a mournful story; but it is not meaningless, nor is its moral unneeded at the present day. It is a healthful indication that the philosophy which advocates low and loose ideas of the marriage tie, and the right of man and wife to separate whenever either imagines that a mistaken affec- tion has led to the marriage, or that love, though opce genuine, has gro~vn cold, finds no represen- tation and no advocate in the modern romance. Criticise the novel of the period as ~ve may, and question as we may the practice of novel-read- ing, this much is certain, that the most popular novels are those which best represent the higher types of character, and the best and noblest sea- timents triumphant in time of triaL If modern society were inclined to believe that a pure and true love demanded a free divorce, we should find this demand interpreted in at least some modern novels; whereas, in fact, the most com- mon lesson of the most popular modern novels is fidelity to the marriage vow when once pro- nounced. In this story there is nothing in the character of Marietta, nothing even in her pas- sionate but jealous love, to bind her unhappy hus- band to her. If ever uncongeniality of tempera- meat justifies a divorce, it would be justified in the case of Charles and his Roman wife. Yet even the most determined apostle of the philoso- phy of licentiousness, miscalled free love, could hardly withhold an involuntary homage to the fidelity with which the husband adheres to his marriage vow, and, living in the constant sight and companionship of the one who alone pos- sesses his heart, yet schools not only his conduct to bring no dishonor either upon her or upon himself, but his heart itself to do his own wife no injury. So long as the universal feeling of hu- manity answers with its amen to such a repre- sentation of love and marriage, and maintains the rights and duties that spring from it, we may rest reasonably sure that false philosophy has not succeeded in undermining the foundations of tine love and the home life. The Vicars Daughter, by GEORGE MAcDON- ALD (Roberts Brothers), is not so striking a story as Wilfred Cumbermede, and may not com- mand so large a circle of readers, but it is in every sense a better story. It is complete in its structure, unmarred by any melodramatic epi- sodes,, is free from the portrayal of morbid feel- ing, and both as a story and as a picture of life and character is not unnatural. It is announced as a sequel to the Annals of a Quiet Neighbor- hood and the Sea-board Parish. Ethelwyn Walton marries an artist and goes to London to live, and the story is the record ef her life there. The most striking, if not the central, figure of the story is Miss Clare. Critics ~vho imagine that a novel must only describe the practicable ~vill object that it is not the thing for Christian young ladies to choose the haunts of vice for their homes for the sake of exercising a Chris- tian influence on the vicious, ~vhich is very true. Nevertheless, Miss Clares home and work, though it represents an impossible ideal, represents through it the spirit of true Christian work among the outcast, and so is healthful and be- neficent. The novel is not a great one, and in an artistic point of vie~v will not add to George Macdonalds reputation; but it is a good one, and is to our thought quite as interesting as its more pretentious predecessor, Wilfred Cam- bermede. No one will pronpunce that verdict upon Herman Agha (Holt and Williams). Two ele- ments of interest in this story will attract two very different classes of readers. It is emphat- ically a romance. Its scene is laid in the East, the land of romance. The reader is not per- plexed by any skepticism respecting the possi- bility of its incidents or the naturalness of its characters, since in the land of the Arabian Nights nothing is impossible, nothing is unnat- ural. The author, indeed, asserts in his preface that his story is not fiction, but reality; not invention, but narration. If ~ve accept this 140 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. statement as simple and unalloyed truth, the adventures of Herman Agha afford a new and striking illustration of the old adage that truth is stranger than fiction. Love arid ~var, assas- sination and abduction, are among the threads that are woven into this life fabric. But it is not only the novel-readers ~vho will find interest in this romance. Its author, Mr. W. G. PAL- GRAVE has made a study of the East, and his work on Arabia is the standard authority to which all scholars defer. Whatever may be thought of the drama, the accessories are un- questionably admirable. The manners and cus- toms of the people, the tyranny of government, the greed of rulers, the degradation of the mass- es, the bravery and fidelity of the Bedouinsin a word, the social and political civilization of the East, are admirably painted by one who uses his imagination only to portray in life-like form the results of careful and painstaking observation. In the End of the World (Orange Judd and Co.) Mr. EGGLESTON introduces his readers to the same general scenes and the same style of characters which give to the Hoosier School- master its peculiar freshness. There is no little vigor displayed in the portraiture of some of the characters, which are drawn somewhat roughly withal, but powerfully, and the writer has stud- ied, possibly unconscionsly, the vernacular with which l~e so plentifully fills his dialogue, and which is well represented. Bu~ the charm of the Hoosier School-master was in its flesh- ness; it was interesting because it opened to the American a new world, rather than because that ~vorld had, except in its novelty, any peculiar charm; and if, as we understand is the case, Mr. Eggleston has laid down the editorial pen to de- vote himself to romance-writing, we hope that in his next volume he will strike a new vein. rrhis is a somewhat narrow one, and it will not bear much more working.The Eustace Dia- monds (Harpei& and Brothers) will rank as one of ANTHONY TROLLOP~s best novels. It is, of course, thoroughly English, as most of Trollopes novels are, but it is more original in plot than many of them. The chief defect in the book is the fact that there are no characters in it which thoroughly secure the readers sympathies, unless it be Lady Fawn and Lucy Morris, and of these the one is not very prominent, and the other is certainly rather weak. It is quite the fashion lately to make the villain of the story a woman, and Anthony Trollope has adopted the fashion. But Lizzie Eustace is not at all an unnatural villain, hardly an unwomanly villain, though she commits perjury, and comes very near commit- ting theft; she is only a very natural embodiment of feminine selfishness, pride, vanity, and self- will, when restrained neither by scruples nor by an intelligent appreciation of the consequences of wrong-doing. She is, indeed, quite the peer of Becky Sharpe, though a totally different sort of character. Indeed, we do not now think of any of Trollopes novels in which the charac- terization surpasses in vigor of dra~ving tha.t of this his latest work.Marjories Quest (J. R. Osgood and Co.) opens well, and promises in the outset to be an unusually good novel. But the writer falls into the temptation common to all novel-writers, displays more ingenuity, as the story proceeds, in the construction of an intricate and involved plot than in the elucidation of char- acter, and loses her hold on our mind before the volume ends by the unnaturalness of the in- cidents, or, rather, of their concurrence in the story. JEANIE T. GOULD has quite too much real ability to be under any necessity of resort- ing to the somewhat stale artifices of the play- wrights which mar the artistic value of the last half of her story, which is nevertheless interest- ing, not because of the plot, but in spite of it. We need not say that there, are few story-tell- ers more charming than Miss MULOcK, but we confess ourselves surprised at the imagination which shines and sparkles and plays in the Ad- ventures of a Brownie (Harper and Brothers), and makes it the most delightful of fairy stories for the children. As told to my child, she describes this fairy tale in the title-page. She deserves a large circle of childish listeners, and it will be very strange if she does not have it. A brownie is a sober stay-at-home household elf a mythical creature, more mischievous than malicious a little old man about a foot high, all dressed in brown, with a brown face and hands, and a brown peaked cap just the col- or of a brown mouse; and a very jolly fellow he is to have in a household, in spite of some occa- sionally inconvenient antics, which are generally plnyed off on people who deserve some discipline for their ill humor, or their slovenly habits and careless ways, or for some of the petty vices which awaken the righteous indignation of the virtuous brownie, who never does any body any harm unless they deserve it. Here, too, is another collection of fairy stories almost as charming. Is It True? (Harper and Brothers), a new vol- ume in Miss MuLOcxs series of Books for Girls, pretty in conception, and made prettier in the telling, with a clear thread of right and wrong running through it, and well woven in, so that the youthful reader xyill be tolerably sure to get the moral in the story, not to skip a moral which has been appended to it. This whole se- ries is to be warmly commended, and makes an admirable little folks library; and that depart- ment ought to occupy no small proportion of the book-shelves of every household. MISCELLANEOUS. CHARLES NORDHOFF is a newspaper man, and possesses the newspaper geniusthat is, he understands what people want to know, and how to select out of abundant material the right top- ics; and how, in treating those topics, to deal not with the themes on which it is easiest to write, but with those on ~vhich information is really need- ed. Hence his (Jaljfornia: for health, Pleas- ure, and Residence (Harper and Brothers), is a book both of rare profit and of rare interest. There has been a great deal of writing about riding on the rail, but his chapter on the way out is the first account we have fallen on, brief, succinct, clear, that really tells a stranger what a Pullman car is, how it is constructed, and how the running of the Pullman cars is ar- ranged. So in his chapter on Salt Lake City, instead of giving us his philosophy about Mor- monism, he looks ~vith a practical eye at the country and the people. The soil, though good, is full of stones, and I saw a terrace gar- den of about three acres built up against the hill- side, which must have cost ten or twelve thou- sand dollars to prepare. We read with sur EDITORS LITERARY RECORD. 141 prise his statement that we Americans have too much to do to spend our time in boasting ; but before we finished his chapter on the Cen- tral Pacific Railroad we conceded that he had made out his case. The whole story of the proc- ess of its construction is condensed into a sin- gle chapter, which is crowded with information such as must have cost no little trouble to ac- quire, but it is told so easily and simply that it costs no labor to ~uderstand. Books of this sort are usually marred by one of two faults. On the one hand we have the work of the prac- tical man; he tells you of agricultural products and rain-fall and geological formation and min- eral wealth and population; he embodies the in- formation of the gazetteers in a volume which is dull, and which, therefore, has the reputation of being learned. Or we get the product of an ordinary newspaper correspondent, who sees what is on the surface and puts it duwn ; who writes in grandiloquent terms of the scenery of the Cen- tral Pacific Railroad, but knows nothing of its history; who inveighs in general terms against Mormonism, but does not understand its prac- tical workings and industries and daily life; who talks in a general way of the luxury of modern travel, but leaves you as ignorant as before re- specting the nature of a hotel car. Mr. Nordhofi has succeeded in learning those facts which the people are interested to know, and in putting them in an interesting form. He gives detailed directions to the tourist how to make his tour comfortable; gives three schedules of three dif- ferent tours; tells you the cost; gives you some pictures~ well drawn, with pen and pencil, of the scenery on the way; carries you into the Clii- nese qnarters, and introduces you to John at his theatre; gives you an admi~able sketch of gold mining~ But our space forbids our giving a table of contents, and still more our describing in detail the features of this admirable book of travel. We can only say that it is very nearly an ideal travelers guide for the American tour- ist, while its entertaining style and its numerous and very handsome illustrations make it equally attractive to that great body of Americans who can only see California through the eyes of an- other.Rev. ELON FOSTER would have produced a book of larger usefulness if lie had given to his New Cyclopedia of Poetical Illustrations (W. L. Palmer, Jun., and Co.) a broader scope, and made the room for a greater variety of topics by giving shorter selections. His book professes to be exclusively adapted to Christian teaching, and for the pulpit and the Sabbath-school it can hardly fail to serve a useful purpose; yet it must be very rare that a preacher is justified in quot- ing poems of ten or twelve stanzas, and of such poems there is quite too large a proportion in this volume. Under the title Despair is given the whole of Hoods poem, One more Unfortu- nate; and under the title Creation a quota- tion of two pages and a half from Milton. The work of an editor requires rare power of self-de- nial: he must be willing to reject much that is good in order to make room for some things that are better. The defects of Mr. Fosters work re- sult from an embarrassment of riches; and to those whose libraries contain few or no other po- etical collections, and who desire a book which shall supply them at once with poetry for their own reading, and with quotations topically ar ranged for their work, this book can not fail to prove valuable. The true test of such a work is in months of use; it is a tool, and must be tried before a thoroughly trust~vorthy judgment can be pronounced upon it. The critic can not really tell what it is; he can only tell what it ap- pears to be. So far as we can judge, not from use, but only from an examination of the book, its topics are wisely selected and its quotations are well classified; and its usefulness is materi- ally enhanced by the two indexes, that of topics, and that of lines and authors, which are append- ed to the volumeThat gardening is a lovely tIring we al~vays believed, and that faith has been intensified by reading ANNA WARNERS Garden- ing by Myself (A. D. F. Randolph and Co.); that it is an easy thing we never believed before, and we confess to a grain of skepticism even now. However, among many competitors, Miss Warner certainly carries off the palm. Her book is ex- plicit and simple in its directions, does not as- sume in the reader a knowledge which comes only of much experience, nor discourage him or her by building impracticable air-gardens impos- sible to realize. It is, in a word, a book of prac- tical directions concerning practicable achieve- ments, and we can give it no higher encomium than to say that, having been quite disheartened from gardening byprevious books, we are going to begin straightway after reading this to do some gardening by ourselves, with a sanguine hope of really accomplishing something.We hardly know what estimate to put upon Sound- ings, by LIDE MERRIWETHER (Boyle and Chap- man, Memphis). It is an attempt to awaken sympathy for the class of lost women by means of a series of what purports to be true stories of their experiences of temptation and fall, and of their redemption from sin and shame. The stories are simple, and have the air of truthfulness; there is not the most dis- tant approximation to sensationalism on the one hand, or sentimentalism on the other; and the purest heart can find in them no occasion for a blush, the impurest nothing to feed a sensual imagination. Yet underlying them is the false philosophy common to nearly all similar praise- worthy attempts to induce our Christian charity to embrace those who become the most degraded, and who therefore most need it. Careful inves- tigations into the causes of womans degradation do not justify the belief that her sin and shame are generally any thing other than the fruit of her own willful wrong-doing. The attempt to pal- liate the fatal sin, which not only destroys repu- tation, but also makes a wreck of character, is, arid al~vays must be, a failure, and the attempt by practical philanthropy to rescue from a life of iniquity those who have given themselves up to it does not confirm the theory of the story- tellers that they are vainly striving against social contempt and aversion to escape from the toils with which they are entangled. On the con- trary, the percentage that can be induced by kindness and conciliation to give up the strange- ly fascinating life of sin for one of in~lustry and virtue, even when the path is opened thereto, is sadly small. The lost ones are entitled to our Christian sympathies, not, however, as unfortu- nates, but as sinners; nor will Christian love really accomplish much for their rescue till it gives up wholly the sentimental conception of 142 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. abandoned women as unhappy victims whose aspirations toward virtue are denied by society and crushed by a remorseless contempt, and treats them as truly lost, and needing not only to have the paths of virtue opened, but also the aspirations to virtne awakened in their souls. Between the years 1860 and 1865 Professor TYNDALL and Mr. EDWARD WHYMPER vied ~vith each other in an attempt to reach the sum- mit of the Matterhorna peak of the Alps which had before been regarded as inaccessible, and was by the imagination of the superstitious peasantry peopled with demons, who, it was confidently as- serted, would be sure to take due vengeance on any mortal bold enough to invade their domin- ions. The Wandering Jew was supposed to have his home in this desolate peak, and a ruined city of demons to cover its summit. This su- pernatural terror was not, however, to deter adventurous travelers from attempting to scale this peak, which is nearly 15,000 feet high, and rises abruptly by a series of cliffs which may properly be called precipices nearly a mile above the glaciers which surround its base. The records of the attempts of these adventurous climbers are recorded in two volumesthose of Professor Tyn- dall in a moderate-sized book with the modest title of Hours of Exercise among the Alps (re- published in this country by ID. Appleton and Co.), of which we have given our readers some account in a previous number of the Magazine, those of Mr. Whymper in a finely illustrated vol- ume with the more suggestive and taking title of Scrambles amonq the Alps (republished by J. B. Lippincott and Co.). The American edition does not equal, either in the beauty of its typography or the exquisite finish of its engravings, the En- glish original, which is one of the handsomest products of the English press; but we should, not hesitate to declare it a handsome volume did it not suffer in comparison with the original, and despite that comparison we do not hesitate to characterize it as a very attractive book. Nor is it doing any dishonor to Professor Tyndalls volume to say that Mr. XVhymper, who succeed- ed in first reaching the top of the Matterhorn, has also succeeded in producing by his pen and pencil a volume which, to those who are fond of adventures, has few equals, and almost no supe- riors, in the literature of mountain - climbing. Mr. Whymper is a genial companion. He is bold, hut not audacious; a lover of adventure, but neither fool-hardy nor a boaster. He is in hearty sympathy with nature, and inspires you with his own simple but earnest enthusiasm for the sublime. No task seems too difficult for him to essay, no danger daunts him in the pursuit of his object; but he essays no adventure for its own sake, never displays his prowess to us, or exerts it without an object; is not the man to climb a precipitous rock to cut his name upon its surface, nor to retreat from before it if it lies between him and the summit which he aims to reach. lie is at once brave and modest, and the unconscious simplicity of his narrative of dangers, perils, adventures, and escapes adds in- tensity to the interest of the story, which con- tains much practical and scientific information. There is a great deal of power in some of ELLA WHEELERS poems, Drops of Water (Natiomil Temperance society), but there would be a great deal more if they were not all set to the same key. When we take up a volume of poems, it is not in the mood with which we take up a vol- ume of philosophy; we are not content to turn it into a series of homilies all pointing to the same end, and all written with the same purpose and embodying the same moral. Drops of Water are all temperance po~rns; if set to music they would serve a good purpose as a temperance glee - book; but in their present form they grow wearisome. The author defeats her own purpose by the very persistency with which she pursues it. MAC CORMAC ON THE ORIGIN OF TUBERCULAR CONSUMPTION. TN 1855 Dr. Mac Cormac presented a theory in .1. regard to tubercular disease of the lungs, or consumption, in which he maintained that this disease is caused solely by breathing air which has already passed through the lungs of man or other animals (or, otherwise, air that is deficient in oxygen), the inhalation of air already respired being accompanied by the retention of unoxid- ized carbon, or the dead, poisonous carbon, with- in the body of the organism. This effete mat- ter he considers to be the starting-point in the tubercle. He does not think that it forms the tubercle itselg but constitutes the poison from which tubercular disease takes its origin. His deduction from this is to the effect that the greatest care must be taken to secure an am- ple supply of fresh air, especially in cases where numbers of persons are obliged, by cold weather or other causes, to occupy a limited space to- gether, and in which a proper provision for a constant supply of fresh air has not been made. He believes that tie predominance of tubercular disease in northern latitudes is not due to a tend- ency in the climate itself to produce this condi-. tion, but to the greater liability to huddling to- gether for purposes of warmth, although it is probable that a diseased condition or irritation of the lungs in such cases may increase the mor- bification of the poisonous material. Where, in consequence of the mildness of the climate, per- sons are induced to live a great deal out-of-doors, or where the houses are not closed up to such a degree as to exclude the external air, or prevent its free passage, this disease becomes compara- tively unknown. He, indeed, encourages open windows and draughts of air, especially at night, if the body be well covered. ZUCCATOR COPYING MACHINE. The electro-chemical copying-press devised by Signor Eugenio de Zuccator, of Padun, has been materially improved since its first announce- ment, and now bids fair to realize measurably the object of a simple and ready method of

Editor's Scientific Record Editor's Scientific Record 142-149

142 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. abandoned women as unhappy victims whose aspirations toward virtue are denied by society and crushed by a remorseless contempt, and treats them as truly lost, and needing not only to have the paths of virtue opened, but also the aspirations to virtne awakened in their souls. Between the years 1860 and 1865 Professor TYNDALL and Mr. EDWARD WHYMPER vied ~vith each other in an attempt to reach the sum- mit of the Matterhorna peak of the Alps which had before been regarded as inaccessible, and was by the imagination of the superstitious peasantry peopled with demons, who, it was confidently as- serted, would be sure to take due vengeance on any mortal bold enough to invade their domin- ions. The Wandering Jew was supposed to have his home in this desolate peak, and a ruined city of demons to cover its summit. This su- pernatural terror was not, however, to deter adventurous travelers from attempting to scale this peak, which is nearly 15,000 feet high, and rises abruptly by a series of cliffs which may properly be called precipices nearly a mile above the glaciers which surround its base. The records of the attempts of these adventurous climbers are recorded in two volumesthose of Professor Tyn- dall in a moderate-sized book with the modest title of Hours of Exercise among the Alps (re- published in this country by ID. Appleton and Co.), of which we have given our readers some account in a previous number of the Magazine, those of Mr. Whymper in a finely illustrated vol- ume with the more suggestive and taking title of Scrambles amonq the Alps (republished by J. B. Lippincott and Co.). The American edition does not equal, either in the beauty of its typography or the exquisite finish of its engravings, the En- glish original, which is one of the handsomest products of the English press; but we should, not hesitate to declare it a handsome volume did it not suffer in comparison with the original, and despite that comparison we do not hesitate to characterize it as a very attractive book. Nor is it doing any dishonor to Professor Tyndalls volume to say that Mr. XVhymper, who succeed- ed in first reaching the top of the Matterhorn, has also succeeded in producing by his pen and pencil a volume which, to those who are fond of adventures, has few equals, and almost no supe- riors, in the literature of mountain - climbing. Mr. Whymper is a genial companion. He is bold, hut not audacious; a lover of adventure, but neither fool-hardy nor a boaster. He is in hearty sympathy with nature, and inspires you with his own simple but earnest enthusiasm for the sublime. No task seems too difficult for him to essay, no danger daunts him in the pursuit of his object; but he essays no adventure for its own sake, never displays his prowess to us, or exerts it without an object; is not the man to climb a precipitous rock to cut his name upon its surface, nor to retreat from before it if it lies between him and the summit which he aims to reach. lie is at once brave and modest, and the unconscious simplicity of his narrative of dangers, perils, adventures, and escapes adds in- tensity to the interest of the story, which con- tains much practical and scientific information. There is a great deal of power in some of ELLA WHEELERS poems, Drops of Water (Natiomil Temperance society), but there would be a great deal more if they were not all set to the same key. When we take up a volume of poems, it is not in the mood with which we take up a vol- ume of philosophy; we are not content to turn it into a series of homilies all pointing to the same end, and all written with the same purpose and embodying the same moral. Drops of Water are all temperance po~rns; if set to music they would serve a good purpose as a temperance glee - book; but in their present form they grow wearisome. The author defeats her own purpose by the very persistency with which she pursues it. MAC CORMAC ON THE ORIGIN OF TUBERCULAR CONSUMPTION. TN 1855 Dr. Mac Cormac presented a theory in .1. regard to tubercular disease of the lungs, or consumption, in which he maintained that this disease is caused solely by breathing air which has already passed through the lungs of man or other animals (or, otherwise, air that is deficient in oxygen), the inhalation of air already respired being accompanied by the retention of unoxid- ized carbon, or the dead, poisonous carbon, with- in the body of the organism. This effete mat- ter he considers to be the starting-point in the tubercle. He does not think that it forms the tubercle itselg but constitutes the poison from which tubercular disease takes its origin. His deduction from this is to the effect that the greatest care must be taken to secure an am- ple supply of fresh air, especially in cases where numbers of persons are obliged, by cold weather or other causes, to occupy a limited space to- gether, and in which a proper provision for a constant supply of fresh air has not been made. He believes that tie predominance of tubercular disease in northern latitudes is not due to a tend- ency in the climate itself to produce this condi-. tion, but to the greater liability to huddling to- gether for purposes of warmth, although it is probable that a diseased condition or irritation of the lungs in such cases may increase the mor- bification of the poisonous material. Where, in consequence of the mildness of the climate, per- sons are induced to live a great deal out-of-doors, or where the houses are not closed up to such a degree as to exclude the external air, or prevent its free passage, this disease becomes compara- tively unknown. He, indeed, encourages open windows and draughts of air, especially at night, if the body be well covered. ZUCCATOR COPYING MACHINE. The electro-chemical copying-press devised by Signor Eugenio de Zuccator, of Padun, has been materially improved since its first announce- ment, and now bids fair to realize measurably the object of a simple and ready method of EDITORS SCIENTIFIC RECORD. 143 multiplying any writing, printing, or drawing, by electro-chemical action, for the use of editors, telegraphers, reporters, etc. The copying-press itself differs but little from the screw-press in ordinary use, the difference being mainly in having the upper bed composed of a plate of copper, and the lower of a plate of copper tinned, both on mahogany beds, the upper being attached to the solid irou press by clips, and the lower being made to slide out. These two plates are placed in the ordinary way in the circuit of a battery, so that when brought into close prox- imity by the action of a screw the circuit is com- pleted, and the current established over the whole surfaces. A steel plate is coated with an insulating var- nish, and upon this the writing or drawing is traced. When this plate is interposed in the circuit, the current of electricity is confined to those portions deprived of the insulating surface, and leaves a record of its passage by its contin- ued action on the steel plate and on sheets of copying paper, especially prepared and dampened with a solution of prussiate of potash. The elec- trolvtic action causes the formation of the ferro- prussiate, or Prussian blue, producing a per- fect fac-simile of the original manuscript or de- sign upon the varnished surface of the plate. The movable steel plates on which the writing or drawing to be copied is made must be thor- oughly cleaned and well and evenly varnished, care also being taken, by a firm and steady press- nre on the style, to remove the varnish, leaving the writing, printing, or other pattern, in bright steel on a raised ground of varnish, affording perfect insulation every where on the surface. Any number of sheets, from one to six, can be placed one upon the other, after being dampened with the solution, and by interposing these in the circuit, scre~ving the press down so as to secure a proper contact, and by establishing the circuit, one wire being connected with the upper bed and the other with the lower, the desired result is accomplished in a few seconds. PROCTOR ON PHYSICAL OBSERVATORIES. Mr. Richard A. Proctor, in an article on Na- tional Observatories for the Study of the Physics of Astronomy, refers to the communication of Colonel Strange, made to the British Association last year, urging the propriety on the part of the government of establishing observatories for the study of the aspect and changes of aspect of the sun, moon, and planets, on the ground that the establishments already in operation confine them- selves too much to determining the position and motions, real or apparent, of the celestial bodies. Colonel Strange, in urging his project, calls at- tention to the great uncertainty that has hitherto prevailed in regard to climatological laws, and promises that, if observatories are established especially for the purpose, there is a strong prob- ability that the systematic study of the sun will throw useful light upon climatological conditions. To this Mr. Proctor rejoins that while all weather changes may be traced to the suns influence, the idea that we shall ever be able, by studying the spots, the facuhe, the prominences, or the chro- matosphere, of the sun,to interpret the phenomena of the weather, appears demonstrably incorrect. While the suns diurnal course accounts for the seasonal changes, we yet know that the weather of any single day is almost wholly independent of the general character due to the season. A season may be exceptionally cold or hot in one portion of the earth, while in another precisely the opposite characteristics will prevail, although subjected to the same solar conditions. Even if the direct action of the sun were more obviously recognizable in its general effects, yet, inasmuch as, in the length and breadth of En- glanda mere speck on the earths surfacethe greatest variety of weather is commonly experi- enced, it is surely hopeless to attempt to predict the conditions which will prevail in any one country where the solar relations exhibit such and such a character; and short of this no pre- diction would be of the least use to man. Even if there is the slightest prospect of our being able to do so much as this, of what practical use would it be to know that a storm will rage on a certain day, if it is as likely to occur in Russia as in the United States, or in India as in China? Mr. Proctor also takes occasion to rebuke those who have sneered at the labor bestowed by meteorologists in tabulating and reducing a regular series of observations upon the weather, and remarks that even though we may not, at present, have the means of interpreting meteor- ological relations, we must know what these re- lations actually are; or, in other words, we must have those long arrays of tabulated figures thermometric, barometric, wind-recording, etc. if we are to understand the cause or causes of changes in the direction of the wind, in the prevalence of cloud, in temperature, barometric pressure, etc. Although but little has hitherto come of these records, compared ~vith the labor bestowed upomi them, and though we may be under the impression that little ever will be the result, yet, if ever the great mysteries of me- teorology are solved, these tables ~vill have ful- filled their purpose. To cease to make them, he thinks, is to admit that these mysteries are in- scrutable. CHEMICAL COMPOSITION OF CLEAN AND FOUL SALMON. Every one conversant with the fish is aware of the great difference in taste and value between what are called the clean and foul salmon; and Professor Christison has endeavored to deter- mine the precise nature of the difference, by means of chemical analysis. The most prom- inent indication was the occurrence of a large percentage of oil in the clean salmon, and a defi- ciency hi that of the poorer qualities. As a mean of the examinations made by Professor Christison,. he states that in clean salmon there are 18.53 per cent. of oil, 19.70 per cent. nitrog- enous matter, 0.88 per cent. saline matter, and of water 60.89 per cent. ; while in foul salmon the amount of oil was only 1.25 per cent., and of water 80.88 per cent., the saline and nitrogenous matter not being materially different, although the latter was somewhat diminished. RECENT UPHEAVAL OF THE FATAGONIAN COAST. In illustration of the recent upheaval of cer- tain portions of the South American coast, Pro- fessor Agassiz, speaking in a letter to Professor 1eirce of the geology of the Straits of Magellan, remarks that about a mile back from the shore, 144 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. near Possession Bay, he found, at a height of nearly 150 feet above the sea-level, a salt pond, which, to his very great surprise, contained ma- tine shells, some of them still living, of species common in the adjacent ocean waters. The most abundant were Fasus, Mytilus, Buccinum, Patella, etc., occurring in apparently the same numerical relation as in the waters of the bay. The period at which this upheaval took place could not he determined; hut it certainly could not he very remote, in view of the fact that so many specimens were still living. The pond ap- pears to become nearly dry in the winter season, the small quantity of water remaining in it being intensely saline. ABSORPTION OF METALLIC SALTS BY WOOL A memoir on the absorption of metallic salts by wool when mordanted, submitted by Profess- or M. P. Havrez, was very favorably received by the Royal Society in Brussels. The action of the mordantswhich usually have alum as a basisis not confined to making the coloring principle insoluble and thus fixing it upon the tissue, but also imparts to the tint purity and in- tensity of color. The way of proceeding has al- ~vays been empirical, as the influence of the many possible modifications has never been fully as- certained. Mr. Havrez, in experimenting with tepid and boiling solutions of alum of different strength, used the salt in eleven different pro- portions, gradually increasing the amount from one-twentieth of one per cent, of the quantity of wool to 100 per cent. The feeble solutions had an alkaline reaction; those more impregnated were acid. The cause of this difference Mr. Havrez at first attributed to traces of soda re- tained in the wool, to lime in the water used for washing, and finally to the presence of am- monia, resulting from the alteration of the ge- latinous principle of the wool. Mr. Stas then pointed out, as the true cause, the dissociation of the alum, and the extended experiments of Mr. Havrez have confirmed this supposition. Diluted solutions of sulphate of iron and copper give entirely analogous results. As to the in- fluence of the different conditions in which the solution of the mordant is applied, Mr. H. fo,md, first, that lime dissolved in the water acts like a diminution of the mordant; second, that the presence of free acid in small quantity does not prevent dissociation, bnt reduces the amount of alumina absorbed by the wool; third, that most diluted solutions of alum, at the highest tem- perature, and by their long-continued action, produce the most extended dissociation and fix the most alumina. Besides, the ratio of the quantity of wool operated on to that of the alum applied is of greater influence than the propor- tion of the solvent to the alum. In summing up, Mr. H. maintains that the elements of the mordants, separated by disso- ciation, are gradually and very unequally absorb- ed by the ~vool, so that the whole process ap- pears, as a kind of dialysis, in which the wool. acts the part of the porous body. GENERATION OF EELS. Much uncertainty prevails in regard to the mode of generation of eels, and many contra- dictorv vie~v s have been presented, none of them bearing the test of critical examination. This animal forms a remarkable exception to the characteristics of the anadromous fish, such as the shad, salmon, etc., which run up from the sea as mature fish, and spawn in the fresh-water and return again; their young remaining for a time, then visiting the sea, also to return to the rivers ~vhen the sexual instinct seizes them. The eel, on the contrary, spawns in the sea, and the young run up into fresh-water and pass the pe- nod of immaturity, then going down to the sea and remaining there, their young in turn pursu- ing the same round. It is now announced by Ercolani, an Italian physiologist, that the eel is really a perfect her- maphrodite; that the genitals are only complete- ly developed at sea, during the month of Decem- her; the ovaries and testes being together in the same animal, with spermatozoa; and he believes that the ova are fertilized there before their emis- sion from the body. This is a very remarkable statement, but one that may, perhaps, prove to be correct; at any rate, it comes nearer to solv- ing the problem of the generation of the eel than any suggestion that has hitherto been made. OCCURRENCE OF ASPHALTS. Professor Newberry, in an article published in the American chemist upoh the asphalts, ex- presses the opinion that, without exception, they are more or less perfectly solidified products of the spontaneous evapoiation of petroleum. In many instances the process of the formation of asphalt may be witn~ssed as it takes place in nature, and, in oil stills, varieties of asphalt are constantly produced. These are undistinguish- able from the natural ones. Among the most important of our asphaltic minerals are the Albertite and Grahamitethe first from New Brunswick, the second from West Virginia. Both occur in fissures opened across their bedding in strata of carboniferous age. There is little room for doubt that the fissures which contain the asphalt have afforded con- venient reservoirs into which petroleum has flowed, and from which all the lighter parts have been removed by evaporation. Similar de- posits, of less magnitude, are known in Colorado, Arkansas, Ohio, and Kentucky. In Southern California, Western Canada, and elsewhere, as- phalt may still be seen passing through the proc- ess of formation from petroleum, and especially in Santa Barbara and San Luis Obispo, where the accumulations of asphalt are well known to geologists. It also occurs on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico; hut it is in Trinidad, accord- ing to Dr. Newberry, that we must look for the greater part of the supply that is likely to be re- quired for various purposes, especially those con- nected with road-making. The quantity appears to be inexhaustible, and the quality is the very best; and its accessibility to the sea-ports of the United States renders its transportation so cheap that it may be furnished, to the Atlantic cities especially, at much less cost than any of the as- phalts from the interior. RILEY ON THE BARK-LOUSE OF THE APPLE- TREE. At the meeting of the St. Louis Academy of Sciences on the I 7th of June last Mr. C. V. Riley announced the interesting discovery of the male of the mussel - shaped bark - louse of the EDITORS SCIENTIFIC RECORD. 145 apple - tree (Alytilaspis conck~formis, Gruelin), and exhibited specimens and drawings. This is the insect that produces the so-called scur- vy on apple-trees, and in the more Northern and Western States has been one of the most injurious of onr orchard pests for many years past. Yet, common and injurious as it is, en- tomologists have been endeavoring in vain for a quarter of a century to discover the male. Re- cently in the Northwestern States, which have suffered most from this insect, it has soddenly become harmless, and is fast dying out and be- ing exterminated by its natural enemies, while in that part of Missouri where the male has been discovered it is increasing rapidly. Mr. Riley concludes that organic reproduction is the more normal with this insect, but that, as with the closely allied plant-lice (aphidni), the male ele- ment is occasionally required to prevent degen- eracy. NATURE OF CHLORAL HYDRATE. According to Meyer and Dulk, chloral hydrate is in reality ethylene-glycol, chloral alcoholate being the ethylic ether of the same substance. NATURE OF THE BLUE COLORING MATTER OF FISHES. Ponchet has been investigating the cause of the blue color of certain fishes, which, as is well known, is extremely brilliant in certain species. In confining his attention to the French species exhibiting this color, he refers the characteristic in question to a constant anatomical cause. Be- neath the skin of the portion of the fish so col- ored there is always a layer, more or less thick, of small ovoid or irregularly circular minute bodies, yellow by transmitted light, which are the product of the complementary blue color in diffused light. These he calls iridescent bodies, from certain analogies with anatomical elements found in the cephalopods and some acephala. The diameter of these iridescent bodies varies from two to four or five thousandths of a millim- eter. In the Chllionymns they are larger than elsewhere, and each is seen to be formed of a pile of extremely delicate lamelhe applied one upon the other, but readily separable under the field of the microscope. This blue color, comple- mentary of the yellow, Pouchet considered to be due to a kind of fluorescence. WATER SUPPLY OF NISMES, ON THE RHONE. In 1866 M. Dumont presented to the Acade- my of Sciences of Paris a sketch of a project for supplying the city of Nismes with drinking- water from the Rhone, filtered naturally. In 1872 he announces to the same body a satisfac- tory completion of his labor, by means of which there is a daily supply of over 37,000 cubic yards, or 130 gallons to each inhabitant. In an in- dustrial and scientific point of view, the impor- tance of the work just completed presents three classes of iiiteresting facts. First, the natural filtration of the waters of the Rhone by a sub- terranean and lateral gallery of 555 yards in length, and 33 feet wide inside, the largest known at the present time. Second, the throw- ing up of this water by two steam-engines of 200 hor e-power each to a distance of 11,000 yards, by a single discharge pipe of a little over three inches interior diameter. This conduit, Vor. XLVLNo. 271.i 0 which presents numerous inflections in its course, is commanded by a great reservoir forty- six feet in height, upon which the pumps act, not directly, but after having worked on small reservoirs joined to the latter. The interven- tion of these manifold reservoirs, and the estab- lishment of numerous emptiers of the air, at all projecting points, have had the effect of render- ing very manageable the immense column of water, the weight of which is nearly 5000 tons, the elevation at this distar~ce amounting to 240 feet. The amount of fuel required for these engines, which are vertical, with direct movement, is 2.2 t pounds of coal an hour for each horse-power. The entire initial expense of this hydraulic ar- rangement, including the necessary machinery, was about $1,200,000. The hypothesis upon which M. Dumont pro- ceeded in undertaking his labors, so satisfacto- rily accomplished., was that there exists under the gravel and sands of the Rhone, and under the course of all waters of an analogous nature, a volume of water perfectly clarified (really an inferior and subterranean river), and that these gravels, etc., are genuine filters, which cleanse themselves by a double process, their product being always the same. The labors executed by the author at Lyons and elsewhere have proved to him the correctness of these views, and ena- bled him to establish the true principles which should be taken into consideration in the execu- tion of similar labors. These are, first, to give the preference to lateral galleries instead of fil- tering basins; second, to bring these galleries as near as possible to the principal current of the river; third, to give these galleries the lar- gest interior diameter possible; and fourth, to build theabutments up to the level of the low- water mark only, and make the layer of the fil- tering frame-work in the form of a cradle. CHONPRINE IN THE TISSUES OF TUNICATES. According to Dr. Schfifer the tissues of the tunicate mollusks contain a substance ~vhich in its properties and percentage of nitrogen corre- sponds closely to chondrine, usually considered a characteristic attribute of the vertebrata. DENTRITIC MARKS ON PAPER. According to Mr. Liversidge the minute den- tritic marks frequently noticed on paper, to which various observers have assigned a vege- table origin, are actually inorganic; blow-pipe examinations, supplemented by special tests, showing that they consist mainly of snlphide of copper. These usually have a nucleus, which consists of a minute particle of copper or brass, and probably derived from some part of the ma- chinery used in the manufacture of the paper. CHANGE OF TEMPERATURE IN THE NORTHERN HEMISPHERE. Mr. Howorth has been engaged for some time on a series of papers discussing the changes that have taken place to the present time in regard to the distribution of land and water, and the consequent effect upon the climate. He finds that the result has been a great increase in the amount of cold in the far north, rendering re- gions such as those of East Greenland, once ca- pable of supporting .a considerable population, 146 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. now entirely uninhabitable, and literally covered the year round with snow and ice. He says, however, that while the evidence is overpowering that the climate has been growing more severe in the highest latitudes, there is a great deal of evidence to show the cold has decreased else- where, and that, especially in view of the ac- counts given of the climate of Gaul and Ger- many in the Roman times, we can not but admit that there has been a great improvement since that date. Thus w~ are told of winters when the Danube and Rhine were frequently frozen over, and of the occurrence of the reindeer and moose in localities far south of their present hab- itat. Ovid laments over the fearful severity of his place of exile on the coast of Thrace, and re- fers to the occurrence of white foxes there, and contemporaneous references corroboratehis state- ments. Mr. Howortli inquires whether, even within the prehistoric period, the circumpolar climate may not have been very temperate, when that of more southern latitudes was very severe. We know, in fact, that during the miocene period Greenland once possessed a climate not dissimi- lar to that of the Eastern United States, as shown in the occurrence of numerous species of trees of large size, some of them, like our cypress, etc., absolutely identical ~vith our forest vegetation of the present day. Mr. Ilowortli also refers to the ~eneral impression among whalers that ex- cessively severe winters in the more temperate latitudes are accompanied by an unusual degree of mildness in the more northern latitudes. This we accept as an augury in favor of Cap- tain Halls exploration, since the winter of 1871 72 was one of the severest on record of late years; and should Mr. Howorths suggestion be correct, the captain should have enjoyed an unusual free- dom from snow and ice, permitting him to prose- cute his researches to great advantage. CYCLONES IN THE PACIFIC. Mr. Whitmer, in referring to a paper by Mr. Mnrphy in Nature on the scarcity of cyclones in the Pacific, remarks that there is rarely a year without at least one cyclone passing through, or in the neighborhood of, one of the Feejee, Samoan, or Hervey broup of islands. He states that the cyclone season extends over the greater part of the period during which the sun is south of the equator; consequently, when the trade-winds from the north reach farthest south, they are most prevalent about the middle, or a little later than the middle, of the season, rarely earlier than December or January. They are usually preceded for a few days by strong northerly winds; and if during such winds a sudden fall of the barometer occur, this is considered a sure indication of an approaching cyclone. POLLARD ON SEASICKNESS. Doctor Pollard, in a paper in the British 2~fed- ical Journal upon seasickness, remarks that two opposite theories have been suggested as explain- ing its cause; one that it arises from a depress- ing effect on the brain produced by the motion of the vessel, for which the remedy would be lying so as to obtain an increased supply of blood to the brain; the other, supported by Sir J. Al- derson, that increase of blood in the brain is the real cause, an analogy being drawn between the blood in its vessels and the mercury of a barom- eter. The most probable theory of seasickness is that held by I)r. Carpenter, Mr. Bain, and other writers, who consider that the mental and bodily prostration and the other symptoms arise from the continued action on the brain of a certain set of sensations, more particularly the sensation of want of support. This feeling, arising from the sudden loss of support, as when the footing, or any prop that we lean upon, suddenly gives way, is of the most disagreeable kind. The phenomena of seasickness appear to he due to the constant repetition of this feeling of loss of support consequent on the pitching and rolling of the ship, more particularly the for- mer. If, therefore, seasickness arises from cer- tain impressions on the senses, the theory of its prevention is to render these impressions as fee- ble as possible. Application of the mind to an engrossing book will keep it off for a short pe- riod; but this answers only a temporary purpose. To lessen the impressions as much as possible the patient should preserve the recumbent pos- ture as near the centre of the ship as practica- ble; he should lie on a thickly padded couch, so as to diminish the vibration. Fresh air should be admitted in order to remove bad smells. The eyes should be shaded, and as much noise as possible shut out. As regards drugs, the most rational suggestion is that of Dr. Ddring, of Vi- enna, that a full dose of hydrate of chloral should be taken shortly before the vessel starts; and, even in long voyages, the repeated use of this medicine will insure comfortable nights without the disagreeable after-effects of opium and chloroform. MINERAL SPERM-OIL. Mr. hayes calls the attention of American chemists to the value, for illuminating purposes, of a heavy oil obtained from petroleum, and known in the trade as Morrills mineral sperm- oil. This, it is claitised, has the advantage of being as safe as sperm-oil in combustion. It is sufficiently thin to fill the wicks perfectly, but is so far from being a volatile oil that it is com- paratively inodorous, and will not take fire at any temperature below 300~ F. Flames of considerable size, such as a large ball of wick- ing-yarn, saturated with oil and ignited, when plunged beneath the surface of this oil, pre- viously heated to the temperature of boiling water, are extinguished at once. It burns free- ly in the German student lamps, and with great brilliancy from the dual burner. The patentee of this oil estimates that 60,000 gallons can be manufactured per day, or about one-fourth of the whole product of petroleum. This is more than twice the whole product of the sperm and whale oils in the best days of the fishery in this country. TESTING ANIMAL FLUIDS. According to Mr. J. A. Wanklyn, the differ- ential action of potassic hydrate and potassium permanganate may serve as a niethod to distin- guish between various animal fluids. When these are evaporated down with excess of potassa solution, and then maintained for some time at l50~, a certain proportion of ammonia is evolved; and if the residue he now boiled with an alkaline EDITORS SCIENTIFIC RECORD. 47 solution of potassium permanganate, a further definite quantity of ammonia is given off, the relative amount of ammonia evolved by these two additions being constant for the same animal fluid. The author has examined by this method urine, milk, blood, white of egg, and ~elatine, the latter of which gives but a mere trace of ammonia by treatment with caustic potash. It would be possible by this process to distinguish between a spot of milk and one of white of egg on a cambric handkerchief. SOLIDIFICATION OF SOLUTIONS IN COUNTRY AIR. According to Tomlinson, supersaturated saline solutions, which would instantly solidify if ex- posed to the air of a room, may be kept for many hours in the open air of the country without crys- tallization, even newly sprouted leaves not acting as nuclei. ALLEGED GIGANTIC PIKE. Among the stock curiosities of the literature of fishes may be mentioned the story referred~o in Waltons Complete Angler, that a pike was taken in 149~, in a fish-pond near Heilbronn, in Suabia, with a ring fixed in its gills, on which were engraved the words, I am the fish which Frederick the Second, Governor of the World, put into this pond 5th October, 1233; by which it would appear that this fish had then lived 260 years. This fish was said to have been nine- teen feet in length, and to have weighed 350 pounds. Mr. Frank Buckland remarks that he has at present in his possession a painting of great an- tiquity which ptofesses to he a portrait of the identical fish, and hearing an inscription corre- sponding somewhat to that referred to above. The length, however, of the fish represented is four feet nine inches; the ring around the neck measured tea and a half inches, and the fish would probably weigh about fifty pounds. What the facts may really be in regard to the fish in question it is, of course, impossible to state; al- though it may be reasomiably doubted whether any thing like the age mentioned could have been attained, and the length of nineteen feet must evidently be an exnggerated statement. SOLUBILITY OF SALTS AND GASES IN WATER. M. Tourmasi communicates to Les Zlfoades the following laws in reference to the solubility of salts and of simple gases in water, which he thinks he has established, but for which he de- sires additional verification. These are as fol- lows: First, for salts belonging to the same chemical formula (as sulphates, bromides, etc.) the coefficients of solubility are in direct r tio to their specific heat; one exception only, so far, has been met with, namely, chloride of manga- nese. Second, for simple gases the case is just the reverse from that of salts, namely, that their solubility in water is in inverse ratio to their specific heat. NEW MODE OF PRINTING GOODS. Mr. Vial presented to the Academy of Sci- ences, in Paris, a new method of printing upon fabrics by means of metallic precipitation. An illustration of the process is seen if we take a piece of linen, cotton, or silk fabric, and soak it for a time in a solution of nitrate of silver. Aft. er exposing this to the air for a short time for the purpose of partially diving, if we place above it a coin, or a casting of zinc, lead, or copper, the nitrate will be decomposed in places where con- tact has been effected and the silver immediate- ly precipitated in the form of a black powder, representing the image upon the coin in its mi- nutest details, and in a faithful, distinct, and indelible manner. Every time tire coin is placed upon the moist cloth the impression will be re- peated instantaneously and perfectly, this not being the result of the application of color, but a chemical phenomenon exhibited by the simple contact of the salt. and the metal, whatever be the delicacy or extent of the point of contact, and the deposition of rhe silver is made with such intensity as to strike almost entirely through the material. Simple washing with water will remove from the cloth the nudecomposed salt. The tint of the impression may he varied at will, from pale gray to intense black, according to the propor- tions of the silver and the material used as a precipitant. In general it is black, in propor- tion to the affinity it has for oxygen, and the de- gree to which it is removed from the silver. The process of Mr. Vial is presented by him to the consideration of scientific and practical men for their experiments, and he feels quite sure that it will take a l)lace of great importance in the arts of printiug and dyeing. KIERWOOD ON COMETS AND METEORS. Professor Daniel Kirkwood, in a communica- tion to Nate~-e relative to the late paper of Selmi- aparelli upon comets, calls attention to an arti- cle published by himself in the 1)anville Quar- terl~~ Review, for July, 1861, in which the fol- lowing propositions were maintained: 1. That meteors and meteoric rings are the dJbris of ancient hut no~v disintegrated conmets, whose matter- has become distributed around their orbits. 2. That the separation of Bielas comet, as it approached tire sun in December, 1845, was but one in a series of similar processes, which would probably continue until the individual fra~ments would become invisible. 3. That certain luminous meteors have en- tered the solar system- from the interstellar spaces. 4. That the orbits of some meteors and peri- odic comets have been transformed into ellipses by planetary perturbation. 5. That numerous facts some observed in ancient and some in modem-n timeshave been decidedly indicative of cometary disintegration. In reference to these propositions Professor Kirkwood remarks that, though stated as theory in 1861, they have since been confirmed as umi- doubted facts. NEW FOSSIL DEER. Mr. Boyd Dawkins, in a paper on the fossil deer of the forest bed of Norfolk and Sufiblk, describes a new species under the name of C. verticorais, which has certain characters ally- ing it to the Irish elk, and which it must also have rivaled in size. In this new species the hrase of the antler is set on the head vem-y ob- liquely; immediately above it springs the cvlin 148 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. drical brow tyne, which suddenly curves down- ward and inward; immediately above the brow tyne the beam is more or less cylindrical, be- coming gradually flattened. A third flattening tyne springs on the anterior side of the beam, and immediately above it the broad crown ter- minated iu two or more points. No tyne is thrown off on the posterior side of the antler, and the sweep is uninterrupted from the antler base to the first point of the crown. IS CHLORAL AN ANTIDOTE TO STRYCHNINE? 0r6 has been repeating the experiment of Dr. Liebreich in reference to the availability of strychnine as an antidote of chioral, and he has come to the conclusion that, however the fact may be in this respect, Liebreichs experiments ~iire insufficient to prove his assertion, especially in consideration of the fact that a hypodermic injection neither of ebloral nor of strychnine, in the proportions used by him, isnecessarily fatal to rabbits. PURPUROPHYL, A DERIVATIVE OF CHLOROPHYL. If ~ve boil chlorophyl with potash lye for a quarter of an hour we shall have a mixture of a green color, which may be filtered, and hydro- chloric acid added. As soon as the potash is neutralized a precipitate is produced; and on adding more acid the liquid becomes of a bright grass-green color; and when again neutralized with carbonate of lime a green precipitate is formed, constituting a new substance, which has been called purpuropkyl. This, when washed with water and covered with alcohol, assumes a fine purple tint, and is turned green by ammonia. BLUE COLOR FROM BOLETUS. In the course of some recent experiments Dr. Phipson has ascertained that a certain blue col- or, produced by the action of hypochlorite of lime on the alcoholic solution of a yellowish col- oring matter of Boletus luridus, etc. (species of fungi), may be reproduced almost exactly from phenol, which renders it probable that the vege- table blue in question belongs to the phenyl group. APPLICATION OF DISINFECTANTS. According to the experiments of a committee of the Academy of Sciences of Paris in refer- ence to disinfectants, it was ascertained that the first place among the agents destructive of infec- tious germs should be assigned to hyponitrous acid. This, however, being very poisonous, must be used with great precaution. It is said to be especially applicable for the disinfection of apartments in which cases of small-pox, yellow fever, or other grave diseases have existed. Be- fore using this substance all crevices of the doors, windows, and fire-places should be care- fully pasted up with paper. Acid fumes are to be generated by placing two quarts of water in earthen vessels of about ten quarts capacity for a small room, and adding to the water about three Pounds of ordinary nitric acid and ten ounces of copper filings. Should the room be large, pro- portionally larger vessels should be employed. After starting the operation the door of entrance should be carefully sealed, and the room left un- disturbed for forty-eight hours. Great care must be taken on entering the room after the op- eration, so as to avoid breathing the acid. Car- bolic acid may also. be used to great advantage by mixing it with sand or sawdust in the pro- portion of one part to three. This may be placed in earthen pots as above. PREHISTORIC (?) MAN IN AMERICA. Several years ago General James H. Carleton, U.S. A., visited the abandoned drift of the Han- over copper mine, on the side of a mountain ten miles northeast from Fort Bayard, Grant Coun- ty, New Mexico. The passage was made through a body of earth to reach the solid rock. At the distance of twenty-five feet from the mouth, and where the earth overhead was per- haps equally thick, a portion of the dirt roof had fallen away, and revealed an object which, on ex- amination, proved to be the cranial portion of an inverted human skulL With a bowie-knife the general broke off a considerable portion of the calivarium, the remainder being imbedded so firmly that he could not remove it. lie was unable to determine whether the rest of the skeleton was there or not, but is satisfied as to the completeness of the cranium. In his visit he was accompanied by Governor Robert B. Mitchell and Hon. Charles P. Cleaver, both of whom were cognizant of the circumstances. The fragments of the skull obtained by him were presented to David L. Huntingdon, U.S.A., then stationed at Fort Bayard. ALCOHOLIC PRODUCTS OF DISTILLATION. Messieurs Pierre and Puchot have been prose- cuting some researches into the alcoholic prod- nets of distillation, and find that these consist, first, of aldehyde; second, of ethylic acetate; third, of propylic alcohol; fourth, of butylic al- cohol; fifth, of amylic alcohol; and sixth, of essential oils. For the purpose of determining the existence of these various products as chemical substances, and formed at the expense of sugar during fer- mentation, the authors above named have sub- mitted them to numerous chemical tests, and have also sought for the means of depriving vi- nous alcohol, properly speaking, of these various substances, for the practical purposes of purifi- cation, as it is to the presence of one or other of them that the defective taste of certain forms of spirits is attributed. Among the indirect results reached in their inquiries, the authors maintain that it is incor- rect to say, when two non-miscible liquids are boiled together, that the atmospheric pressure is equal to the sum of the elastic forces of the ~a- pors of the two liquids, estimated separately at the temperature at which the mixture boils; but that, first, when two non-miscible liquids are boiled together, one of them being water, the boiling-point of the mixture is below that of the liquid that boils most readily; second, this boil- ing-point of the mixture continues absolutely constant as long as there remains an appreciable quantity of each of the two liquids; third, this constancy is independent of the relative propor- tions of the two liquids; fourth, the mixed va- pors condensed during distillation have a direct relation to each other, independently of the rel- ative proportions of the two liquids brought to- gether in the distilling apparatus. THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA. OUR Record is closed on the 26th of Octo- ber.The October elections have, in the main, resulted favorably for the administration candidates. The election in Georgia, October 2, was for Governor and members of the State Legislature, and five Congressmen. James M. Smith, Democrat, was elected Governor by over 50,000 majority. In Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana elections were held October 8. Gener- al Hartranft, Republican, was elected Governor of Pennsylvania by a majority of 35,627. Mr. Allen, the Republican candidate for Auditor-Gen- eral, received a majority of 36,780, and Ulysses Mercur, Republican candidate for Supreme Court judge, a majority of 40,443. The average majori- ty of the three Republican candidates for Congress- men at large was nearly 46,000. In Ohio, Allen T. Wikoff, Republican, was elected Secretary of State by a majority of 11,910. John Welch was elected Supreme Court judge by a majority of 10,189. The Congressmen stand seven Dem- ocrats to thirteen Republicans. James A. Gar- field (Nineteenth District) ~vas re-elected by a majority of 10,955. In Indiana the Democrats elected T. A. Hendricks for Governor by a majority of 1148. The new Legislature will stand, in the Senate, 27 Republicans to 23 Democrats; in the House, 54 Republicans to 46 Democrats. The Congressional delegation stands 9 Republicans to 4 Democrats. The election in South Carolina, October 16, resulted in the success of General Moses,-the regular Re- publican candidate for Governor, by a majority of from 35,000 to 40,000 (estimated). The con- stitutional amendment prohibiting an increase of the State debt was ratified, being generally in- dorsed by both parties. This amendment ren- ders it necessary that any increase of the State debt (beyond that incurred in the ordinary and current business of the State) shall be submit- ted to the people at a general election, and re- quire for its sanction a two-thirds vote. The Oregon Legislature, September 28, elect- cd M. C. Mitchell, Republican, United States Sen- ator. A bill providing for woman suifruge has been introduced into the Lower House of the Oregon Legislature. Emperor William of Prussia has decreed in favor of the United States in regard to the San Juan boundary question submitted for his ar- bitration. This decision makes the boundary line pass through Canal de Haro instead of Rosario strait, thus including within the Unit- ed States the San Juan, Orcas, and Lopez islands. The total losses by the great fire in Chicago, October, 1871, amounted to $200,000,000, to which another million must be added on account of the depreciation of property and the interrup- t.ion of trade. The year which has passed since this event has seen at least one-third of the value of the destroyed property restored. The hotels, the places of amusement, the warehouses, the churches, and the schools which have taken the place of those which were destroyed are grander and more substantial edifices, and archi- tecturally more beautifuL The prices of real estate are higher than at the time of the fire, and the industrial interests of Chicago have been more than re-established. In fact, the great disaster of last year is beginning to be regarded as a blessing in disguise, and the great Western me- tropolisalready connected with the interior by a score of railways, and having a lake marine rivaling the tonnage of the great sea-ports of the worlddreams with unabated enthusiasm of ship - canals westward to the Mississippi and eastward to the sea-board. Turning from the Gateway of the West to the Golden Gate of the Pacific, we find some inter- esting statistics respecting the commerce of San Francisco during the nine months ending Sep- tember 30, 1872. There have arrived during this period fifty full cargoes of Eastern goods by way of Care Ibm, besides twenty more by Panama steamers; forty-five cargoes of English goods coal, iron, drugs, liquors, dry-goods, etc.; fifty-six cargoes of coal from Australia; and the usual amount of coffee, rice, sugar, and tea from China and the East Indies. The im- ports by shipment are valued at $3,706,996, against $2,575,042 during the same time last yearan increase of 50 per cent. The export trade has been undsually active. Thus there was a shipment of 3,000,000 centals of wheat, against less than 1,000,000 centals during the same time last year. The exports by water amounted to $15,242,738, against $10,547,593 in 1871. The exports of treasure are estimated at $25,041,629, against $14,044,075 in 1871. The amount collected in duties on foreign im- ports at this port for the nine months is $6,368,000, against $5,622,000 for the same time last year, showing a greatly increased for- eign commerce, since no duties have been col- lected during the past quarter on coffee and tea. In California, as indeed throughout the coun- try, the want of more abundant and cheaper means of transportation is severely felt. As a remedy it is proposed to build narrow - gauge railroads. It is estimated that in the grain- producing portions of the State there is not any one hundred miles in length by six miles in width -that does not pay for the transportation of its produce yearly an amount in excess of what the charges would be on a narrow-gauge road enough to build and equip a road of its own. In the Northwest a like ~vant for cheaper transportation has stimulated afresh the agita- tion for a canal to communicate with the Atlan- tic coast. Every where great attention is being paid to the subject of canal transportation. The offer by the State of New York for the success- ful application of some motive power as a sub- stitute for horses to canal-boats on the Erie Canal has led to results which promise the propulsion of these boats by steam, in half the time and at less expense than by the present method. Some idea of the demands made upon trans- portation by the grain trade is conveyed by the fact that for the forty-eight hours ending at noon October 14 there were received at the port of Buffalo 1,386,000 bushels of grain. The Buffalo route has won favor on account of the low rates of toll on the canalan important consideratien when we remember how formidable at one time

Editor's Historical Record Editor's Historical Record 149-155

THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA. OUR Record is closed on the 26th of Octo- ber.The October elections have, in the main, resulted favorably for the administration candidates. The election in Georgia, October 2, was for Governor and members of the State Legislature, and five Congressmen. James M. Smith, Democrat, was elected Governor by over 50,000 majority. In Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana elections were held October 8. Gener- al Hartranft, Republican, was elected Governor of Pennsylvania by a majority of 35,627. Mr. Allen, the Republican candidate for Auditor-Gen- eral, received a majority of 36,780, and Ulysses Mercur, Republican candidate for Supreme Court judge, a majority of 40,443. The average majori- ty of the three Republican candidates for Congress- men at large was nearly 46,000. In Ohio, Allen T. Wikoff, Republican, was elected Secretary of State by a majority of 11,910. John Welch was elected Supreme Court judge by a majority of 10,189. The Congressmen stand seven Dem- ocrats to thirteen Republicans. James A. Gar- field (Nineteenth District) ~vas re-elected by a majority of 10,955. In Indiana the Democrats elected T. A. Hendricks for Governor by a majority of 1148. The new Legislature will stand, in the Senate, 27 Republicans to 23 Democrats; in the House, 54 Republicans to 46 Democrats. The Congressional delegation stands 9 Republicans to 4 Democrats. The election in South Carolina, October 16, resulted in the success of General Moses,-the regular Re- publican candidate for Governor, by a majority of from 35,000 to 40,000 (estimated). The con- stitutional amendment prohibiting an increase of the State debt was ratified, being generally in- dorsed by both parties. This amendment ren- ders it necessary that any increase of the State debt (beyond that incurred in the ordinary and current business of the State) shall be submit- ted to the people at a general election, and re- quire for its sanction a two-thirds vote. The Oregon Legislature, September 28, elect- cd M. C. Mitchell, Republican, United States Sen- ator. A bill providing for woman suifruge has been introduced into the Lower House of the Oregon Legislature. Emperor William of Prussia has decreed in favor of the United States in regard to the San Juan boundary question submitted for his ar- bitration. This decision makes the boundary line pass through Canal de Haro instead of Rosario strait, thus including within the Unit- ed States the San Juan, Orcas, and Lopez islands. The total losses by the great fire in Chicago, October, 1871, amounted to $200,000,000, to which another million must be added on account of the depreciation of property and the interrup- t.ion of trade. The year which has passed since this event has seen at least one-third of the value of the destroyed property restored. The hotels, the places of amusement, the warehouses, the churches, and the schools which have taken the place of those which were destroyed are grander and more substantial edifices, and archi- tecturally more beautifuL The prices of real estate are higher than at the time of the fire, and the industrial interests of Chicago have been more than re-established. In fact, the great disaster of last year is beginning to be regarded as a blessing in disguise, and the great Western me- tropolisalready connected with the interior by a score of railways, and having a lake marine rivaling the tonnage of the great sea-ports of the worlddreams with unabated enthusiasm of ship - canals westward to the Mississippi and eastward to the sea-board. Turning from the Gateway of the West to the Golden Gate of the Pacific, we find some inter- esting statistics respecting the commerce of San Francisco during the nine months ending Sep- tember 30, 1872. There have arrived during this period fifty full cargoes of Eastern goods by way of Care Ibm, besides twenty more by Panama steamers; forty-five cargoes of English goods coal, iron, drugs, liquors, dry-goods, etc.; fifty-six cargoes of coal from Australia; and the usual amount of coffee, rice, sugar, and tea from China and the East Indies. The im- ports by shipment are valued at $3,706,996, against $2,575,042 during the same time last yearan increase of 50 per cent. The export trade has been undsually active. Thus there was a shipment of 3,000,000 centals of wheat, against less than 1,000,000 centals during the same time last year. The exports by water amounted to $15,242,738, against $10,547,593 in 1871. The exports of treasure are estimated at $25,041,629, against $14,044,075 in 1871. The amount collected in duties on foreign im- ports at this port for the nine months is $6,368,000, against $5,622,000 for the same time last year, showing a greatly increased for- eign commerce, since no duties have been col- lected during the past quarter on coffee and tea. In California, as indeed throughout the coun- try, the want of more abundant and cheaper means of transportation is severely felt. As a remedy it is proposed to build narrow - gauge railroads. It is estimated that in the grain- producing portions of the State there is not any one hundred miles in length by six miles in width -that does not pay for the transportation of its produce yearly an amount in excess of what the charges would be on a narrow-gauge road enough to build and equip a road of its own. In the Northwest a like ~vant for cheaper transportation has stimulated afresh the agita- tion for a canal to communicate with the Atlan- tic coast. Every where great attention is being paid to the subject of canal transportation. The offer by the State of New York for the success- ful application of some motive power as a sub- stitute for horses to canal-boats on the Erie Canal has led to results which promise the propulsion of these boats by steam, in half the time and at less expense than by the present method. Some idea of the demands made upon trans- portation by the grain trade is conveyed by the fact that for the forty-eight hours ending at noon October 14 there were received at the port of Buffalo 1,386,000 bushels of grain. The Buffalo route has won favor on account of the low rates of toll on the canalan important consideratien when we remember how formidable at one time 150 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. appeared the prospect of a diversion of trade through Canada. Among the most important of the suhjects discussed during the session of the National Board of Trade in New York, October 1519, was that of a more popnlar railway service. Mr. R. II. Ferguson, of Troy, New York, read a very able paper, exposing the terrible drain upon the productive and laboring interests of our country on account of our present railroad man- ugement. lie made a comparison of fourth- class freights charged hy the different railroad lines for the last five years from the cities of Chicago, Toledo, and St. Louis; also from six interior competing points in the States of Iowa, Illinois, and Indiana, viz., Mattoon, Decatur, and Paris, in Illinois ; Terre haute, Indiana, and Keokuk and Dubuque, in Iowa, to New York city. He took the months of December, Janu- ary, February, March, and April of each year, as those months only show what the railroads would do the year through if they had no water competition. The result of his estimate was that three-fourths of the Western producers grain were given to the railroads to carry the remain- ing fourth to market. There was a tendency toward consolidation among all through lines, crushing out all competition, and enabling two or three railroad kiabs to dictate to the people how much they shall pay for food, fuel, and clothing. Already the railroad system of our country (comprising over 50,000 miles, and fast increasing) is in the hands of half a dozen men, who can to-morrow morning telegraph orders from their head-quarters that will raise the bar- rel of flour you buy at noon one dollar per bar- rel, the pork you buy one and two cents per l:ound, the beef you eat the same, the coal you burn one dollar a ton, every bushel of grain in the country two, three, fire, and ten cents ~er bushel, putting into their purses millions of dol- lars before night, to the disadvantage of every man, woman, and child, and to the benefit alone of half a dozen millionaires. The railroad cor- porations have gained the control of Legislatures. Yet it is the peoples land and money that help- e(l to build the roads; it is the peoples produc- tions of land, loom, and furnace that furnish the freights for said roads, that are now run~to see how much can he extorted from the people (to pay large dividends on stock that is watered and doubled every little while), instead of seeing how cheaply the freight could be carried, which is the only rule that should govern a properly constructed railroad managed in the interests of the people. The people, therefore, have a right to say what shall be a proper compensation for carrying their freight. There is great danger to every interest in our countryfinancial, produc- tive, manufacturing, and, above all others, the laboring interest. It demands our earnest at- tention and immediate action. Every moment but tightens the iron grip these railroad monop- olies now have npon the peoples throats. The real cost of transportation is only from one- fourth to one-third of the tariff now charged. According to the report of the Commissioner of Agriculture, the amount of grain produced in the United States in 1871 was 1,519,776,100 bushels. Suppose that only two-thirds of this 1,000,000,000 bushels were transported, we have the enormous sum of $245,000,000 extort- ed from the people, if that amount were shipped from Chicago, and the still greater sum of $300,000,000 o~ the same amount shipped from St. Louis. But as half of the amount was shipped from lesser points at higher rates, this sum would still be increased. But taking the two places, Chicago and St. Louis, we have an average of $272,500,000. This sum would in ten years pay the whole national debt. It would build and equip a double-track road of 3400 miles in length, at a cost of $80,000 pei~ mile, every year, almost long enough to reach from New York to San Francisco. To remedy this growing evil Mr. Ferguson suggested through trunk lines crossing the continent from ocean to ocean, or from the grain fields and centres of the West to all the sea-board cities in the East, said roads to consist of four tracks; if advisable, a track each way for freight, and one each way for passenger traffic; these roads to be free thor- oughfares, over which the peoples freight shall be carried for cost, the roads to be built by the peoplethat is, every county and State through which the road passes to pay an equal share of the cost of construction and equipment accord- ing to its population and wealth; where a coun- ty or State is too poor the government to give the necessary aid; each county and State through which the road passes to guarantee a certain per cent, interest to stock-holders; no stock-holder or share-holder to be allowed a vote on said stock or shares, simply holding stock or shares as a voucher for their investment and to entitle them to the interest on such deposit. In bringing subjects of this character before the people, general associations like the Nation- al Board of Trade are of great value and impor- tance. It is the era of associations, and the con- stant tendency of these is toward expansion, from local to national, then from national to inter- national. The tendency toward centralization in the government and in the great moneyed interests of the country is a manifestation of this characteristic feature of the age. The evils involved in this tendency can only be met by a corresponding organization on the part of those whose interests it is the design of the gov- ernment to represent, and on the part of labor, which is the basis of all wealth. If government is centralized, then it must be pol)ularizcd to prevent centralization from becoming despot- ism. If raihvay autocrats conspire to rob pro- ducers and consumers, then the producers and consumers must organize for the protection of their interests. If the monopolies use the gov- ernment, then the people must prevent corrup- tion by reform associations, and must~ through organizations representing their interests, secure the assistance of their servants who represent them in our national councils. In this con- nection Commodore Maurys address at the St. Louis Agricultural Fair, early in October, is very suggestive. He urged the necessity of co-opera- tion among agriculturists in order to secure from the law-makers the same consideration which has been secured from them by combinations among the railroad men, the miners, the mer- chants, and the manufacturers. The agricul- turists were not at a disadvantage for 1 ck of wealth, numbers, or intelligence. The crops of last year (1871) amounted in round numbers to 2,500,000,000. According to the last census EDITORS HISTORICAL RECORD. 151 there are 12,500,000 bread-earners in the the three months for the United States with United States, filling the mouths of a popula- 36,491 steerage passengers and nearly 6000 in tion of 39,000,000. These several interests the cabin. Seventeen ships left for Canada, subsist respectivelythe agricultural and me- carrying 5607 persons. The aggregate number chanical, 23,830,000 souls; the commercial, of passengers was 50,385, of whom the greater 2,326,000; the manufacturing, 1,117,000; mm- proportion (18,279) were English, and only 5104 ing, 472,000; the railroad and express men, Irish. The most notable feature of the quarters 595,000. Therefore you beat in numeric- return is the sudden access of Swedes, Danes, al strength these several industries, that are so and Germans to the emigration from Liverpool, much more compact in orgauiza4on and pow- no less than 15,853 of the whole number having erful with Legislatures than you are, some ten, been drawn from the Scandinavian and German some twenty, and some fifty timesand all corn- countries, coming by way of Hull to Liverpool, bined five to one. Hitherto your combinations and thence to the United States, in preference to have extended only to the forming of State and shipping from the Baltic direct by the Bremen county societies, and the influencing of State and German Lloyds steamers. These vessels, Legislatures. Theirs are general; they impress however, have also brought a large compauy of Congress. A National Agricultural Congress immigrants. had been organized in St. Louis May 28, 1872, A large body of the emigrants from Alsace and this should be fostered by the rural in- and Lorraine purpose to form a settlement in the terests of the country. The appropriation by neighborhood of Alexandria, Virginia. Canada Congress to the Signal-office, with a view to will also receive a considerable number of these the interests of agriculture as well as of corn- emigrants. merce was one of the results already secured The strike of the bricklayers in Chicago has to by this organization. It had pledged itself to some extent interfered with the building indus- an international conference, in which the de- try in that city. The Union demands that all tails might be arranged for a universal system foremen shall be members of its organization, of meteorological observation and crop reports. and that none but Union mcii shall be employed. This would enable farmers to fix prices upon In about half the cases these points were con- their staples, instead of having this done for ceded. them by the merchants. The International In New Orleans there was a longshoremens Congress of Statisticians has just had a meeting strike about the middle of October. The object on the banks of the Neva. In it the great na- was to secure $4 wages per day, instead of 3, tions of the earth were represented. It met and ten hours for the working-day. The strik- under the auspices of the Emperor of Russia in ers assembled in large numbers, and marched his own capital, and was inaugurated there by through the streets. Captain William Barnes the real friend of true scientific progress, the lost his life in attempting to prevent their inter- Grand Duke Constantine. It ~vas cheered in its ference with the working-men on his barges. labors ~vith the huzzas of the Russians, the hochs The strike at this season is very injurious to the of the Germans, the vivas of the Latin races, and commercial interests of the city. the hurrabs of the English, and among its labors The experiment of building associations is was the appointment of a special committee in being tried in Cincinnati with favorable results. furtherance of this scheme. Commodore Maury Those in the old Sixteenth Ward alone are de- directed attention to the oppression of the agri- veloping a capital of over $3,500,000, which culturists by gigantic railroad monopolies. This will all be used within the next four or five evil must be met by the National Agricultural years in building homes, buying real estate, Congress. setting men up in business, and in every way The project of an interoceanic canal is still re- helping a class of men who, but for these benev- ceiving attention from the government. The olent institutions, would never own a foot of Navy Department has ordered an exploration of gn~und during their lives. It has been said that the Bajoyo River in connection with the survey fullyt~ne-fourth of the money now being invest- of the Nicaragua route of the canal, and the ed in building associations used to be spent for work was to begin on the 1st of December. In liquor and its accompanying vices. If this January Commander SelfrWge is to finish the be true, they have accomplished a good end. survey of the Panama route. - But in addition they offer a safe investment for In Georgia the culture of tea is being under- a poor man to lay up his dollar per week where taken with good promise of success, the plant it will draw an interest that is not excelled being raised from seed, and not, as hitherto, from by that derived from the capital of the mill- imported plants. ionaire. The Liverpool returns show that during the The most eminent among the educators of months of July, August, and September the de- Massachusetts form a committee to consider the parture of ships for the United States has av- propriety of admitting female students to the eraged more than one per day, while the emi- colleges. A year ago Mr. H. W. Sage, of Brook- grants have flocked westward at the rate of lyn, New York, one of the trustees of Cornell 12,000 per month, or 144,000 per year. En- University, offered that institution a quarter of a glish artisans and laborers are beginning to count million of dollars provided it afforded the same largely in the emigration, and it appears that advantages to young women that it does to young they avoid Canada, as affording fewer induce- men. rhe offer was not hastily accepted, but meats to the industrious and enterprising than was referred to a committee to examine the the free and independent life of a republic, whole question. The majority reported in favor Compared with other periods, as well as with of its acceptance on those conditions. Another the preceding quarter, the increase of immigra- committee, appointed to visit the leading colleges tion is enormous. Ninety-nine ships left during and universities attended by both sexes, as the 152 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. result of their investigations, came to this con- clusion: Both the testimony of experience and the investi- gations of the committee agree in the conclusion that the system of co-education has worked well, and the committee failed to find one objection to it in prac- tice. Its effects on both the young men and the young women are beneficial, and the facts indicate that there is no loss in scholarship. The young women are at least the equals of the young men in collegiate studies, while their conscientiousness in study elevates the general tone of scholarship. Facts are given showing that the health of young women does not suffer from collegiate study more than that of young men. In accordance with the recommendation of the committee, Mr. Sages proposal has been accept- ed, and the doors of Cornell thrown open to wom- en. A large building for their accommodation is in process of erection, and will be completed within a year, at the cost of $150,000. It will provide dormitories to accommodate 200, and lecture-rooms for physiology, emhryology, and kindred subjects. Cornell University has just entered upon its fifth year. The entering class numhers 200, in- cluding a dozen ladies. The MGraw building is just finished, and the libraries and cabinets are being. arranged in it. The library consists now of 36,000 volumes, including the Jared Sparks collection, recently added. Important additions in French, German, Italian, and Span- ish literature have been made this summer. A course of lectures by Mr. J. A. Froude was be- gun late in October. The Board of Overseers of Harvard Univer- sity have resolved hereafter to hold annual ex- aminations of women, similar to those already held by the University of Camhridge in England. The corporation suhmitted a scheme, and the overseers have just adopted it. There will be two classes of candidates, those under eighteen, and those ahove that age. Certificates are to be given to those who pass the examination, and certificates of honorso discriminated to those who pass with credit. The tend- ency of this system will be to elevate the stand- ard of scholarship in girls schools. The first examination is to take place next June. It is estimated that from 12,000 to 15,000 negroes voted in each of the States of Ohio and Pennsylvania at the recent elections. This fact, and the political importance of the ne- gro vote in the South, suggest the necessity of greater efforts for the education of the colored race. The efforts at enlightenment of the freed- men have, so far, amounted to but little. The Freedmens Bureau, out of its thirteen millions of dollars, expended three and a half millions only for educational purposes. The exhausted Southern States could not do much, while North- ern liberality expended about four millions. The total expense, divided among nearly five millions of people, during a period of ten years, shows an annual outlay of less than a dollar for each teach- able youth. Since emancipation the negro child has had less than a tenth of the advantages en- joyed by the New England child. The epidemic among horses, after making fearful ravages in Canada, has visited the Unit- ed States, and threatens serious results. It was reported from Boston, Buffalo, Rochester, and Syracuse early in October, and about the middle of the month had reached New York city. DISASTERS. An accident occurred, October 3, on the East Tennessee, Virginia, and Georgia Railway, in which a train fell through a trestle, killing one man and injuring twenty-seven others, some slightly and others very seriously. The ladies car on an express train on the Paducah and Elizahethtown Railroad jumped the track, Octoher 10, eight miles from Pacudah~ and went down an embankment forty feet, land- ing bottom upward. It contained about twenty persons, nearly all of whom were more or less injured. Two were killed outright. A Pullman train on the Eastern Railroad ran into a freight train October 22. Two passen- gers were killed and twenty injured. OBITUARY. Rev. Peter Cartwright, one of the oldest and most widely known Methodist preachers in America, died September 25 at his home, near Pleasant Plains, Sangamon County, Illinois, aged eighty-seven years. Rev. Francis Vinton, ID.D., a well-known and esteemed clergyman of the Protestant Episcopal Church, died at his residence in Brooklyn Sep- tember 29, aged sixty-three years. Francis Lieber, I.L.D., Professor of Constitu- tional History and Political Science in Colum- bia College Law School, and one of the most dis- tinguished American writers on government and civil law, died of heart-disease at his residence in New York, October 2, aged seventy-two years. Brevet Brigadier- General Hartman Bache, colonel of engineers in the army of the United States; died in Philadelphia October 5, aged sev- enty-five years. The Hon. William H. Seward died at his resi- dence in Auburn, New York, October 10, aged seventy-two years. Mrs. Sarah Payson Willis Parton, hetter known as Fanny Fern, died at her residence in New York, October 10, aged sixty-one years. CENTRAL AMERICA. The submarine cable between Jamaica and Panama is in working order. Governor Gray, of Madras, is to succeed Sir Peter Grant as Governor of Jamaica. In Cuha next year the war taxes on exports are to he doubled, and on imports increased from ten to twenty-five per cent. In Mexico Lerdo. de Tejadas election as Pres- ident is regarded as certain. All the revolution- ary chiefs except Diaz and Guerra have accepted the amnesty offered by the government. EUROPE. The disposition of the leading British states- men is to loyally accept the award of the Geneva Arhitration Tribunal, notwithstanding Chief Jus- tice Cockhurns dissenting argument,which claims that the new rules adopted in the Washington Treaty ought to have been interpreted in a Pick- wickian sense. Robert Lowe, Chancellor of the Exchequer, in a recent speech denounces Cock- burns argument; and Sir John Coleridge, At- torney-General, says of the result of the arbitra- tion that England has got well out of a bad busi- ness. Sir Roundell Palmer, one of the arbitra- tors, succeeds Lord Hatherly as Lord Chancellor. lie is in sympathy with Mr. Gladstone, though EDITORS HISTORICAL RECORD. 153 he was opposed to the disestablishment of the Anglican Church in Ireland, and great expecta- tions are entertained of important law reforms through his promotion to the woolsack. The agitation for the disestablishment of the English Church in England is fairly begun. A conference was held in Birmingham early in Oc- tober, in which Mr. Miall, the great Dissenter, took a prominent part. A fresh incentive is given to the movement by the discontent which prevails in regard to the working of the new Ed- ucation act, which insdparably connects secular with religious instruction. The Scotch Educational Settlement (by the act of August 6, 1872) aims to give every child the rudiments of knowledge, to destroy clerical ascendency in the schools, and to foster institu- tions of secondary education preliminary to uni- versity training. The act ordains absolute com- pulsion, thus differing from the English Settle- ment. The bill of 1861 had struck a blow at clerical ascendency in the schools by the abo- lition of tests for school-masters. The present act goes farther,. and substitutes for the min- isters and heritors, as school directors, boards elected by the rate-payers. But it does not ex- clude religious teaching; and the consequence will be that sectarian considerations will enter into the election of school boards, and the Pres- byterian clergy will have the same influence over popular education in Scotland that the Anglican clergy have in England. The turn of Ireland, and the triumph of the Roman Catholic priests, comes next in order; for one of the most im- portant questions that will come before Parlia- ment next session will be that of Irish educa- tion. The Romanists demand a denominational system, basing this claim on the fact that out of 1,021,700 children on the rolls of the national schools 821,769 are RomanistSO per cent, of the whole number. Chancellor Lowes financial exhibit shows a reduction of 9,000,000 in annual taxes since 1868, and a reduction of the national debt by 15,000,009. The telegraphs have been bought for 8,650,000, and prove a good investment. The number of people in the English ~vork-houses has diminished by 106,000 since 1870, and the London vagrants have been diminished from 1492 in September, 1870, to 495 in September, 1872. Recent advices report bad harvests generally in Great Britain. The grain crops have fallen off both as to quantity and quality. The pota- toes have been affected by disease to the extent of from 30 to 80 per cent. The discontent among the agricultural labor- ers in Enjand has directed to this class a de- gree of attention which it has never before re- ceived. The agricultural laborer earns from twelve to fourteen shillings per week, and, owing to the general advance in the prices of the necessaries of life, he is reduced to pauper- ism. Naturally this subject reawakens the agi- tation of the land question. Lord Napier, in his address before the Social Science Association, in September, stated the question very strongly. Primogeniture, entail, traditional predilections, the exigencies of fashion and recreation, and the accumulation of capital, he said, are working incessantly together to promote the aggregation of land in the hands of a few. It ~vould be hazardous to estimate the number of estates above the dimensions of a garden or a paddock at more than 100,000. The proportion of those ~vho possess to those who possess nothing is probably smaller in some parts of England at this time than ever it was in any settled com- munity, except in some republics of antiquity, where the business of mechanical industry was relegated to slaves. He showed that in this matter England was behind nearly every other civilized country. In France the number of free- holders was nearly as large as that of cultiva- tors. Prussia, since 1811, when the Stein and Hardenburg legislation gave the death-blow to villeinage and feudal tenures in that country, had developed a large class of cultivating free- holders. The imperial edict emancipating 60,000,000 Russian serfs was accompanied by a provision enabling the new-made freemen to ac- quire a direct interest in the soil. Even in India, where for some years he governed an important province, he showed that diffused tenure of the soil, whether individual or common (as in the village communes), told the tale of its beneficent effects in the dignity and self-respectthe man- liness of bearingevinced in the manners of the ryots (peasant cultivators) enjoying its advan- tages. An explosion took place in a coal mine at Morley, in England, October 7, by which forty miners were killed. In 1871 there were 826 fa- tal accidents in British collieriesone miner kill- ed to each 109,246 tons of coal raised. A frightful charge is brought against a woman in England of having poisoned some twenty per- sonsthe children of four families (two of them her own, and two families of step-children be- sides), as well as her mother, two husbands, and another man to whom she was not legally mar- ried (her third husband being alive at the time of her marriage, though without the knowledge of this man, who believed himself her husband), and finally, a lodger in her last house. The Prussian government gave the inhabitants of Alsace-Lorraine the option during a limited period to emigrate or remain, subject to con- scription for military service. By the time the option had expired but a bare remnant of the original population was left. Metz, which before the war had a population of 50,000, retains only 10,000. Germany sees without regret, says the Nortlz-Germea Cezette, with brutal candor, those long trains of exiles who in the last days have turned their backs on the empire and set their faces to~vard France, whither their interests and sympathies lead them. The Old Catholic Congress met at Cologne in September. There were present 423 delegates. - The main discussion centred about two points a reform consisting in the abolition of surplice fees and payment for masses, and the putting away of indulgences, saint worship, etc., and the validity of civil marriage. The breach between the Prussian government and the Roman Catholic Church in Ermeland seems to be complete. The Minister of Public Instruction, Dr. Falk, has intimated to the Bish- op of Ermeland that the state can not pay the salary of a bishop who will not conform to the laws, and as almost all the priests income comes through the bishop, the Roman Catholic Church in the diocese of Ermeland is virtually disestab- lished and disendowed. 154 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The population of Prussia is in the proportion of eleven Protestants to seven Catholics; in Ger- many it is twenty-five to fifteen; and in each case the majority is so large that the greatest caution has to be observed in dealing with the relations of state and church. The great mass of the German population have not benefited, but suffered, by the increase of na- tional wealth accruing from the French indem- nity. Every thing has become dearer since Ger- many crushed her old enemy, and wages have not risen in proportion to the advance of prices. The treasure wrested from France has been spent upon armaments; the people have had none of it, even indirectly by the taking off of taxes. In Berlin such is the rise in rent that thousands of labor- ers are driven from the city, and there is great popular discontent. There have lately been heavy and successful strikes in Belgium. At Autwerp, Brussels, Ghent, and other cities, the journeymen masons, tailors, shipwrights, and others, have been in full revolt, and the masters have in general been forced to agree to their demands. It is reported by the British consul at Antwerp that there are twenty thousand working-mens households in Belgium in the condition of being absolutely un- able to meet their very humble expenses. Ihere are said to be over two hundred thousand work- men in Belgium who earn three francs, or sev- enty-five cents, a daywhich is manifestly thought a good deal. General Hazen, in his recent work, The School and the Army, points out the real causes of the French defeat in 1870. France is now fLIlly awakened to the necessity of reorganizing her army, and of a thorough educational reform. The law for the reorganization of the army passed by the Assembly last session applies the principle of universal military service. In re- gard to education, the majority of the Councils- General have recently pronounced for the appli- cation of the compulsory principle, though they hesitate to support compulsory secular and gra- tuitous education. The greater proportion of works recently pub- lished in France bearing upon national rehabili- tation are of a religious character, directing at- tention to the Roman CatholicChurch as the only hope of the nation. The pilgrimage to Lourdes, to the shrine of Our Lady of Salette, in which thousands upon thousands of devotees participated, is an attempt on the part of the priesthood to revive its ancient power. But it is a desperate expedient, and a revelation of weak- ness. As a political demonstration it is worse than a failure. The French government prohibited any cele- bration of the 22d of Septemberthe anniver- sary of the downfall of the empireeven in pri- vate banquets. But M. Gambetta, prevented from presiding over a banquet at Chamb~ry, fully declared himself at Grenoble. His speech was not a violent one, but, as it advised the people to trust only to true and tried republic- ans, it was offensive to the Assembly, which is predominantly monarchist. While the French have had this year an un- usually abundant harvest, a plentiful vintage has been denied them, owing, first, to the unfavor- able weather that prevailed early last summer, and even lately, in all the more important vine- growing districts; and secondly, to the ever- increasing ravages of the ofdium and the Phyl- loxera vastatrixthe depredations of which lat- ter disease are spreading to such a frightful ex- tent in the south of France that recently M. Dumas, the well-known chemist, announced to the Acadimie des Sciences that in a fe~v years the vineyards of Provence will have ceased to exist if some means are not promptly taken to arrest its progress. He asked that a prize of 20,000 should be offered .by the state to who- soever should discover the means of efficaciously preventing sucha disaster. The French Post-office has under considera- tion the establishment of a general international system of money-orders. Prince Napoleon Bonaparte has been exiled from 11 rance. One of Spains greatest buildings, the Escu- rial, the great monastery built by Philip II., in the form of an upturned gridiron, and dedicated to St. Lawrence, some thirty miles from Madrid, has had even a narrower escape from destruc- tion than had Canterbury Cathedral a few weeks earlier, and appears to have been much more se- riously damaged. It was struck by lightning on October 2, and the flames spread in the direc- tion of the palace, library, and church. Special trains with engines and firemen were sent from Madrid to extinguish the flames, in which they succeeded, after the fire had destroyed two of the towers and some of the roofs. The damage is said to be estimated at some 30,000. The li- brary and other stores of valuable objects were not injured. The damage, though sufficiently great, is small compared with the alarm. Some notion of the size of the Escurial may be gather- ed from the fact that it is said to contain 14,000 doors and 11,000 windows, and the original cost of the building was estimated to be 6,000,000 ducats, or, say, over 1,000,000 sterling. The Spanish Senate, September 26, elected Sefior Figuerola president, by a vote of 58 to 3. Sefior Rivero was chosen president of the Cortes by a vote of 176 to 30. The vice-presidents and secretaries of the last Cortes were re-elected. The Congress, or Lower Chamber, of the Cortes has, by a vote of 161 against 57, re- fused to consider the amendment offered by a republican member to the address to the king asking for the. emancipation of slaves. The resolution providing for the abolition of capital punishment for political offenses has been re- jected by a vote of 99 against 58. About the middle.of October an insurrection broke out among the garrison of the Spanish arsenal at Ferrol, in Corunna, which assumed somewhat formidable dimensions, but was final- ly suppressed by the government forces. Disastrous inundations are reported to have occurred on the banks of the Po. OBITUARY. The Right Hon. Sir James S. Willes, one of the judges of the Court of Common Pleas, in England, committed suicide October 3. The Rev. Jean henri Merle dAubgn6, the eminent historian, died at Geneva October 21, aged eighty years. M. Th~ophile Gautier, the celebrated French poet, novelist, and critic, died in Paris October 24, aged sixty-one years. OUR LONDON SCRAP-BOOTi. INTRODUCTION. this title we propose ~o give a number of pen and pencil sketches illus- trative of London life and character. And in so doing we intend no compe- tition either with those ponderous tomes which learnedly describe the city as it used to be, or those more modest brochures in which its pres- cut architectural beautiet are faithfully portray- cd. In setting out we announce no matured system of investigation, nor have we any such. We solemnly abjure any settled plan. Led by fancy or by accident, we shall wander into all sorts of localities at all sorts of times. To- night we may be in a thieves kitchen, and to-morrow at an aristocratic wedding in Han- over Square; now we will be in the stalls of the Opera-house, and anon struggling up the rickety stairs of an East End theatre. Birdcage Walk may possibly have as many points of interest as Rotten Row. Kensington Gardens shall not be shunned by us because of their virtue, nor the Ilaymarket because of its vice. The former pre- sent many a subject both for author and for art- ist; and the latterwell, as Kossetti sings, Every night, be it dry or wet, Is market-night in the Ha arket. St. Jamess shall not repel us by its glitter, nor St. Giless by its squalor. We will visit no place that is not interesting per Se. Memories are very delightful things. But the fact that Byron lived in Hollis Street is insufficient to give a present charm to that quiet little way. Nor does the fact that lien- ry liallam residccl in Wimpole Street, and that Tennyson has im- mortalized the fact in the In Memoriam, prove sufficiently ab- sorbing to demand a description of the chill and dismal respectabili- ty of that most dec- orous of thoroughfares. Not even poor Albert Smiths joke concern- ittg it can kindle a epark of interest: All things earthly have an end except Upper Wimpole Street. At the same time, we have no intention of silen- cing memories when, in spite of us, they occur. Standing above the dome of St. Pauls, we me sure to cll to mind old Deckers advice to the gullas he calls himot Queen Elizabeths time: Take heede how you looke downe into the yarde, for the rails are as rotten as your great-grandfather. Walking in Fleet Street it will be impossible to remain oblivious of the memory of Dr. Johnson; and every flag-stone it Brick Court will remind us of Oliver Goldsmith. Newgate and the Old Bailey suggest Captain Maciteath, Polly Peach- um, and the other entertaining characters in the Beggars Opera, and we find ourselves uncon- sciously humming, ~vith the unconscionable cap- tain, How happy could I be with either, Were tother dear charmer away I As we pass the site of Wills Coffee-house we imagine ourselves surrounded by ghosts dressed in bag-wi~s and knee-breeches, and displaying swords and snuff-boxesand then echoes of the old-world oaths, slife, sdeath, gadsbud, float about our ears. Ibe spot where Tom Kings Coffee-house once stood may possibly present Hogarths cartoon to the minds eye. And Drury Lane will waken a thousand theatrical reminis- cences. But it is not with ghosts that we have to do most of all, nor are ~ve over-anxious to illtistrate the mysterious law of association of ideas.

Editor's Drawer Editor's Drawer 155-160

OUR LONDON SCRAP-BOOTi. INTRODUCTION. this title we propose ~o give a number of pen and pencil sketches illus- trative of London life and character. And in so doing we intend no compe- tition either with those ponderous tomes which learnedly describe the city as it used to be, or those more modest brochures in which its pres- cut architectural beautiet are faithfully portray- cd. In setting out we announce no matured system of investigation, nor have we any such. We solemnly abjure any settled plan. Led by fancy or by accident, we shall wander into all sorts of localities at all sorts of times. To- night we may be in a thieves kitchen, and to-morrow at an aristocratic wedding in Han- over Square; now we will be in the stalls of the Opera-house, and anon struggling up the rickety stairs of an East End theatre. Birdcage Walk may possibly have as many points of interest as Rotten Row. Kensington Gardens shall not be shunned by us because of their virtue, nor the Ilaymarket because of its vice. The former pre- sent many a subject both for author and for art- ist; and the latterwell, as Kossetti sings, Every night, be it dry or wet, Is market-night in the Ha arket. St. Jamess shall not repel us by its glitter, nor St. Giless by its squalor. We will visit no place that is not interesting per Se. Memories are very delightful things. But the fact that Byron lived in Hollis Street is insufficient to give a present charm to that quiet little way. Nor does the fact that lien- ry liallam residccl in Wimpole Street, and that Tennyson has im- mortalized the fact in the In Memoriam, prove sufficiently ab- sorbing to demand a description of the chill and dismal respectabili- ty of that most dec- orous of thoroughfares. Not even poor Albert Smiths joke concern- ittg it can kindle a epark of interest: All things earthly have an end except Upper Wimpole Street. At the same time, we have no intention of silen- cing memories when, in spite of us, they occur. Standing above the dome of St. Pauls, we me sure to cll to mind old Deckers advice to the gullas he calls himot Queen Elizabeths time: Take heede how you looke downe into the yarde, for the rails are as rotten as your great-grandfather. Walking in Fleet Street it will be impossible to remain oblivious of the memory of Dr. Johnson; and every flag-stone it Brick Court will remind us of Oliver Goldsmith. Newgate and the Old Bailey suggest Captain Maciteath, Polly Peach- um, and the other entertaining characters in the Beggars Opera, and we find ourselves uncon- sciously humming, ~vith the unconscionable cap- tain, How happy could I be with either, Were tother dear charmer away I As we pass the site of Wills Coffee-house we imagine ourselves surrounded by ghosts dressed in bag-wi~s and knee-breeches, and displaying swords and snuff-boxesand then echoes of the old-world oaths, slife, sdeath, gadsbud, float about our ears. Ibe spot where Tom Kings Coffee-house once stood may possibly present Hogarths cartoon to the minds eye. And Drury Lane will waken a thousand theatrical reminis- cences. But it is not with ghosts that we have to do most of all, nor are ~ve over-anxious to illtistrate the mysterious law of association of ideas. 156 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. We want to present, if possible, the people of the London of to- day. In each locality we wish to describe the most characteristic denizensthe individ- nals who partake most largely of tbe genins of tbe place. Ben Jonson was wont to describe the dramatis persoaca of his comedies by a splendid word. He called them humors. Shadwell afterward used the term as de- scribing the characters in his plays. It has since fallen into disuse. Now we would fain de- scrihe a few of the hu mors of the British metropolis. We make no pretense to deep psychological skill. If by means of pen and pencil we succeed in presenting some London scenes as they appeared to our own eyesif we can present THE COCKNEY of to-day with some- thing like fidelitywe shall have accomplished, however unskillfully, the undertaken task. APROPOs of the season, thus writeth an old poet: Winter! I love thee, for thou comst to me Laden with joys congenial to my mind, Books that with bards and solitude agree, And all those virtues which adorn mankind. What though the meadows, and the nei~hhoriug hills, That rear their cloudy summits in the skies What though the woodland brooks and lowland rills, That charmed our ears and gratified our eyes, In thy forlorn habhiments appear? What though the zephyrs of the summer-tide, And all the softer beauties of the year, Are fled and gone, kind Heaven has not denied Our books and studies, music, conversation, And evening parties for our recreation. IT would be difficult to present a finer speci- men of the humor and coolness of the Nevada man than in the following pleasing incident, re- lated to the Drawer hy on% of the most hrilliant of the younger poets and writers of the day: Mr. Nordquist, entertaining certain opinions on a particular subject that were different from tbose entertained by his neighbor Colonel Wag- ner, conceived it to he his duty to maintain them in the free hut somewhat abrupt manner tbat ob- tains in tbat region. The result of this variance is thus described by Mr. Nordquist in a letter to bis friend Captain A, at Nevada City: Mv DEAR CAPTAIN,I have just had a slight misun- derstandin,, with Colonel Wagner, which resulted in my shooting him. Afterward, in a mement ef excite- at, I seelped him. Will you do me the favor to see that no exagger ted account ef the affair gets into the newspapers? Truly yours, H. Noan~uesr. JUDGE NOAH DAVIS, at present United States District Attorney for the Southern District of New York, adds to fine legal acumen the rare social qualification of being a capilal s-econtenr. The Drawer happened to he seated opposite to him at a modest dinner not long since, when he related an incident of his professional experience that occurred a few years ago at Canandaigna. Patrick M Gooren had been arraigned before the Oyer and Terminer on an indictment for grand larceny. By direction of his counsel he pleaded Not guilty. The first witness called by the District Attorney to prove the charge was Tim- othy OSullivan. No sooner did MGooren hear the sound of that name, and a moment after- ward see the form of Tim going to the witness- stand, than he arose and said, May it plaza the Coort, I want to withdraw that play of Not guilty. For what purpose ? inquired the judge. I want to plade Guilty. Why do you wish to do that ? Whoiq? Be/case I want to save Tim OSul- livens sowi .~ THERE is a certain style of legal gentleman well known to the profession and to business men as the collecting lawyervery respect- able, very industrious, and often quite success- ful. One of our leading wholesale houses hav- ing an unsettled claim against a Western cus- tomer (one of the tardy kind), sent it down to the office of the collecting person with instruc- tions to have it put through with ~ll the celerity consistent with legal purity. The lawyer for- warded it to an attorney who had been recom- mended to him in the town where the dilatory tradesman resided, and in due time received the following reply, which, though sufficiently con- cise, was not regarded as encouraging: D A Snc,You will never get any spondulick from Ehenezer Weatherby. The undersigned celled upon him yesterday, and found him with nary tile, his feet upon the naked- earth, and not clothes enough upon him to wad a gun. lie was whistling, and so may you. Affectionately yours, AResTenEs Case. SOME very amusing things (writes a corre- spondent at Stockton, California) happened dur- ing the session of the Idaho Legislature held in C, EDITORS DRAWER. 157 the winter of 187071. Among them this is worthy of preservation: A certain lady having become weary of the companionship of a drunken husband, thought she might obtain a divorce in a shorter and cheaper way than hy applying to the courts. Some friends of hers, members of the Legisla- ture, accordingly drafted a hill, and presented it to the consideration of the house. It met with a favorable reception, and was put upon its first, second, and third readings, and passed without even the formality of sending it to a committee. One of the members, who was a little disgusted with this summary way of usurp- ing the proper duty of a court, and who had voted against the bill, arose and said, Mr. Speaker, I rise to a point of order. I am summoned to attend a meeting of one of the committees of this honorable body, of which I am chairman. I have a wife at home, of whom I am very fond. I beg the House not to divorce me from her during my cbseace. Tine recent death of that pioneer of Method- ism in the West, the Rev. Peter Cartwright, brings to the surface many characteristic anec- dotes of that remarkable man. Here are a few which will be new to most of our readers: Cartwright used to relate the following anec- dote of a Dutchmans cross: The Rev. Mr. Lee ~vas preaching from the text, Except a man deny himself, and take up the cross, he can not be my disciple. In the congregation were a Dutchman and his Frau, the latter of whom was a notorious scold. They were deeply touched by Mr. Lees preaching. After service Mr. Lee mounted his horse and started for his evening appointment. After riding some distance he saw a little ahead of him a man trudging along carrying a woman on his back. The traveler was a small man, the woman large and heavy. Mr. Lee rode up and found that it was the Dutch- man, carrying his scolding wife. You did tell us, said the Dutchman, dat we must take up de cross, or we could not be saved, and dish woman is de greatest cross I have. WHILE on the Hochbocking circuit Cart- wright was disturbed one Sunday morning at camp-meeting by the advent of a gang of roughs. When he was about half through his discourse two young men entered, finely dressed, with loaded whips, and began to laugh and talk to the women. Cartwright ordered them to desist, and called for a magistrate. The officers of the law were afraid to interfere, and Cartwright ad- vanced on the ruffians. What followed is re- lated in his own words: One of them made a pass at my head with his whip, but I closed in with him, and jerked him off the seat. I threw him down, and held him fast. He tried his best to get loose. I told him to be quiet, or I would pound his chest well. I? he mob rushed to the rescue of the prisoner, and a drunken magistrate ordered me to release him. I refused, and he swore he would knock me down. I told him to knock away. A friend, at my request, relieved me of my prisoner. The drunken justice made a pass at me. I parried the stroke, seized him by the collar, brought him to the ground, and jumped on him. I told him to be quiet or I would pound him well. The mob rushed up and knocked down several preachers. I gave my prisoner to another, and the ring- leader and I met. He made three passes at me, and I gave him a blow in the ear, and dropped him to the earth. The struggle resulted in a victory for the Meth- odist, and the fines and costs collected from the captured rowdies amounted to nearly $300. PETER CARTWIIIGIIT had a horror of whisky, and of whisky-drinking preachers. He says: While settled in Christian County a person calling himself a Baptist preacher called to stay all night with me. He was accompanied by his son. I disposed of their horses as best I could, and they partook of our fare. After supper they both stepped into another room, and when they returned I smelled whisky very strongly. Al- though those were not days of general temper- ance, I thought it a bad sign, but said nothing. He declined to join in evening prayer. In the morning, as soon as morning prayer was over, he again took out his bottle, and asked me to take a dram. I declined. On leaving, he said, Perhaps, brother, you charge? Yes, said I, all whisky-loving preachers who will not pray with me, I charge. CARTWItIGHT, though not a radical Abolition- ist, ~had very swelling views of the equality of mankind. One day when he was preaching in Nashville General Jackson entered the church. Another preacher whispered, a little loud, Gen- eral Jackson has come inGeneral Jackson has come in. Cartwright said, audibly, Who is General Jackson? If he dont get his soul converted, God will damn him as quick as he would a Guinea negro. The congregation, General Jackson and all, smiled and laughed outright. The resident preacher told Cartwright that General Jackson would chastise him. The general, on the con- trary, expressed himself highly pleased with his independence. A minster of Jesus Christ, said Jackson, ought to love every body, and fear no mortal man. Tine Silver Wedding of the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher and Plymouth Church was celebrated with great rejoicings during the early part of October last. In one of the sketches of the early career of Mr. Beecher we find this anecdote: When first sent a~vay to school he was found to be an inveterate joker (and he has never got over that), and not much given to study. One day his teacher, in trying to snake clear to him the difference between the definite and indefinite article, gave as an illustration this, You can say a man, but you cant say a men. Oh yes, I can, was Henrys prompt re- sponse. I say amen often, and my father says it at the end of all his prayers. On another occasion, when asked what made the neap tides, he replied, philosophically, that he supposed they occurred when the sun stopped to spit on his hands. By dint of considerable rushing, however, Henry was got ready, and did enter Amherst College at the age of fifteen. Upon this event his venerable father observed, in confidence, I will have that boy in the mm- istry yet. In college Mr. Beecher entirely laid 158 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. n~ide his indifferent habits, became a good clas- sical schok r, got well up in philosophy and metaphysics, and although the English theolog- ical ~vriters were his most frequent companions, the old humorists did not escape him. THEY have a novel and truly orthodox way of putting through a transgressing rough. at a Western camp-meeting. Recently at one of these meetings, berd near Chicago, a gang of rowdies were present, bent on mischief. They agreed that at the next call for mourners about twenty of them should go and bow at the altar. At the, appointed word their leader, well charged with Bourbon, started. As be knelt at the rail- ing be looked round, and saw that not one of his men had followed him. The keen eye of the presiding elder had been watching the movement, and be was prepared for the emergency. Hastening to the man, be bent over him, and in a firm, low tone said, You rascal! I know what you came here for. Ive been watching you for half an hour past. Now if von arise from your knees before I tell you, the sheriff is standing just behind you, and has orders to arrest von. That good presiding elder kept that unrepentant vagabond kneeling just two hours, and then permitted him to arise and depart in peace. FATHER B , the Catholic priest of Con- cord, New I-Iampshire, whose large, round, clean- shaved, pleasant face is always welcomed by Catholic and Protestant, on his return from Sar- atoga last season arrived in Boston with a beard of two days growth, giving his face the appear- ance of a half-round card-stripper. Stepping into a barbers shop as the barber and his assht- ant were about closing for dinner, he took posses- sion of the chair and called for a shave. John, said the barber, you must stay and shave this man. John, with an ill-natured frown he did not care to conceal, threw aside his coat, snatch- ed up a towel, and coming the front face to the reverend gentleman, took a long look at the broad, upturned face before him, and idurted out, How is this thia~ to be done? By the day, or by the job? THAT muscular Christianity or Christian muscularityis a qualification very desirable to a frontier missionary is well illustrated in one of the foregoing anecdotes of the late venerable Peter Cartwrigbt, as also in the experience and history of other preachers. Those widely known missionaries of the American Sunday- school Union, Stephen Paxson and his son Will- iam, are men of stature, largely endowed with brawn. The latter in a recent tour found lodg- ing, after the manner of Missouri hospitality, with a whisky-drinking, tobacco-spitting, surly specimen of humanity, who, after ~ome peculiar preliminaries, inquired, Beg pardon, stranger, but who are you ? A Sunday-school missionary, Sir. Well, now you hece got me: please illus- trate. The missionary explained. Oh, I reckon youre the chap that started that kind of school over to Joness neighborhood, and they set a heap by it. Some fellers went there to break up the meetin, but they got afeard when they saw the feller that started it. They said he was big as a horse, and couldwbip his weight ii now is Tuis THING TO BE DONE? BY THE DAY, OB BY THE JOB ? 1,-n EDITORS DRAWER. in wild-cats. Well, they say them fellers now is just like lambs, sittin in a class and readin the Bible every Sunday. The missionary talked religion and prayed with the family, and arranged to start a Sunday- school as good as the one over to Joness. EVERY city (writes a Richmond, Virginia, correspondent) has its own share of eccentric characters. Of this class was a most respectable artisan of my native place, whose manner of ex- p~ssing himself was at times so remarkable that his sayings were repeated from mouth to mouth until they became almost household words. He was deeply interested in the politics of the day, and contrived to he present at all public meet- ings. At one time a certain party desired to elect a new superintendent of the water-works. The then incumbent resided a little way in the country. At a meeting where the question was discussed our friend made a speech in favor of the ne~v candidate, f~om which I subjoin an ex- tract: Fellow-citizens, snppose all at ence, simul- taneously, at the same time, a great big fire was to break out in them redundant tenements in Brick Row, ivhar is G H? Out at his rural retreat in the country, concocted up by the side of his liberal wife and contumacious daugh- ters before a bistuminous coal fire, reading the literary periodnums of the day, with the keys of the reservoir inhis breeches pocket! Thar isG U I NOT bad this, from the London Figaro: A COCKNEY WAIL The great Pacific journey I have done; In many a town and tent Ive found a lodgment. I think Ive traveled to the setting sun, And very nearly reached the day of judgment! Like Launcelot, in the quest of Holy Grail, From Western Beersheba to Yankee Dan Ive been a seeker, yet I sadly fail To find the genuine type American. Where is this object of my youthful wonder, Who met me in the pages of Sam Slick? Who opened every sentence with By thunder! And whittled always on a bit of stick? The more the crowd of friends around me thickens, The less my chance to meet him seems to be. Why did he freely show himself to Dickens, To Dixon, Sala, Trollope, not to me? No one accosts me with the words, Waal, stranger! Greets me as Festive cuss, or shouts Old boss! No grim six-shooter threatens me with danger If I dont quickly pass the butter, boss. Round friendly boards no cock-tail ever passes, No brandy-smash my morning hour besets; And petticoats are worn by all the lasses, And the pianos dont wear pantalettes! The ladies, when you offer chicken-salad, Dont say, Im pretty crowded now, I guess They dont sing Mrs. Barney Williams ballad Of Bobbing Round, nor add Sir-ree to Yes. I, too, have sat like every other fellow, In many a railway, omnibus, street car; No girl has spiked me with a fierce umbrella, And said, You gitI mean to sit right thar Gone are the Yankees of my early reading! Faded the Yankee-land of eager quest! I meet with culture, courtesy, good-breeding, Art, letters, men, and women of the best. Oh! fellow-Britons, all my hopes are undone; Take counsel of a disappointed man! Dont come out here, but stay at home in London, And seek in books the true American! A CITY correspondent writes: Some three or four years ago, when I was one morning riding down town in the cars, Judge Edmonds was a passenger sitting on the seat op- posite to tue. A gentleman got in and sat down by his side, and I could easily overhear the con- versation between them. The new passenger was evidently a spiritualist, for he inquired of the judge about the progress of the cause, etc. In the course of the conver- sation I heard the judge inquire, Did you know that Horace Greeley was a spiritualist ? The gentleman answered, No! is he, in- deed ? The judge answered, lie must be one, and of the best kinda practical one. How so ? was the response. Why, said the judge, you know that our doctrine is that every man makes his own heaven and his own hell ? Yes, said the gentleman. Well, answered the judge, there sits Mr. Greeley reading the Tri& uue. THE following will compare well with those gems of infantile observation which have so oft- en delighted the readers of the Drawer: An incipient citizen of North Bridgeton, Maine, just having put off the toga jeveuilis and having assumed the vestis virilis in the form and fashion of jacket and trowsers, surveying himself downward, remarked, Now I have t legs, just like Sam. ANOTHER from the infant class. Some children at the dinner-table were dis- cussing that which has often troubled the heads of older and wiser persons. Wasnt Adam a good man before he got a wife ? Of course he was, answered a little girl. How long was he a good man after he got a wife? A very short time. What made him a bad man after he got a wife ? At this juncture a little fellow spoke up, Miss Ann, I can answer that question. Eve made him eat the wrong apple. Da. hAMMOND, in his interesting and philo- sophical work on Sleep and its Derangements, has failed to point out the practical way of woo- ing tired natures sweet restorer, especially to the man who will dabble in stocks, and who finds himself at times carrying such large amounts of C. C. and I. C., or hannibal and St. Jo., or W. U. T. as to prevent his necessary and much-desiderated repose. But Mr. Cutting, who formerly filled the honorable position of president of the Stock Exchange, has in one terse little sentence gone to the root of the matter, and given the exact prescription. A gentleman who was holding a large amount of a certain stock said to Mr. Cutting: I have so much invested in this thing that it begins to trouble me. Indeed, it affects my sleep, and sometimes keeps me awake all night. What shall I do? I ~vill tell you, quietly replied Mr. Cutting. Sell down; sell down; sell down until you can sleep. Doctor Cutting had made the correct diagno 160 1-JARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. sis. The patient acted upon the advice, and sold do~vn to that point where he was enabled to go to bed and sleep like a gentleman. Dr. Hammond never suggested any thing more effi- cacious. WHILE General Shermans command was wait- ing on Black River for the fall of Vicksburg, in order to move on Jackson and drive Joe John- ston out, a scouting party one day hrought in a few prisoners, among whom was a young lieu- tenant, an exquisite with long hair and an elaho- rate lisp. He was taken to the generals quarters and given a seat in front of the tent within which General Sherman sat writing. It was a hot sum- mer day. Near the tent was a grove of magnolia- trees, which soon absorhed the attention of the captive. How heautifully those leaves wave! be-utifulbeautiful ! exclaimed he. Sherman gave a hitch on his stool and snorted. Soon came a repetition of the exclamation. Sherman grew more impatient. But whea the third ex- clamation came he could hold in no longer, hut hurst out Well, it, cant you let them wave The exquisite did. A CORRESPONDENT near Topeka, Kansas, sends the following: One of our new-comers having just established himself in the dry-goods trade, put his advertise- ment in the paper thus: A good stock of dry- goods just received hy John Smith, who wishes to get married. There was a rush of dimity. LADY Davis, in her hook, from which we have already quoted, gives us the following slightly tough story of the gymnastic pastimes of a former Marquis of Clanricarde, who in many of his feats outdid the hest seen in the circus: When we had sat down to the luncheon pre- pared for ns Lord Clanricarde, wanting to change his place from one side of the large luncheon- tahle to the other, took a flying leap across it, and landed on the other side, without the least injury to the bottles or glasses or dishes which were standing at the moment on it. Imagine that playful little manmuvre being performed over the table at a swell dinner- party in some Fifth Avenue mansion! AMONG the gentlemen who figured in the re- cent convention of Straight-Outs at Louis- ville, Kentucky, was Mr. Van who years ago was a student in the law-office of old Judge Hathaway, at Elmira. One day a resident called on the judge to request him to intercede with a justice of the peace in behalf of his son, a mere boy, who had been arrested for some trivial offense. The judge, being busy, told Van to go over and see if he could not pre- vent the boy from being sent to jail. On ap pearing Van announced some principles of la~v that were entirely original with him, but which the justice ruled as inadmissible, upon which Van became irate, and called that functionary a fool and an old humbug. The judge heing a stickler for his dignity, forthwith committed Van to jail. A fellow-student apprised Judge Hathaway of the fact, and the old gentleman reached the jail just as the con- stable ~vas ahout to fulfill his duty. Van , mortified at his position, was asked by the judge what had happened, and in reply sobbed out, Judge, you sent me over to keep that boy from being sent to jail. and Ill be dashed if I havent got there myself! A PLAYFUL MAEuIJvaE.

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Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 46, Issue 272 International monthly magazine Harper's monthly magazine Harper & Bros. New York January, 1873 0046 272
S. S. Conant Conant, S. S. Locomotion - Past and Present 161-173

IIARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. CCIXXIJ.JANUAI{Y, iS 73.VOL. XLVI. LOCOMOTIONPAST AND PRESENT. IT is one of Ruskias whimsical notions that modern modes of travel and con- veyance by sea and land are the invention of the arch enemy of mankind. To the same malignant source he attributes also every sort of steam-driven machinery. Like I our own erratic Thoreau he disbelieves in modern civilization, and especially in every thing which the world calls progress. or railway where a horse can carry him, nor With a sincerity unusual in extremists of by steamboat when he can go by sailing this order, he tries to carry his theory into vessel. From the little Utopia which he practice. He will never journey by coach hopes to build up in England, to be a pat- Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 18Z2, by Harper and Brothers, in the Office of the Libra- rian of Congress, at Washington. VOL. XLvLNo. 2T2.1 I I 1~ ENGlISH STAOE-OOACLI, FORTY YEARS AOO. 162 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tamed by Mr. Ruskin, the world is not likely to surrender the convenience of modern trav- el for the clumsy contrivances which stood our ancestors in stead some hundreds of years ago. Besides, if we once began this business, where should we stop 0? How far back should we go in discarding modern in- ventions 0? Mr. Ruskin appears to set the limit at the period just before the applica- tion of steam as a motive power; but how can we tell what reformer might arise who would demand still further retrogression tern to the age, and the beginning of a new and so on until we should come, on our era, all the abominations of modern inven- backward pilgrimage, to the first rude at- tion are to be banished. Steam-engines will tempts at wheel-carriages which we find give place to the motive powers ordained by pictured on Assyrian and Egyptian walls? Heaven from the foundation of the world Fancy riding through Central Park, or jolt- wind and water and the muscular force of ing over the pavement of Fifth Avenue, in a man and beast. Hand-work shall there re- chariot like this, which several thousands of sume its old supremacy, and labor-saving years ago was esteemed a model of elegance machines shall be unknown. Mills driven and luxury! A modern ox-cart, with its high by wind or water shall grind the grain, the wheels, would afford a far more comfortable scythe and sickle, the horse or ox drawn mode of travel. Even the later Greek and plow, and the old-fashioned flail shall banish Roman wheeled vehicles, with their spring- all those inventions which have raised agri- less axles, must have been very uncomforta- culture from a drudgery to a science. If ble on rough roads, as every one can realize the Utopians have any thing to sell, they who has ever ridden in an old-fashioned will take it to market in horse-carts or boats, country lumber wagon. These vehicles were In short, Mr. Ruskin, who has had the mis- chiefly used in war, to grace triumphal pro- fortune to be born some hundreds of years cessions, and in public games. The war too late, would turn the world backward and chariots used by ancient nations were built upside down, undo centuries of civilization on the pattern shown in our illustration and progress, and re-establish an order of open above and behind, closed in front, and things from which humanity has been sting- furnished with two wheels upon an axle of gling away through generations of thought, oak, ash, or elm. The wheels were generally invention, and discovery, about four feet in diameter, and each con- But Ruskin displays the most earnestness sisted of a hub bound with iron, from six to in his dislike of modern modes of travel and ten spokes, a felly of elastic wood, and an communication. Railways and steamboats iron tire. They were fastened to the axle are the especial objects of his fierce denun- by means of iron linchpins. The Lydians ciation. He thinks the British Parliament and ~Romans sometimes attached several should have prohibited the construction of a spans of horses to their chariots, but the railway through a beautiful valley in Wales, Greeks were generally content with one. because Wordsworth wrote a fine sonnet The use of these vehicles in war dates from against the desecration of his accustomed the very earliest historic periods. The an- haunts; and he declaims with great zeal cient Persians, Britons, and Gauls rendered against the railway which connects Venice with the main-land, because it interferes with the beauty and ro- mance of the approach to the City of the Sea. Railways and the telegraph, he declares, serve only to make the world smaller, and to destroy all that is distinctive in national character. It can not, be denied that, from the poetic and imaginative point of view, there is a great deal of truth in Rus- kins ideas. Steam has unquestiona- bly divested travel of much of its old romance; and to a person of romantic temperament the rapidity and con- venience which now attend a journey to almost every part of the world are dearly purchased at such a sacrifice. But, in spite of all that maybe said in favor of such views as those enter- ANCI 1ST STATE cHARIOT. LOCOMOTIONPAST AND PRESENT. 163 them doubly destructive and formidable by attach- ing long hooks or scythes to the hubs. In battle the warriors of the high- est rank fought with bow and arrow or javelin from their chariots, sometimes descending, in close com- bat, to engage in hand-to- hand fight with swords. Owing to the absence of roads, as wellas convenient means of carriage, there was no general spirit of travel in ancient times. Now and then some adven- turer, athirst for knowl- edge, made his way into far countries, journeying on foot, or horseback, or by sea, and taking years for an expedition which can now be made with comfort and safety in a few weeks. There was less travel in Europe than in the East, where the camel furnished a convenient means of transportation, and where the great treeless wastes of country offered fewer obstacles than the forest-grown regions of the West. But all over the earth soldiers and mer- chants were the only classes of men who saw much of the world beyfnd their native vil- lages and cities. The great mass of people lived and died in the place where they were born. Beyond their native precincts the world was an unknown region, whence now and then an adventurous man returned with marvelous stories of the wonders he had seen and heard. People staid at home because the means of travel were confined to the very wealthy, outside of the two class- es just mentioned. For many centuries there was very little improvement in modes of con- veyance. Even the luxurious and self-in- dulgent Rois Fain6ants, or Lazy Kings, of France, who flourished in the seventh cen- tnry of our erathose mere phantoms of roy- alty, who passed their lives in sensual pleas- ures while the affairs of state were adminis- tered by otherswere accustomed to make ~44 their journeys from place to place in ox- carts of the rudest description, resembling a common conntry hay wagon of onr time. The place of springs was supplied by a lib- eral provision of cushions, which saved the royal good-for-nothings sides from bumps and bruises as the huge wagon thumped and jolted over stones, stumps, and mud- holes. Under any circumstances it ~iust have been a very uncomfortable method of traveling. Up to the middle of the sixteenth century the most common mode of traveling was on horseback, with carriers, and heavy goods were conveyed by means of pack-horses. In Shakspeares Henry IV., Act II., Scene I., two carriers appear in the inn yard at Rochester. One has a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing Cross; the turkeys in the pannier of the oth- er are quite starved. We see that people traveled in companies, from one of the car- riers saying: Come, neighbor Mugs, well, call up the gentlemen; they will along with company, for they have great charge ; and that they were on horseback is shown by Gadshill bidding the hostler bring his geld- ing out of the stable, and one of the travelers saying, The boy shall lead our horses down (4(4 CHARIOT OF THE ROIS FAINEARTS. ROMAN WAU cHAIuOT. 164 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the hill: well walk afoot a while, and ease horseback, and even in old age and sickness our legs. Journeys on foot were rare, even took reluctantly to her coach. In Sir Phil- at that time, owing to the insecurity of the ip Sidneys time, says Aubrey, so famous roads, although in the Middle Ages pedes- for men at armes, it was then held to be as trians on religious pilgrimages were pro- great a disgrace for a young gentleman to tected by the sacredness of their purpose. be seen riding in the street in a coach as it It is not positively known when coaches would now for such a one to be seen in the were first brought into use, nor what coun- street in a petticoat and waistcoat; so much try can justly claim the honor of their in- is the fashion of the times altered. Like vention. Carriages resembling the old En- most other improvements, coaches were ye- gush post-chaise, drawn by two horses, upon hemently attacked, on the ground that they one of which the driver sits, are represented promoted effeminate luxury. Taylor, the in ancient paintings at Herculaneum; but water-poet, declares that housekeeping the origin of the coach is sometimes attrib- never decayed till coaches came into En- uted to an inventor of the town of Kotzi, gland ; and much later, in 1672, a Mr. John near Presburg, in Hungary, whence also its Cresset wrote a pamphlet urging the aboli- name is sometimes derived. But carriages tion of the stage-coaches between London of several kinds, as we have already seen, and the interior. Among other grave rca- were in use in very early ages. Covered sons for their suppression, he urged that carts, and hammocks hung between four such stage-coaches make gentlemen come wheels, and horse-litters were the most an- to London on every small occasion, which cient mode of conveyance. The Anglo-Sax- otherwise they would not do but upon ur- ons made use of a hammock carriage for gent necessity; nay, the convenience of the great personages, which must have been far passage makes their wives often come up, superior in point of comfort to the boxes on who, rather than come such long journeys wheels mentioned in the earlier part of this upon horseback, would stay at home. Then, article. We learn from a work on Domes- when they come to town, they must pres- tic Life in England that as early as the ently be in the mode, get fine clothes, go to reign of Henry III. coaches were used in plays and treats, and by these means get thal~ country. In 1253 William, third Earl such a habit of idleness and love of pleasure of Derby, died of a bruise taken with a as make them uneasy ever after fall out of his coach. During Wat Tylers We are told also that the shop-keepers insurrection, in 1380, Richard II., being complained bitterly that they were ruined threatened by the rebels of Kent, rode from by the coaches. Formerly, they said, the Tower of London to the Miles End, and when ladies and gentlemen walked in the with him his moiher, because she was sick streets, there was a chance of obtaining cus- and weak, in a whirlecote-which is sup- tomers to inspect aiid purchase our commod- posed to have been a sort of covered car- ities; but now they whisk past in the coach- riage. Chariots covered, with ladies there- es before our apprentices have time to cry in, followed the litter in which Queen out, What dye lack l Another complaint Catherine was borne to her coronation with was, that in former times the tradesmen in Henry VIII. the principal streets earned as much as their Coaches came into general use in England rents by letting out their upper apartments earlier than on the continent of Europe. to members of Parliament and country gen- Queen Elizabeths state carriage was the tlemen visiting London on pleasure or busi- first vehicle which was designated by that ness, until the noise made by the coaches name in the island. In 1588 the queen rode drove the profitable lodgers to less frequent- from Somerset House to Pauls Cross, to re- ed streets. Another class of men was scarce- turn thanks after the destruction of the ly less bitter against the new mode of loco- Spanish Armada, in a coach presented to motionthe boatmen on the Thames, whose her by Henry, Earl of Arundel. It is de- business was sadly interfered with by the scribed as a chariot throne, drawn by two introduction of the more convenient ye- white horses. The royal fashion found hides; and one of their number, who is many imitators; and although the coaches known in English literature as Taylor, the of that period must have been clumsy and water-poet, wrote an invective against the uncomfortable, they multiplied so rapidly new system, entitled The World runs upon that Dekker, satirizing the follies of his day, Wheels. In this composition he vigorous complains that the wife of every citizen ly attacks coaches, and enumerates, in his must be jolted nowa very expressive peculiar style, all the disadvantages caused phrase, since the coaches were made with- by their general introduction. In another out springs, and the roads were of the most publication, called The Thiet?, he thus in- primitive kind. veighs against them: But long after the introduction of coaches it was considered effeminate and disgraceful Carroches, coaches, jades, and Flanders mares Do rob us of our shares, our wares, our fares: for men to use them. Queen Elizabeth al- Against the ground we stand and knock our heels, ways preferred to make her journeys on While all our profit runs away on wheels. 9 LOCOMOTIONPAST AND PRESENT. 165 But public convenience triumphed over pri- vate interests, and in spite of shop-keep- ers and watermen coaches multiplied yearly in the streets of London and other English cities, and the senseless opposition died out. The early coaches were models of clumsi- ness, and even so late as the reign of Charles II. the improvements consisted mainly in the elegance of the trappings, the structure of the coach being still rude and cumbersome. The grotesque appearance of a state coach of this period is admirably hit off by Scott in Old Mortality. The lord-lieutenant of the county, a personage of ducal rank, alone pretended to the magnificence of a wheel-carriage, a thing co~+ered with tar- nished gilding and sculpture, in shape like the vulgar pictures of Noahs ark, dragged by eight long-tailed Flanders mares, carry- ing eight insides and six ontsides. The in- sides were their Graces in person; two maids of honor; two children; a chaplain stuffed into a sort of lateral recess formed by a pro- jection at the door of the vehicle, and called, from its appearance, the boot; and an equer- ry to his Grace ensconced in a corresponding contrivance on the opposite side. A coach- man and three postilions, who wore short swords and tie-wigs with three tails, had blunderbusses slung behind them, and pistols at their saddle-bow, conducted the equipage; and on the foot-board, behind this moving mansion - house, stood, or rather hung, in triple pile, six lackeys in rich liveries armed up to the teeth. At the time of which Sir Walter was writing wealthy noblemen traveled in great state, with a long retinue of servants and trumpeters in advance t~ announce their ap- proach. On state occasions javelin men were employed, in addition to the servants and trumpeters, for greater dignity as well as security. Thus we read that John Evelyn, when sheriff of Surrey and Sussex, attended the judges with one hundred and sixteen servants in green satin doublets and cloth cloaks, trimmed with silver gailoon, as were the brims of their hats, which were also adorned with long white plumes. These men carried javelins; and the procession was preceded by two trumpeters bearing handsome flags on which Evelyns arms were gorgeously emblazoned. Besides these hired retainers, Evelyn was attended by thirty gentlemen, to whom he was related, all clad in the same colors. Even at the present time, when the usual state of the English county sheriff consists of a hand- some carriage and half a dozen livened serv- ants, the old pageantry is still maintained by such incumbents of the office as have a love for the ancient splendor and display. Charles Reade alludes to this in the closing chapter of Put Yourself in his Place. Guy Raby, an aristocratic squire, who holds stren- uously to old notions and observances, has received the appointment of county sheriff; and when the assizes come on, he meets the judges with great pomp. This pleased the Chief Justice: he had felt a little nervous; Rabys predecessor had met him in a carriage and pair, with no outriders, and he had felt it his duty to fiae the said sheriff 100 for so disrespecting the crown in his person. So now, alluding to this, he said, Mr. Sheriff, I am glad to find you hold by old customs, and do not grudge outward observ- ances to the queens justices. My lord, said the sheriff, I can hardly show enough respect to justice and learning when they visit me in the name of my soy- ereign. That is very well said, Mr. Sheriff, said my lord. Improvement in coaches for state and pri- vate purposes was still slower in France and Germany than in England. So late as 1850 an English gentleman writes as follows of what he saw among the farmers of Norman- dy, whom he was visiting with M. Alexis de Tocqueville: One farm only appeared to have a wagon. On the others the harvest rzz~ou uui~riue JIIARIOT OF THE REIGN OF LOUIS XIII. 166 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. was being carried home on a sort of cradle placed on a horses back, and supporting six sheaves on each side. Twenty years ago no other mode of conveyance was possible, for what were called roads were mere lanes, just broad enough to admit a horse and its bur- den. In the coach-house of the castle I saw the old family carriage. It is the body of a Vi8-e~-Vi8~ supported by four shafts extending before and behind, like a large Bath chair, only that two horses carried it instead of men. One of the honest complaints against coaches and carriages was that they pro- moted effeminacy. Before their introduc- tion men and women, unless invalids, made. their journeys on horseback amid delighted in the chase. In the good old days of chiv- alry the high-born lady, attended by knights and pages, rode to the field with the hooded falcon on her wrista picture which fills the imagination of poet and painter. But what artist or poet would the hunting char- iot of the reign of Louis XIII. inspire to paint or sing ~? Could any thing be imag- ined more grotesquely prosaic? Nearly contemporaneous with the intro- duction of hackney-coaches into England was that of the sedan-chair, by Sir Sanders Duncomb, in 1634. Sir Sanders, who had seen the vehicle abroad, obtained a patent for it in his own country, and prepared forty or fifty specimens for public use. Previous to this general introduction a contrivance of this kind had been used by the favorite Buckiugham, to the great disgust of his countrymen, who indignantly averred that he was employing his fellow-creatures to do the work of beasts. As soon, however, as this convenient means of locomotion was placed within reach of the public, they cheerfully forgot their aversion to the servile employment of their fellow- creatures, and the sedan-chair came into popular use. ~ In the first three-quarters of the eighteenth century, says the editor of the Book of Days, when the style of dress was highly refined, and the slight- est derangement to the hair of either lady or gentleman was fatal, the sedan was in high favor in all European countries. Then was the exquisite fop, with his ele- gant silk clothes, nicely ar- ranged toupee, aud ample curls, as fain to take advan- tage of this luxurious carriage as any of the gentler (it would be incorrect to say softer) sex. The nobility and wealthy members of the middle class were accustomed to keep their own sedans, which were frequently of very elegant shape, and beautifully ornamented with carved or painted decorations. It must have been a fine spectacle when a train of these splendid sedans, filled with exquisitely dressed ladies and gentlemen, and attended by linkboys with flaring torches, passed at evenin~, through the streets of London, Paris, or Madrid to some magnificent entertainment. When the party had alighted and vanished within-doors, the linkboys thrust their fiam- beaux into the large extinguishers which were placed beside the doors. of the aristo- cratic mansions of that period, and withdrew to the nearest ale-house to wait, until their services were required for the return home. SEDAN-cHAIR ON WHEELS. SEDAN-cHAIR, SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH cENTURIES. 7- LOCOMOTIONPAST AND PRESENT. 167 During the reign of Louis XIII. a modifica- tion of the sedan-chair was very popular among the ladies and fops of Paris. It was hung between two wheels, and drawn by a man. The door and steps were in front. In Spain the chair was made large enough to carry a party of four, and was borne by two gayly caparisoned mules, one before and one behind, as shown in our illustration. The detestable condition of the roads in Spain rendered this a much more comfort- able means of going from place to place than the wheeled vehicles, and, if the writer is not mistaken, it is still to be met with in some parts of that country. The shafts on which it was slung being long and springy, the motion, even over the roughest roads, was easy and unfatiguing. Owing to the general introduction of the more convenient hackney-coach, the sedan- chair gradually fell into disuse in London and other English cities, when, at the com merreement of the present century, the sight of one was a rarity; but in Edinburgh they kept their hold upon public favor some time longer. In the steep streets and narrow lanes of the Scottish capital the sedan was found to be a more convenient mode of con- veyance than the coach, and until long past the middle of the last century that city could boast of more sedans than carriages, and it w~ s many years later before they were en- tirely driven out. These were for the most part in the hands of Highianders, whose picturesque costume and uncouth jargon were the admiration and amusement of all strangers, as their constitutional irritability was frequently the occasion of much wran- gling and confusion at the doors of inns and theatres. In China and India the palanquin, a sort of sedan-chair, still maintains its popular- ity as a safe, easy, and convenient mode of travel; indeed, in all Eastern countries, where the science of road-building has made but little progress except in the vicinity of the larger cities, the use of wheeled vehicles is out of the question, and the palanquin, the howdah, and the saddle furnish the only means of journeying from place to place; and many years, perhaps generations, must el se before these modes are superseded by ~IIE PALANQUIN. THE HOWDAH. SPANISH MULE CHAIN. 168 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. are mounted on strong elastic poles, and to afford as much spring as possible the axles are placed from eight to twelve feet apart. This gives an agree- able swaying motion, like that of the buckboard wagon which is nsed in some of our own rural districts; but, even under tbe best conditions, trav- elers complain that Siberian carriages afford an unconscion- able amount of torture to the mile. In Russia, where snow lies ___________________ on the gronnd nearly half the EUSSIAN SLEnGE. year, and railway facilities are comparatively slight, the modern European contrivances, except along sleigh or sledge is an important means of those great highways of travel and traffic locomotion. In fact, winter is the best time where European enterprise and capital have for travel in that country, and merchandise forced the construction of railroads. 4n the and other freight are mostly transported over Japanese towns a contrivance very similar snow roads. Private sledges are light bnt to the sedan-chair, on wheels, but ruder and of very strong make, and very rarely exhibit more clumsy in construction, takes the place the grace and elegance displayed in the of the hack in European and American American sleigh. The public sledge is of a cities. ,It is drawn by a man harnessed be- very rude and clumsy construction, bat im- tween shafts, and is called by the euphoni- mensely strong, in order to stand the wear ous name of jin riki sha. and tear of the horrible roads. Of the tray- In no civilized country of the present day cling sleighs there are several kinds, the are the modes of travel more primitive or best of them being the vashak and the kibitka. exasperating than in Russia. Her railway The former is shaped something like a com- system is still comparatively undeveloped; mon hackney-coach; it is about seven feet and whenever the traveler leaves the iron long, varies in width according to the build- highways, he is subjected to inconveniences ers fancy, and has a door at the sides. The and discomforts from which other countries driver sits in a box in front, and there is have been free for several generations. In generally a sheltered place for a postilion. Germany and Switzerland the roomy and The kibitka is more like the tarantass in con- comfortable stellwageu affords a pleasant struction, and is open in front, which affords mode of traversing the rural districts to the advantage of tlying views of the conutry. those whose means do not permit them to To an American there is something ludicrous travel by private post; but in Russia, and in the clumsy construction of these vehicles; especially in the Siberian provinces of that but they are adapted to the roads of the vast empire, nothing of the kind is to be country, and withstand joltings and thump- found. There the unfortunate traveler is ings that would wreck a Broad way fancy bandied into a rude four-wheeled vehicle, cutter in five minutes. The author of called a telyaga, seven or eight feet long, Traveling in Siberia writes bitterly of and just wide enough to seat two persons. the discomforts of sledge travel. He says: The baggage is laid on the bottom of the At times it seemed to me as if the sleigh wagon, and covered with blankets and furs and every thing it coiitained would go to to smooth out inequalities. Upon this the pieces in the terrii)le thumps we received. traveler sits or reclines, and surrenders him- We descended hills as if pursued by wolves, self, with the best grace he can, to the fearful or guilty consciences, and it was generally discomforts of Russian roads. The telya- our fate to find a huge oukhaba, or cradle- ga is a public vehicle, and must be changed hollow, just when the horses were doiii g at every post-station. To avoid the nuisance their best. I think the sleigh sometimes of being shifted, bag and baggage, every few made a clear heap of six or eight feet from hours, often in the night-time, and in drench- the crest of a ridge to the bottom of a hollow. ing rain or blinding snow storm, travelers The leaping was not very objectionable, but sometimes pnr~hase a private conveyance, the impact made every thiiig rattle. I could called a tarautass, a vehicle on the gen- say, like the Irishman who fell from the eral plan of the telyaga, but larger and house-top, Twas not the fall, darling, that. more convenient. It is furnished with a hurt me, but stopping so quick at the end. hood, like that of an American chaise, and The teams are attached in a peculiar man~ is generally padded inside to break the force ner to the Russian sledges. There is one of sudden jolts and bunips. Both vehicles horse in the shafts, \vithi a large hoop, from LO~MOTIONPAST AND PRESENT. 169 II,,, /2 __ N~ f~J}/ / -~~---~ R INDEER AND DOG SLEDGES. which swings a bell, above his back, and on each side one or more extra horses attached to the sledge by traces only. The driver urges them to their utmost speed by blows and shouts, and they display an amount of patient endurance which is simply mar- velous. In the northern regions of Sweden and Norway, and in Lapland, the reindeer and the dog furnish almost the only means of travel through the greater portion of the year. The sledges present several modes of construction, from the runnered sledge, like those shown in our illustration, to the ruder canoe-like primitive form found chiefly in Lapland. The latter are exceedingly diffi- cult to manage. A stranger, trying one for the first time has hard work to keep his balance, and is generally ignominiously up- set, to the great delight of the natives. As a drttught animal, its speed, endurance, and its special adaptation to traveling on snow, make the reindeer the most valuable of creatures to people in the latitudes of almost perpetual winter. The ordinary weight drawn with ease by a single rein- deer is about 240 pounds; but it can travel with over 300. Its speed is very great. When put to its utmost it has been known to travel, for a short distance, at the rate of nearly 19 miles an hour; but its power of endurance is still more remarkable. It is not an unusual feat for a reindeer to perform a journey of .150 miles in 19 hours; and the portrait of one is preserved in the palace of Drotingh5lm, Sweden, which traversed 800 miles in 48 hours, conveying an officer with important dispatches. This was at the rate of nearly 17 miles an hour; and we are not surprised to learn that at the end of this cruel journey the poor creature dropped dead. The arctic researches of the last few years have familiarized us with the habits and usefulness of the Esquimaux dogs, which in Labrador and Greenland are the only ani- mals used for draught. They are hardy, bold, and strong, and will drag the native sledges for a long time at a speed of several miles an hour. The mode of attaching them is by leather traces, or thongs, fastened to a neck collar, and they. are managed by the drivers whip and voice. A mongrel race of dogs is also used for draught during the winter season in the regions about Lake Superior. Like the Esqiiimaux dogs, they are hardy, easily managed, and strong, and bear fatigue, abuse, and hunger without losing their good temper. When the snow lies deep over wide stretches of country, they furnish the only means of transporting provisions, merchandise, and the umails; and in many parts of Canada and the Lake Superior mineral districts the inhabitants would be utterly shut off from the rest of the world during several months of the year were it not for these invaluable creatures. Skates, used only for pastime in most countries, may be classed among important means of locomotion in Holland during the winter season, when the innumerable canals which intersect that country in every direc- tion are frozen over. There skating is more than a pleasant accomplishment, to be in- dulged in on moonlight nights, when beaux and sweethearts meet To chase the frosty hours with flying feet, as Byron might have written. In that emi neutly practical land the strapping country girls skate to market, carrying on their heads jugs of milk, baskets of eggs, or other ar- ticles for sale, or push before them a sled loaded with commodities of various kinds. 170 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. With us, and the French and English, skat- ing is only pleasant amusement; and al- though many young ladies become very proficient in the art, there are some who prefer the more comfortable but less ex- hilarating ice-sled ride. No young lady of true spirit would stoop to such tame amusement. It might, at first thought, seem rather forced to include the ironshod stock,~~ or staff, of the Alpine chamois-hnnter among means of locomotion; but when the important uses to which it is put during his perilous excursions are con- sidered, its claim to be so regarded must he conceded. In many cases it becomes to its owner both bridge and vehicle, with whose assistance frightful cbasms are crossed which would oppose insu- perable obstacles to the hunters unas- sisted steps. Almost every book of Alpine adventure contains anecdotes which show the value of this simple iniplement. In his ex- citing chase after the cliamois the hunter frequently encounters deep and wide cre- vasses, over which he might as well try to fly as to leap; in this emergency his long and sharply ironed staff supplies the place of wings. Planting it firmly near the edge of the ch Sm, he makes the fiyin0 leap in per- fect safety, alighting on the other side with the sure-footedness of the animal he pursues. The immediate pre- cursor of modern modes of land travel was the English mail- coach, which forty or fifty years ago afforded the most expeditious means of public con- veyance. It was, on the whole, a pleasant institution, if we may judge by contem- porary reports, much more social and jolly, as well as more satisfactory, to these who like to use their eyes when traversing a beautiful country, than the steam - cars in which we are now whirled along over the iron roads which traverse Europe and America in every direction. In the good old times, when ten miles an hour was re- garded as a wonderful rate of speed, travel- ing meant something more than it does now- adays, and seeing a country through which one passed was not the meaningless phrase it has become since the introduction of rail- roads. Still the modern system has its com- pensations; and perhaps a majority of the people who glory in rushing from New York to San Francisco in a week see quite as much as they would if they took six months for the trip. It makes all the difference in the world whether you see with the eyes of a Ruskin or with those of a (let the millions who are not Ruskins finish the sentence to their own taste). Thousands of people travel through strange and inter- ALFENSTOCK. A AILKOAD TRAIN. muce OIRLS SKATING TO MARKET. icE-si. ~n. LOCOMOTIONP4ST AND PRESENT. 171 back on steam, unless some still more potent motive power be discovered. Ever since tlie world was made, man has sought by ar- tificial methods to supplement his natural means of locomotion. He tamed the horse, the camel, tbe elephant; be invented litters, wagons, boats, ships; and every age has wit- nessed some improvement in the ways an modes of travel and transportation. No period of the worlds history has witnessed greater improvements than the last thirty years. Many of our readers can remember I when the stage-coacb and tbe canal packet- boat were the principal means of travel throughont the United States; but prob- ably a great majority of them never saw ei uanm FULL SAIL. esting countries every year, who, for all the good it does them, might just as well be shot round the world through a pneumatic dis- patch tube, or, like Don Quixote, sit blind- folded on a wooden horse and be told that they are passing through regions of glorious scenery. Not that railroads, steam-ships, CA AIAIOAr. and other modes of rapid travel are to be ther coach or canal-boat, and know tbem condemned. They came at the call of civ- only by tradition or prints in school-books. ilization; and although the beautiful ships There is now scarcely a city in America gradually give place to the less sightly but without that great public convenience, the more profItable steameralthough our river street railroad. Railroads were long used steamboats every year present further de- in England with borse-power only, chiefly partures from all that is noble and distinct- for the transportation of coal and otber ive in naval architecture, it must be remem- heavy freight; this method of working bored that all these innovations are made in them has been generally abandoned in that the interest of the great mass of the human country; but in the United States their pe- family. They not only make travel cheap- culiar adaptation to city travel was early er, and increase the facilities for the trans- perceived, and they have nearly driven out portation of merchandise, but carry the ad- the old-fashioned omnibus, except in thor- wantages of civilization to regions where oughfares where the rails would offer such they might not otherwise penetrate for gen- obstructions to business as to make their erations to come. Utopians who, like Rus- introduction impracticable. New York city kin, sigh for the good old times, who be _______________________ lieve in a golden age of the past but not in ~ one of the future, waste their breath in a ~~ ~ ~ ~. vaiu cause. The world will never turn its I ~ii~~I I srmzr CAll. has more than a dozen lines of street rail ways, on which more than twelve hundred c~ rs are run day and night; and a great part of its prosperity and growth is attributable to them. From its peculiar formation a very large proportion of the people doing busi- ness in New York are obliged to live miles away from their places of employment, and these lines enable them tq go to and from their business with but little loss of time. The inconvenience of the rails in the streets has proved an obstacle to their general in- 4 AME 10AM MiViI SrEAMBOAr. 172 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. troduction into European cities, whore, in- deed, there is less popular demand for them. Whether the many experiments which have been made since the days of Montgolfier to make aerial navigation both practicable and safe will ever be successful is still a niatter of speculation and experiment. Ev- ery year some sanguine and enthusiastic in- ventor brings forward a new scheme, which is certain to succeed, but which just as certainly ends in utter failure. It would be hazardous to predict that mans inventive genius will never be able to overcome the obstacles offered by the powers of the air but physical conditions are certainly against the success of such experiments, and men will probably have to be content with the pres- ent modes of annihilating time and space. Dnring the siege of Paris balloons were used for the transmission of messengers and mails beyond the limits of the beleaguering army; but once in the air, it was a matter of chance whether they alighted among friends or enemies, on the solid ground or in the sea. No means having yet been discov- ered for regulating the motion of balloons, the aeronaut is completely at the mercy of the element in which he floats; and when his view of the earth is shut off by clouds, he may be swept along with the velocity of a tor- nado with noth- ing to indicate AFLOAT ON A RAFT. that he is not resting motionless in a per- fect calm. As helpless as shipwrecked mari- ners drifting on a rudderless and onrless raft in the middle of the ocean, the aeronaut has no power to select his place of landing. He can select his point of departure, and can regulate the ascent and descent of his aerial machine; but until he discovers some new principles that shall give him partial con- trol over the fluctuating tides and current8 of the air, he will never be sure of arriving at a fixed destination. Three or four years ago the velocipede threatened to create a revolution in arti- ficial locomotion. For many months it was the rage in Europe and America. Old and young were smitten with the fever to be- come skillful velocipede riders, and training schools for that purpose, where machines of every variety were to be procured, were established in every city. Horseback riding was to become obsolete. The problem of rapid transit from New York to its suburbs was to be solved by the construction of an elevated velocipede double track roadway, on which merchants, clerks, and working- people could trundle themselves back and forth. Now and then a daring and skilled velocipede rider would make his appearance in the street, threading his way between car- rma~res, stages, trucks, and carts with mar- velous dexterity. But there was something ludicrous in the spec- tacle, and it was also discovered that propelling the machine over pavements was harder work than riding in the cars or stages; and after a short-lived popularity the velocipede went out of fashion in this country as suddenly as it had risen into favor, and was abandoned entirely to very young America. It were nseless to speculate on the progress which may yet be made in the means of locomotion; but it seems reasonable to believe that the maximum of speed at AERiAL NAVIGATION. VELOCIPEDE. OUTCAST 173 which travelers can be transported with safety on sea and land has been attained in our best steam-ships and lines of railway, and that the chief improvements will be in the direction of comfort and security. If we are sometimes inclined to be impatient evea of our lightning express trains and to wish for more rapid means of travel, let us look back a hundred years or so, when the stage occupied three days between New York and Philadelphia! In 1766 some one startled the community by advertising a stage line, which was christened The Fly- ing-Machine, which made the trip in the unprecedented time of two days! An ex- press made the trip between New York and Boston in seven days, which was regarded as marvelously quick time Let those who road between leatsevendays ~ i New York and San __________ { Francisco be com forted, in view of _______ what their great- grandfathers consid- ered rapid traveling. Osie of the prettiest in the world for parents, and all - ~ who are fond of young humanity, is the babys trundle, ________ in which the little BABY ~ TRUNDLE. toddler learns to make use of its legs; and our artist has very properly included this nursery machine among his illustra- tions The invalid s chair is less a feature of American watering-places than of those of Europe, and especially of England, where they are much in vogue for gouty and rhen- inatic old gentlemen, and for nervous old la- dies, who prefer this safe, languid, and easy mode of enjoying the out-door air to riding in carriages. It is not intended in this rather discursive article to include all the means of locomotion which have been contrived by the ingenuity I -~ ~- fl~ IISYALiD S CHAiR of civilized or barbarous men, but oiilyto in- dicate a few salient points of contrast be- tween the advantages enjoyed by travelers at the present day and the cumbrous, un- comfortable modes of journeying in vogue even so late as the beginning of the present century. Much might be said, did space al- low, of the higher influences of rapid means of communication influences which out- weigh all that can be said agaiiist them from a romantic poiiit pf view. They do, indeed, as iRuskin querulously complains, make the world smaller ; but in doing so they bring the nations together, promote international amity, and hasten on the era of universal intelligence, civilization, and peace. OUTCAST. WAS it a dream? I walked one day down through a citys street: The sun was shining dimly overhead, While filth and vileness were beneath my feet, And the houses on either side seemed red To the bricks core with wickedness untold: And there were sights so drear and manifold Of want and suffering, at wretchedness In young and old, of hunger pitiless, And stenches foul, the very soul was sick, And dared not harbor questions, crowding thick, Of Gods beneficence, and of His love. And there, as through those sadning sights I strove, Een there, upon a garhage heap, I spied A rose-bud, thrown by scornful hands aside A rose-bud that few days before had hung Upon its parent tree, purest among Its sisters sweet and fair. The dew had blessed Its opening morn; its odors had caressed The ambient air, and kissed the lips of those Who bowed their lips to kiss the budding rose. And then one said he loved it more than all, And tore it from its stem (did I see fall A rain-drop ?), and bore it on his breast away. Ah! how it ioyed to lie there through the day, Bright with fragrant beauty, sweetly asking Love for its lovesure twas no hard tasking. But soon, its freshness gone, it knew its fate Alas! how many learn it late, too late! And he who wore it merely that it shed Its first sweet odors circling round his head, And with its beauty graced him as he walked, Nor loved it for its sake alone, when balked Of these, soon tore it from his breast away, And, careless of its fate, left it the play And toy of who should care a momeiits space To please him with its fleeting, fading grace. And so twas soon, when festering and forlorn, And soiled and torn, of all pure men the scorn: This bud so fair, so sweet, so loved the while, This withered bad, so faded, bruised, and vile, Was thrown upon the garbage heap, to yield Its little earth to enrich some Potters field. With reverent hand I took it from the pile (I thought the heavens gave me back a smile) With reverent hand I brushed the filth away; I gently pulled apart its petals fair, And, even then, an odor faint but rare Breathed from its inner heart and seemed to pray, And colors bright and pure that heart disclosed The rese-bed even yet centained f he rese! And then I thought twas wafted from my hand, And blossomed full and sweet in heavens own land. Was it a dream?

Lewis Kingsley Kingsley, Lewis Outcast 173-174

OUTCAST 173 which travelers can be transported with safety on sea and land has been attained in our best steam-ships and lines of railway, and that the chief improvements will be in the direction of comfort and security. If we are sometimes inclined to be impatient evea of our lightning express trains and to wish for more rapid means of travel, let us look back a hundred years or so, when the stage occupied three days between New York and Philadelphia! In 1766 some one startled the community by advertising a stage line, which was christened The Fly- ing-Machine, which made the trip in the unprecedented time of two days! An ex- press made the trip between New York and Boston in seven days, which was regarded as marvelously quick time Let those who road between leatsevendays ~ i New York and San __________ { Francisco be com forted, in view of _______ what their great- grandfathers consid- ered rapid traveling. Osie of the prettiest in the world for parents, and all - ~ who are fond of young humanity, is the babys trundle, ________ in which the little BABY ~ TRUNDLE. toddler learns to make use of its legs; and our artist has very properly included this nursery machine among his illustra- tions The invalid s chair is less a feature of American watering-places than of those of Europe, and especially of England, where they are much in vogue for gouty and rhen- inatic old gentlemen, and for nervous old la- dies, who prefer this safe, languid, and easy mode of enjoying the out-door air to riding in carriages. It is not intended in this rather discursive article to include all the means of locomotion which have been contrived by the ingenuity I -~ ~- fl~ IISYALiD S CHAiR of civilized or barbarous men, but oiilyto in- dicate a few salient points of contrast be- tween the advantages enjoyed by travelers at the present day and the cumbrous, un- comfortable modes of journeying in vogue even so late as the beginning of the present century. Much might be said, did space al- low, of the higher influences of rapid means of communication influences which out- weigh all that can be said agaiiist them from a romantic poiiit pf view. They do, indeed, as iRuskin querulously complains, make the world smaller ; but in doing so they bring the nations together, promote international amity, and hasten on the era of universal intelligence, civilization, and peace. OUTCAST. WAS it a dream? I walked one day down through a citys street: The sun was shining dimly overhead, While filth and vileness were beneath my feet, And the houses on either side seemed red To the bricks core with wickedness untold: And there were sights so drear and manifold Of want and suffering, at wretchedness In young and old, of hunger pitiless, And stenches foul, the very soul was sick, And dared not harbor questions, crowding thick, Of Gods beneficence, and of His love. And there, as through those sadning sights I strove, Een there, upon a garhage heap, I spied A rose-bud, thrown by scornful hands aside A rose-bud that few days before had hung Upon its parent tree, purest among Its sisters sweet and fair. The dew had blessed Its opening morn; its odors had caressed The ambient air, and kissed the lips of those Who bowed their lips to kiss the budding rose. And then one said he loved it more than all, And tore it from its stem (did I see fall A rain-drop ?), and bore it on his breast away. Ah! how it ioyed to lie there through the day, Bright with fragrant beauty, sweetly asking Love for its lovesure twas no hard tasking. But soon, its freshness gone, it knew its fate Alas! how many learn it late, too late! And he who wore it merely that it shed Its first sweet odors circling round his head, And with its beauty graced him as he walked, Nor loved it for its sake alone, when balked Of these, soon tore it from his breast away, And, careless of its fate, left it the play And toy of who should care a momeiits space To please him with its fleeting, fading grace. And so twas soon, when festering and forlorn, And soiled and torn, of all pure men the scorn: This bud so fair, so sweet, so loved the while, This withered bad, so faded, bruised, and vile, Was thrown upon the garbage heap, to yield Its little earth to enrich some Potters field. With reverent hand I took it from the pile (I thought the heavens gave me back a smile) With reverent hand I brushed the filth away; I gently pulled apart its petals fair, And, even then, an odor faint but rare Breathed from its inner heart and seemed to pray, And colors bright and pure that heart disclosed The rese-bed even yet centained f he rese! And then I thought twas wafted from my hand, And blossomed full and sweet in heavens own land. Was it a dream? 174 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. CADALLAN IN ROME TO PENDA IN BRITAIN. XIXth day of September, Year of Rome DCCCXXXV. BELOVED FRIEND, Petronius, one of the sexillaril of the Seventh Legion, ar- rived two days ago with dispatches for the emperor, salutations for me from Agricola, affectionate messages from my aged father and mother, and a precious love-token from Cymbelena, who is in camp with her broth- er. I was disappointed in not hearing from you aught else bnt tidings that you are earn- ing fame as a soldier, and when Petronins left were with a cohort of the Tenth Legion far away in the land of the Damnii. The messenb er will soon retnrn; so on this beau- tiful autumnal morning I begin another let- ter to you, to tell you more about the home life of these wonderful Romans. They are indeed a wonderful people. Our country will greatly profit by their rule if our peo- pie shall be wise la acting upon the lessons taught by what has seemed to be our ad- versity. To-morrow I am to take part ia the nup- tial ceremonies, when Lesbia, the eldest (laughter of Decius Vitellius, the questor, and the son of the rich Licinus will be wedded. To-day I will write only about wooing and betrothing, and leave the de- scription of the wedding until another time. Once the law forbade Romans marrying any but Romans. The statute was repealed long ago, and many Britoiis have already wedded some of the best of the Roman maidens. As with us, so here men woo. The moral restraints of society are frightfullyloose here, yet custom ranks a wooing woman among the harlots. Her sex holds the veto power. Man proposes, woman disposes. She soon decides the question. The wooing season is short and definite. When the suitor has won, and obtained the consent of parents or guardians, then follows the espousals. Mu- tual friends meet at the home of the maid- en and arrange the marriage contract. It is written upon tablets by a notary, stamp- ed with his official signet, and signed by the contracting parties. The betrothal is made complete when the man places a token of fidelity, in the form of a plain iron ring, upon the fourth finger of the left hand of the maiden, from which they say an artery extends directly to the heart, and is a rue- dium of spiritual communication between the espoused. Betrothals are seldom made in May, or at the kalends, nones, and ides of any month, because such times are considered unpropi- tious, and they are forbidden on any holy- day of feasting or fasting unless the woman be a widow. They are generally made in the night, but now extremely fashionable peol)le have the ceremony at dawn, or cock- crowing. Such was the hour on the 20th day of Sextilis when, at the house of Vitel- lius, Lesbia and Licinus the younger wero 5PINNINC.[5EE PACE 184.]

Benson J. Lossing Lossing, Benson J. The Old Romans At Home 174-187

174 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. CADALLAN IN ROME TO PENDA IN BRITAIN. XIXth day of September, Year of Rome DCCCXXXV. BELOVED FRIEND, Petronius, one of the sexillaril of the Seventh Legion, ar- rived two days ago with dispatches for the emperor, salutations for me from Agricola, affectionate messages from my aged father and mother, and a precious love-token from Cymbelena, who is in camp with her broth- er. I was disappointed in not hearing from you aught else bnt tidings that you are earn- ing fame as a soldier, and when Petronins left were with a cohort of the Tenth Legion far away in the land of the Damnii. The messenb er will soon retnrn; so on this beau- tiful autumnal morning I begin another let- ter to you, to tell you more about the home life of these wonderful Romans. They are indeed a wonderful people. Our country will greatly profit by their rule if our peo- pie shall be wise la acting upon the lessons taught by what has seemed to be our ad- versity. To-morrow I am to take part ia the nup- tial ceremonies, when Lesbia, the eldest (laughter of Decius Vitellius, the questor, and the son of the rich Licinus will be wedded. To-day I will write only about wooing and betrothing, and leave the de- scription of the wedding until another time. Once the law forbade Romans marrying any but Romans. The statute was repealed long ago, and many Britoiis have already wedded some of the best of the Roman maidens. As with us, so here men woo. The moral restraints of society are frightfullyloose here, yet custom ranks a wooing woman among the harlots. Her sex holds the veto power. Man proposes, woman disposes. She soon decides the question. The wooing season is short and definite. When the suitor has won, and obtained the consent of parents or guardians, then follows the espousals. Mu- tual friends meet at the home of the maid- en and arrange the marriage contract. It is written upon tablets by a notary, stamp- ed with his official signet, and signed by the contracting parties. The betrothal is made complete when the man places a token of fidelity, in the form of a plain iron ring, upon the fourth finger of the left hand of the maiden, from which they say an artery extends directly to the heart, and is a rue- dium of spiritual communication between the espoused. Betrothals are seldom made in May, or at the kalends, nones, and ides of any month, because such times are considered unpropi- tious, and they are forbidden on any holy- day of feasting or fasting unless the woman be a widow. They are generally made in the night, but now extremely fashionable peol)le have the ceremony at dawn, or cock- crowing. Such was the hour on the 20th day of Sextilis when, at the house of Vitel- lius, Lesbia and Licinus the younger wero 5PINNINC.[5EE PACE 184.] THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 175 espoused. When the tablets were signed, and the pledge-ring was npon the white fin- ger, sweetened wine, and cakes ful~ of rai- sins and dried fruit from Corinth, were hrought in by hlack eunnchs from Nubia upon silver salvers, and offered to the es- poused and their friends. Then the com- pany sang the Talasius, while damsels ia white robes played the flute and lyre, and upon a small altar incense was burned and a hird was sacrificed to render the gods pro- pitious, and to obtain presages concerning the success of the marriage. XXIIId day. The wedding is over, and so is the storm of the autumnal equinox, which came fierce- ly on the day after the nuptials. Omens and weather were auspicious during the cere- mony, for the voice of a turtle-dove at sun- rise, and the flight of a crow, with pure air and bright sunshine, made all hearts glad. The ceremonies began at early dawn, and ~eude4 long after darkness had fallen, when the wife was coudncted to the house of her husband. The bride is twenty years oS age. She was dressed in a long white robe that reached from her neck to her feet. It was adorned with purple fringe and many colored rib- hons, and was bound about the waist with a crimson girdle, which was secured in front by a graceful knot and a glittering buckle in the form of a bent bow, made of gold and precious stones. Many of the other ladies wore similar buckles on the fillets that bound their hair, and on shoulder-knots and gir- dles. I send you drawings of some of the buckles to show you the variety of their forms. From the head of the bride hung a veil of a bright yellow color. Her feet were covered with high soft shoes of the same tint, made of the dressed skin of a kid, and trimmed at top with falls of fine white un- en. These shoes sparkled at each instep with a jeweled buckle. Her golden hair, soft and thick, had been parted by the point of a spear which had been dipped in the blood of a gladiator, as a sort of prophecy that she would be a mother of valiant chil- dren. Her hair was disposed in six curled tresses, after the manner of that of the ves- tal virgins, indicative of her chastity. She had also been crowned with a chaplet of vervain, which she had gathered with her own hands, and carried under her robe until the moment when it was to be put on her head. From her ears hung jewels, rich and rare. So also were many ot the other ladies adorned. Large sums are spent for these ear jewels. Indeed, they rank as one of the greatest extravagances of the time among the Roman women. A satirist has lately said, If I had a daughter, I would cut off her ears ~ and added, What plenty we should have of all things if there were no women ! A grave scribe has just written that women go to seek for pearls at the bottom of the Red Sea, and search the depths of the ea.rth for emeralds, and all to adorn their ears. Sneering Juvenal, who derides the empress and the courtesan with equal sharpness of wit, in satires which he dare show only in private to his friends, has writ- ten within a month that there is nothing a woman will not allow herself, nothing she holds disgraceful, when she has encircled her neck with emeralds, and inserted ear- rings of great size in her ears, stretched with their weight. Just before he died Seneca wrote that some ear-rings worn by women were so costly that a single pair was worth the revenue of a large estate. All women wear them, and so do many men. Some are of che~ per substances, such as the baser metals, amber, and glass. The drawings I here send will give you an idea of their forms. That showing a circular top and mwcaias. 176 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. thick wire of fine gold terminating in the head of a ram; and a third, here delineated, excelled all the others in beauty and costli ness, being a band of gold studded witb emeralds, tnrquoises, rubies, and sapphires, some of them so arranged as to form the name of LESBIA, and bearing on the embossed clasp an effigy of IJomitian. It was given by the emperor as a wedding present to the bride, whose father is a great favorite at court. The fingers of the bride also glittered with jeweled rings, which contrasted strangely with the plain hoop of iron given at the es- pousals, and which she will never lay aside unless she becomes a widow. But rings for ornament and use are not worn by women only. They are seen upon the fingers of men of every degree above that of the slave. They are made of all sorts of metals, and set with gems, such as agate, jasper, carnelian, turquois, sapphire, garnet, emerald, topaz, beryl, amethyst, onyx, and other stones of less value, upon which seals are often en- gra~e~~ The emperor has a ring of gold bearing a gem brought from the East, as brilliant as a star, and so hard that it can not be cat by any other substance. The pear-shaped pendant (the latter being an Greeks call it diamond, and it is very rare. enormous pearl) is of one worn by the bride, Rings are given as rewards of valor, and no- whose necklace was also charming and very blemen bestow theni upon their freedmen in costly, it being composed of large pearls and acknowledgment of their good deeds. emeralds, made into a string by links of Fops, in these degenerate times, are plen pure gold. tiful, and wear rings in abundance, some- The brides arms were bare almost to the times covering every finger with them. shoulders when her veil was thrown back, Some have carried their folly so far as to and were encircled with bracelets above and wear the same rings only a week, and then 1)010w the elbows. These were made of replace them with new ones. Oh, Penda! gold, some plain, and others set with pro- were it not for the sturdy, virtuous prov- dons stones. One of them represented a inces, what would become ofiinperialRomeh coiled serpent, glittering with jewels, and Men here, in the great city, are turning first passing three times around the arm. An- into women, and then into birds and beasts. other, of which I give you a drawing, was a They dote on trinkets hike women, on fine AECKLACE, BEAOELET5~ AND JINOOCII. THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 177 FrNeEa-RINCs. dress as the bird does upon its plumage, and by excessive lust become beasts. The fops disgust you at every turn. They wear scar- let tunics and blue cloaks, and sometimes the feminine toga, clasped with rich buckles that serve as brooches. They defy the sun with parasols brought from India, paint their eyelids and faces like the Corinthian harlots, curl their hair into ringlets glossed with perfumed oils, and even display the bodkin among their tresses. They lisp in soft whispers, and in every way they ape silly women in manners and luersonal orna- ments. Flattery of the rich and powerful has taken the place of manly conversation. Only yesterday Fabricius, a courtier, laid a turbot at the feet of Domitian, and declared that the fish insisted upon being caught for the royal table. But I am wandering a lit- tle, yet not beyond the domain of the home life of these Ilomans. I have told you about the bride, her attire, and her ornaments: now I will tell you of the wedding and what followed. The nuptial rites were few and simple. and were performed in the peristylum of Vitelliuss house, among the flowers and nu- der the blue sky, just at the break of day. Near a fountain stood a little altar, at which a priest sacrificed a sheep, and spread its skin over two chairs. Upon these the brid( and groom were seated on the soft wool, with heads covered, and with one hahited like Juno Pronuba, the divine marriage- maker, laying her hands upon their shoul- ders in a gentle embtace, denoting thei unity. Then the company sang the Tala- sins, accompanied by the sweet music of the double flute. The priest, with uncovered head, invoked the blessings of the gods upo the we(lded pair, and theii sacrificed a lamb So ended the religious ceremonies, and so the young Licinus and Lesbia were united as husband and wife. The bride was then divested of her ornaments, and the day was NUPTIAL cEREMONY. 77 4 .~ Von XLYLNo. 212.12 178 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. spent by the whole company in feasting and amusement until the twilight had faded, when the final and more imposing ceremo- nies were begun. At sunset preparations were made for conducting the bride to the house of her husband. During the gathering twilight a procession was formed in the peristylum, composed of the brides nearest relations and guests who had participated in the pleasures of the day. Then the bride, who was sitting in her mothers lap, was forced from her maternal embrace and carried out to the head of the procession, where she was closely veiled, and had rich sandals placed upon her feet. On each side of her was a boy whose father and mother were both liv- ing. The were robed in the white tog~ prastexta, with purple borders. These sup- ported the bride by her arms. Before her was another boy dressed in the same man- ner, and who was of the same social condi- tion, who bore a torch of white thorn. Be- hind the bride followed a boy carrying a covered vase, in which were her jewels and other trinkets, and also toys for children. Another carried a distaff and spindle, in memory of Caia Cascilia, wife of Tarquinius Priscus, who is held to be a pattern of con- jugal fidelity and skilled industry. These implements signified that she was to pre- side over the household and labor with her hands. The white thorn torch was now lighted, and so also was one of pine that was car- ried by the mother of the bride. These were followed by the whole wedding company, some of whom carried burning wax-can- dles, and in this way the procession moved through the vestibulum to the street, and so on to the dwelling of the waiting hus- band, slaves at the same time distributing bride-cakes among the multitude of specta- tors. The air was filled with the music of the flute, lyre, harp, cymbal, drum, and sis- tram, and of all voices chanting the Tala- sins. It is the custom for the bridegroom and bride to assume the names of Cams and Caia, in honor of the noted spinner and roy- al wife I have just mentioned, whose distaff, covered with wool, yet hangs in the temple of Sanctus, where it was deposited after her death, and whose handiwork as spinner and weaver is seen in a royal robe that she made for her husband, which yet hangs in the tem- ple of Fortune, where it was put six hun- dred years ago, after it had been worn by Servius Tullins, her husbands successor. So, when the marriage procession reached the house of the bridegroom, they were in- troduced to each other at the door by her attendants, when ahe said, in a clear voice, Where you are Cams, I am Cala, signify- ing that she entered the house as an equal partaker in the government of the family. It was as much as to say, Where you are paterfamilias, I am materfamilias. Then fire and water, placed at the door, were rn nuxum V ILEn. ToeA r1eETExrA. C3 THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 179 touched by the bridegroom and bride, in to- ken of mutual purity, when she was sprink- led with water and covered with a veil, sig- nifying that after these ceremonies she is to be seen only by her husband. Now she was lifted by attendants over the thresh- old, which is sacred to the penates and the ~oddess Vesta, and may not be touched. The friends reverently followed, and in the atrium, or great family room of the house, brilliantly lighted with a central lamp and the wax-candles that had been carried in the streets, the husband gave to his wife the keys of the mansion, by which she was installed as its mistress. With these she took her seat upon a fleece of wool, in token that spinning was to be her employment. The musicians now entered, and the whole company sang the Talasius, and uttered words of extravagant praise of the bride. A little sacrifice was then made to Priapus, the god of fruitfulness in all nature, follow- ed by a sumptuous feast, at which the em- peror and several nobles were guests. Dur- ing the supper little clay medals, impressed with images of the bride and bridegroom, were distributed among the company. At a late hour we all retired, each saluting the ~ bride with a parting kiss. In the elder times, before the reptiblic, and S ~ when kings ruled over Romethe times of ~ Tarquinius Priscus and the good Cainoth- er ceremonies followed the departure of the g guests. The custom still prevails in certain ~ ancient families. In the atriiun the veiled 5 ~ bride, seated at one end of the room, and ~ the bridegroom, crowned with grape leaves, ~ at the other, were subjects of some final re ~ ligious rites, which the drawing I send you ~ will better explain than much writing. I copied it from a painting on a wall in the lesser palace of Augustus C~sar. You see the veiled bride seated upon a trichinium, or couch, caressed by an attendant, who is crowned with laurel and partially disrobed. The bridegroom is seen at the other end of the room, half reclining upon a sort of foot- stool before a couch. Not far front the bride and her attendant is a young woman leaning upon a short column, performing some cere- mony to avert witchcraft and enchantments. Near the centre of the room are three women standing by a short column, on whichisa basin of water and a napkin. One of them is a veiled priestess, performing acts of ins- tration and expiation. Another appears to be an assistant. Leaning against the foot of the column is a tablet bearing the mar- riage record. A little further on you see three other women at a small family altar. One, with a radiated crown, is the Regina Sacrorum, or Queen of the Sacred Nuptial Sacrifice, and represents the chaste Vesta the famIly deitythe goddess of fire, or the personified sun, which the radiated crown typifies. An attendant is pouring a sacri 150 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ficial libation upon the altar, while another makes music with a lyre. So ended the marriage ceremonies in the time of the old monarchs, when the Talasius was first sung, for that is a very ancient nuptial song, the origin of which is clear. At the time the Sabine women were seized in Rome for wives for the Romans, there was a citizen named Talasius, who was renowned for his valor and other virtues. A plebeian, assist- ed by his friends, the better to secure a beau- tiful maiden he had seized, cried out in the streets that he was carrying her to Talasius. The people shouted their approbation. The damsel married the plebeian, and the union proved to be a very happy one. It became a custom to sing a song at nuptials, called Talasius, as the Greeks do their Hymeninus. I will now tell you how men and women in Rome dress on ordinary occasions, first re- marking that each class, from the slave to the senator, has its peculiar fashions, and that the patrician class has different kinds of dresses for di erent occasions, such as feasts, the sports, weddings, and funerals. Slaves, common people, and children wear only a woolen tunic or shirt that falls from the neck to the knees, with long or short sleeves. It is girded about the waists of the common people with a cord; hut the higher classes use sashes or girdles made of silks or other rich stuffs dyed with gay col- ors. In winter the common people wear a shorter woolen tunic next the skin, and long woolen hose for their legs, and heavy shoes for their feet. Some of the outer tunics of the patricians are of fine white linen, orna- mented with a purple stripe that extends down from the throat to the lower hem of the garment. It is fashionable in the city to go bare- headed, but the common people, who labor all day here, or work in the country, and mariners, wear felt hats to protect their heads from the extremes of heat and cold and the storms. The city people give that protection by covering their heads with a fold of their ample togas. The felt cap, in the form the Phrygians wear it, has become here an emhlem of liberty When a master is about to make a slave free, he takes him to the temple of Ferenia, the goddess of free dom, where his head is shaved, and the pi- lens, or cap of liberty, is placed upon his head. It is made of undyed wool in the form seen in the drawing. The toga, or large gown, is a robe of hon- or, and only the patrician class may wear it. It is made of ~ ool, linen, and silk. Those of senators and judges are made of brown and black silk, which gives them a grave and dignified appearance. The volume of the garment is so ample that it may be tied around the body so as to dive full freedom to the limbs. On the occasions of public ca- lamities or mourning, of feasts and funerals, the toga is laid aside, while the dead of ev- ery degree are carried to the pyre, or the grave shrouded, in one of white linen At public sports a shorter one, called penula, is worn. It is open, and so fastened with a buckle to the right shoulder that the right arm is left perfectly free, as seen in the drawing. The penula is sometimes worn by women, and always by military officers. The sons of patricians wear the toga prietexta. which I have already drawn for you, until they are sixteen years of age, when they put rzNuLA, oa snouT TOGA. PC~YCLAN CAP. THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 181 on the toga virilis. This varies from the other oniy in not having a purple border. The feet and legs of men are dressed in various forms, having a general resemblance, from the sandala simple sole, made of Nood, palm leaves, leather, brass, iron, an copper, fastened to the bare foot and leg by thongsto the highly ornamented shoe and boot, made of soft deer-skin. Some of these boots or buskins, worn by both men and women, are very costly, for they are orna- aiented with gold and precious stones~ They ~e dyed with bright colors, a id often have high heels. Senators ~ ear a boot the foot of which is red and the leg black. There is a very pretty buskin made of soft white leather, which is worn by women and effem- mate men, in the same form of that of the bride which I have ~ritteu about. In the drawing of sandals, shoes, and boots here Iven it is distinguish di by the jeweled buckle at the middle of the foot and of the leg. The women wear long onter garments of wool, linen, and silk, which fall to their feet, and are so arranged by the more mod- est persons that they nearly cover their arias as if with broad sleeves. These robes are of various hues, the most fashionable just iiow being marrey-colored, or the tint of the vine leaves in autumn. In the drawing I here give you of a senator and his wife ou may see the prevailing costume of the sensible people of the better sort here. She bas a modest fillet formed of her own hair, audi wears plain sandals on her feet. Her husband has the tight shoe or boot. Over her tunic, which falls in thick folds to her feet, and is bound by a plain girdle at the waist, she wears an open cloak. The ex- ternal tunic of women is often made of the finest linen, and displays the form in every motion. It is sometimes bound at the waist by a gold chain, with handsome ornaments t its falling ends The fops of both sexes here run into great extravagances in dress in form and colors: and just now some of the foolish sons of rich men are spending much time and mon- ey with the gay eblamys, a kind of long scarf borrowed from the Greeks, which is often made of many colors, embroidered with gold and silver, and fastened to the shoulder with costly buckles. It is made of dyed ~ool, a d is worn in a score of ways accord- ing to the caprice of the wearer. it is usu- ally so f. stened to Ihe shoulder that the shorter end may hang down behind to the SEINATOR AED WIF. 182 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. IIEAn-DRESSES. calves, and the longer be thrown over the arm in graceful folds, and displayed with jeweled hands. It is sometimes made thin, so that it flutters in the wind. In the draw- ing of dancers which I send you the man and one of the women have the chlamys, which floats ont with their motions, and makes the wearer a most conspienous ob- ject. Women of loose morals sometimes wear an almost transparent robe made of silk, and ornamented with stripes of gold, called coa vestis. I might give you more minute details of other garments of men and women, but this will suffice, for they are now becoming quite common in Britain. But I must not omit to tell you of the way the Roman ladies ar- range their usually long and thick hair. They seldom use many ornaments, for their tire-women produce a more pleasing effect with the tresses thaa any thing that art can furnish. I send you drawings of four heads, which I made at the Amphitheatre a few days ago, which will give you a better idea of the prevailing fashions than any words can. I will only add that the simple fillet general- ly worn is usually of some gay color, and that conibs are beginning to be used for holding up the great pile of curls which some ex- tremely fashionable ladies now display. They are made of ivory, handsomely orna- mented, and have coarse and fine teeth at opposite ends for smoothing the hair. The wits are making fun of this new fashion. Juvenal read a piece to a few friends the other evening, in which he satirizes a court favorite in this wise: Into so many tiers she forms her curls, so many stages high she builds her head: in front you will look upon an Andromache, behind she is a dwarf: you would imagine her another person. Excuse her, pray, if nature has assigned her but a short back, and if; without the aid of high- heeled buskins, she looks shorter than a pig- my s maiden, and must spring lightly up on tiptoe for a kiss I must also say a few words about the babies and young children. They are mad bond-slaves at birth, for the first thing the nurse does after the ablution is to wind around the infantarms, body, and legs swaddling - cloths, and these usually indi- cate the rank of the parents. Some are wrapped in very costly stuffs tied with golden band; others with a purple scarf fastened by a glittering buckle; others with a fine white shawl, such as the wealthy la- dies wear in cold weather in their houses, fastened with scarlet strings; while the poor wrap their babes in broad fillets of common cloth. The old Lacedemonians seem to have been wiser, for they only wrapped a broad fillet of linen around the body, and left the arms and legs full liberty. These Romans put their babies into cr~ - dies of various forms. The most common are those of a boat and a hollow shield. Jo- sephus, the Jew I have mentioned, tells inc that the infant life of the great law-giver of his people was saved by his having been concealed among the osiers of the Nile by his mother in a boat-cradle. Sometimes, when the baby is a year old, the mother shaves its head and puts jewels in its ears, if it be a girl; and so soon as it begins to walk an ornament called India is hung about its neck. This is oftenonly a disk of metal, with the name of the childs family engraved upon it, so that the little one may be iden- tified if lost; but more often it is a hollow BULLA. THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 183 metal case, sometimes highly ornamented which contains charms against evil spirits. The children of the poor have disks of leath- er so marked that the babe may be identi- fied. These bullin (of one of which I have given you a dra ~ing the size of the original) were at first gi cu only to the little sons of noblemen, but now they are used by all classes. They are generally laid aside when the boy puts on the toga pr~texta; bnt sometimes a gold one is given to a youth because of some virtuous or valorous act of his, and he wears it as a badge of honor until he puts on the toga virilis. A )nlla in the form of a disk of lead or wax, and stamped with the emperors seal, is now suspended to all royal proclamations arid diplomas and new statutes. In my draw- ing of the boy with the toga prietexta you may see how the bulla is worn. Yesterday I attended the funeral of a %arming maiden, daughter of a wealthy friend of this family, who died seven days ago. I was one of the few who went to con- dole with the family immediately after her death. She was laid upon a couch, with her ordinary dress of white linen the weather baing yet very warm, and had the appear- ance of one in a sweet slumber. At the head of the bed sat her father, upon a fold- ing-chair, his head covered with a portion of his toga. At the foot sat her mother, in a large backed chair, with her head covered. Around the couch were sorrowing relations, friends, and domestics, weeping bitterly, for she was an extremely amiable and virtuous girl. Omi a footstool were her slippers, and under the bed was her favorite dog, with a paw upon a chaplet of olive leaves with which she was about to be crowned, in ac- cordance with the injunction of the Twelve Tables, which directs such honor to be paid to those who have led virtuous lives. The rings had already been removed from her fingers, and her body anointed with per- fumed oil The body was kept seven days, awaiting signs of life. Meanwhile every thing neces- sary for the funeral had been purchased in the temple of Libitina, and at the time h.p- pointed for the body to be carried from the house to the pyre it was placed with its feel near the threshold, the attitude in which it was to be borne. Then it was decorated with cypress boughs A vase of pure water stood near, with which all who came to the house of mourning were sprinkled as they ~vent out Ih funeral procession moved from the house at twilight. The body was borne upon a mattress by eight young men. The face, sweet in expression even in death, was un- covered, and was fully revealed by the light- ed wax-candles carried before and after the bier. Hired mourning women followed. mak ing loud lamentations, and shedding tears accustomed to flowing when bidden. Rela- tions, dressed in white, the women veiled, showed signs of great grief by gestures and disheveled hair, nutil the funeral pile, on the borders of the Via Appia, outside the city, was reached, when all gathered around the structure in silence. It was made of four courses of yew and pine alternate, and surrounded by cypress-trees. The body was laid upon it as it was borne with the mat- tress from the bier. The eyes were then opened, a small coin for ferriage fee at the Styx was put into the mouth, and then, from a crater filled with wine, milk? and honey, libations were poured over the body. At the same time two vases of perfumed oil were emptied upon the body and the wood to fa- cilitate the burning, and, with the scorch TuE nouiz or MOURNiEC. 1~4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. eypress, relieve the company of the unpicas- ant odor of a consuming corpse. While the pile was burning the leader of the ceremonies m~ de loud lamentations, to which the whole company responded, their last words being, Farewell, farewell, fare~~ell! We shall all tollow thee in the order Nature appoints us. The embers were then quenched, when the ashes of the maiden were carefully gathered by her mother and sisters, and in the folds uf their garments were carried to a beautiful l)lack marble urn, in which they were de- posited, and the lid sealed. This service was iot difticult, for the body had been wrapi)ed hi incombustible amianthus linen, and so the ashes were kept separate. Such, (lear Penda, are the funeral rites here on the death of a maiden of quality. LAeIiiiYMAL o TEAn VAmEm. [hen a man of distinction dies, great pomp is displayed. Music, sacrifices, a long train nean chambers in which are long lines of of hired mourners, mountebanks, whose an- sepulchral urns, and fill many leaves with tics relieve the solemnity, rich stuffs and pictures of beautiful ones that stand by the costly liquors and perfumed oils cast upon highways, but I should make my letter too the body and the often costly wood of the long amid tiresome, amid so I will forbear, after pile, are the accompaniments of the simple telling you that little inebryinal vases and act of disposing of the dead. The bodies of vials, that hold the tears of relations shed at time poor are burned imi walled inclosures omit- the funeral, ate usually mixedwith perfumes, side of the city, and the ashes are buried in and placed in the urns holding the ashes of shallow graves. Such was the P te of Neros time dead. corpse. In Ilonme labor is honorable and idleness Games and banquets for the people some- a slmanme. The women of every degree are times follow the public funeral rites. They patterns of industry. The chief employ- are often attended with great expense, and ments of a matromi amid grown daughters of ,mone hut the very rich or the monarchs cami the better class are spinning amid weavin~, afford them. To the games the people all and sonmetimes plain eumbroidering; and imm come dressed in black; to the banquets they almost every house you umay see a distaff, come in white garments. On some occasions spindle, and loom, especially in the country. hf this kind all Rome has been invited. It The method of spinning is simple. Imito a is said that when Julius Ciesar gave a pub- loose ball of flax or wool tIme broad, flat emid lie banquet in honor of his dead father he of the distaffa light stick or reed three ordered twenty thousand tables to be set for feet long is inserted. Time disi aft is held him the Romnans. the left hand and steadied by the arm, while Much care is taken for tIme preservation with time fingers of tIme right hand time fibre of monumental urmis and their contents. is drawmm out and twisted spirally into a Heavy curses empon violators of them are in thremd. This first thread is fastemmed to a scribed upon them, such as, If aimy one - shall spindle made of light wood or reed, with a take away this monument, or cause it to be slit at omie end into which the thread is taken away, let there be none of his race placed. By twirling this spimidle as the to succeed him. They are often inscribed hbres are drawmm out time thread is hard with the usual prayer for the dead, May twisted. The work is continued umutil the the earth lie light upon thee, and also the lengthening thread allows the spindle to wish that the dead may have cold water to touch the groumid, whieme the formimer is wound drink. The epitaphs are sometimes curious, upon the latter. This spinning and winding for they make tIme dead spe k of themselves. are repe~ ted until the spindle is full, when Here is one which I copied this morning: I the thread is emit off, the spindle laid in a To time gods, Manes. My name is Olympia. I died basket for misc in a loom, and amihither one e m- the a~ e of twenty-two, and was laid in this tomb. ployed. Time (irawing omm page 174 shows y6um I am a Greek by nation; my country is Apamea; how spinning is done in Rome. Time weav- have injared nobody; I have offended neither any in~ is by a simple method much like ours. ~reat nor mean person. I, Sotums, have made this epi- The educated women here are all fomad of ciph to my dear wife Olyampia, whom I married a vir- writ ino letters to t gin; I speak it, weeping; our mutual love never de- heir friemids and copying creased; it continued in its full vigor till the Parcme books. It is a passion. They re the chief took her from me. Out of love to you, dear wife, I teachers of their children in the art, yet have erected this monument, and give water to thy there are writing-schools for l)oys. Paper, thirsty souL pemi, ink, penknife, and styhums may he seoum I might tell you of vaults and subterra- in every house of the citizemi classes, for edu THE OLD ROMANS AT HOME. 183 I used for keeping rolls of writing in exclu- sively. Books are generally written in columns, with blank spaces between, upon the pre- pared skins of sheep and calves. Pieces are pasted together to form a length sufficient for a whole book, which is written upon the long strip and rolled over a staff. This is called a volumen. Sometimes a work com- prises several of these scrolls, which are put in a scrinium. In this way tire works of authors are kept for sale in bookstores and are arranged in libraries. The iRomaus are all fond of amusements - and sports. The men hunt and fish a great deal for amusement, as well as for the gain of food. The wild-hoar, stag. and hare are the chief objects of the chase, arid sometimes there are exciting hunts of the wolf and i)anther. Horses and numerous dogs are used in hunting. The latter are all named, and each responds when his name is uttered. They are taken out in leashes, and let loose TABLETS ANB STYI~I. as occasion may require. The chief weap- ons of the hunter are the dart and javelin. cation is compalsory. The paper is made They shoot birds with arrows, and capture from the inner bark of the papyrus plant, them with nets. In fishing with rod, hook, carefully peeled off by needles, and made and line they are very expert. They also thinner or thicker, under pressure, by alter- use nets as we do. Many rich citizens have nate layers of the bark placed transversely fish-ponds at their country-seats, and some to each other. The black ink is made chiefly are of salt-water that flows in from the sea from the soot of various burned substances, through canals, often dug at great expense. mixed with gum and the liquid of the cut- The value of these seats is often determined tie-fish, and vinegar is used to make the by the size and productiveness of the fish- color perumanent. Verumilion, cedar, and pond. cinnabar compose red inks, with which The Roman women have in-door amuse- titles, capital letters, and the royal signa- ments for the family and friends, consisting tures are written. Sometimes gold is used chiefly of games of chance played with dice. for letters, and in books you may often see The favorite game is lmmtrunculi. amid has a drawings of things and events in differ- warlike aspect in time method of playing. A eat colors; and on parchment diplomas re- table is checkered with two colors, and upon ally very fine pictures may sometimes he nearly every square is placed a counter or seen. figure. These are called muen, amid are thirty The pen is generally made of the reed in number, and divided equally by two col- called calamus, but of late the quill of the ors. The ganme is played by two persons, goose has been used by some. I have used each having fifteen muon. Each party has a one of the latter for my drawings, king, who is never moved excepting on ur- The stylus is an instrument made of bone, gent occasions. The rest of the men are ivory, or hard wood, with a sharp point for nioved in attitudes of commtentiou, and when tracing upon a tablet of wood, ivory, or lead, those of a king have all fallen into tIme hands covered with wax. These, tied together as of his enemy he is considered as conquered, I have represented them, like the fanmous Twelve Tables, form a volume. The blunt cud of the stylus is used for erasures. This mmplemnent was once made of metal; hut the serious accidents with them which occurred mruong school-boys caused them to be made of bone. $omnetimnes they are very plain, md sometinmes highly ornamented, as seen in the drawing. It was doubtless a heavy aretal one with which Juliums Cusar, when attacked, pierced througlm the arm of Casca. These implements, with rolls of paper, ar(m all kept in a cylindrical box with luck and sley, which every boy carries with him to school. This box, called scrimmium, is also A ~ 186 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and the game is won by the other. This was the game that Nero played, it is said, while Rome was burning. The Romans are very fond of music and dancing. They have a variety of wind in- struments, such as the flute, pipe, horn, trumpet, bagpipe, and syrinx. The princi- ~al stringed instruments are the lyre and harp; and they have a variety of others, which are beaten, such as the cymbal, drum, and crotalum. The syrinx is called Pans pipe. or organ. It is made of seven reeds of different lengths placed parallel, and is played upon by wind from the mouth. The crotalum is made of split reeds that clatter in harmony with the motion of the dancer, who holds them between her fingers and shakes them. The sistrum is a sort of oval-shaped instrument with four loose rods, which give out musical sounds when shaken. This in strument is generally used at public solem- nities. The bagpipe is seldom heard in the city, excepting in some pastoral scene at the theatre. It is used by shepherds. It is an inflated bag with a mouth-piece and two flutes, and is played partly by pressure be- tween the a~m and the body. There is also a stringed instrument of triangular form that is played upon by a pointed piece of iron, bone, or wood. I have forgotten its name. The drawings will give you a clear notion of the forms of several of the instruments I have named. There is much private dancing here, to the music of the flute and lyre, in the houses of the citizens; but this amusement is prin- cipally displayed in the circus, where it is seen in every variety of motion of men and women, boys and girls. Some of the public dancing is decent and attractive, and some is indecent and revolting. The latter is most common, for it better suits the de- praved public taste. I give you a drawing of two decent dancers (young man and woman), and one of another sort. The mod- estly dressed maiden holds the crotalum in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the oth- er, which has been cast upon the stage by some admiring spectator. The other is beating the hollow disks of the cymbal. I might give you a long description of the several dances in the circus, such as the scenic, adapted to either a tragic, comic, or satiric tone. These also accompany the plays at the theatre, and the kind last named is the most popular, for the performers sing out toward the spectators on all sides taunts and sarcasms, sometimes witty, some- times coarse, and too often indecent; and yet, strange as it may seem, these dancers are often employed at the funerals of the rich, when their satires exceed in extrava- gance and vulgarity those thrown out at the circus or theatre. I should be glad, dear Penda, to tell you all about the more public customs of these Romans (which are but a part of their home life) in carrying on their worship of the many gods and goddesses, and their amuse- ments, for I have been busy in making notes DRUM, LYRE, TRUMPET, SISTRUM, FLUTER ANI) CYMDAL. PRISCILLA. 187 and drawings of all these in much detail; but I fear I shall weary you, and so I will forbear. I might tell you about the inner arrangement of their temples, and how their solemn rites are performed reveal to you the secrets of nature as represented in their symbols, tell you how the priests lead the people in the chains of superstition; how oracles and divines make predictions without knowledge, and lay up money by their craft; of the grand Amphitheatre and its dreadful sports, such as the deadly fights of gladiators, and of men with bulls and wild beasts; of the sports of the circus, where may be seen almost every day races of horses and chariots, and of men afoot, and sometimes of elephants, dromedaries, and the tall, swift ostrich from Africa; of the wrestlings and other athletic perform- ances; of bear, dog, and cock fights; after which the victors, men or beasts, arc crowned with laurel and cheered by the ac- clamations of the multitude; of the great public shows in the circus, where some- times trained lions, tigers, and leopards draw chariots; and of many games of strength and skill conducted by champions, whose friends or factions are distinguished by the coh)rs green, red, white, and blue. Perhaps I may send you another letter, telling you all about these things. If not, I will de- scribe them when we meet in the spring. Until then, Yale! CADALLAN. PRISCILLA. Mv little Love sits in th~ shade Beneath the climhing roses, And gravely sews in a half-dream The dainty measures of her seam Until the twilight closes. I look and long, yet have no care To hreak her maiden musing; I idly toss my hook away, And watch her pretty fingers stray Along their task confusing. The dews fall, and the sunset light Goes creeping oer the meadows, And still, with serious eyes cast down, She gravely sews her wedding-gown Among the growing shadows. I needs must gaze, though on her check The hashful roses quiver She is so modest, simple, sweet, That I, poor pilgrim, at her feet Would fain adore forever. A heavenly peace dwells in her heart; Her love is yet half duty. Serene and serious, still and quaint, Shes partly woman, partly saint, This Preshyterian heauty. She is so shy that all my prayers Scarce win a few small kisses She lifts her lovely eyes to mine And softly grants, with hiush divine, Such slender grace as this is. I watch her with a tender care And joy not free from sadness For whit am I that I should take This gentle soul and think to mak Its future days all gladness? Can I fulfill those maiden dreams In some imperfect fashion? I am no hero, hut I know I love you, Dearthe rest I throw Upon your sweet compassion. PUaLTO nAncaas.

Nelly M. Hutchinson Hutchinson, Nelly M. Priscilla 187-188

PRISCILLA. 187 and drawings of all these in much detail; but I fear I shall weary you, and so I will forbear. I might tell you about the inner arrangement of their temples, and how their solemn rites are performed reveal to you the secrets of nature as represented in their symbols, tell you how the priests lead the people in the chains of superstition; how oracles and divines make predictions without knowledge, and lay up money by their craft; of the grand Amphitheatre and its dreadful sports, such as the deadly fights of gladiators, and of men with bulls and wild beasts; of the sports of the circus, where may be seen almost every day races of horses and chariots, and of men afoot, and sometimes of elephants, dromedaries, and the tall, swift ostrich from Africa; of the wrestlings and other athletic perform- ances; of bear, dog, and cock fights; after which the victors, men or beasts, arc crowned with laurel and cheered by the ac- clamations of the multitude; of the great public shows in the circus, where some- times trained lions, tigers, and leopards draw chariots; and of many games of strength and skill conducted by champions, whose friends or factions are distinguished by the coh)rs green, red, white, and blue. Perhaps I may send you another letter, telling you all about these things. If not, I will de- scribe them when we meet in the spring. Until then, Yale! CADALLAN. PRISCILLA. Mv little Love sits in th~ shade Beneath the climhing roses, And gravely sews in a half-dream The dainty measures of her seam Until the twilight closes. I look and long, yet have no care To hreak her maiden musing; I idly toss my hook away, And watch her pretty fingers stray Along their task confusing. The dews fall, and the sunset light Goes creeping oer the meadows, And still, with serious eyes cast down, She gravely sews her wedding-gown Among the growing shadows. I needs must gaze, though on her check The hashful roses quiver She is so modest, simple, sweet, That I, poor pilgrim, at her feet Would fain adore forever. A heavenly peace dwells in her heart; Her love is yet half duty. Serene and serious, still and quaint, Shes partly woman, partly saint, This Preshyterian heauty. She is so shy that all my prayers Scarce win a few small kisses She lifts her lovely eyes to mine And softly grants, with hiush divine, Such slender grace as this is. I watch her with a tender care And joy not free from sadness For whit am I that I should take This gentle soul and think to mak Its future days all gladness? Can I fulfill those maiden dreams In some imperfect fashion? I am no hero, hut I know I love you, Dearthe rest I throw Upon your sweet compassion. PUaLTO nAncaas. 188 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THIS is rather a cold morning, isnt it 1 1Cold, Sir ~ Shes a biter. Bless me if my toes aint amost a-comm off with cold ! This was rather a curious remark, seeing that it came from a person whose lower extremities consisted of two wooden sticks from the knees down. I suppose that my countenance betrayed my astonishment at it, for the old sailor smiled, and, looking down at his sticks, continued~ You see, Sir, somehow or other the cold weather always loosens my straps, and I feel as if the pins were gem to shake me My 01(1 uns, of the real stuff, were left at San Juan d Ulloa, in the Mexican war, and ince then I have been hoppin around on pedestals. But theres the Harhor now, Sir, and thats where I have been anchored these twenty years. Nice place, commodore. Was von ever there 1 I told the old man that it was just the oh- ject of my visit at the present time, and that I had come down on the boat for no other purpose. I also told him that I had a letter to Governor Melvillh, a~nd that I should he SNUG HARBOR. obliged to him if he could show me where to find that gentleman. Meanwhile the boat approached the land- ing, the gang-plank was drawn ashore ,and heavy boxes, barrels, and bundles, contain- ing provisions for the Harbor, were bein~ carried on shore. Huge carcasses of beef and mutton came next, and after that came the living freight for the Harbor. My friend seized his crutches, and coming up close to me, whispered into my ear: Say, com- inodore, you are goin to call upon the gov- nor, aint you I Now, Sir, I will tell you how you could do a service to an old salt, if you wanted to Theres Jack Stubbs; he rooms with me, and has got a wooden leg like me (but only one), and has been taboo acause he came home half-seas-over the other night. It was his old mans birthday, you see, and he had been celebratin it up in the city. Now, Sir, if yen couki L y in a good word for him with the govnor, saying that he didnt nican to do it, but that he was over- took suddenly, or somethin of that sort, I think that the govnor would let im off cheap. Do what you can, commodore; Jack is a good boy, although he does love the bottle ! I proniised to do as asked, and we went together through the iron gate, and up the smooth walk leading to the centre or main building of the Sailors Sung Harbor. On our way thither I learned that the boy, Jack Stubbs, for whose benefit I had prom- ised to interfere, was eighty-two years old, and that celebrating the birthday of the old man was only a slang term for getting a little the worse for liquor, which will, my friend with the wooden legs said, occa- sionally happen to some of em. Ascending the broad marble steps, we en- tered a large hall in the main building, lighted from above by a large oval window in the cupola, and occupied with chairs and benches placed across the floor, and leaving a narrow passage-way along the wall on ei- ther side. Just inside the door, and fronting the benches, was a readiug-dcsk of oak with a red velvet cushion, and in the rear stood, on either side of the opposite door, two v es of terra cotta, filled with shrubs and flowers. A gallery went round the hall on all sides, at the height of the second floor, and above that was the cupola and sky-light. A large portrait of Captain John Whitten, who had once gone from Albany direct to China in a small sloop, and who subsequently was the first governor of the Harbor (from 1833 to 1844), faces the main entrance from the gal- lery; and above that is a well - executed bust, in marble, of the founder of this gran institution, Captain Robert Rich rd Ran dall. TUE SUNNY OONNER.

Louis Bagger Bagger, Louis The Sailor's Snug Harbor 188-197

188 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THIS is rather a cold morning, isnt it 1 1Cold, Sir ~ Shes a biter. Bless me if my toes aint amost a-comm off with cold ! This was rather a curious remark, seeing that it came from a person whose lower extremities consisted of two wooden sticks from the knees down. I suppose that my countenance betrayed my astonishment at it, for the old sailor smiled, and, looking down at his sticks, continued~ You see, Sir, somehow or other the cold weather always loosens my straps, and I feel as if the pins were gem to shake me My 01(1 uns, of the real stuff, were left at San Juan d Ulloa, in the Mexican war, and ince then I have been hoppin around on pedestals. But theres the Harhor now, Sir, and thats where I have been anchored these twenty years. Nice place, commodore. Was von ever there 1 I told the old man that it was just the oh- ject of my visit at the present time, and that I had come down on the boat for no other purpose. I also told him that I had a letter to Governor Melvillh, a~nd that I should he SNUG HARBOR. obliged to him if he could show me where to find that gentleman. Meanwhile the boat approached the land- ing, the gang-plank was drawn ashore ,and heavy boxes, barrels, and bundles, contain- ing provisions for the Harbor, were bein~ carried on shore. Huge carcasses of beef and mutton came next, and after that came the living freight for the Harbor. My friend seized his crutches, and coming up close to me, whispered into my ear: Say, com- inodore, you are goin to call upon the gov- nor, aint you I Now, Sir, I will tell you how you could do a service to an old salt, if you wanted to Theres Jack Stubbs; he rooms with me, and has got a wooden leg like me (but only one), and has been taboo acause he came home half-seas-over the other night. It was his old mans birthday, you see, and he had been celebratin it up in the city. Now, Sir, if yen couki L y in a good word for him with the govnor, saying that he didnt nican to do it, but that he was over- took suddenly, or somethin of that sort, I think that the govnor would let im off cheap. Do what you can, commodore; Jack is a good boy, although he does love the bottle ! I proniised to do as asked, and we went together through the iron gate, and up the smooth walk leading to the centre or main building of the Sailors Sung Harbor. On our way thither I learned that the boy, Jack Stubbs, for whose benefit I had prom- ised to interfere, was eighty-two years old, and that celebrating the birthday of the old man was only a slang term for getting a little the worse for liquor, which will, my friend with the wooden legs said, occa- sionally happen to some of em. Ascending the broad marble steps, we en- tered a large hall in the main building, lighted from above by a large oval window in the cupola, and occupied with chairs and benches placed across the floor, and leaving a narrow passage-way along the wall on ei- ther side. Just inside the door, and fronting the benches, was a readiug-dcsk of oak with a red velvet cushion, and in the rear stood, on either side of the opposite door, two v es of terra cotta, filled with shrubs and flowers. A gallery went round the hall on all sides, at the height of the second floor, and above that was the cupola and sky-light. A large portrait of Captain John Whitten, who had once gone from Albany direct to China in a small sloop, and who subsequently was the first governor of the Harbor (from 1833 to 1844), faces the main entrance from the gal- lery; and above that is a well - executed bust, in marble, of the founder of this gran institution, Captain Robert Rich rd Ran dall. TUE SUNNY OONNER. THE SAILORS SNUG HARBOR. 189 This way. Sir, to the govnors office ! ~ud my friend hobbled round to the right, nd knocked at a door facing the hall; and dont forget to lay in a word for Jack Stubbs now, commodore, if you please, he had just time to repeat, in a whisper, when a loud Come in ! summoned ne to enter. It was a sung and comfortable office, seated in which, before a bright fire, was the genial governor of the Sailors Snug Harbor, Cap- tain Thomas Melville. After the usual salutations, I delivered my letters nd credentials, and had at once cordial ~elcome extended to me. Feeling comfortable and at ease after my rough and cold trip do -n on tile boat, I did not forget my promise to my fellow-passenger with the wooden legs, but related to tile governor the promise tilat had been cx eted froi me. lIe laughed, ud promised to forgive old Stubbs for this once, although, he said. he is one of the orst we have, Oil ecount of his intemperance, iiotwithstandiug his age. By making baskets lie earns enough to go on a regular spree every fortnight, and if we put no restrictions upon hiul, the prob- ability is that he ~ ould celebrate the old mans birthd y some two dozen times year. By tahooing him is meant tllat he is not permitted, for a certain term, to go outside the iron railing. There is only about a week left of his terra, and, as you desire it, I shall willingly forgive the old man that, and pat him upon his good be- havior. imAIOIALLS ncsr. It must be said, however, in justice to the inmates of the harbor, that their conduct, with but very few exceptions, is irreproach- able in every respect. It but seldom be- comes necessary to taboo any body, and a rill~ coMPaAINr 190 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. still rarer occurrence is the expulsion of any. mostly made up from the following nation- This last measure is only resorted to in cases alities: where repeated drunkenness or disorderly England, 44, of a~n average age of 54 years. and violent conduct renders it absolutely Ireland, 33, 45 necessary. Out of a population in the Har- Scotland, 14, 53~ Germany, 24, 55 bor of more than fonr hundred inmates, only Sweden, 26, 51 live or six cases of expulsion occur in a Norway, 10, 50~ year. Denmark, 10, 53 There were, at the time of my visit, 396 in- France, 5, 413j mates in the Harbor, of all ages and belong- Then there were some from Poland, Malta, lug to all nationalities. Paragraph XI. of Cape de Verd, and the Cape of Good Hope. the by-laws of this institution declares: The average age of the inmates is 55 years; All mariners, including captains and mates, the youngest man in the institution was a if aged, decrepit, and worn-out sailors, are young sailor of about 23, who had lost his rime proper ol)jects of this trust. But no per- sight by an accident, and the oldest was a son shall be admitted as an inmate of the colored man named Jacob Morris, who, at the institution (if a foreigner born) who can nol time of my visit, had attained the ripe old furnish satisfactory proof of his having sail- age of 103 years. ed for at least five years under the flag of Every morning at seven oclock a bell calls the United States; and this further stipu- all the inmates down to breakfast, which lation is made: No person shall be received consists of a quart of cxcellent coffee for as a member of this institution who is a ha- each, and an abundant supply of home-made bitual drunkard, or whose character is im- bread and butter. Dinner is on the table at moral, or who labors under any contagious twelve, and supper at half past five or six disease. P.31., according to the season. At niuc in the These are the only conditions regnlating evening all the lights must be put out, cx- rhe adnimssmon of worn-out 01(1 mariners into cept the lamps in the halls and in the hos- the Sailors Snug Harbor. By the charity pital, and the inmates are expected to retire and generosity of the founder, Captain Ran- to rest. Except when tabooed or on the sick- dali, the gates of this snug harbor are open list, every inmate is at liberty to leave the to every nationality and every creed. Of institution, and visit his friends in the city the 396 inmates above mentioned, only 197 or elsewhere. All he is required to do is to were native Amaricans, and these were of an report to the governor before leaving and average age of 57 years; the balance was upon his return. The gates are open for xis- AnMIssIoN OF AN OLD SAILOR TO THE ((ARDOR. THE SAILORS SNUG HARBOR. 191 itors every day during the week from nine in the morning till nine in the evening, ex- cept on Sundays, when no visitors are re- ceived. The inmates were at their dinner in the large and attractive dining-hall when we en- tered it. This is situated on the ground- floor of a large building in the rear of the main or central building, with which it com- municates by a wooden bridge, raised about tea feet above the ground. The largest din- ing-room contains twelve long tables, each of which can accommodate thirty-two diners. In another dining-roam opposite there are four tables, each capable of accommodating the same number. The dinner on this par- ticular day consisted of mutton-stew, which was served up ia large tin tnreens. The spoons and forks were of the best white metal, each bearing the stamp Sailors Snug Harbor, and the quality of the dinner was excellent. Each man had a tumbler of wa- ter in front of his plate, and of bread and meat as much as he desired. The table-lin- en was perfectly white and clean, and alto- gether the appearance of the dining-hall was more like that of a good substantial hotel than of a charitable institution. Grace was said before dinner, and thanks were also offered after meals. Waiters, in long white aprons, were busily engaged among the tables in removing empty dishes and substituting filled and steaming ones in their places. Satisfaction and happiness shone in the face of every one; and I have no doubt that many an old sailor, at the bottom of his heart, on this cold and win- try day, silently blessed the memory of his benefactor. There is nowhere another institution con- ceived in the same spirit of liberal and un- limited benevolence, the famous Greenwich Hospital not excepted; nowhere else does the old sailor, after having braved many a storm and frequently faced death, find so safe and snug a harbor. There, seated in a warm and comfortable room, he can through the window look out upon the scenes of his former life as a mariner; there is the deep blue sea, covered with numerous craft, re- minding him of the time when he himself braved its dangers, and recalling adventures in foreign climes, that, sitting there by t1~e window in his easy-chair, he is fond of rela- ting. Captain Robert Richard Randall, of the city of New York, by his last will and testa- ment, dated June 1, 1801, after leaving cer- tain specific legacies, bequeathed all the residue of his estate, real and personal, to the Chancellor of the State, the Mayor and Recorder of the city of New York, the presi- dent of the Chamber of Commerce, the pres- ident and vice-president of the Marine So- ciety, the senior minister of the Episcopal Church, and the senior minister of the Pres byterian Church, in said city, and their suc- cessors in office respectively, to be received by them in trust, and applied to the erection of an asylum or marine hospital, to be called The Sailors Snug Harbor, for the main- tenance and support of decrepit, aged, and worn-out sailors. The institution was to be opened as soon as the income from the estate, in the judg- ment of the trustees, should seem sufficient to. support fifty seamen. Bnt the persons thus designated as trustees being also the appointed executors of the will of Captain Randall, soon found themselves inconven- ienced in the management of the estate by reason of the changes which took place in the ordinary course of elections and ap- pointments to these offices, and therefore applied for, and in February, 1806, received, an act of incorporation from the Legislature. The first trustees were John Lansing, Jun., Chancellor of State; De Witt Clinton, May- or; Maturin Livingston, Recorder of the city; John Murray, president of the Cham- ber of Commerce; James Farquar and Thom- as Farmar, president and vice-president of the Marine Society the Rev. Benjamin Moore, senior minister of the Episcopal Church; and the Rev. John Rodgers, senior minister of the Presbyterian Church. At their first meeting they elected officers, adopted by-laws, and ~ippointed a committee to prepare a suitable design for a seal for the corporation, the device of which, when subsequently adopted, represented a harbor formed by two points of land projecting into the sea, in which a ship appears riding safe- ly at anchor, and on the shore, in the back- ground, a view of the hospital, with the mot- to, Portum petimus fessi. In October, 1.806, the reported income of the whole estate was $4243. Eight years later the annual income had increased to about $6000; and in the same year the New York Legislature, owing to some difficulties which had arisen in determining who were the senior ministers of the Episcopal and Presbyterian churches, decided that the rec- tor of Trinity Church and the minister of the Presbyterian church then located in Wall Street were of the trustees of said cor- poration. An act also was appended re- quiring the trustees to make an annual re- port of the state of the funds held by them to the Legislature of the State, and to the Common Council of the city. Thus the State and the city of New York were con- stituted the guardians of the trust. In 1817 the total income of the estate was $6659 92; and during that year the trustees petitioned the Legislature for permission to change the site of the hospital. Instead of erecting it on the twenty-one acres of ground in the upper part of the city, as had been contem- plated by the testator, which plan would absorb a large portion of their revenues, de 192 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. HOSPITAL FARM WAS~I r~ ~ p S STEWA~~ ____ 5LODGE PARSONAQE ~ ONAPEL DINING ~OAOI4 HOUSE OCTOR j BUILDIN~ GOWONOR / MONOMLNT coor FLAO LOOSE h PLAN OF SASLOSOS SNUG hA 00050. predate the value of the adjoining lots, and necessarily confine the inmates to narrow limits, they asked to be authorized to pur- chase ground for the hospital at the en- trance to, or in sight of, the harbor of New York. A short time previous they had been teudered the liberal offl~r of a conveyance gratuitously of a lot of land, not less than tea aerca, on Staten Island, situated on the bay between Point Diamond and the quar- antine grounds, then belonging to, and offer- ed by, Daniel D. Tompkins. This permission was, however, not granted by the Legislature until 1828, after a delay of - - ~ the result of nnmerons lawsuits against the trustees by various parties that claimed to be the legal heirs of Captain Randall. Troubles and suits seemed to in- volve the estate upon all sides, arid larg sums of money were expended in disposing of them. It was not until March, 1830, that a final decision in this matter, by the Su- preme Court of the United States, in favor of the trustees, set at rest all doubts as to the validity of tioc disputed will. In May of the following year (1831) the trustees purchased their present site npo Staten Island, consisting of a farm contain- ing 130 acres of land, for the sum (Of $10,000. Subsequently they purchased 21 acres more, with a water-privilege, which had been orig- inally a part of this farm, but had been sold, -~ 1 was used for manufacturing purposes the price paid for this part of the property being $6000. These two parcels of land now constitute the farm ud grounds of the Sail ors Snug Harbor At a still later period th( trustees added to the farm, by lease, 36 acres of excellent woodland. In October, 1831, was laid the corner-stone of the main buildin ~, which, over a marble foundation, was built of brick, two stories high, with a portico supported by cighi Done pillars in Vermont marble. A broad flight of marble steps leads to the main en- trance, and the centre of the roof supports a low cupola of an oval shape. This build- ing, embracing all of what was then the Sailors Snug Harbor, was completed in 1833, ONUS 00/ tOO OLE OOUSU-OOOEO0O. THE SAILORS SNUG HARBOR. 193 ad Loin ally opened on the 1st of Angnst of $75,000, while the institution at that time li~ t year with great festivities, furnishing a supported three hundred inmates. Avid home for thirty aged an worn-out sailors, since then the animal income has kept on Subsequently two wings were added to increasing, making for 1870 a total anionvit the main building, and connecte with this of about $127,000. by two covered corridors of one story each. The greater part of the ground-floor in These wings are built of the same material, the main building is occupied by the h~ill ud are of the same height as the main already described, which is used in the win- building, aim are wholly occupied by sleep- ter months for religious services every morn- lug apartments. The centre or main build- ing and night, thus obviating the necessity -ng has a frontage of 65 feet, with a depth of heating the chapel except on Sundays. if 100 feet; each of the two wings is 51 feet All the buildings are heated by hot air from by 100; and the coanecting corridQrs are furnaces in the basements. To the left of ~ach 39 feet 6 inches in length. Later yet the hall is the reading-room, where all the ~he rear building was erected, of dimensions leading dailies, weeklies, and magazines can nearly similar to those of the main building, be found; and behind that is the library, but three stories in height, time two upper well stocked with books, mostly consisting stories being partitioned off into lodging of narratives of travel and adventure and a and sleeping roonis. books of voyages and exploring expeditions. In front of the main building is the mar- On the opposite side, to the right of the cu- bIc monument erected over the remains of trance, are the office and private room of the founder, which were, in August, 1834, re- the ~overnor, and up stairs are time sleeping move hither from their original place of apartments, facing on the gallery. In the intermneut. basement are long airy corridors and work- After the successful termination of the rooms, where a great part of the inmates are numerous lawsuits and intrigues that had occupied in l)asket-making. This industry for such a long time embarrassed the trust- is carried on to a very great extent in this ecs, the revenues of the estate increased at instit tion, as it is easy work, requiring no ~n extraordinary ratio; and as at the same strength or special skill, and a pursuit in line the value of the real estate owned by which the blind can also engage. The mm- the corporation in the upper part of New portance of this industry may be estimated York had more than trebled in value, it is from the fact that during a single year has- uot surprising that the income of the estate kets were made by time inm~ tes that sold in in 1855 amounted to the handsome sum of the market for very nearly $30,000, avera- Vor. XLvLNo. 2T2.1 3 TOE iiEAnmNo-iiooM. 194 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ging an income of about $75 for each inmate. These baskets are bought up mostly by two large New York houses, and a considerable proportion of them, as also of the mats made there, are shipped to and sold in Boston. The materials nsed in the manufacture of mats and baskets (Spanish palm ~af and rattan) are bougbt by the inmates them- selves, and the whole profit belongs to them individually, and is for the greater part spent for tobacco and in the purchase of minor comforts. One old salt from New Hamp- shire had acquired a private library, num- bering some forty odd volumes, wbieh he had in his room, nicely arranged in a book- case of his own mannfactnre, with glass doors. His latest acquisition was the His- tory of Julius C~sar, by the ex-Emperor Napoleon, bound in green and gold. In the basement are also some of the wash- rooms, furnished with iron basins and large towels on rollers, where the old sailors per- form their daily ablutions and make their toilet, as washing ia the rooms is prohibited. Passing through the wide and airy corridors, we fonnd about sixty old men, some of them blind, engaged in basket-making, while at one end of the hall sat a blind man prepar- ing tbe palm leaf for use, by splitting it and drawing it between two sharp knives fast- ened into a block of wood before him, by which it is cnt into a uniform thickness and width. At the foot of the stairs sat a man, apl)arently not very old, and in good health busily engaged in finishing tbe centre piece of a knife-basket. Hallo, Davy ! Governor Melville hailed him, bow are baskets to-day. Davy, turning his lustreless eyes upon us, answered, Dull, govnoramighty dull; havent sold a basket this fortnigbt. Think I will leave the basket business and go into mats. This man, whose name was David James, was, I learned, the oldest inmate in the in- stitution (though not by any means the old- est man), he being one of the thirty omiginal inmates. He was then twenty-seven years old, and has been an inmate of the Harbor for thirty-seven years. Here we also fonad, engaged in basket- making like the rest, a veteran from the war of 181~2, named Daniel Collins, who had been twice captured in American merchantmen by the English cruisers. Nearly opposite him, with a large mat upon his knees, with which he was busily engaged, sat Cornelius Rose, an old white-haired and white-bearded sailor, who joined the American navy in 1~12, belonged to the schooner Enterprise when she was captured by the English brig Boxer, and was one of the crew of time frigate President when, nuder the command of De- catur, that gallant ship fought three English frigates. He belonged to the old Constitutioi for nine years, and took an active part in the Mexican and Florida wars. His records and papers show that he has participated in no less than twenty-seven conflicts. Besides basket - making the old sailors have other means of making money, one of the most common of which is fishing. A large proportion of the money which they accumulate, as we have already said, goes for tobacco. Of course no sailor can he tebooed for smoking. On our way up stairs again the governor pointed out to me the Swedish lawyer, se called from his nationality, and the fact of his being, or considering himself as being, the bright particular star, concentrating within himself the erudition of the whole THE SAILORS SNUG HARBOR. 195 community. He seemed to be not unlike our friend Jack Bunshy, and at the very time when we passed him he was en- gaged in laying down his opinion to another sailor ad I seemed to hear the familiar words, Whereby if sowhy not? The bearings of the observation lies in the application of itawast, then ! Crossing the oridge, we agaii~ enter the rearbuild- ing, the basement of which is occupied by the kitchen, the store-room, stewards office, colored mens mess, and blind mens mess. Here, also, are the apartments in which the assistants and employ6s of the institution take their meals. The blind men have two waiters to attend to their wants and assist them; but beyond some help at table, they require no aid, but navigate the whole build- ing, up stairs and down stairs, assisted only by a cane, with which they feel their way. Here we meet one of the most interesting of the blind men just coming from his dinner. It is Captain John MEwen, who in 1813, while belonging to the privateer Vengeance, of New York, assisted at the capture of twenty-one British vessels. Afterward lie became the captain of an East Indiaman, and was for many years a prominent, suc- cessful, and well-known master of ships ii the East India trade. But misfortunes over- took him; he lost his sight, and con sequent- ly became unable to follow his profession, and he is now a mnch-esteemed hunate of the Harbor. Passing from this building, we cross the grOnn(15 to the hospital, stopping on the way to have a look at the stcen~- laundry and bakery. DRAWING ToBAcco. oLa SAILORS FIShING. 196 HA1~PERS NI~W MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The hospital is a magnificent and solid gian by birth, and seventy-seven years old. building of gray sandstone, built in the He arrived in this country at Boston on the same style as the maiiq building, with mass~ day that the long embargo went into opera- ive pillars supporting a portico over the en~ tion~ During the war of 1812 he belonged to trance~ In the basement are t~e kitchen the Constitution, on board of which he par- audwork-rooms for the convalescent patients ticipated in the fight with the Guerri~re. who desire to work at their usual occupation In the same ward was Ebenezer Lakemann, basket-making. On the first floor is a who, while serving in the American priva- large hall with a gallery or promenade over- teer Buckskin, of Salem, Massachusetts, in head, and also the mess-rooms; and the up- 1813, captured the English schooner 3lari- per story is occupied by the wards, which anne, which was recaptured, with him on are all large, light, and airy, and have five board as prize-master, by the English frig- or six iron bedsteads in each. On entering ate Aliaidstone. He was taken to England we were met at once by old Webster, who is and imprisoned there, and afterward ex- now in the ninety-fourth year of his age. changed for one of the crew of the Guerri~re, He was admitted an inmate of the Sailors In a ward on the opposite side of the hail, Snug Harbor in 1844, then sixty-seven years looking bright and cheerful, and ornamented old. It must be confessed that age hasas with several bird-cages containing chirping he said himself& rather brought him and twirling canaries, we found old Jacob down. His mouth is toothless, his eyes Morris (colored), who entered the Sailors watery and dim; but his white hair and Snug Harbor in the year 1848, then at the long white beard give him a venerable up- age of eighty. He was now in the 104th year pearance. He speaks with difficulty, and is of his age, and had, until very lately, been perfectly helpless at table. well and up every day, walking around the Well, Webster, how goes it ? the gov- grounds as one of the youngest. But, ernor said, approaching him and wiping off govnor, he said, me getting feeble, sah; his beard, full of crumbs of bread from his bery feeble! Me can not now leave bed, dinner, with his pocket-handkerchief. sah~ bery weak in de joints, sah; and ho- A-a-all ri-ght, gov-nor; b-but why dont som pangs herehere I and he pressed his the d-doctor c-come to see ni-me? hands against the left side of his breast. Why, Webster, are you sick? If so, the It was evident that he could not live long. doctor shall, of course, come to see you, and The wards for the sick were all well light- I will send for him at once. ed by windows reaching from the ceiling to N-no, gov-nor, I a-aint sick; but Im the floor, and well heated and ventilated. a-getting old ! Nearly every room had bird-cages and flow. Well, the doctor cant help that, you ers in it, and the walls were painted a del- know; but if you feel sick or need the doc- icate lavender, pleasant to the eye, and im- tors assistance, why, thei~, of course, you parting a soft and cheerful appearance to the shall have it at once. room. No, gov-nor, I d-dont want the d-doc- Leaving the hospital we proceeded to vis- tor, if you will let me g-go out alone; Ic-can it the farm belonging to this institution, and t-tr-travel without a p-pilot ! were accompanied thither by another old To this, however, the governor would not veteran, John Strain. assent, much to the mortification of old The products of the farm in 1870 amount- Webster, who insisted that he was well ed to $9067 60. Allowing for expenses for enough to travel over to New York and conducting and stocking it$3768 87there come back again without an escort. He is remained a net profit of $5298 73, which is at liberty to go out whenever he pleases if a very handsome exhibit. Among the arti- the weather is fair and nothing particularly des raised r~ay be named 5465 eggs, 20,662 is the matter with him; but he has always quarts of milk, 1722 bushels of potatoes, 5627 an assistant or a reliable brother inmate to heads of cabbage, 2990 heads of lettuce, 16,410 accompany him and take care of him. This cucumbers, besides great quantities of car- old man is, however, notwithstanding his rots, radishes, beets, corn, string-beans, on- age, of a very belligerent disposition; thus, ions, sweet-potatoes, squashes, water-melons, a short time ago it became necessary to taboo etc., etc. The live stock consisted of 12 him for a month because he knocked one milch cows, 4 young heifers, 1 Albany bull, of the patients on the head with his cane, and 90 hogs, besides oxen and horses. Of getting excited during an argument over poultry there are kept about 70 chickens, some small matter; and it was but a week mostly for the use of the hospital. An ice- previous to my visit that he challenged one house is also erected here, in which is stored of the younger boys of seventy-five outside away the ice for the use of the Harbor, which to a personal combat as a means of settling is obtained from a pond situated on their a little difficulty between them. property. We found lying in bed, in one of the wards, Away back, south of these buildings, lies with a bowl of chicken soup on a small table a fine stone building, belonging to a society beside him, a invalid, Charles Risby,Norwe- of ladies in New York and on Staten Island, SONNET 197 but erected upon ground belonging to the Sailors Snug Harbor, which is occupied as a Home for Destitute Seamens Children. These ladies work in silence; there is no ostentation about the distribution of their charities. But they labor earnestly, and in a good cause. The chaplain belonging to the Sailors Snug Harbor lives with his family in a large and comfortable house situated on the prem- ises,in the rear of the chapel, which was erected in 1855. Here services are held ev- ery Sunday during the winter, and every day, morning and night, during summer. The chapel is a plain but handsome brick building, without any cupola or belfry, but with large stained windows. The interior is plain, but scrupulously neat and taste- fully decorated; and upon two long tablets, one on each side of the altar, are inscribed the names of all the trustees and officers that have been connected with the Harbor since its first opening. The doctor also lives upon the premises, in a fine house situated near the road and facing the Kills, far in advance and to the right of the main buildings. The governors house occupies a similar position on the op- posite side, to the left of the main build- incrs~ and from both of these dwellings a agged walk leads to the main entrance of the centre building. Directly in front of this, surrounded by an iron railing, is the plain marble monument that covers the re- mains of the founder of this noble charity. The old sailors are not allowed to keep dogs. To some of them this is a great dep- rivation. These lovers of the canine spe- cies are obliged to gratify their peculiar tastes outside the limits of the institution. With one of them, known as the bone man, the passion for dogs amounts to a monomania. In order to render himself at- tractive to his favorites he fills his pockets with bones and wanders off into obscure haunts and by-ways, where he may often be seen surrounded and followed by his not entirely disinterested clients. That the revenues of the Sailors Snug Harbor in the course of time will be largely increased when the long leases shall have expired, and their up-town property be re- lea