HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. VOL. LXXIX. JUNE, 1889. No. CCCCLXIX. SOCIAL LIFE IN RUSSIA. BY THE YICOMTE EUG~E MELOHIOR BE V0GTJ~. .~econb 3.~aper. I. THE late Petersburg summer arrives with the suddenness of a thunder-clap. The previous day there is not a bud to be seen on the trees, and a few days later you may literally see the leaves growing; the heat sets in brusquely and without transition. This renewal of nature co- incides with the period of the white nights at the end of May and the begin- ning of June. The sun scarcely disap- pears from the sky for two or three hours only, during which, although it is absent, you divine its presence just below the ho- rizon. The redness of sunrise follows im- mediately that of sunset. This diffused radiation that fills the atmosphere is nei- ther day nor night; it is an Elysian light in which men and objects produce no shadows, and assume the aspect of pale spectres. Such must be the quality of the light in the dead valleys of the moon. During these disturbing hours when the twilight and the dawn are confounded, nervous people cannot sleep. This is the time for long excursions to the Islands. At the first smile of spring nothing can be more charming and fresh than this labyrinth of forests cut up by the numer- ous branches of the Neva, which mean- ders between the clumps of verdure bathed in the waters of the gulf that wash softly around the Point. The Point is the Hyde Park or the Bois de Boulogne of Peters- burg. The droskies and the barouches, which have taken the place of the sleighs, bring to this promontory every evening during the spring nights all the fashion- able world of Petersburg. The equipages are drawn up in rows at the waters edge. In the crowd of promenaders, in which the officers form the majority, each one waits for the carriage in which he is par- ticularly interested, and when it arrives groups form at the door and talk of the topics of the day, or of more private af- fairs, as they watch the sun sinking slow- ly into the waves toward Oranienbaum, or the sails of the fishing-boats scudding away toward the coast of Finland. It is a sweet and meditative hour, and nothing warns you that it is fleeting, for the dark- ness does not arrive, and the promenaders linger, and nothing can induce them to quit this enchanted spot. On the return drive, the fogs that rise from the marshy land float like a silver canopy over the fields and forests stand- ing motionless and fantastic in the calm wbite night. The equipages scatter among the avenues that traverse the Islands in every direction, and stop at the doors of the villas whose gates open on the road pleasure-houses belonging to the no- bility and the rich merchants, built with fa9ades on the water, and with steps de- scending to the waters edge, where are moored the boats that bring into com- munication the palaces of this rustic and sylvan Venice. In a few days more the families whose business obliges them to remain near the capital will come and take up their summer quarters. They dine in the open air on the garden lawns, breathe the fresh air at the waters edge, or go off in joyous boating parties to hear the fashionable operetta in one of the country theatres that add to the gayety of the Islands; on all sides orchestra bands invite the loungers, garlands of Japanese lanterns are reflected in the river, bou- quets of fireworks burst above the trees. Whether he follows the road or the river, the promenader is stopped at every step by the animated pictures that solicit his attention. The gardens full of light-col- ored toilets and of the laughter of chil- dren, the houses thrown wide openev- erything makes him forget that he is in copyright, 1889, by Harper and Brothers. All rights reserved. VOL. LXXIX.No. 469.i 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Russia, and transports him to the life of Italy or to the borders of the Bosporus. Those who are attached to the service of the court pass the summer at Tsars- koe-Selo or at Peterhof, according as the caprice of the sovereign may have pre- ferred one or the other of these residences. The small towns grouped around these imperial palaces are situated in opposite directions at one hours distance by rail from Petersburg. Peterhof is the Russian Versailles. Peter the Great endeavored to reproduce there the splendors that he had seen at the residence of Louis XIV.: a park with majestic prospects, alleys of trimmed and sculptured yew-trees, foun- tains streaming from the mouths of bronze Tritons. The vicinity of the sea furnishes here an additional decorative element a fine promenade stretches away between the waves and the oak forest, and leads to the pier where the imperial yachts are moored. Tsarskoe-Selo is the more living of the two, and the richer in souvenirs. In the vast castle built by Rastrelli, and under the larch-trees that fringe the lake, one thinks one still sees the shade of the great Catherine, who used to lead in this place a familiar and intelligent life in company with her favorites, her philoso- phers, and her poets. One fancies that one sees, too, the shade of the unfortu- nate Alexander II., who used to. delight to assenible us here in his private fetes when the summer brought him back to his favorite abode. By the side of the palace the Lyc6e calls up the most glorious souvenirs of Russian letters. It was long the monopoly of this house to educate the children of the high nobility; on its com- memorative tablets are inscribed most of the names that have made a mark in the politics or in the romantic movement of the first half of the century. There Pouch- kin passed his childhood, and some of his verses describe the enchantments of Tsarskoe. The Hussars of the Guard who are stationed in the town keep ennui at a respectful distance. The park, admirably laid out with its roads that lead to tri- umphal arches and classical temples and pavilions in the style of the eighteenth century, is contiguous to the park of Pay- lovsk, which surrounds the castle of the Grand-Duke Constantine. Between these two residences there is an incessant going to and fro of equipages, which issue from the chalets that are disseminated amongst the sheltering pine-trees, and drive round the open - air orchestras which are the habitual rendezvous of rusticating Peters- burg. We shall not stay to describe this villeg- giatura life. It gravitates in the orbit of the court, and the life scarcely differs from that of Potsdam or Schdnbrunn. We should simply find there over again, with a little more liberty, the society of which we have already made the acquaint- ance at the Winter Palace. Nor shall we follow the considerable fraction of Rus- sian society which goes abroad as soon as the fine weather comes, although a piq- uant chapter might be written on social life outside of Russia, at Baden, Homburg, Trouville, Biarritzscenes which Tour- gu~nief has depicted with a satirical pen in his novel Smoke. Let us leave to this witty writer the Baden Generals, as he calls them. We are seeking rather for picturesque representations of national life, and in order to find them we shall do best to follow in the footsteps of the great landed proprietors who pass the summer on their estates, leur bien, as people say at Petersburg. Each one diverges toward some remote province of the empire. The time is not distant when these journeys required two or three weeks over the post- roads along which horses dragged the easy chaises. Nowadays a family takes its place in a comfortable railway car, ac A TcffEBEMIssE GIRL. SOCIAL LIFE IN RUSSIA. 5 C) THE BOURLAKI OF THE VOLGA. companied by a van full of boxes, as nu- merous as would be required by an ex- plorer starting for central Africa: pro- visions, clothes, stuffs, bookseverything has to be carried from the shops of Pe- tersburg or Moscow into the forlorn region where the family is going to live. Which party shall we join? Their proverbial hospitality invites us to Lithuania, Ukra- nia, the Crimea, the Ural. Let us follow first of all this Cossack seigneur who is going by way of the Volga to his domains in the steppe of the Don. II. He has been staying for a few days at Moscow to see his friends in the old cap- ital, and to perform his devotions in the cathedrals of the Kremlin. It is always a joy to the heart of a good Russian to contemplate the town of the sixteen hun- dred churches, with its ocean of green roofs, its lace-work of spires, and its domes that rise against the azure sky as far as the eye can reach. He has visited Saint Michael the Archangel, where the old Tsars, since Ivan Kalita, sleep side by side in coffins reared up against the pillars; he has kissed the reliquaries of the saints be- neath the sombre vaults of the Ouspensky Sobor, the metropolitan church where the Emperor is invested with the crown on the day of his consecration. In the even- ing his friends have invited him to Petri- kiefs, the restaurant famous for the or- thodoxy of its national cooking; Tartars dressed in white serve the oukha, or ster- let soup, so dear to the gourmet, the rasti- gay, or fish pasty, which accompanies it; the diners listen solemnly to a gigantic and indefatigable organ, whose mechani- cal rollers grind out in the immense hall select pieces from Glinkas opera Life for the Tsar. At last our traveller has made his last purchases in the bazar of the Chi- nese Town, in those little booths and stalls that run along the vaulted galleries where the Muscovite merchants, as mi- passible and wily as the Turks, sell cara- van tea, Siberian furs, and silver - gilt chased images. Then he takes the train for Nijnii-Novgorod, and as he will cer- tainly have some business to do in grain or cattle at the fair, we shall have time with him to take a glance at this micro- cosm of Russian life. The fair has just begun. According to the traditional usage, the flags that an- nounce the opening have been hoisted on their poles and blessed with grand cer- emonies. A naval officer presides over this ceremony; it is a solemn moment. According to the hereditary superstition of the Nijnii Tnerchants, if the flags mount without a hitch, and float at once bravely in the breeze, the success of the fair is cer- tam; but if they get entangled in the cords, it is useless to hope to do good business. The level of the waters of the Volga is also anxiously consulted. When the wa- ters are too low in consequence of the ex- cessive heat, the heavy boats laden with 6 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. metal, stuffs, and cereals run aground on the sand-banks in the river, and cannot get up to the fair, which is limited to the triangle of alluvion formed at the conflu- ence of the Volga and the Oka rivers. On this sandy plain, bare and marshy in spring-time, a large city rises for the space of two months, with its wooden houses, its long streets with names established by ancient custom, its Chinese quarter with pagoda roofs bristling with dragons and bells. The municipalities of our proud- est Western capitals might learn much by studying the problems which have had to be resolved in order to insure the admin- istrative services of this ephemeral town, and its provisioning in food and in water. Two things are particularly worthy of at- tention: the system of sewers and the or- ganization of the fire-brigade. Fire is the great enemy of the fair; every year it de- stroys shops to the value of a considerable sum. Everywhere there are towers for watchmen, and stations where powerful engines are always ready under steam, with horses standing beside them. The firemen of Nijnii surpass all their Euro- pean colleagues in skill and rapidity. General Ignatief, the Governor of the town in 1881, left here traces of his activi- ty, and marked his passage by useful re- forms. To him is due the foundation of night refuges, immense dormitories which give shelter to a floating population of sweepers and dock laborers who formerly slept in the doorways of inns, and did not contribute much to the security of this agglomeration of men. The population of Nijnii is formed of types of the whole universe. You see there all the costumes of Asia, and hear all its tongues. The Chinaman from Pe- kin rubs elbows with the Mussulman from Constantinople; Khivans and Bo- kharians and Persians have arrived in company on the Caspian steam-boats; the German fur-trader from Leipsic bargains for sables with the trapper from the bor- ders of the Lena. As people come to Nijnii for amusement as well as for busi- ness, the places of entertainment occupy one-third of the improvised town. The attractions are graduated to suit all purses, from that of the Moscow nabob down to that of the poorest mujik, and varied to suit all nationalities. There are theatres where the most famous Russian artists are applauded, and shanties where you find the poorest artists of the French cafd con- certs; Indian jugglers and mountebanks from Marseilles alternate with Bohemian singing women and Caucasian dancers. In virtue of immemorial custom, the ad- ministration takes care that its guests may want nothing, anj that they may find at the fair the pleasures of their respective and diverse countries. Some time before the opening mysterious boats come up the Volga; each one of these boats carries an ethnographic sample of the EastPersian, Turkish, German, and French, or sup- posedly French, ladies. It would require a correspondent of the Pall Mall Gazette to trace the realistic pictures which may be seen in Nijnii in all their patriarchal candor. You may study here the most abject misery and vice, and at the same time the most incredible follies of wealth. There in a few weeks a Russian merchant will drink more champagne than a whole provincial town in France consumes in a year, and spend a fortune such as Paris rarely sees squandered within the same lapse of time. These great business oper- ators seem to be seized with vertigo; in good years everything is out of all pro- portiontheir profits, their liberality, and also their pompous piety. Some of them ruin themselves by dedicating a church to St. Macaire, the patron of the fair. The total amount of business transacted at Nijnii is the surest barometer of the public fortune and commercial vigor of Russia. Let us take our Cossack friend far from these temptations as quickly as possible, and enibark on one of the steamers that go down the Volga as far as Astrakhan. The boat, whose boilers are heated with petroleum, is fitted up with a luxury which will soon be shabby, as one may see from the habits of the passengers, who lie on the benches with their greasy touloupes, especially the Jews, who squat on the di- vans holding their foot in one hand with their shoes off. Meals collect in the salon people of all kinds: state engineers who are making the hydrographic survey of the river; merchants from Perm, who think to give themselves a cachet of ele- gance by speaking a French of their own invention; middle - class women, their heads wrapped up in silk kerchiefs, who are taking their daughters on a pilgrim- age to some monastery. These children are all charming, with their Russian chem- isettes brilliantly embroidered in blue and red, and with their blond plaits which hang down to their girdle of nielld sib H C H C H ~J2 ?$12 C H 8 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 1/ I,, ver. There is always and everywhere a General, to whom all yield the principal place with respect. If the merchants can make acquaintance with him, if they hap- pen to live in the same town, they will invite him to some feast in order that he may come there in full uniform with all his decorations, and they will then show him off proudly as if he were a gold cen- tre-piece on the table. Formerly the mer- chants used to pay for this honor in cash. It is stated that this is no longer done. Let us hope so. At the side of the General is a neatly dressed gentleman who says he is a lawyer at Saratov; and indeed he talks copiously and eloquently about ev- erything, and particularly about him- self. Son of an officer, brought up in the cadet corps for the military profession, he has seen a little service in central Asia with Tchernaief, a true Slavophile. he af- firms. After that experience he resolutely said to himself, cedant arma togce. In order to better understand judicial practice and get accustomed to business, he occupied va- rious minor positions before passing his examination as a lawyer. He was clerk of a civil tribunal, sheriffs offi- cer, rural police commission- er. Thus he has been able to realize the disorder and stupidity that reign every- where. After the first ten words of commonplace re- marks he plunges at once into the most burning polit- ical questions; naturally dis- contented, a liberal, and a parliamentarian, he is wait- ing for a constitution. Ev- erything is going on badly, but he has methods of his own to solve all social prob- lems, and possesses the most fantastic and curious infor- mation as to the projects of the court. Like most of the men of his type, he is a big baby, angry because he has no r6le to play with his tongue; boastful, irresolute, intelligent in spite of every- thing, and withal fond of good living. His speeches cease suddenly the moment the card-table is laid, and behold all our friends absorbed in playing until bedtime. Let us leave them in the discharge of their sacred functions and go up on deck. The great solitary river flows between its left bank, low and sandy, and its right bank, which is lofty and covered with wood. Glistening in the sunlight and bathed in a warm haze, it reminds you of the Nile. The sun is lowering; red and peaceful, it vanishes in serene glory; the immense sheet of water re- mains for a long time as if it were embroid- ered with purple and gold, like the cope of an archimandrite. We meet little boats going up the stream along the shore, dragged with ropes by women in scarlet petticoats. These apparitions run one after the other along the towing-path, CHIEF OF MONA5TERY. SOCIAL LIFE IN RUSSIA. 9 standing out in relief against the brown clay soil of the cliffs and disappearing be- tween the groups of poplar-trees. The heavier barges, laden with iron from the Ural, are towed by the bourlakilaborers who have succeeded in this hard trade the convicts of former days. The Russian painter Mr. Repine has frequently de- picted these athletes, almost naked, with their powerful muscles and savage-look- ing faces. Along the banks of the river few villages are seen, and they become rarer and rarer as we advance toward the south. Up to a recent period the pirates and pillaging Cossacks used to in- fest the lower Volga, and the population had to take refuge in the interior in order to escape from their incursions. With the exception of the fisheries, which retain a semi-nomad people near the water, one scarcely finds in the second part of the journey anything but German colonies, established since the reign of Catherine on this fertile territory. The houses look comfortable, and have an air of cleanliness which distinguishes them at once from the miserable Russian isbas. In these colo- nies swarm evangelical sects of all kinds: Moravians, Stundistes, Molokanes. This fact constitutes an additional point of re semblance between the steppe of the Ger- man colonies and the new districts of western America, to which these new regions have been frequently compared. Orthodox convents exist in great numbers along the course of the Volga in the upper parts, where the forests offer shelter to the monks. Some of these old monasteries have celebrated legends, and attract an immense concourse of pilgrims from all over Russia. One night when the steamer stops near one of these fortified buildings we will take the opportunity of visiting the holy retreat. The convents occupy a considerable place in social life. They monopolize all the veneration of the popu- lar classes to the detriment of the secular clergy; their riches give them incontes- table influence; the episcopate is recruited in this monastic militia. Almost every- where these holy towns are constructed on the same plan; the conventual buildings run around a large esplanade, with the church isolated in the middle. A belfry rises above the entrance porch, and from the summit the big bell calls the monks to evening prayer. In the warm and still air of this summer twilight the grave vi- brations of the bronze roll slowly in sono- rous waves, taking a very long time to die THE TRAVELLING VIRGIN. 10 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. away, wafted over the woods into the far- distant silence. The bells are answered by the sounds of the songs which issue from the church whose lights we perceive. The candles are burning in the choir. As we cross the court-yard, monks brush by us in their long robes. These Basilians have something of the majesty of phan- toms beneath their long black vesture, which drags behind them and is continued in the floating folds of the mourning veil which is tied on the top of their head to the kiobouque, or tall cylindrical cap. They glide along noiselessly, with pious gravity, like birds of night, summoned from their retreat to the place of prayer. They as- semble in the choir, and disappear in the stalls in the shadow of the pillars, where they remain for several hours without a wrinkle of their faces or a muscle of their limbs stirring, petrified like black statues of basalt. The Oriental spirit, which is theirs, has made holiness consist in immo- bility. Some of themwear priestly dresses, and accomplish the religious ceremonies with the usual pomp. Lay brothers, grouped under the direction of the organ- 1st, sing those Russian litanies in which the human voice attempts to vie with the bronze bell in the spire in prolonging the low-toned vibrations. Our Western or- gans have not deeper groans or more plaintive expressions of agony. At the end of the church, pilgrims strike the pavement with their foreheads. These are mujiks who have come from distant villages with their wallets on their backs, or peasant women carrying a baby tied up in one corner of their cloaks. Dazzled by these walls glittering with gold and light, the poor people take out of their pockets the kopecks which they have painfully economized, and light a little candle on the iron tripod where hundreds of similar offerings are burning. The same scene is being enacted at this hour at a thousand different places, even to the very extremi- ties of the empire, which counts a whole people of these black monks, and in the great centres of cenobitic life it becomes truly grand: for instance, at the church of St. Serge at Moscow, or the Laura at Kiev, where the pilgrims come every year in millions. The boat resumes its journey, and the majestic waters of the Russian Mississippi continue to spread themselves before us. Every day we touch at one of the great towns of the East; Kasan first of all, the semi-Oriental city where half the popula- tion is composed of Mussulmans living there with their Koran, their mollahs, their laws, and their harems, as freely and unrestrainedly as their brethren of Stamboul or of Mecca. From the top of the minarets the muezzins call the faith- ful to the mosques. The great street of Kasan, the Voskresenskaia, is a veritable kaleidoscope. You find there the re- mains of those Mongolian tribes who for- merly dwelt in the recesses of the Ural mountains; the Mordwa, the Tchouvaches, the Tcheremisses; these latter are of Lilli- putian stature, with fiat Mongolian faces like those coarse stone idols which they adore in secret beneath sheds; for there are still many pagans amongst these Asi- atics, and the conversions to Christianity are only apparent. We meet in the Tem- ple of the Saviour a little Tcheremisse woman clothed in a costume which would delight a painter, a chemisette fine- ly embroidered, and heavy strings of se- quins on her head. She goes and burns devoutly a candle before the reliquary of St. Varsonophie, and takes a purse out of her bosom to pay for it. Though a Christian in name, her paganism is scarce- ly different from that of her forefathers. It may be answered, it is true, that it does not differ very much from that of the or- thodox before whom at this very moment the miraculous image of the Virgin is be- ing exhibited. A month ago this image arrived in town from a neighboring con- vent, and it is now making visits. The priests carry it in a carriage to the houses of the sick, and of the families of the rich merchants who are anxious to have the honor of housing it for a day. The citi- zen of Kasan who holds any position in commerce is bound for his own sake and for the sake of his customers to receive the visit of the relic. Our innkeeper, a French Catholic, submitted himself like the others to this obligation, which costs dearly. In her monthly journey the travelling Virgin makes some thirty to forty thousand rubles. Lower down on the river is Samara which the Russians call the American town. It grows visibly since the open- ing of the Orenburg railway, which here joins the Voiga, and brings the merchan- dise of central Asia. This conglomera- tion of docks, warehouses, and hasty con- structions of wood and brick in the midst of fields of dust, where you sink in up to 12 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the ankles, does indeed make us think of the cities that spring up as it were by mir- acle along the railroads in western Amer- ica. There is not an old building, not a promenade, not a single tree in the town; nothing but hotels, public offices, banks, long and broad rectangular avenues, and sunburnt squares. The business men come here for a few weeks, pocket rapidly their profits, and spend a part of them in plea- sure haunts; it is the gross, feverish ex- istence that men lead in the gold fields. Further still to the south, and one days journey above Astrakhan, the town of Tsaritsin offers the same characteristic; it is the centre of commerce between the Volga and the Don. Here we leave the steamer. Our trav- elling companion has to change boats, and get on a canal which puts the two rivers in communication, in order to reach his do- mains in the country of the Don Cossacks. What domains! Instead of describing them to you, it will be sufficient to ask you to read in the Bible the details given us about the existence of Abraham and of Laban. Our Cossack friend owns an es- tate twenty-five versts long, where he cul- tivates annually 30,000 acres of wheat; a stud farm with 500 horses; 1,000,000 sheep. As the owner of these flocks was travelling one day in Germany he heard a dispute between two cattle - breeders, who were contesting which was the rich- er of the two, and counting up their thousand heads of cattle. I, interrupt- ed the Russian I will bet that the dogs of my flocks are more numerous than all your sheep put together; and the Cos- sack Abraham won his bet. But he has one advantage over the antique shepherds of Mesopotamia: he possesses five coal- pits, which produce annually ten million pounds of coal. In a valley between the yellowish undulations of the steppe, where the pasturage and arable land of our friend stretch away to infinite distance, we find the centre of a big business enterprise: houses, farms, mills, orangeries, aviaries, and immense stableslordly creations of the father of our host. Together with the riches of the patriarchs he has their simplicity of life: his dwelling is modest, and a characteristic detail of old-fash- ioned Russian manners you penetrate into the salon through a sort of ante- room where the serving - maids are busy sewing and embroidering. Thus it was formerly in the houses of all the sei gneurs, iLnd, if we may believe Homer, in the atrium of the Greek kings. But we need not introduce you into this Cossack home. We will describe rather a house which x~epresents more exactly the average type of rural life in. Russia, and this house we shall find in the heart of the empirefor instance, in the fine province of Ukrania. Let us take leave of the traveller who has guided us along the Volga, and transport ourselves by means of some magic wand to the re- gions of the black lands of Kharkov or of Poltowa. The climate here is temper- ate, and agriculture flourishes. Fine houses are numerous, and there will be no lack of families who will gladly offer us hospitality. Here is a family, we will suppose, which leaves the train at some station between Kiev and Kharkov. Let us join our destinies to theirs. III. Svertchkof has painted in genre pic- tures, and TolstoY with his realistic hu- mor in his story of the Trois Morts, this typical scene the departure of a rich country lady. An old lady gets into her chaise, supported by obsequious and very awkward footmen, whose liveries are the worse for long wear. During the last hour these footmen have been storing away in the vast vehicle almost as many objects as Noahs ark could contain, or the first corvette that ever started to sail round the world; valises, bags, shawls, baskets, bottles, boxes of tea, boxes of cig- arettes, utensils of all kinds, bird - cages, and, above all, pillows of all forms and dimensions. At last La Gin~rale is set- tled in this ambulatory storehouse. Af- ter entering, for half an hour she worries the station-master, who stands respectful- ly at the door, about trifles that have got lost or mislaid. At last everything is ready, and she addresses to the coachman the traditional words, A la grace de Dieu. The coachman, dressed in a black padiofka, with a peacocks feather in his hat, devoutly makes the sign of the cross, and starts his horses. A postilion no tall- er than a boot is perched on one of the leaders; the chaise jolts in the terrible ruts of a Russian road, which can hardly be distinguished from the neighboring fields. It is followed by the tarantass, a vehicle without springs, in which the ser- vants are piled up together with the rest of the baggage. The equipages run 13 SOCIAL LIFE IN RUSSIA. straight ahead without regard to uphill or down-hill; the only prudence exer- cised is to avoid bridges. Provincial bridges have a bad reputation. However rapid the stream may be, it is better to go to the right or to the left along the bed of the river than to brave the uncertain planks that cross it. Thus La G6n~rale, after two or three changes, where her own horses await her, will traverse the forty, sixty, or one hundred versts which, as a rule, separate her house from the railway station. The road stretches over silent and empty plains, where the lines of the horizon re- treat incessantly before the eyes, without changing in aspect, like the waves in the open sea. It is indeed a seaa sea of wheat with its golden ears undulating as far as the eye can see. Nothing in our thickly populated country districts can give an idea of the profound stillness of the Russian steppes. At long intervals you come across a peasant seated in his tdU~gue, or astride of his droghia prim- itive cart made of a beam placed on two axles. A few versts further north we leave the last village of Greater Russia, with its black and low cottages built of pine trunks and wattling. As the travel- ler advances into Ukrania, the houses of Little Russia assume a more comfortable air, with their whitewashed walls. The keeper of the inn where we stop was for- merly a serf of La G~n~rale; liberated before the emancipation, he has made a small fortune. Now his two sons are be- ginning to learn Latin, with a view to ob- tain diplomas at the gymnasium of Kiev. At the door one of these boys, in long black coat, black boots and cap, is play- ing on an accordion. The other is ab- sorbed in a volume of the poems of Ne- krassof. Here is the town of the district an- nounced in the distance by two white patches, the church and the prison, the only important monuments it possesses. It has a population of 12,000 or 15,000 souls, and in Europe would scarcely de- serve the name of a big village. It is al- most entirely composed of peasants huts, scattered amongst clumps of willow and poplar trees. Around the bazar are a few one-story houses, with wooden hal- leries on one of the fa9ades; in all the windows are pots of geraniums. These houses are occupied by the twenty or thir ty families, which form what we should call the bourgeoisiecomprising the doc- tor, the lawyer, the postmaster, the bank clerks, the personnel of the tribunal, the functionaries of the Zemstvo, or district council, and two or three large commis- sion merchants in the grain trade. This aristocracy is lost in a mass of peasants, as its houses are lost in an ocean of cottages. It is the symbolic image of the empire. No one can tell where the town begins and where it ends, so inorganic is it with its waste and dusty spaces, mixed up with fields and gardens. Outside the town you find the shoeing forges, which are relegated to a safe distance for fear of fire, and a regiment of windmills in the fields. When you have seen one of these district towns you have seen them all, for all over Russian territory they resemble each other. The carriages plunge once more into the corn fields or into the shadow of a birch wood. This latter is rarely met with in the black lands, which are almost entirely cleared and cultivated. -Further on to the north you often travel for a whole day through an ancient forest, in which are stagnant marshes covered with dazzling flowerswild roses, anem- ones, orchids, floating islands of orris and of water-lilies. At last we arrive in front of the mill which turns on the river. The Jew farmer salutes and bows to the ground. The peasants that we meet on the road, with their familiar faces, greet La G~n& ale with a respectful Good- day, little mother. On the lull a flag floating from the top of the turret marks the house of the seigneur; a few more steps and the horses rush at full gallop into a large court-yard surrounded with buildings and dependencies. Fifty or sixty persons, men, women, and children, are drawn up on the steps awaiting the arrival of their mistress. These are the families of the court, for the seigneur has his court just like the Tsar. These families, employed in his immediate service and living on his lib- erality, constitute the aristocracy of the village. Serfdom has disappeared, it is true, but its manners and the obligations it has left still survive. It was impossi- ble to dismiss in one day these patriarchal dependents and this world of do-nothing servitors. For that matter, it is indis- pensable to have in one s house in the depth of these solitudes a representative 14 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of every trade. The chateau is like Rob- inson Crusoes island, where a whole civ- ilization has to be created. In this ex- istence, organized in an exactly opposite manner to that of our Western life, there is no carpenter, no wheelwright, for the commune, but the seigneur has his own carpenter and his own wheelwright, who work for the village when occasion re- quires. There are besides cooks, bakers, gardeners, and innumerable stablemen, for the post service requires twenty-five or thirty horses to be kept for the relays; here is the cabinet-maker, Plato, the locksmith, Archippus, and the cooper, Feodorsim- ple mujiks, naturally industrious and handy, who have quickly learnt to fash- ion with their hatchets all the objects of furniture for the house. These impor- tant personages have their wives in the hierarchy of chamber-maids and seam- stresses. There would be no end to the enumeration of the holders of sinecures: the day watchman, and the night watch- man, who walks about until morning shaking his rattle in order that his mis- tress may sleep in security, the guardian. of the apple orchard, the boatman, the fisherman, the man who heats the baths, etc. The painter has the high situation which is due to an artist, but we have never seen him occupied except in pre- paring smoked glass to look at an eclipse of the sun. The old rascal is always drunk, but if some one suggested to the good lady to dismiss him, she would swear that the house could not get along without this indispensable servitor. Fi- nally there are those who are there be- cause they are there; born in the court, they contribute to fill it with young peo- ple, who in their turn, when they are threatened with possible eviction, will as- sert their hereditary rights. All these people pay their tribute of gratitude by kissing the hands of the benefactress as she gets out of her carriage. From one end of Russia to the other the type of the seigneurs dwelling varies but little. It is built of wood and bricks, with a flight of steps in front, and is sur- mounted by an attic roof of zinc, flanked by a conical turret. When the seigneur is rich and able to spend money on re- pairs, the building is dazzlingly white- washed, but generally the mortgages of the district bank play havoc with the sei- gneur and his house, as may be seen by the cracks in the brick-work, and by the wild oats that grow with the thistles on the steps. Behind the house is a court planted with lime - trees, and connected with the high-road. In front of it is an orchard and alleys which descend gently toward the pondthe still, stagnant pond. Sometimes this pond is advantageously traversed by the river which crosses the property. In the interior the principal room is a large hall, serving as a vestibule, salon, and dining - room. Sometimes you see here a few pieces of furniture of Empire style, which were brought here from Mos- cow long, long ago; in one corner is an old clavecina relic of another age. On the white walls hang old portraits: be- neath a veil of soot and bitumen grimace the naively terrible features of the het- mans to whom the estate formerly be- longed. Under the eyes of these old an- cestors the long table is served for supper, and for the long evening watch which will follow. At one end of the table thrones the samovar. In Russia we might translate by this essentially national word our own expression of fireside, with all the ideas that the word symbolizes. The Northern man who hides his fireside behind the un- inviting walls of a stove does not find, as we do, his domestic centre around the chimney - piece. His household god is the machine that is always boiling and singing, the source of light and heat, which pours out incessantly during the tedious winter days the comforting drink. Around the table where the samovar sings is grouped a large familyanother word which in the provinces of Russia must be taken in the old and extended sense which it had formerly in Europe also. Next to the children and grandchildren, seated at the side of the ancestor who presides at one end of the table, follow a whole patri- archal clan of semi-servitors a sort of adopted relations who are not exactly servants. Amongst them are old maids of noble birth, without fortune, daughters of officers who have been killed in battle under the orders of the master of the house, who pay for their lodging and food by some slight superintendence over one of the branches of the household. One of these old maids takes charge of the samovar; nymph of this brazen fountain, she has put her whole soul in it, and all her faculties of thought and love; her life has never had any other occupation than to calculate the exact amount of sugar SOCIAL LIFE IN RUSSIA. 15 and boiling water to be put in the glasses from morning until night. Silent and timid, her little eyes are accustomed to anticipate the desires of her benefactress in a look; poor sacrificed creature, no man has ever asked her for anything but a lit- tle cream. Next comes the regiment of stewardesses in office, and all those whom the affection of the mistress liberated in the time when serfdom was still in ex- istence; then there is the old retired stew- ard and the steward who has taken his place; the district doctor, sometimes a big farmera familiar and cordial company of honest and good people, who would be equally surprised, both benefactress and dependents, if they were asked at what point in the common table the bond of blood ends and the bond of obligation be- gins. The interminable country supper comes to an end at last, and each one rises from his place and goes and kisses respect- fully the hand of the ancestor, thanking her for her bread and salt. During the whole season the greater part of the day is passed around this table. The neighbors within a radius of twenty- five or thirty versts take their seats there, and they are invited to remain until even- ing, and the conversation turns on the price of crops, the interests of the province, and the tardy news from Petersburg. The post arrives only two or three times a week; a postilion brings from the town a bundle of newspapers that are already old when they arrive. In their turn, our people have the six horses harnessed to the post- chaise and pay a visit to some exactly similar house, where they will find exactly the same table, the same faces, and the same subjects of conversation. Morning is employed in surveying the fields or set- tling accounts with the steward, and at night the family gathers on the steps be- neath the admirable sky of the Ukranian night, and remains there until a late hour, listening to the songs of the peasants sit- ting at their doors all along the principal street of the village. These people seem to have laid in a supply of sleep during the winter. At harvest-time they rise at daydawn, and yet they pass a part of the AROUND THE sAMOVAR. 16 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. night singing in chorus slow melodies, and always sad love- songs, that drag along in the same minor key, and end in a wild howl like the call of wolves. The smallest incident is an event in this monotonous existence; the arrival of the peddler is a fete; he is generally a Hun- garian or a Pole from Warsaw. He stops his lean horse and his tM~gue in front of the gateway, and enters bent double be- neath the weight of the heavy pack, which is always of the same model. He spreads out his treasures, surrounded by the girls of the court, housewives, and children, their looks enlivened with curiosity and covetousness. All hands plunge at once among the ribbons, the embroideries, the handkerchiefs of printed cotton, the bead ornaments, the toys, and the almanacs. This man is the only bond of union be- tween industrial civilization and the Rus- sian village. For the inhabitants of the steppe whom he supplies his pack is the r& um6 of all the luxury and elegance of fabulous Europe. Another day it will be the Jewish musicians who have come to town for the marriage of one of their brethren. They make a halt at the chateau and play some operatic airs on their fid- dles and flutes. The young men are ugly and dirty; the old men present the superb type of Rembrandts models. The Jew only becomes handsome when his beard becomes white. These unfortunate crea- tures wear an expression of terror and supplication; only a few weeks ago the people pillaged their shops in the chief towns of the district. Once a year the Marshal of the nobility gives a dinner to his electors, the nobles of the district. This is an unparalleled opportunity for studying the provincial gentry. All categories are represented in the britchkas and tarantasses which bring from their homes the seigneurs and coun- try gentlemen. From a psychological point of view these categories may be re- duced to two well-marked ~nd character- istic types; one, the old one, is what Rus- sian literature calls the man of 1840, whose figure is so strongly sketched in the novels of Gogol, Goutcharof, and Tour- gu6nief; kind-hearted and dissipated, he mortgages his land and squanders his wealth, he hates to reflect, and is a slave to his caprices. The other, the man of the new generation, is more serious, better in- formed, and interested in the problems of the day; he is clear-headed, and has an obje& t in life. He follows patiently a career, or cultivates his land with ideas of his own; in everything he accepts that struggle which is the condition of more intense social life, instead of allowing himself to float down-stream like his older neighbor; finally, as man is not perfect, he has pretensions in politics. Amongst the Marshals guests we no- tice the functionaries of the town in vice- uniform, with the cross of St. Stanilas the excise inspector, the justice of the peace, the procurator, and the Jspravnik, a sort of military prefect, who combines in his hands all the administrative powers. After the first glasses of champagne and a toast to the Emperor, the tone of conver- sation mounts noisily. The coming elec- tions to the Zernstvo are talked over, and all the measures of this. assembly are ruthlessly criticised. TheZemstvo is no good, say half the guests, because its attributions are too extended. It can- not do anything, because its powers are too restricted, urges the other half, and with much eloquence they reform the abuses of which each one takes advantage in his every-day life. The discussion raised by these favorite themes would never finish if the sight of the card-tables did not close them as if by magic. This puts all these people at one, and from then until daybreak they will be busy dealing their cards and chalking down their scores. Often the fete is completed by a wolf battue. Through the intermediary of his police-officers, the Ispravuik has summon- ed into service peasants from the neigh- boring villages. The mujiks arrive with their dragging stepthe step of men who are in the habit of laboring beneath bur- dens and walking behind the plough. They are armed with staves, and some of them with antique guns, repaired with string, dating at least from the war of 1812. Beaters are placed around one of those vast woody marshes covered with inextricable thickets of alder and birch trees, about the height of a man. A litter of wolves has been discovered. The pea-. sants enter the forest together, preceded by the howler, an old poacher, who imitates with rare precision the howls of wild beasts. The cries of the beaters alone indicate their approach; from time to time you see one of them in the clearing; then he plunges up to his waist in mud, and works his way through the close under- SOCIAL LIFE IN RUSSIA. 17 wood like a wild beast himself, with his touloupe all torn, his fur bonnet, and his hairy face. The shooters are placed on one side of the marsh. The young wolves come out one by one or with their mother. Shots resound, some victims fall, and then you should hear the joyous shouts of the mujiks as they feel the fallen beast with their hands. You should hear the epic apostrophes which they address to it breathing all the hereditary hatred of the peasant against this terrible pillager, who almost every night steals a sheep, a calf, or a colt. The spoils of the chase are loaded on a t~l~gue; buckets of eau-de- vie are distributed to the beaters; and the Nirnrods of the district return home, tell- ing stories of the high deeds of former years. The Russian hunter, if we had leisure to follow him, would introduce us to many picturesque and varied scenes. In winter he goes into the forests of the North to hunt the bear and the elan. In summer he shoots over the marshy country where wild-fowl abound, or hunts the fox and the hare on the plain with his big grey- hounds. All those who have read the novels of Tolstoi and Tourgudnief will remember the admirable descriptions of these writers, who were themselves hunt- ers. We could only repeat what they have said, and in a less felicitous form. Iv. At the doors of the seigneurs house the peasants form a little world of their own. Let us take a glance at their obscure and laborious life. The emancipation of the serfs has broken all bonds between the peasant and his former master. The vil- lage community, the Mir,gov ems, judges and taxes itself outside of all control; it is almost omnipotent in the sphere of its direct interests. It has no relations ex- cept with the Ispravnik of the district capital. But the villagers, thus brusquely left to themselves after centuries passed in leading-strings, are incapable of mana- ging their affairs wisely. The Staroste, or Mayor, whom they elect, is incapable of keeping accounts; thus it happens that the clerk of the tribunal steps in and makes himself the true master and the scourge of the commune; he is generally a scribe with doubtful antecedents, a son of a priest, or a subaltern clerk in the civil and military bureaux. This person- HARvEsTING. 18 age takes in hand the management of the municipal interests, and exploits them for his own advantage. From one end of Russia to another you hear nothing but complaints against this parasite. It is a fact generally known that the land is possessed in common by the Mir. The kinds of cultivation vary very little; the fertile parts of the empire form one immense wheat field. The consequence is that the labors of this human ant colo- ny have a regular and collective charac- ter, which excludes all individual initia- tive. Everything is massed together land, wheat, and men; it is a joint stock company working on an infinite scale. The economist may lament over it, but the painter rejoices in it, for he finds in this grand picture of agricultural life the souvenir of the pastoral tribes and of the nomad peoples, who sowed with thou- sands of arms the fields of the annual for- ward stage. In contemplating these very primitive scenes he may ima,ine himself turning over the illustrations of an old Bible, rep- resenting the labor of the first man on the new earth. The costumes complete the illusion. Above all, those of the women of Ukrania, who seem to be performing a ballet rather than accomplishing a labo- rious task when the hay or corn harvest gathers them together by the thousands. They are so graceful and supple in their movements in their short skirts embroid- ered with wool, leaving the leg bare up to the knee, with their wreaths of corn-flow- ers and poppies on their heads, and their long plaits terminating in a sunflower. The successive phases of a harvest in the centre of a lar~,e Russian farm may be compared to the episodes of an immense decorati e fresco. On the August even- in~,s the cart-loads of sheaves come down the hills toward the steam threshing-ma- chine intrenched among the ricks; on the roofs of this city of thatch the women stand in the purple dust that the machine produces in the light of the setting sun, and the thresher puffs and rumbles as it absorbs the straw that serves for fuel, and turns out the grain in torrents. This is indeed life in its intensest form, but a life with movements so grave and so harmo- nious that it does not disturb the August calm of the surrounding nature any more than the litur,,,ical ceremony interferes with the peaceful tranquillity of a church. The people of the country districts are HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. very deeply attached to the religious and agricultural fetes, which return at stated intervals for the distraction of their huni- ble existence. Such are the blessing of the fruits in August and the blessing of the seed-time in September. The priest advances in the ploughed field, cross in hand, guiding the plou~,,h, and the sowers scatter behind him the new grain. On St. Johns Day large bonfires of weeds are lighted on the hills, and burn all night; the peasants dance and leap over these fires, singing at the same time their wild melodies. In vain has the police tried to prevent this dangerous custom, for fire is the perpetual enemy that continually keeps these poor people in a state of alarm. Fire is the true seigneur of the Russian land, the cruel tsar incessantly traversing and ruining the country. We have rare- ly ever been travelling at night in the country districts without perceiving on the horizon the flames of a fire. The vil- lages give one the impression of being piles ingeniously prepared for their natu- ral end; crowded one against the other, the wooden houses with their thick roofs of thatch are surrounded by ricks of straw and connected by lines of sheds, while wattled palisades envelop the whole village like a net with meshes of fine wood. After the long summer droughts this agglomeration of branches, old beams, and straw dried by the sun is as inflammable as tinder. Fire is continual- ly breaking out somewhere. Often it is started out of vengeance, for no crime is more common in Russia than arson. It is a moment the dramatic horror of which can never be for~otten. The tocsin sounds from the neighboring church, people run in from the fields in terror, and hasten aimlessly and in disorder; they are so con- fused that it is impossible to direct them~ women and children stand before their doors weeping and shouting; the girls sob rhythmically in the usual tone of their songs, so shrill and so sad. Each one drives out his cattle and removes his poor furniture from the house; the priest goes out of his house with the holy im- ages; the Jew innkeeper, all trembling, hurries away, bending beneath the weight of two enormous loaves of sugar; the broad curtain of flame rises heavenward; the blocks of huts and sheds fall in; the line of fire spi~eads and advances like an intelligently led army. After a struggle of a few moments the combatants no MUJIK SOWING. VOL. LXXLX.No. 469.2 20 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. longer offer any resistance; the poor pea- sants feel completely disarmed in presence of their tyrant. There is no water. In a single hour the village is swept away like a field of dry grass. The fatalist resigna- tion of these people rapidly regains the upper hand. When night has come each one will be scratching amongst the ashes of his house, trying to find a bit of car- bonized wheat. All they say is, God has visited us. And then they proceed to re- build the village, so as to be ready for the next visit. The fair which is held each year in the district town is the rendezvous where one can best study the Russian peasants. They congregate there from all the sur- rounding country. Processions of little carts wind along the roads, and take up their position on a vast open space at the entrance of the town, which resembles the encampment of one of those hordes which in former days brought the ances- tors of our mujiks from the plateau of Asia. Men and women dressed in their finest clothes circulate with wondering eyes amongst the tents where the peddlers sell Moscow printed cottons and cutlery from Toula, the Russian Sheffield. The objects of trade are few and always the same, for the inventions of fashion offer no attractions except for civilized socie ties; primitive people, the slaves of habit, are afraid of novelty. Cattle, t~l~gues, strings of big boots, scythes with pious mottoes engraved on the blades-such are the objects that the peasant comes to the fair to buy. He also takes home with him a barrel of tar. Congregations of men in every country have characteristic odors, which return to us with the image of them called up in the memory. In Russia it is this odor of tar. One wonders what can become of all that pool of black pitch which is attached to their boots and clothing, and which might start an oppo- sition to the waves of Lake Asphaltites. When the carts resume their route toward the village at night, their drivers have not a very stable bearing, for there have been long and frequent visits to the inns at the fair. We have said above that the life of the peasant has no point of contact with that of the seigneur since the emancipation of the serfs. The two classes, ruled by dif- ferent statutes, dwell together in the same place almost without knowing each oth- er. There is wanting an intermediary to bring them together. This intermediary ought to be the priest. A few words will explain why this task is beyond his strength. Question any one of these churchmen that you meet aloncr the roads, leaning on a long staff, with his shaggy hair floating over his shoulders, wearing a long cassock discolored by the dustsometimes greenish, and at other times mauve or cinnamoncolorhere, with few exceptions, is the history of this priest. Generally he is himself the son of a priest; sometimes he conies of a fam- ily of shopkeepers or rich peasants; he has passed six years in the diocesan sem- inary, where he has been taught theolo- gy, the Scriptures, and the Slavonic lan- guage, together with a very little Greek and Latin. At the end of this course of study he has received sacred orders. If he has not passed the final examination successfully he remains his whole life in the two lower clerical orderseither dea- con or psalmist. As soon as he is ordained the young preacher must get married, for this is the indispensable condition of ob- taining a curacy. Generally he seeks hi~ bride in the priestly families of his ac- quaintance, and when there is no bride available he sets out on a journey to hunt for an heiressthat is, the daughter of one of his colleagues who will bring him a OFFICIATING rHIEsT. SOCIAL LIFE IN RUSSIA. 21 dowry and good parish, where he will be the coadjutor and afterward the successor of his father-in-law. The Russian clergy forms a veritable tribe of Levi; the for- eign elements which are recruited in it are rapidly assimilated by marriages con- tracted within the corporation; it thus preserves the character of a closed caste, separated from the other classes by its spirit, its traditions, and its hereditary in- terests. Another cause enables it to maintain this character, namely, its social isolation the rigor of which no description can ex- aggerate. In his country parish the priest is lost between two distinctly mark- ed off worlds one which he does not wish to know, and the other which does not wish to know him. These are, on the one hand, the peasants, poor primary be- ings bent over the soil, all alike, all on the same level, the great mass of the people, as the Russian expression so very well puts it. When once the threshold of the church has been passed, the pastor is a stranger to them through his rudi- mentary education, through his sense of his little dignity, and above all on ac- count of his quality of functionary, and by the embarrassment, not to say hostil- ity, which is created between them by their pecuniary relations. On the other hand is the great and the small nobility, which keeps the priest at a distance. In general, and barring exceptions, it may be said that the priest is not admitted to the chateau unless he is summoned there to fulfil the duties of his office. He is rarely ever invited to the family table, and no friendly intercourse ever grows up. In the minds of the most religious persons there takes place a habitual com- promise between their respect for the function and their contempt for the func- tionary. You will hear a pious old lady crying up or disparaging the merits of her priest, but the moral nature of the man is never taken into accoulit; every- THE KAZATCHOK, OH COSSACK DANCE. 22 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. thing is reduced to one point, that is to say, lie officiates well or badly; in other words, lie looks well personally, or sings in tune, or lie celebrates the cere- monies with proper intonations and noble gestures. He is chosen as if lie were a sacred maitre dh6tel from whom are de- manded good manners and elegant ser- vice. The young Levite shuts himself up in his house on the thirty-five acres of land that the commune allows him, and which he has to share with his deacon and his psalmist. Meanwhile the family in- creases rapidly, the education of the boys has to be provided for at the seminaries, the girls want trousseaux, without count- ing the relations on both sides who have to be helped. The salary paid by the state varies from one to two hundred rubles; a substantial source of income for the priest is the occasional receipts, such as the small sums charged for the administration of sacraments. The priest taxes his parishioners; lie drives a bar- gain for a funeral or for a marriage. Hence arise regrettable incidents and greediness in pecuniary matters, and sometimes the refusal of the sacraments when the person dying is unable to pay, and in consequence there exists a singu- lar contradiction in the mind of the pea- sant, as well as in that of the seigneur. While submitting with veneration to all religious observances, the mujik never- thieless considers the minister a scourge, and looks upon him as one of the too nu- merous incarnations of the taxation sys- tem. These relations are not calculated to develop in the priest apostolic senti- ments toward his flock; lie endures their contempt and patiently puts up with his misery. But every spring is soon broken iu the soul of this man. He has not even the stimulus of ambition, for the episco- pate is almost exclusively recruited from the ranks of the black clergy of the nionastic and celibate category, and those monks who issue from their monastery to put on the bishops mitre have on their side also an aristocratic disdain for the white clergy, for the humble secu- lar country priest. For some years the Holy Synod has been studying the means of remedying this great defect in the Russian organism, but the means are not easily attained. The empire is not rich enough to weight its budget with the many millions which would be necessary to improve the material situation of the clergy; and then, if new laws were made, it would require a long time to change manners which are so deeply rooted. V. We should obtain but an imperfect idea of the social life of a people if we did not enter the churches, particularly in Russia, where religion absolutely gov- erns the heart and the whole life of the popular classes, and where it still has great empire over the exterior habits of the upper classes, if not over their senti- ments. Faith is ardent and unquestion- ing in all the members of the congre- gation assembled between the pine-wood walls of this country chapel, where the peasants incessantly bow the knee as they devoutly kiss the pavement. If any of them leave the chapel, it is to join the sect of the Rascol, still more rigid. Faith is still living in the hearts of the merchants who gather in this Muscovite oratory, before these altars covered with gold and silver, thanks to their liberality. They prostrate themselves; they pour into the boxes princely offerings for the propagation of the faith amongst the infi- dels; but how many believers are left in the aristocratic and official society which mounts the steps of the temples at Pe- tersburg? Here religion is only a uni- form; all wear it; etiquette requires it to be worn; and the court will allow no joking in this matter. The freethinkers are obliged to conform, like the liber- tines under Louis XIV. They are bound to do their devotions publicly at Easter; the law of the enipire exacts this much; but otherwise the Orthodox Church is not troublesome. More of a formalist than a theologian, the Church troubles itself very little about the secret thoue,hts and consciences of its children, provided its rights are respected. The spirit of this Church is manifested in the manner of praying; time ceremonial occupies a larger place than mystic effusion. But it must be confessed that for the pomp and brill- iancy of its ceremonies the Russian Church is without an equal in the world. vJ. The Russians generally marry quite young in tIme upper classes, and amongst country people even at an earlier age; and to the honor of this society, be it said, hove marriages are the rule, and SOCIAL LiFF] IN RUSSIA. 23 marriages for money are very rare ex- ceptions. Dowry-hunting and marriages of interest have not yet made their ap- pearance in Russian manners. Girls of high social position readily marry young officers of the Guard, who furnish the largest contingent of dancers to the balls of Petersburg. During the carnival fetes the two armies, the army in petti- coats and the army that wears epaulets, learn to know each other thoroughly. Friendships spring up, the young man pays court, and one day, without having consulted anybody, two flanc6s come to ask of the parents a blessing, which is never refused. The Church does not marry during Lent, so they have to wait until Easter week. Fashion demands for the celebration of the ceremony the chap- el of some private house, if the couple have not sufficiently lofty relations to se- cure the chapel of the palace. A family that respects itself ought to have at its wedding as honorary father and honor- ary mother, if not the Emperor and the Empress, at least a Grand-Duke and a Grand-Duchess. The honorary father gives the holy image, which some little child related to the families carries in front of the flancds. They enter the church, followed by all their friends in gala uniform. The ceremony begins; it is very long, and complicated with many symbolic rites; a small tablea sort of movable altaris placed in the middle of the oratory; the couple are separated from it by a band of rose-colored satin; when the priest calls, they must advance, and the first who sets foot on the band, wheth- er husband or wife, will be the one who will impose his or her will in the house- hold. This is an article of faith for all the matrons, who watch them at that moment. On the table is placed the li- turgical formulary, the candles which they must hold, the cross which they will kiss, the rings which they will exchange, the cup of wine in which they will mois- ten their lips, and which is called in the Slavonic ritual the cup of bitterness. A MUJIK 5 FUNERAL. 24 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Pages relieve each other to carry with outstretched arms two heavy crowns which must be held above the heads of the fianc6s while the ceremony continues. At the decisive moment, when the priest is pronouncing the words that bind them together, the couple walk three times around the altar, foil owed by the crown- bearers; until the third turn is completed there is time to turn back; after that the die is cast, the couple are united for life. Thereupon the singers strike up in their most strident voices the joyous hymn, Let Isaiah rejoice. The bride and groom then go and prostrate themselves before the Virgin of the Iconostase, and kiss her filigree robe, after which they pass into the neighboring salon, where they gayly clink glasses of champagne, while the invited guests receive boxes of sweetmeats marked with the monogram of the young couple. In the villages the marriage ceremony is celebrated in a sim- pler and more expeditious manner, espe- cially when the mujiks have only a few rubles to give to the priest. A simple gesture, a few words, and a few minutes suffice to bow beneath the yoke her who is about to begin her hard apprenticeship of wife and mother in the humble pea- sants home. In the evening the young people assemble in a barn or some shed, the fiddler scrapes his bow over an instru- ment which he has made with his own hands, girls and boys join hands and dance around. In the middle of the cir- cle a young man dances the kazatchok, or Cossack dance; lie bows his legs, rises with a bound, strikes the ground loudly with his boot heel, and then suddenly he springs forward to the girl of his choice and kisses her, whereupon she steps into the circle, and mimics with her whole body a dance similar to that of the almehs of the East. And now from this nuptial dance let us pass to death. Amongst this fatalist people death does not awaken lugubrious ideas. The departed soul has a right dur- ing a few days still to the society of his friends. At Petersburg it is usual to have printed in the newspapers in a special column the decease of ones relatives and the hours of the partichidasthe funeral prayers which are recited twice every day over the body of the deceased during the time it remains exposed in the salon, with the face uncovered, between candles and flowers. On the day of the funeral the cortege proceeds toward the Laure of St. Alexander Nevsky or the Convent of the Virgins. Familics of position have their burial-places in one of the two cloisters. At a funeral, as at a marriage, a member of the imperial family is de rigueur. Each one tries to catch his eye while the songs of splendid sadness rise around the cata- falque, smothered in a mass of green shrubs. No emblems of mourning sad- den the walls of the church. After the absolution the parents come and kiss for the last time the hand of the deceased; the followers disperse, impregnated with the special odor of death in Russiaan odor composed of incense and burning wax and compliment each other on the fact of a man of so distinguished a rank having departed from this world with all the hon- ors due to his tehirte. Let us return to the village now as~we did after the wedding. This time again it is simpler. Marsh fever has carried off the peasant; the body is placed on the ta- ble from which the dinner has just been re- moved; it is washed and dressed; the car- penter nails together four planks, not very good ones; the pope is sent for, and ar- rives with his old silver cross, and bar- gains for the price; if the family has means, hired weepers howl all along the road to the church; the cortege comes out again after a summary benediction. The last funeral that we saw was one Septem- ber evening, at the hour when the flocks of the commune were returning from the pasturage. The oxen and horses caused a cloud of dust to rise over the high-road all gilded with the oblique rays of the set- ting sun. The corpse departed amongst those familiar animals as if it were return- ing to the fields; the cloud of dust formed a radiant nimbus around it; the air was calm, the peacefulness of the evening indescribable; the verses of the psalmist carried to a great distance in this limpid atmosphere; it seemed as if they must have been audible to the very extremities of the steppe. The group of peasants as- cended the hill, and left their burden in one of those cemeteries so badly kept in Little Russia, without fences, without flowers, and indicated only by a few broken crosses which lie on the leprous grass. The ceremony was finished so quickly that it was still daylight when the followers met in the isba for the fu- neral repast around the barley cake and the raisins. QLTJNCE. BY WINThROP MACKWORT14 PRAED. EAR a small village in the West, Where many very worthy people Eat, drink, play whist, and do their best - To guard from evil church and steeple, There stoodalas! it stands no more A tenement of brick and plaster, Of which, for forty years and four, My good friend Quince was lord and master.

QLTJNCE. BY WINThROP MACKWORT14 PRAED. EAR a small village in the West, Where many very worthy people Eat, drink, play whist, and do their best - To guard from evil church and steeple, There stoodalas! it stands no more A tenement of brick and plaster, Of which, for forty years and four, My good friend Quince was lord and master. 26 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Welcome was he in hut and hail, To maids and matrons, peers and peasants; He won the sympathies of all By making puns and making presents. Though all the parish were at strife, He kept his council and his carriage, And laughd, and loved a quiet life, And shrank from chancery suits and marriage. Sound was his claretand his head; Warm was his double aleand feelings; His partners at the whist club said That lie was faultless in hi~ dealings. He went to church but once a week; Yet Dr. Poundtext always found him An upright man who studied Greek, And liked to see his friends around him. Asylums, hospitals, and schools He used to swear were made to cozen All who subscribed~ to them were fools And he subscribed to half a dozen. It was his doctrine that the poor Were always able, never willing; And so the beggar at his door Had first abuse, and then a shilling. AND SO THE BEGGAR AT HIS DOOR HAD FIRST ABUSE, AND THEN A SHILLING. U w z U2 U 0 I rt ~ & iVK QUINCE. Some public principles he had, But was no flatterer nor fretter; He rappd his box when things were bad, And said, I cannot make them better ! 29 AND NONE KNEW WHY HE FED THEM BOTH WITH HIS OWN HANDS SIX DAYS IN SEVEN. 30 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. And much he loathed the patriots snort, And much he scornd the placemans snuffle, And cut the fiercest quarrels short With Patience, gentlemen, and shuffle ! For full ten years his pointer Speed Had couchd beneath her masters table; For twice ten years his old white steed Had fattend in his masters stable. Old Quince averrd, upon his troth, They were the ugliest beasts in Devon; And none knew why he fed them both With his own hands six days in seven. Wheneer they heard his ring or knock, Quicker than thought the village slatterns Flung down the novel, smoothed the frock, And took up Mrs. Glasse and patterns. Adine was studying bakers bills; Louisa lookd the queen of knitters; Jane happend to be hemming frills; And Bell by chance was making fritters. But all was vain; and while decay Came like a tranquil moonlight oer him, And found him gouty still and gay, With no fair nurse to bless or bore him His rugged smile and easy-chair, His dread of matrimonial lectures, His wig, his stick, his powderd hair, Were themes for very strange conjectures. Some sages thought the stars above Had crazed him with excess of knowledge; Some heard he had been crost in love Before he came away from college; Some darkly hinted that his Grace Did nothing great or small without him; Some whisperd with a solemn face That there was something odd about him ! I found him, at threescore and ten, A single man, but bent quite double: Sickness was coming on him then, To take Ii im from a world of trouble. He prosed of slipping down the hill, Discovered he grew older daily: One frosty day he made his will; The next he sent for Doctor Bailey. And so lie lived, and so he died! When last I sat beside his pillow, He shook my hand, and Ah ! he cried, Penelope must wear the willow. WHENE~ER THEY HEARD HIS RING OR KNOCK, QUICKER THAN THOUGHT THE VILLAGE SLATTERNS FLUNG DOWN THE NOVEL, SMOOTHED THE FROCK, AND TOOK UP MRS. GLASSE AND PATTERNS I FOUND HIM, AT THREESCORE AND TEN, A SINGLE MAN, BUT BENT QUITE DOUBLE. 7:- ~1 / 7/ :1 / 7k /7 QUINCE. 33 Tell her I huggd her rosy chain While life was flickering in the socket; And say that when I call again, Ill bring a license in my pocket. Ive left my house and grounds to Fag I hope his masters shoes will suit him; And Ive bequeathed to you my nag, To feed him for my sake, or shoot him. The vicars wife will take old Fox Shell find him an uncommon mouser; And let her husband have my box, My Bible, and my Assmanshauser. Whether I ought to die or not, My doctors cannot quite determine; Its only clear that I shall rot, And be, like Priam, food for vermin. My debts are paid; but natures debt Almost escaped my recollection: Tom! we shall meet again; and yet I cannot leave you my direction. (~4 ~-~1- - BROOK! WHOSE SOCIETY THE POET SEEKS. THE BROOK. BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. ROOK! whose society the poet seeks, Intent his wasted spirits to renew; And whom the curious painter doth pursue Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks, And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks; If wish were mine some type of thee to view, Thee, and not thee thyself, I would not do Like Grecian artists, give thee human cheeks, Channels for tears; no Naiad shouldst thou be; Have neither limbs, feet, feathers, joints, nor hairs. It seems the Eternal Soul is clothed in thee With purer robes than those of flesh and blood, And hath bestowed on thee a safer good; Unwearied joy, and life without its cares. A LITTLE JOURNEY IN THE WORLD.* BY CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. VI. ~JARGARET hastened to her chamber. IVI Was the air oppressive? She open- ed the window and sat down by it. A soft south wind was blowing, eating away the remaining patches of snow; the sky was full of fleecy clouds. Where do these days come from in January? Why should nature be in a melting mood? Margaret instinctively would have pre- ferred a wild storm, violence, anything but this elemental languor. Her emotion was incredible to herself. It was only an incident. It had all happened in a moment, and it was over. But it was the first of the kind in a wo- mans life. The thrilling, mysterious word had been dropped into a womans heart. Hereafter she would be changed. She never again would be as she was be- fore. Would her heart be hardened or softened by the experience? She did not love him: that was clear. She had done right: that was clear. But he had said he loved her. Unwit- tingly she was following him in her thought. She had rejected plain John Lyon, amiable, intelligent, unselfish, kind- ly, deferential. She had rejected also the Earl of Chishoim, a conspicuous position, an honorable family, luxury, a great op- portunity in life. It came to the girl in a flash. She moved nervously in her chair. She put down the thought as un- worthy of her. But she had entertained it for a moment. In that second, ambi- tion had entered the girls soul. She had a glimpse of her own nature that seemed new to her. Was this, then, the mean- ing of her restlessness, of her charitable activities, of her unconfessed dreams of some career? Ambition had entered her soul in a definite form. She expelled it. It would come again in some form or other. She was indignant at herself as she thought of it. How odd it was.! Her privacy had been invaded. The even tenor of her life had been broken. Hence- forth would she be less or more sensitive to the suggestion of love, to the allure- ments of ambition? Margaret tried, in accordance with her nature, to be sincere with herself. After all, what nonsense it was! No. thing really had happened. A stranger of a few weeks before had declared him- self. She did not love him; he was no * Begun in April number, 1889. VOL. Lxxlx.No. 4693

THE BROOK. BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. ROOK! whose society the poet seeks, Intent his wasted spirits to renew; And whom the curious painter doth pursue Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks, And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks; If wish were mine some type of thee to view, Thee, and not thee thyself, I would not do Like Grecian artists, give thee human cheeks, Channels for tears; no Naiad shouldst thou be; Have neither limbs, feet, feathers, joints, nor hairs. It seems the Eternal Soul is clothed in thee With purer robes than those of flesh and blood, And hath bestowed on thee a safer good; Unwearied joy, and life without its cares. A LITTLE JOURNEY IN THE WORLD.* BY CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. VI. ~JARGARET hastened to her chamber. IVI Was the air oppressive? She open- ed the window and sat down by it. A soft south wind was blowing, eating away the remaining patches of snow; the sky was full of fleecy clouds. Where do these days come from in January? Why should nature be in a melting mood? Margaret instinctively would have pre- ferred a wild storm, violence, anything but this elemental languor. Her emotion was incredible to herself. It was only an incident. It had all happened in a moment, and it was over. But it was the first of the kind in a wo- mans life. The thrilling, mysterious word had been dropped into a womans heart. Hereafter she would be changed. She never again would be as she was be- fore. Would her heart be hardened or softened by the experience? She did not love him: that was clear. She had done right: that was clear. But he had said he loved her. Unwit- tingly she was following him in her thought. She had rejected plain John Lyon, amiable, intelligent, unselfish, kind- ly, deferential. She had rejected also the Earl of Chishoim, a conspicuous position, an honorable family, luxury, a great op- portunity in life. It came to the girl in a flash. She moved nervously in her chair. She put down the thought as un- worthy of her. But she had entertained it for a moment. In that second, ambi- tion had entered the girls soul. She had a glimpse of her own nature that seemed new to her. Was this, then, the mean- ing of her restlessness, of her charitable activities, of her unconfessed dreams of some career? Ambition had entered her soul in a definite form. She expelled it. It would come again in some form or other. She was indignant at herself as she thought of it. How odd it was.! Her privacy had been invaded. The even tenor of her life had been broken. Hence- forth would she be less or more sensitive to the suggestion of love, to the allure- ments of ambition? Margaret tried, in accordance with her nature, to be sincere with herself. After all, what nonsense it was! No. thing really had happened. A stranger of a few weeks before had declared him- self. She did not love him; he was no * Begun in April number, 1889. VOL. Lxxlx.No. 4693

THE BROOK. BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. ROOK! whose society the poet seeks, Intent his wasted spirits to renew; And whom the curious painter doth pursue Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks, And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks; If wish were mine some type of thee to view, Thee, and not thee thyself, I would not do Like Grecian artists, give thee human cheeks, Channels for tears; no Naiad shouldst thou be; Have neither limbs, feet, feathers, joints, nor hairs. It seems the Eternal Soul is clothed in thee With purer robes than those of flesh and blood, And hath bestowed on thee a safer good; Unwearied joy, and life without its cares. A LITTLE JOURNEY IN THE WORLD.* BY CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. VI. ~JARGARET hastened to her chamber. IVI Was the air oppressive? She open- ed the window and sat down by it. A soft south wind was blowing, eating away the remaining patches of snow; the sky was full of fleecy clouds. Where do these days come from in January? Why should nature be in a melting mood? Margaret instinctively would have pre- ferred a wild storm, violence, anything but this elemental languor. Her emotion was incredible to herself. It was only an incident. It had all happened in a moment, and it was over. But it was the first of the kind in a wo- mans life. The thrilling, mysterious word had been dropped into a womans heart. Hereafter she would be changed. She never again would be as she was be- fore. Would her heart be hardened or softened by the experience? She did not love him: that was clear. She had done right: that was clear. But he had said he loved her. Unwit- tingly she was following him in her thought. She had rejected plain John Lyon, amiable, intelligent, unselfish, kind- ly, deferential. She had rejected also the Earl of Chishoim, a conspicuous position, an honorable family, luxury, a great op- portunity in life. It came to the girl in a flash. She moved nervously in her chair. She put down the thought as un- worthy of her. But she had entertained it for a moment. In that second, ambi- tion had entered the girls soul. She had a glimpse of her own nature that seemed new to her. Was this, then, the mean- ing of her restlessness, of her charitable activities, of her unconfessed dreams of some career? Ambition had entered her soul in a definite form. She expelled it. It would come again in some form or other. She was indignant at herself as she thought of it. How odd it was.! Her privacy had been invaded. The even tenor of her life had been broken. Hence- forth would she be less or more sensitive to the suggestion of love, to the allure- ments of ambition? Margaret tried, in accordance with her nature, to be sincere with herself. After all, what nonsense it was! No. thing really had happened. A stranger of a few weeks before had declared him- self. She did not love him; he was no * Begun in April number, 1889. VOL. Lxxlx.No. 4693 36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. more to her than any other man. It was a common occurrence. Her judgment accorded with her feeling in what she had done. How was she to know that she had made a mistake, if mistake it was? How was she to know that this hour was a crisis in her life? Surely the little tumult would pass; surely the lit- tle whisper of worldliness could not dis- turb her ideals. But all the power of exclusion in her mind could not exclude the returning thought of what might have been if she had loved him. Alas! in that moment was born in her heart some- thing that would make the idea of love less simple than it had been in her mind. She was heart-free, but her nature was too deep not to be profoundly affected by this experience. Looking back upon this afternoon in the light of after-years, she probably could not feelno one could saythat she had done wrong. How was she to tell? Why is it that to do the right thing is often to make the mistake of a life? No- thing could have been nobler than for Margaret indignantly to put aside a temp- tation that her heart told her was un- worthy. And yet if she had yielded to it? I ought to ask pardon, perhaps, for dwelling upon a thing so slight as the entrance of a thought in a womans life. For as to Margaret, she seemed un- changed. She made no sign that any- thing unusual had occurred. We only knew that Mr. Lyon went away less cheer- ful than he usually was, that he said no- thing of returning in response to our in- vitations, and that he seemed to antici- pate nothing but the fulfilment of a duty in his visit to Washington. What had happened was regarded as only an episode. In fact, however, I doubt if there are any episodes in our lives, any asides, that do not permanent- ly affect our entire career. Are not the episodes, the casual thoughts, the fortu- itous, unplanned meetings, the brief and maybe at the moment urbnoted events, those which exercise the most influence on our destiny? To all observation the career of Lyon, and not of Margaret, was most affected by their interview. But often the implanting of an idea in the mind is more potent than the frustration of a plan or the gratification of a desire, so hidden are the causes that make character. For some time I saw little of Margaret. Affairs in which I was not alone or chief- ly concerned took me from home. One of the most curious and interesting places in the world is a Chamber in the business heart of New York-if that scene of strug- gle and passion can be said to have a heart situated midway where the currents of eagerness to acquire the money of other people, not to make it, ceaselessly meet and dash against each other. If we could suppose there was a web covering this re- gion, spun by the most alert and busy of men to catch those less alert and more productive, here in this Chamber would sit the ingenious spiders. But the analogy fails, for spiders do not prey upon each other. Scientists say that the human sys- tem has two nerve centresone in the brain, to which and from which are tele- graphed all movements depending upon the will, and another in the small of the back, the centre of the involuntary opera- tions of respiration, digestion, and so on. It may be fanciful to suppose that in the national system Washington is the one nervous centre and New York the other. And yet it does sometimes seem that the nerves and ganglions in the small of the back in the commercial metropolis act automatically and without any visible in- tervention of intelligence. For all that, their operations may be as essential as the other, in which the will power sometimes gets into a dead-lock, and sometimes tele- graphs the most eccentric and incompre- hensible orders. Puzzled by these contra- dictions, some philosophers have said that there may be somewhere outside of these two material centres another power that keeps affairs moving along with some steadiness. This noble Chamber has a large irregu- lar area of floor space, is very high, and has running round three sides a narrow elevated gallery, from which spectators can look down upon the throng below. Upon a raised dais at one side sits the pre- siding genius of the place, who rules very much as Jupiter was supposed to govern the earthly swarms, by letting things run and occasionally launching a thunder- bolt. High up on one side, in an Olym- pian seclusion, away from the noise and the strife, sits a Board, calm as fate, and panoplied in the responsibility of chance, whose function seems to be that of switch shifters in their windowed cubby at a net- work of railway intersectionsto prevent collisions. At both ends of the floor and along A LITTLE JOURNEY IN THE WORLD. 37 one side are narrow railed - off spaces seen in the~neighborhood of Fargo, or that full of clerks figuring at desks, of tele- Jay Hawker had been observed that morn- graph operators clicking their machines, ing hurrying to his brokers with a scowl of messenger boys arriving and departing on his face and his hat pulled over his in haste, of unprivileged operators ner- eyes. The young man sold what he did vously watching the scene and waiting not have, and the other young man bought the chance of a word with some one on what be will never get. the floor; through noiseless swinging This is business of the higher and al- doors men are entering and departing most immaterial sort, and has an element every momentmen in a hurry, men with of faith in it, and, as one may say, belief anxious faces, conscious that the fate of in the unseen, whence it is characterized the country is in their hands. On the by an expression dealing in futures. floor itself are five hundred, perhaps a It is not gambling, for there are no thousand, men, gathered for the most part chips used, and there is no roulette in small groups about little stands upon table in sight, and there are no piles of the summit of which is a rallying legend, money or piles of anything else. It is not talking, laughing, screaming, good - na- a lottery, for there is no wheel at which tured, indifferent, excited, running hither impartial men preside to insure honest and thither in response to changing fig- drawings, and there are no predestined ures in the checker-board squares on the blanks and prizes, and the man who buys great wall opposite, calm, cynical one mo- and the man who sells can do something, ment, the next violently agitated, shout- either in the newspapers or elsewhere, to ing, gesticulating, rushing together, shak- affect the worth of the investment, where- ing their fists in a tumult of passion which as in a lottery everything depends upon presently subsides. the turn of the blind wheel. It is not The swarms ebb and flow about these necessary, however, to attempt a defence little stands bees, not bringing any of the Chamber. It is one of the recog- honey, but attracted to the hive where it nized ways of becoming important and is rumored most honey is to be had. By powerful in this world. The privilege of habit some always stand or sit about a the floor, a seat as it is called in this tem- particular hive, waiting for the show of ple of the god Chance to be Rich, is worth comb. By-and-by there is astir; the crowd more than a seat in the cabinet. It is not thickens; one beardless youth shouts out only true that a fortune may be made the figure one-half; another howls, here in a day or lost here in a day, but three-eighths. The first one nods. It that a nod and a wink here enable people is done. The electric wire running up the all over the land to ruin others or ruin stand quivers and takes the figure, passes themselves with celerity. The relation of it to all the other wires, transmits it to cv- the Chamber to the business of the coun- ery office and hotel in the city, to all the try is therefore evident. If an earthquake tickers in ten thousand chambers and should suddenly sink this temple and all bucket-shops and offices in the repub- its votaries into the bowels of the earth, lic. Suddenly on the bulletin-boards in with all its nervousness and all its elec- New Orleans, Chicago, San Francisco, Po- tricity, it is appalling to think what would dunk, Liverpool, appear the mysterious become of the business of the country. three-eighths, electrifying the watchers Not far from this vast Chamber, where of these boards, who begin to jabber and great financial operations are conducted gesticulate and transact business. It is on the highest principles of honor and wonderful. with the strictest regard to the Marquis of What induced the beardless young Dusenburys rules, there is another less man to make this investment in three- pretentious Chamber, known as open, eighths, who can tell? Perhaps he had a sort of overflow meeting. Those who heard, as he came into the room, that have not quite left hope behind can go in the Secretary of the Treasury was go- here. Here are the tickers communi- ing to make a call of Fives; perhaps he eating with the Chamber, tended by lads, had heard that Bismarck had said that the who transfer the figures to big black-boards French blood was too thin and needed a on the wall. In front of these boards sit little more iron; perhaps he had heard from morning to night rows, perhaps re- that a norther in Texas had killed a herd lays, of men intently or listlessly watch- of cattle, or that two grasshoppers had been ing the figures. Many of them, who sel 38 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. dom make a sign, come here from habit they have nowhere else to go. Some of them were once lords in the great Cham- ber, who have been, as the phrase is, cleaned out. There is a gray-bearded veteran in seedyclothes, with sunken, fiery eyes, who was once many times a million- aire, was a power in the Board, followed by reporters, had a palace in the Avenue, and drove to his office with coachman and footman in livery, and his wife headed the lists of charities. Now he spends his old age watching this black-board, and considers it a good day that brings him five dollars and his car fare. At one end of the low - ceiled apartment are busy clerks behind a counter, alert and cheer- ful. If one should go through a side door and down a passage he might encounter the smell of rum. Smart young men, clad in the choicest raiment from the mis- fit counters, with greed stamped on their astute faces, bustle about, watch the black- boards, and make investments with each other. Middle-aged men in slouch hats lounge around with hungry eyes. The place is feverish rather than exciting. A tall fellow, whose gait and clothes proclaim him English, with a hard face and lack- lustre eyes, saunters abouthis friends at home suppose he is making his fortune in America. A dapper young gentleman, quite in the mode, and with the quick air of prosperity, rapidly enters the room and confers with a clerk at the counter. He has the run of the Chamber, and is from the great house of Flamm and Slamm. Perhaps he is taking a flier on his own account, perhaps he represents his house in a side transactionthere are so many ways open to enterprising young men in the city; at any rate, his entrance is re- garded as significant. This is not a hos- pital for the broken down and cleaned out of the Chamber, but it is a place of business, which is created and fed by the incessant ticker. How men existed or did any business at all before the advent of the ticker is a wonder. But the Chamber, the creator of low- pressure and high - pressure, the inspirer of the ticker, is the great generator of business. Here I found Henderson in the morning hour, and he came up to me on the call of a messenger. He approached nonchalant and smiling as usual. Do you see that man, he said, as we stood a moment looking down, sitting there on a side benchbig body, small head, hair grayish, long beard partedap- parently taking no interest in anything? Thats Plink, who made the corner in 0. B.one of the longest-headed operators in the Chamber. He is about the only man who dare try a hold with Jay Hawker. And for some reason or another, though they have apparent tussles, Hawker rath- er favors him. Five years ago he could just raise money enough to get into the Chamber. Now he is reckoned at any- where from five to ten millions. I was at his home the other night. Everybody was there. I had a queer feeling, in all the magnificence, that the sheriff might be in there in ten days. Yet he may own a good slice of the island in ten years. His wife, whom I complimented, and who thanked me for coming, said she had in- vited none but the reshershy. He looks like a rascal, I ventured to remark. Oh, that is not a word used in the Chamber. He is called a daisy. I was put into his pew in church the other Sunday, and the preacher described him and his methods so exactly that I didnt dare look at him. When we came out he whispered, That was rather hard on Slack; he must have felt it. These men rather like that sort of preaching. I dont come here often, Henderson resumed as we walked away. The ma~r- ket is fiat to-day. There promised to be a little flurry in L. and P., and I looked in for a customer. We walked to his down-town club to lunch. Everybody, I noticed, seemed to know Henderson, and his presence was hailed with a cordial smile, a good-hu- mored nod, or a hearty grasp of the hand. I never knew a more prepossessing man; his bonhomie was infectious. Though his demeanor was perfectly quiet and modest, he carried the air of good-fellowship. He was entirely frank, cordial, and had that sort of sincerity which one can afford to have who does not take life too seriously. Tallat least six feetwith a well-shaped head set on square shoulders, brown hair inclined to curl, large blue eyes which could be merry or exceedingly grave, I thought him a picture of manly beauty. Good-natured, clever, prosperous, and not yet thirty. What a dower! After we had disposed of our little mat- ter of business, which I confess was not exactly satisfactory to me, although when I was told that the first bondholders will A LITTLE JOURNEY IN THE WORLD. 39 be obliged to come in,,, he added that of course we shall take care of our friends, we went to his bachelor quarters uptown. I want you to see, he said, how a her- mit lives. The apartments were not my idea of a hermitageexcept in the city. A charm- ing library, spacious, but so full as to be cozy,with an open fire; chamber, dressing- room, and bath-room connecting, furnish- ed with everything that a luxurious habit could suggest and good taste would not refuse, made a retreat that could almost reconcile a sinner to solitude. There were a few good paintings, many rare engrav- ings, on the walls, a notable absence, even in the sleeping-room, of photographs of actresses and professional beauties, but here and there souvenirs of travel and evidences that the gentler sex had con- tributed the skill of their slender fingers to the cheerfulness of the bachelors home. Scattered about were the daily and month- ly products of the press, the newest sensa- tions, the things talked about at dinners, but the walls for the most part were lined with books that are recognized as the proper possessions of the lover of books, and Wost of them in exquisite bindings. Less care, I thought, had been given in the collection to sets of standards than to those that are rare, or for some reason, either former distinguished owner- ship or autograph notes, have a peculiar value. In this atmosphere, when we were pre- pared to take our ease, the talk was no longer of stocks, or railways, or schemes, but of books. Whether or not Hender- son loved literature I did not then make up my mind, but he had a passion for books, especially for rare and first edi- tions; and the delight with which he ex- hibited his library, the manner in which he handled the books that he took down one after the other, the sparkle in his eyes over a find or a bargain, gave me a side of his character quite different from that I should have gained by seeing him in the street only. He had that genuine respect and affection for a book which has become almost traditional in these days of cheap and flimsy publications, a taste held by scholars and collectors, and quite beyond the popular comprehension. The respect for a book is essential to the dignity and consideration of the place of literature in the world, and when books are treated with no more regard than the newspaper, it is a sign that literature is losing its power. Even the collector, who may read little and care more for the ex- ternals than for the soul of his favorites, by the honor he pays them, by the solici- tude he expends upon their preservation without spot, by the lavishness of expense upon binding, contributes much to the dig- nity of that art which preserves for the race the continuity of its thought and de- velopment. If Henderson loved books merely as a collector whose taste for lux- ury and expense takes this direction, his indulgence could not but have a certain refining influence. I could not see that he cultivated any decided specialty, but he had many rare copies which had cost fabulous prices, the possession of which gives a reputation to any owner. My shelves of Americana, he said, are no- thing like Goodloes, who has a lot of scarce things that I am hoping to get hold of some day. But theres a little thing (it was a small coffee-colored tract of six leaves, upon which the Grolier of the city had exercised his utmost skill) which Goodloe offered me five hundred dollars for the other day. I picked it up in a New Hampshire garret. Not the least interesting part of the collection was first editions of American authorsa persons value to a collector is often in proportion to his obscurityand what most delighted him among them were certain thin vol- umes of poetry, which the authors since becoming famous had gone to a good deal of time and expense to suppress. The world seems to experience a lively pleasure in holding a man to his early follies. There were many examples of superb binding, especially of exquisite tooling on hog-skincovers the apprecia- tion of which has lately greatly revived. The recent rage for bindings has been a sore trouble to students and collectors in special lines, raising the prices of books far beyond their intrinsic value. I had a charming afternoon in Hendersons li- brary, an enjoyment not much lessened at the time by experiencing in it, with him, rather a sense of luxury than of learning. It is true, one might pass an hour altogether different in the garret of a student, and come away with quite other impressions of the pageant of life. At five oclock his stylish trap was sent around from the boarding stable, and we drove in the Park till twilight. Hender- son, handling the reins, and making a part 40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of that daily display which is too hetero- geneous to have distinction, reverted quite naturally to the tone of worldliness and tolerant cynicism which had characterized his conversation in the morning. If the Park and the moving assemblage had not the air of distinction, it had that of ex- pense, which is quite as attractive to many. Here, as down-town, my companion seem- ed to know and be known by everybody, returning the familiar salutes of brokers and club men, receiving gracious bows from stout matrons, smiles and nods from pretty women, and more formal recogni- tion from stately and stiff elderly men, who sat bolt-upright beside their wives and tried to look like millionaires. For every passer-by Henderson had a quick word of characterization sufficiently amus- ing, and about many a story which illu- minated the social life of the day. It was wonderful how many of this chance com- pany had little histories, comic, tragic, pitiful, interesting enough for the pages of a novel. There is a young ladyHenderson touched his hat, and I caught a glimpse of golden hair and a flash of dark eyes out of a mass of furs who has no history: the world is all before her. Who is that ? The daughter of old EschelleCar- men Eschellethe banker and politician, you remember; had a diplomatic position abroad, and the girl was educated in Eu- rope. She is very clever. She and her mother have more money than they ought to know what to do with. That was the celebrated Jay Hawker (a moment after), in that modest coup6 not much display about him. Is he recognized by respectable peo- ple ? Recognized ? Henderson laughed. Hes a power. There are plenty of peo- ple who live by trying to guess what he is going to do. Hawker isnt such a bad fel- low. Other people have used the means he used to get rich and havent succeeded. They ~are not held up to point a moral. The trouble is that Hawker succeeded. Of course its a game. He plays as fair as anybody. Yes Henderson resun-ied, walking his horses in sight of the obelisk, which suggested the long continuance of the hu- man race, it is the same old game, and it is very interesting to those who are in it. Outsiders think it is all greed. In the Chamber it is a good deal the love of the game, to watch each other, to find out a mans plans, to circumvent him, to thwart him, to start a scheme and manipulate it, to catch somebody, to escape somebody; it is a perpetual excitement. The machine in the Chamber appears to run very smoothly, I said. Oh, that is a public register and indi- cator. The system back of it is compre- hensive, and appears to be complicated, but it is really very simple. Spend an hour some day in the office of Flamm and Slamm, and you will see a part of the system. There are always a number of men watching the black-board, figures on which are changed every minute by the attendants. Telegrams are constantly ar- riving from every part of the Union, from all over the continent, from all the cen- tres in Europe, which are read by some one connected with the firm, and then dis- played for the guidance of the watchers of the black-board. Upon this news, on eor another says, I think Ill buy, or, I think Ill sell, so and so. His order is trans- mitted instantly to the Chamber. In two minutes the result comes back and appears upon the black-board. But where does the news come from ? From the men whose special business it is to pick it up or make it. They are inside of politics, of the railways, of the weather bureau, everywhere. The other day in Chicago I sat some time in a bro- kers office with others watching the mar- ket, and dropped into conversation with a bright young fellow, at whose right hand, across the rail, was a telegraph operator at the end of a private wire. Soon a man came in quietly and whispered in the ear of my neighbor and went out. The young fellow instantly wrote a despatch and handed it to the operator, and turn- ing to me, said, Now watch the black- board. In an incredibly short space of time a fail in a leading railway showed on the black-board. What was it? I asked. Why, that man was the general freight manager of the A. B. road. He told me that they were to cut rates. I sent it to New York by a private wire. I learned by further conversation that my young gentleman was a Manufacturer of News, and that such was his address and intelligence that though he was not a mem- ber of the brokers firm, he made ten thou- sand a year in the business. Soon anoth- er man came in, whispered his news, and A LITTLE JOURNEY IN THE WORLD. 41 went away. Another despatchanother responsive change in the figures. That, explained my companion, was a man connected with the weather bureau. He told me that there would be a heavy frost to-night in the Northwest. Do they sell the weather I I asked, very much amused. Yes; twice: once over a private wire, and then to the publicafter the value of it has been squeezed outin the shape of predictions. Oh, the weather bureau is worth all the money it costs, for busi- ness purposes. It is a great auxiliary. Dining that evening with Henderson at his club, I had further opportunity to study a representative man. He was of a good New Hampshire family, exceed- ingly respectable without being distin- guished. Over the chimney-place in the old farm-house hung a rusty Queen Anne that had been at the taking of Louisburg. His grandfather shouldered a musket at Bunker Hill; his father, the youngest son, had been a judge as well as a farmer, and noted for his shrewdness and reticence. Rodney, inheriting the thrift of his ances- tors, had pushed out from his home, adapt- ing this thrift to the modern methods of turning it to account. He had brought also to the city the stamina of three gen- erations of plain livinga splendid capi- tal, by which the city is constantly re-en- forced, and which one generation does not exhaust, except by the aid of extreme dis- sipation. With sound health, good abil- ity, and fair education, he had the cheer- ful temperament which makes friends, and does not allow their misfortunes to injure his career. Generous by impulse, he would rather do a favor than not, and yet he would be likely to let nothing interfere with any object he had in view for himself. Inheriting a conventional respect for religion and morality, he was not so bigoted as to rebuke the gayety of a convivial company, nor so intractable as to make him an uncomfortable associ- ate in any scheme, according to the mod- ern notions of business, that promised profit. His engaging manner made him popular, and his good-natured adroitness made him successful. If his early expe- rience of life caused him to be cynical, he was not bitterly so; his cynicism was of the tolerant sort that does not condemn the world and withdraw from it, but courts it and makes the most of it, lower- ing his private opinion of men in propor tion as he- is successful in the game he plays with them. At this period I could see that he had de- termined to be successful, and that he had not determined to be unscrupulous. He would only drift with the tide that made for fortune. He enjoyed the worlda suf- ficient reason why the world should like him. His business morality was gauged by what other people do in similar cir- cumstances. In short, he was a product of the period since the civil war closed, that great upheaval of patriotic feeling and sacrifice, which ended in so much ex- pansion and so many opportunities. If he had remained in New Hampshire he would probably have been a successful politician, successful not only in keeping in place, but in teaching younger aspir- ants that serving the country is a very good way to the attainment of luxury and the consideration that money brings. But having chosen the law as a stepping-stone to the lobby, to speculation, and the ma- nipulation of chances, he had a poor opin- ion of politics and of politicians. His suc- cess thus far, though considerable, had not been sufficient to create for him powerful enemies, so that he may be said to be ad- mired by all and feared by none. In the general opinion he was a downright good fellow and amazingly clever. VII. In youth, as at the Opera, everything seems possible. Surely it is not necessary to choose between love and riches. One may have both, and the one all the more easily for having attained the other. It must be a fiction of the moralists who construct the dramas that the god of love and the god of money each claims an un- divided allegiance. It was in some whol- ly legendary, perhaps spiritual, world that it was necessary to renounce love to gain the Rhine gold. The boxes at the Metro- politan did not believe this. The specta- tors of the boxes could believe it still less. For was not beauty there seen shining in jewels that have a market value, and did not love visibly preside over the union, and make it known that his sweetest fa- vors go with a prosperous world? And yet, is the charm of life somewhat depending upon a sense of its fieetingness, of its phantasmagoria1 character, a note of coming disaster, maybe, in the midst of its most seductive pageantry, in the whirl and glitter and hurry of it? Is there 42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. some subtle sense of exquisite satisfaction in snatching the sweet moments of life out of the very delirium of it, that must soon end in an awakening to bankruptcy of the affections, and the dreadful loss of illusions? Else why do we take pleasure a pleasure so deep that it touches the heart like melancholyin the common drama of the opera? How gay and joy- ous is the beginning! Mirth, hilarity, en- trancing sound, brilliant color, the note of a trumpet calling to heroism, the be- seeching of the concordant strings, and the soft flute inviting to pleasure; scenes placid, pastoral, innocent; light - hearted love, the dance on the green, the stately pageant in the sunlit streets, the court, the ball, the mad splendor of life. And then love becomes passion, and passion thwarted hurries on to sin, and sin lifts to the heights of the immortal, sweetly smiling gods, and plunges to the depths of despair. In vain the orchestra, the in- evitable accompaniment of life, warns and pleads and admonishes; calm has gone, and gayety has gone; there is no sweet- ness now but in the wildness of surrender and of sacrifice. How sad are the remem- bered strains that aforetime were incen- tives to love and promises of happiness! Gloom settles upon the scene; Mephisto, the only radiant one, flits across it, and mocks the poor broken-hearted girl cling- ing to the church door. There is a dun- geon, the chanting of the procession of tonsured priests, the passing-bell. Seldom appears the golden bridge over which the baffled and tired pass into Valhalla. Do we like this because it is life or because there is a certain satisfaction in seeing the tragedy which impends over all, pervades the atmosphere, as it were, and adds something of zest to the mildest en- joyment? Should we go away from the mimic stage any better and stronger if the drama began in the dungeon and ended on the greensward, with innocent love and resplendent beauty in possession of the Rhine gold? How simple, after all, was the created world on the stage to the real world in the auditorium, with its thousand complexi- ties and dramatic situations! and if the little knot of players of parts for an hour could have had leisure to be spectators of the audience, what a deeper revelation of life would they not have seen! For the world has never assembled such an epit- ome of itself, in its passion for pleasure and its passion for display, as in the mod- em opera, with its ranks and tiers of vo- taries from the pit to the dome. I fancy that even Margaret, whose love for music was genuine, was almost as much fasci- iiated by the greater spectacle as by the less. It was a crowded night, for the opera was one that appealed to the senses and stimulated them to activity, and left the mind free to pursue its own schemes; in a word, orchestra and the scenes formed a sort of accompaniment and interpreter to the private dramas in the boxes. The opera was made for society, and not soci- ety for the opera. We occupied a box in the second tier, the Morgans, Margaret, and my wife. Morgan said that the glass- es were raised to us from the parquet and levelled at us from the loges because we were a country party, but he well enough knew whose fresh beauty and enthusiastic young face it was that drew the fire when the curtain fell on the first act, and there was for a moment a little lull in the hum of conversation. I had heard, Morgan was saying, that the opera was not acclimated in New York; but it is nearly so. The audi- ence do not jabber so loud nor so incessant- ly as at San Carlo, and they do not hum the airs with the singers Perhaps, said my wife, that is be- cause they do not know the airs. But they are getting on in cultiva- tion, and learning how to assert the social side of the opera, which is not to be seri- ously interfered with by the music on the stage. But the music, the scenery, were never before so good, I replied to these cynical observations. That is true. And the social side has risen with it. Do you know what an im- pudent thing the managers did the other night in protesting against the raising of the lights by which the house was made brilliant and the cheap illusions of the stage were destroyed? They wanted to make the house positively gloomy for the sake of a little artificial moonlight on the painted towers and the canvas lakes. As the world goes, the scene was brill- iant, of course with republican simplicity. The imagination was helped by no titled names any more than the eye was by the insignia of rank, but there was a certain glow of feeling, as the glass swept the cir- cle, to know that there were ten millions A LITTLE JOURNEY IN THE WORLD. 43 in this box, and twenty in the next, and fifty in the next, attested well enough by the flash of jewels and the splendor of attire, and one might indulge a genuine pride in the prosperity of the republic. As for beauty, the world, surely, in this later time, had flowered hereflowered with something of Aspasias grace and something of the haughty coldness of Agrippina. And yet it was American. Here and there in the boxes was a thor- ough-bred portrait by Copley-the long shapely neck, the sloping shoulders, the drooping eyelids, even to the gown in which the great-grandmother danced with the French officers. Who is that lovely creature ? asked Margaret, indicating a box opposite. I did not know. There were two la- dies, and behind them I had no difficulty in making out Henderson andMargaret evidently had not seen himMr. Lyon. Almost at the same moment Henderson recognized me, and signalled for me to come to his box. As I rose to do so, Mrs. Morgan exclaimed: Why, there is Mr. Lyon! Do tell him we are here. I saw Margarets color rise, but sh~ did not speak. I was presented to Mrs. Eschelle and her daughter; in the latter I recognized the beauty who had flashed by us in the Park. The elder lady inclined to stout- ness, and her too youthful apparel could not mislead one as to the length of her pilgrimage in this world, nor soften the hard lines of her worldly facelines ac- quired, one could see, by a social struggle, and not drawn there by an innate patri- cian insolence. We are glad to see a friend of Mr. Hendersons, she said, and of Mr. Lyons also. Mr. Lyon has told us much of your charming country home. Who is that pretty girl in your box, Mr. Fairchild ? Miss Eschel]e had her glass pointed at Margaret as I gave the desired informa- tion. How innocent ! she murmured. And shes quite in the styleisnt she, Mr. Lyon ? she asked, turning about, her sweet mobile face quite the picture of what she was describing. We are all innocent in these days. It is a very good style, I said. Isnt it becoming ? asked the girl, making her dark eyes at once merry and demure. Mr. Lyon was looking intently at the VOL. LXXIX.No. 4694 opposite box, and a slight shade came over his fine face. Ah, I see! I beg your pardon, Miss Esehelle, he said, after a second. I hardly know which to admire most, the beauty, or the wit, or the innocence of the American women. There is nothing so confusing, though, as the country innocenc.e, the girl said, with the most natural air; it never knows where to stop. You are too absurd, Carmen, her mother interposed; as if the town girl did! Well, mamma, there is authority for saying that there is a time for everything, only one must be in the fashion, you know. Mr. Lyon looked a little dubious at this turii of the talk; Mr. Henderson was as evidently amused at the girls acting. I said I was glad to see that goodness was in fashion. Oh, it often is. You know we were promised a knowledge of good as well as of evil. It depends upon the point of view. I fancy, now, that Mr. Henderson tolerates the good-that is the reason we get on so well together; and Mr. Lyon tolerates the evilthats the reason he likes New York. I have almost promised him that I will have a mission school. The girl looked quite capable of it, or of any other form of devotion. Notwith- standing her persistent banter, she had a most inviting innocence of manner, al- most an ingenuousness, that well became her exquisite beauty. And but for a ten- tative daring in her talk, as if the gentle creature were experimenting as to how far one could safely go, her innocence might have seemed that of ignorance. It came out in the talk that Mr. Lyon had been in Washington for a week, and would return there later on. We had a claim on him, said Mrs. Eschelle, for his kindness to us in Lon- don, and we are trying to convince him that New York is the real capital. Unfortunately, added Miss Esehelle, looking up in Mr. Lyons face, he visit- ed Brandon first, and you seem to have bewitched him with your simple country ways. I can get him to talk of nothing else. You mean to say, Mr. Lyon replied, with the air of retorting, that you have asked me about nothing else. Oh, you know we felt a little respon 44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. sible for you; and there is no place so dan- gerous as the country. Now here you are protectedwe put all the wickedness on the stage, and learn to recognize and shun it. It may be wicked, said her mother, but it is dull. Dont you find it so, Mr. Henderson? I am passionately fond of Wagner, but it is too noisy for anything to-night. I notice, dear, the dutiful daughter replied for all of us, that you have to raise your voice. But there is the ballet. Let us all listen now. Mr. Lyon excused himself from going with me, saying that he would call at our hotel, and I took Henderson. I shall count the minutes you are going to lose, the girl said as we went outto our box. The lobbies in the interact were thronged with men, for the most part the young speculators of the Chamber turned into loungers in the foyer, knowing, alert, at- .titudinizing in the extreme of the mode, unable even in this hour to give beauty the preference to business, well knowing, perhaps, that beauty itself in these days has a fine eye for business. I liked Henderson better in our box than in his own. Was it because the atmos- phere was more natural and genuine? Or was it Margarets transparent nature, her sincere enjoyment of the scene, her evi- dent pleasure in the music, the color, the gayety of the house, that made him drop the slight cynical air of the world which had fitted him so admirably a moment be- fore. He already knew my wife and the Morgans, and after the greetings were made, he took a seat by Margaret, quite content while the act was going on to watch its progress in the play of her re- sponsive features. How quickly she felt, how the frown followed the smile, how she seemed to weigh and try to apprehend the meaning of what went onhow her every sense enjoyed life! It is absurd, she said, turning her bright face to him when the curtain dropped, to be so interested in fictitious trouble. Im not so sure that it is, he replied, in her own tone; the opera is a sort of pulpit, and not seldom preaches an awful sermonmore plainly than the preacher dares to make it. But not in nomine Dei. No. But who can say what is most effective? I often wonder, as I watch the congregations coming from the churches on the Avenue, if they are any more sol- emnized than the audiences that pour out of this house. I confess that I cannot shake off Lohengrin in a good while after I hear it. And so you think the theatres have a moral influence ? Honestlyand I heard his good-na- tured laugh I couldnt swear to that. But then we dont know what New York might be without them. I dont know, said Margaret, reflect- ively, that my own good impulses, such as I have, are excited by anything I see on the stage; perhaps I am more tolerant, and maybe toleration is not good. I wonder if I should grow worldly, seeing more of it? Perhaps it is not the stage so much as the house, Henderson replied, beginning to read the girls mind. Yes, it would be different if one came alone and saw the play, unconscious of the house, as if it were a picture. I think it is the house that disturbs one, makes one restless and discontented. I never analyzed my emotions, said Henderson, but when I was a boy and came to the theatre I well remember that it made me ambitious; every sort of thing seemed possible of attainment in the ex- citement of the crowded house, the music, the lights, the easy successes on the stage; nothing else is more stimulating to a lad; nothing else makes the world more at- tractive. And does it continue to have the same effect, Mr. Henderson ? Hardly, and he smiled; the illu- sion goes, and the stage is about as real as the houseusually less interesting. It can hardly compete with the comedy in the boxes. Perhaps it is lack of experience, but I like the play for itself. Oh yes; desire for the dramatic is nat- ural. People will have it somehow. In the country village where there are no theatres the people make dramas out of each others lives; the most trivial inci- dents are magnified and talked about dramatized, in short. You mean gossiped about ? Well, you may call i1~gossip; nothing can be concealed; everybody knows about everybody else; there is no privacy; ev- erything is used to create that illusory spectacle which the stage tries to give. I A LITTLE JOURNEY IN THE WORLD. 45 think that in the country village a good theatre would be a wholesome influence, satisfy a natural appetite indicated by the inquisition into the affairs of neighbors and by the petty scandal. We are on the way to it, said Mr. Morgan, who sat behind them; we have theatricals in the church parlors, which may grow into a nineteenth-century sub- stitute for the miracle-plays. You mustnt, Margaret, let Mr. Henderson prejudice you against the country. No, said the latter, quickly; I was only trying to defend the city. We coun- try people always do that. We must base our theatrical life on something in na- ture. What is the difference, Mr. Hender- son, asked Margaret, between the gos- sip in the boxes and the country gossip you spoke of? In toleration mainly, and lack of ex- act knowledge. It is here rather cynical persiflage, not concentrated public opin- ion. I dont follow you, said Morgan. It seems to me that in the city youve got gossip plus the stage. That is to say, we have the world. I dont like to believe that, said Mar- garet, seriously your definition of the world. You make me see that it was a poor jest, he remarked, rising to go. By- the-way, we have a friend of yours in our box to-nighta young Englishman. Oh, Mr. Lyon. We were all delight- ed with him. Such a transparent, gen- uine nature! Tell him, said my wife, that we should be happy to see him at our hotel. When Henderson came back to his box, Carmen did not look up, but she said, in- differently: What, so soon? But your absence has made one person thoroughly miserable. Mr. Lyon has not taken his eyes off you. I never saw such an inter- national attachment. What more could I do for Miss Es- chelle than to leave her in such com- pany ? I beg your pardon, said Lyon. Miss Eschelle must believe that I thoroughly appreciate Mr. Hendersons self-sacrifice. If I occasionally looked over where he was, I assure you it was in pity. You are both altogether too self-sac- rificing,~ the beauty replied, turning to Henderson a look that was sweetly for- giving. They who sin much shall be forgiven much, you know. That leaves me, Mr. Lyon answered, with a laugh, as you say over here, out in the cold, for I have passed a too happy evening to feel like a transgressor. The sins of omission are the worst sort, she retorted. You see what you must do to be for- given, Henderson said to Lyon, with that good-natured smile that was so po- tent to smooth away sharpness. I fear I can never do enough to qual- ify myself. And lie also laughed. You never will, Carmen answered, but she accompanied the doubt with a witching smile that denied it. What is all this about forgiveness ? asked Mrs. Eschelle, turning to them from regarding the stage. Oh, we were having an experience meeting behind your back, mamma, only Mr. Henderson wont tell his experience. Miss Eschelle is in such a forgiving humor to-night that she absolves before any one has a chance to confess, he re- plied. Dont you think I am always so, Mr. Lyon ? Mr. Lyon bowed. I think that an opera box with Miss Eschelle is the easiest confessional in the world. Thats something like a conipliment. You see (to Henderson) how much you. Americans have to learn. Will you be my teacher ? Or your pupil, the girl said, in a low voice, standing near him as she rose. The play was over. In the robing and descending through the corridors there were the usual chatter, meaning looks, confidential asides. It is always at the last moment, in the, hurry, as in a post- script, that woman says what she means, or what for the moment she wishes to be thought to mean. In the crowd on the main stairway the two parties saw each other at a distance, but without speaking. Is it true that Lyon is ~pris there ? Carmen whispered to Henderson when she had scanned and thoroughly inventoried Margaret. You know as much as I do. Well, you did stay a long time, she said, in a lower tone. As Margarets party waited for their carriage she saw Mrs. Esehelle and her daughter enter a shining coach with foot- man and coachman in livery. Hender 46 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. son stood raising his hat. A little white hand was shaken to him from the win- dow, and a sweet, innocent face leaned forwarda face with dark eyes and gold- en hair, lit up with a radiant smile. That face for the moment was New York to Margaret, and New York seemed a vain show. Carmen threw herself back in her seat as if weary. Mrs. Eschelle sat bolt-upright. What in the world, child, made you go on so to-night ? I dont know. What made you snub Mr. Lyon so often ? Did I? He wont mind much. Didnt you see, mother, that he was dis trait the moment he espied that girl? Im not going to waste my time. I know the signs. No fisheries imbroglio for me, thank you. Fish? Who said anything about fish ? Oh, the international business. Ask Mr. Henderson to explain it. The Eng- lish want to fish in our waters, I believe. I think Mr. Lyon has had a nibble from a fresh-water fish. Perhaps its the other way, and hes hooked. There be fishers of men, you know, mother. You are a strange child, Carmen. I hope you will be civil to both of them. And they rode on in silence. [TO BE CONTINUED.] AN INCIDENT OF THE IRISH REBELLION. BY DR. WILLIAM HOWARD RUSSELL. TOWARD the close of the last century one Michael Russell, commissary and contractor for the Kings troops in Amer- ica, began a pretentious mansion, the ruins of which, known as Russells Folly, were to be seen fifty years ago, and for aught I know are visible still, on the road between Rathkeale and Lim- erick. As he was in full swing coin- ing money, with magazines on land and ships at sea crammed with stores and provisions, the enterprise of this Irish Kubla-Khan and the completion of the stately edifice he decreed were marred by the acknowledgment of the indepen- dence of the thirteen colonies, which brought the war to an end. The centre and one wing of the Folly were finish- ed at the time of his death, just at the outbreak of the war between France and England, and his son Francis, who suc- ceeded him, furnished them and installed his young wife, daughter of Alderman Cripps, of Limerick, in them. This Francis was educated at St. -Omer, and was in- tended for the Church. His mother was a French Canadian, to whom the old commissary owed his life when taken by the Indians in some skirmish near Louis- burg. Though for business purposes old Michael was a Protestant, there was reason to think he was not very strenu- ous in opposing his wifes wishes that her son should become a priest. But this young mans faith was rudely shaken by his association with Condorcet, to whose daughter his cousin was married in Paris; and when he left France for the last time he thoroughly believed in the Rights of Man, Tom Paine, Rousseau, Voltaire, and little else. However, he felt no scruples in pleasing his wife by an open confession of his adherence to the Protestant Church, and as his interests as a miller and mer- chant clashed with the bold assertions of his republican sentiments, he kept the lat- ter to himself, and became an active mem- ber of a troop of the yeomanry corps of which the head-quarters were at Lim- erick. Very soon after he moved into the Folly the news that the Directory were preparing to send an expedition to Ireland threw the island into a state of the wildest excitement. Francis Russell was unusually loyal. The authorities ob- tained from him what they considered very valuable information respecting the designs of the French government by means of his many friends in Paris, and he was treated with marked considera- tion. At last came the intelligence that the French had actually landed at Killala, on the coast of Sligo, and had routed the militia at Castlebar. The yeomanry were ordered to join the force which Lord Cornwallis was preparing to overwhelm Humberts little column on its way tow- ard the so~ith. There were partial ris- ings in the country; travelling was un- safe; but when Francis Russell trotted out of the court-yard of the Folly in his buff and blue uniform, he felt quite

46 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. son stood raising his hat. A little white hand was shaken to him from the win- dow, and a sweet, innocent face leaned forwarda face with dark eyes and gold- en hair, lit up with a radiant smile. That face for the moment was New York to Margaret, and New York seemed a vain show. Carmen threw herself back in her seat as if weary. Mrs. Eschelle sat bolt-upright. What in the world, child, made you go on so to-night ? I dont know. What made you snub Mr. Lyon so often ? Did I? He wont mind much. Didnt you see, mother, that he was dis trait the moment he espied that girl? Im not going to waste my time. I know the signs. No fisheries imbroglio for me, thank you. Fish? Who said anything about fish ? Oh, the international business. Ask Mr. Henderson to explain it. The Eng- lish want to fish in our waters, I believe. I think Mr. Lyon has had a nibble from a fresh-water fish. Perhaps its the other way, and hes hooked. There be fishers of men, you know, mother. You are a strange child, Carmen. I hope you will be civil to both of them. And they rode on in silence. [TO BE CONTINUED.] AN INCIDENT OF THE IRISH REBELLION. BY DR. WILLIAM HOWARD RUSSELL. TOWARD the close of the last century one Michael Russell, commissary and contractor for the Kings troops in Amer- ica, began a pretentious mansion, the ruins of which, known as Russells Folly, were to be seen fifty years ago, and for aught I know are visible still, on the road between Rathkeale and Lim- erick. As he was in full swing coin- ing money, with magazines on land and ships at sea crammed with stores and provisions, the enterprise of this Irish Kubla-Khan and the completion of the stately edifice he decreed were marred by the acknowledgment of the indepen- dence of the thirteen colonies, which brought the war to an end. The centre and one wing of the Folly were finish- ed at the time of his death, just at the outbreak of the war between France and England, and his son Francis, who suc- ceeded him, furnished them and installed his young wife, daughter of Alderman Cripps, of Limerick, in them. This Francis was educated at St. -Omer, and was in- tended for the Church. His mother was a French Canadian, to whom the old commissary owed his life when taken by the Indians in some skirmish near Louis- burg. Though for business purposes old Michael was a Protestant, there was reason to think he was not very strenu- ous in opposing his wifes wishes that her son should become a priest. But this young mans faith was rudely shaken by his association with Condorcet, to whose daughter his cousin was married in Paris; and when he left France for the last time he thoroughly believed in the Rights of Man, Tom Paine, Rousseau, Voltaire, and little else. However, he felt no scruples in pleasing his wife by an open confession of his adherence to the Protestant Church, and as his interests as a miller and mer- chant clashed with the bold assertions of his republican sentiments, he kept the lat- ter to himself, and became an active mem- ber of a troop of the yeomanry corps of which the head-quarters were at Lim- erick. Very soon after he moved into the Folly the news that the Directory were preparing to send an expedition to Ireland threw the island into a state of the wildest excitement. Francis Russell was unusually loyal. The authorities ob- tained from him what they considered very valuable information respecting the designs of the French government by means of his many friends in Paris, and he was treated with marked considera- tion. At last came the intelligence that the French had actually landed at Killala, on the coast of Sligo, and had routed the militia at Castlebar. The yeomanry were ordered to join the force which Lord Cornwallis was preparing to overwhelm Humberts little column on its way tow- ard the so~ith. There were partial ris- ings in the country; travelling was un- safe; but when Francis Russell trotted out of the court-yard of the Folly in his buff and blue uniform, he felt quite AN INCIDENP OF THE IRISH REBELLION. 47 satisfied that his wife would be safer there among her servants than she would be in Limerick, and he confided her to them and the doctor, whose services would speedily be required, with an assurance that they would see him very soon again, as there would be no serious fighting. For some time after his departure letters came regularly, written in high spirits. We are coming down on the French with ten thousand men, and there are twice as many behind. They will fight, no doubt, but they will be killed or taken prisoners. Then there were rumors that there had been a bloody battle, in which the French swept all before them. But the exultation visible among the servants and in the faces of the country people was short-lived. The story that the French had got a terrible batingVere- ker and the Limerick boys had given them a grate diffate entoirely, the bould yeomanry fought like hairoes and carried all before themwas confirmed officially, and a hurried note in pencil from Fran- cis Russell to his wife announced that he was safe and well, and that the enemy had received a check which must be fatal to them; they would all have to surren- der. Though, he went on to say, I know what will happen very soon, as the General is close on their heels; but some I am sure, will try to escape, as they would be afraid of falling into the hands of the English, for very good reasons. Then there was an intervalno news. Some eight or nine nights after the receipt of this scrawl, as the anxious wife at the Folly was retiring to rest, she heard through the storm which was driving the scud across the face of a full moon the tramp of horses hoofs in the avenue. Running to her bedroom window, she saw a small party of mounted men, among whom she recognized her husband, ap- proaching the house. They halted at the steps and dismounted. She was about to descend the stairs from her room, when she perceived that the hall was filled with men. They were foreigners, and they were talking loudly and angrily. She heard her husband giving orders to the ser- vants to get whatever food was ready and wine, and set them on the table in all haste. As the strangers passed into the dining-room, Francis Russell bounded up the stairs, gave his wife a hurried embrace and bade her return to her room and not stir out till-the men had left. I must get them down to the river and see them on board the smack. They are in danger friends of mine. But as you value my life and your own, say not a word to a soul. I will be back before daybreak to-morrow morning. I must be gone to the devils and keep them quiet. They are famishing, and half mad with fear of being taken. Ill explain all when I am back. Pres- ently the clatter of knives and forks, plates and dishes, silenced discussion. After a while, as the servants brought in bottle after bottle of wine and brandy from the cellar, the tumult of voices mounted higher and higher. All of a sudden there came the sound of a crash of glass and heavy fall in the room below. The door was flung open, and the men streamed through the hall leading to the garden at the back of the Folly. Mary hurried to a back bedroom, terrified, but afraid to disobey her husband. To her horror she saw her husband, without his coat, with a sword in his hand, in front of a tall fellow in his shirt sleeves, who was trying the temper of his rapier on the gravel-walk. The others stood apart in two groups. There was a strong wind which swept the clouds charged with storm across the face of the moon, and at intervals obscured it. The moonlight fell full on her husbands face as he put himself en garde. He par- ried the first thrust of his antagonist, who pressed him vigorously. She dared not cry out. Her husband was a fine swords- man, a pupil of La Sauterelle in Paris, and often boasted of his prowess. But his opponent appeared to be a master of fence. As Francis gave way a little and retreated he was tripped up by a stump. Mary saw him stumble and fall backward, and as the tall man rushed upon him she uttered a piercing shriek, and hid her face for an instant. When she looked again the Frenchman lay back upward with three feet of bright steel shining between his shoulder-blades. His comrades raised him. She saw her husband on the ground beneath, his shirt steeped in blood. She remembered no more.... The servants said that they ran to her room when they heard the screams, and found their mis- tress lying insensible on the floor in her night-dress. Dr. Quin was sent for; next morning, in the midst of an awful storm, a little boy was born. The illness which followed the birth of her son proved near- ly fatal to Mary Russell. It had wreck- 48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ed her reason. No one credited the tale of the strange visitors and the midnight duel which she insisted on telling to all corners. The servants declared that not a soul had come to the house the night the mistress was taken ill. The garden bore no traces of footsteps. It was a delusion. The doctor knew of similar cases in parti matericl. But where was her husband? No one could answer the poor ladys ques- tion. Francis Russell never returned! He was seen for the last time on the day after the action with the French at Co- lorny. He was sent with a comrade with despatches across country. The man with whom he was riding dismounted to lead his horse up a stiff hill. Francis rode on and disappeared over the brow, and when the trooper gained the top he saw him below, surrounded by a body of the enemy, and fearing a similar fate, he rode back and reported the fact to his Colonel. Present- ly there were rumors in the country that the night before the storm at the Folly some Frenchmen were seen in a wood near Rathkeale. The Lieutenant of the Kings cutter on guard in the Shannon near Kilrush reported to the guardship that a sloop ran down the river when the gale was at its height, with her sails in ribbons and her bowsprit gone. The sea was running so high he could not get out a boat to board her in pursuance of orders, and therefore fired a gun to bring her to in the creek. As she did not alter her course he fired a round shot across her bows. She still carried on, and was slip- ping with wind and tide toward the sea, so he opened as brisk a fire as he could direct; one shot struck the sloop, sending a shower of splinters into the air. But she held on her course and was soon round the point. She was not seen again. Assuredly she never reached the open sea, nor did she pass the guardship. Still these circumstances threw no light on the fate of Francis Russell, and in no way accounted for his disappearance. His wife insisted on her tale. She knew, she said, that he had been murdered by the French- men when he killed their Captain; other- wise he would have come to her. People shrugged their shoulders when she en- treated them to search the garden and dig up the space where they fought. And so the matter rested for the time. Francis Russells was the last life in some leases, and it was necessary to satisfy the courts he was dead before the property Vo which they referred could be dealt with. In searching the drawers of an old cabinet at the Folly, Mr. Bates, the family attor- ney, came on a bundle of letters which left no doubt but that Francis Russell was hand and glove with Wolfe Tone, Napper Tandy, and others who were planning to treat their country men and women to the blessing of a republican invasion. A commission was issued, on the declaration of peace, to take evidence in France. Ad- vertisements were inserted in the gazettes, but no information respecting Francis Russell could be obtained. In the rolls of the Ministry of War, however, his name figured as Captain in the army of the republic. Receipts for considerable sums of money on the pay-lists, with his signature, were also identified. About the time Waterloo was fought, and Marys son entered college, the courts decided that Francis was dead. Mary protested that lie was still alive in some horrid dun- geon. It happened one day that the kind old doctor in whose charge she lived took her out for a drive along the road which led to the Folly, now occupied by a miller and his family. The poor lady expressed a desire to see the old place again, and the doctor drove her up to the gateway. Mary pointed out the exact place where her hus- band and the strange man fought. They fell under that very tree. That is the exact spot. Why not get the men at the house to dig there and see ? The doctor summoned the miller. Presently he and a couple of his men with spades began to lay bare the roots of the tree which Mary pointed out. One of them turned up a piece of blue cloth with a brass button stamped with an eagle and R. F. In a few seconds the diggers uncovered more cloth and some bones; they un- earthed a skeleton. To the bones still clung particles of clothing and uniform; on the legs were long boots and rusted spurs; underneath lay a rapier broken near the hilt, the two parts quite perfect, and beside it another sword, rusty but entire, unin- jured. Not a trace of anything save the ghastly bones and mouldering garments of the dead man could be found, and these were carefully removed and buried in the Catholic burial-ground, on the pious but improbable hypothesis that they belonged to a faithful son of the Church. It was not till 1830 that one of the servants at the Folly, being on his death-bed, revealed what had occurred the night the master AN INCIDENT OF THE IRISH REBELLION. 49 disappeared. They were just going to bed for the night, he said, when Mr. Frank and some strange gentlemen he be- lieved were French came to the Folly. In a great rage they seemed. They had men on guard in front of the house in the road. They tethered up their horses in the ave- nue, and seemed to be suspicious of the master, looking about while their supper was getting ready. They ate a power, and they drank bottle after bottle, and they were thumping the table and swearing, and all of a sudden he saw a tall man who was nearly opposite Mr. Frank jump up, stretch across the table, and give the master a slap across the face. At once Mr. Frank and the gentlemen rose, drew their swords, upset the table and chairs, and made for the garden, for the lights were put out. He and his fellow-servant Mike Connell, deceased, ran to the kitchen and hid for their lives. It was not five minutes be- fore there was a yell, and then a great scream, quite clear above the wind, and then the whole party came thundering into the hall and made for the front door. He could see into the avenue from the kitchen window, and he caught a sight of his master, with a sash across his mouth, his arms bound with another, and a horse- mans cloak fastened round his waist with a belt, being lifted by two men on a horse and led toward the road, surrounded by the whole body with their swords drawn. The servants held council together, and in their fear resolved to say nothing about the matter. The mistress was found in- sensible, and they were six to one against her. Werent the Fencibles and militia hanging the whole country, and wouldnt it be death to any man to say he had seen a Frenchman, much less give him bite or sup indeed? So they cleared away the broken glass and the traces of the out- break in the dining-room; the rain and the storm helped to obliterate the marks of the horses hoofs in the avenue. All the rest was easy enough save the disposal of the body of the man which they saw in the garden. Why, if that was found, every man and woman would be hanged; so before the doctor could arrive they dug a grave in the soft soil under the tree where he fell, pulled the masters sword out of his heart, where it was snapped off, and buried it with another sword, which lay as if it had dropped from his hand, alongside the body, covered up the place, raking the walk, and heaping the branches and leaves carelessly above and over. In the coats the master and the tall man had thrown off they found papers, which they burnt, and some gold, which they divided and got rid of by degrees; so they down- faced the mistress and saved their own lives, and who was the worse for it? But perhaps some one would like to pay for a few masses for that poor French- mans soul, and he had kept two gold bits for the purpose. And so he died, glorying in the fact that he and every man and woman at the Folly had kept the secret till it could hurt nobody, as he was the last of them. And that is the end of the strange incident. An astute lawyer, Abe Brewster, a relation of the Russell people at the Folly, suggested that Frank, who was undoubtedly a United Irishman and republican, had entered the yeomanry as a spy, and that he was in communication with Humberts people at the time of the invasion. He was probably engaged in some scheme to provide for the escape of officers of consequence and personal friends, when he came to the Folly that he might let his wife know of his safety and of the cause of his absence. Something had aroused their suspicions that they were about to be betrayed when they were con- ducted to a house, their anger being in- tensified by their potations, till the officer gave Frank the blow which the servant described. When Frank was tripped up and fell backward, the Frenchman, rush- ing furiously upon him, ran upon the up- raised sword of his antagonist, which passed through his heart. His comrades then took Frank off to show them the way to the boat, keeping him as a hostage for their safety. Whether the shot from. the Kings ship sunk the sloop (one employed in carrying corn and flour for the mill), or whether the gale involved her in the ruin which filled the coast with wreck, who can say? No doubt she foundered with all on board. Frank Russell was never seen or heard of more. His widow who lived on for many years, often told us the story of the moonlight duel. She be- lieved that the Frenchmen when they saw their leader fall had killed her husband. She said she saw in her dreams the body under the tree; and when it was shown to her that only one lay dead there, she lived on in the hope that her husband would return, till hope died out and nothing was left save to wait for the end of a sad life, which came to her at last in 1835. OUR ARTISTS IN EUROPE. BY HENRY JAMES. I. IF there be nothing new under the sun, there are some things less old than others. The illustration of books, and even more of magazines, may be said to have been born in our time, so far as va- riety and abundance are the signs of it; or born, at any rate, the comprehensive, ingenious, sympathetic spirit in which we conceive and practise it. If the centuries are ever arraigned at some bar of justice to answer in regard to what they have given, of good or of bad, to humanity, our interesting age (which cer- tainly is not open to the charge of having stood with its hands in its pockets) might perhaps do worse than put forth the plea, Dear me! I have given it a fresh interest in black and white. The claim may be made with the more confidence now from the very evident circumstance that that interest is far from exhausted. These pages are an excellent place for the as- sumption. They have again and again, as it were, illustrated the illustration, and they constitute for the artist a series of invitations, provocations, and opportuni- ties. They may be referred to without arrogance in support of the contention that the limits of this large movement, with all its new and rare refinement, are not yet in sight. II. It is, on the contrary, the constant exten- sion that is visible, with the attendant cir- cumstances of multiplied experiment and intensified researchcircumstances that lately pressed once more on the attention of the writer of these remarks on his find- ing himself in the particular spot which history will perhaps associate most with the charming revival. A very old Eng- lish village, lying among its meadows and hedges, in the very heart of the country, in a hollow of the green hills in Worcester- shire, is responsible directly and indirect- ly for some of the most beautiful work in black and white with which I may con- cern myself here; that is, for much of the work of Mr. Abbey and Mr. Alfred Par- sons. I do not mean to say that Broad- way has told these gentlemen all they know (the name, from which the Ameri- can reader has to brush away an incon- gruous association, may as well be writ- ten first as last); for Mr. Parsons, in par- ticular, who knows everything that can be known about English fields and flow- ers, would have good reason to insist that the measure of his large landscape art is a large experience. I would only suggest that if one loves Broadway and is familiar with it, and if a part of that predilection is that one has seen Mr. Ab- bey and Mr. Parsons at work there, the pleasant confusion takes place of itself; ones affection for the wide, long, grass- bordered vista of brownish gray cottages, thatched, latticed, mottled, mended, ivied, immemorial, grows with the sense of its having ministered to other minds and transferred itself to other recipients; just as the beauty of many a bit in many a drawing of the artists I have mentioned is enhanced by the sense, or at any rate by the desire, of recognition. Broadway and much of the land about it are in short the perfection of the old English rural tradition, and if they do not underlie all the combinations by which (in their pic- torial accompaniments to rediscovered bal- lads, their vignettes to story or sonnet) these particular talents touch us almost to tears, we feel at least that they would have sufficed: they cover the scale. In regard, however, to the implications and explications of this perfection of a village, primarily and to be just, Broad- way is, more than any one else, Mr. Frank Millet. Mr. Laurence Hutton discovered, but Mr. Millet appropriated it; its sweet- ness was wasted till he began to distil and bottle it. He disinterred the treasure, and with impetuous liberality made us sharers in his fortune. His own work, moreover, betrays him, as well as the gratitude of participants, as I could easily prove if it did not perverse- ly happen that he has commemorated most of his impressions in color. That excludes them from the small space here at my command; otherwise I could testify to the identity of old nooks and old ob- jects, those that constitute both out-of-door and in-door furniture. In such places as Broadway, and itis part of the charm of them to American eyes, the sky looks down on almost as many things as the ceiling, and things are the joy of the illustrator. Furnished

OUR ARTISTS IN EUROPE. BY HENRY JAMES. I. IF there be nothing new under the sun, there are some things less old than others. The illustration of books, and even more of magazines, may be said to have been born in our time, so far as va- riety and abundance are the signs of it; or born, at any rate, the comprehensive, ingenious, sympathetic spirit in which we conceive and practise it. If the centuries are ever arraigned at some bar of justice to answer in regard to what they have given, of good or of bad, to humanity, our interesting age (which cer- tainly is not open to the charge of having stood with its hands in its pockets) might perhaps do worse than put forth the plea, Dear me! I have given it a fresh interest in black and white. The claim may be made with the more confidence now from the very evident circumstance that that interest is far from exhausted. These pages are an excellent place for the as- sumption. They have again and again, as it were, illustrated the illustration, and they constitute for the artist a series of invitations, provocations, and opportuni- ties. They may be referred to without arrogance in support of the contention that the limits of this large movement, with all its new and rare refinement, are not yet in sight. II. It is, on the contrary, the constant exten- sion that is visible, with the attendant cir- cumstances of multiplied experiment and intensified researchcircumstances that lately pressed once more on the attention of the writer of these remarks on his find- ing himself in the particular spot which history will perhaps associate most with the charming revival. A very old Eng- lish village, lying among its meadows and hedges, in the very heart of the country, in a hollow of the green hills in Worcester- shire, is responsible directly and indirect- ly for some of the most beautiful work in black and white with which I may con- cern myself here; that is, for much of the work of Mr. Abbey and Mr. Alfred Par- sons. I do not mean to say that Broad- way has told these gentlemen all they know (the name, from which the Ameri- can reader has to brush away an incon- gruous association, may as well be writ- ten first as last); for Mr. Parsons, in par- ticular, who knows everything that can be known about English fields and flow- ers, would have good reason to insist that the measure of his large landscape art is a large experience. I would only suggest that if one loves Broadway and is familiar with it, and if a part of that predilection is that one has seen Mr. Ab- bey and Mr. Parsons at work there, the pleasant confusion takes place of itself; ones affection for the wide, long, grass- bordered vista of brownish gray cottages, thatched, latticed, mottled, mended, ivied, immemorial, grows with the sense of its having ministered to other minds and transferred itself to other recipients; just as the beauty of many a bit in many a drawing of the artists I have mentioned is enhanced by the sense, or at any rate by the desire, of recognition. Broadway and much of the land about it are in short the perfection of the old English rural tradition, and if they do not underlie all the combinations by which (in their pic- torial accompaniments to rediscovered bal- lads, their vignettes to story or sonnet) these particular talents touch us almost to tears, we feel at least that they would have sufficed: they cover the scale. In regard, however, to the implications and explications of this perfection of a village, primarily and to be just, Broad- way is, more than any one else, Mr. Frank Millet. Mr. Laurence Hutton discovered, but Mr. Millet appropriated it; its sweet- ness was wasted till he began to distil and bottle it. He disinterred the treasure, and with impetuous liberality made us sharers in his fortune. His own work, moreover, betrays him, as well as the gratitude of participants, as I could easily prove if it did not perverse- ly happen that he has commemorated most of his impressions in color. That excludes them from the small space here at my command; otherwise I could testify to the identity of old nooks and old ob- jects, those that constitute both out-of-door and in-door furniture. In such places as Broadway, and itis part of the charm of them to American eyes, the sky looks down on almost as many things as the ceiling, and things are the joy of the illustrator. Furnished BACK OF THE PRIORY, BROADWAY. VOL. LXXIX.No 4695 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE VILLAGE GREEN, BROADWAY. apartments are useful to the artist, but a furnished country is even more so. A ripe midland English region is a museum of accessories and specimens, and is sure, under any circumstances, to contain the article wanted. This is the great recom- mendation of Broadway: everything in it is convertible. Even the passing visitor finds himself becoming so; the place has so much character that it rubs off on him, and if in an old gardenan old gardei~ with old gates and old walls and old sum- mer-houseshe lies down on the old gras~ (on a venerable rug, no doubt), it is ten to one but he will be converted. The lit- tle oblong sheaves of blank paper with elastic straps are fluttering all over the place. There is portraiture in the air and composition in the very accidents. Every- thing is a subject or an effect, a bit or a good thing. It is always some kind of day; if it is not one kind, it is another. The garden walls, the mossy roofs, the open doorways and brown interiors, the old-fashioned flowers, the bushes in fig- ures, the geese on the green, the patches, the jumbles, the glimpses, the color, the surface, the general complexion of things, have all a value, a reference, and an appli- cation. If they are a matter of apprecia tion, that is why the gray-brown houses are perhaps more brown than gray, and more yellow than either. They are vari- ous things in turn, according to lights and days and needs. It is a question of color (all consciousness at Broadway is that), but the irresponsible profane are not called upon to settle the tint. It is delicious to be at Broadway and not to have to draw. The single street is in the grand style, sloping slowly upward to the base of the hills for a mile, but you may enjoy it without a carking care as to how to render the perspective. Every- thing is stone except the general green- ness a charming smooth local stone which looks as if it were meant for great constructions, and appears even in dry weather to have been washed and var- nished by the rain. Half-way up the road, in the widest place, where the coaches used to turn (there were many of old, but the traffic of Broadway was blown to pieces by steam, though the destroyer has not come nearer than half a dozen miles), a great gabled mansion, which was once a manor or a house of state, and is now a rambling inn, stands looking at a detached swinging sign which is almost as big as itselfa very grand sign, the arms of OUR ARTISTS TN EUROPE. 53 an old family, on the top of a very tall post. You will find something very like the place among Mr. Abbeys delightful illustrations to She Stoops to Conquer. When the September day grows dim, and some of the windows glow, you may look out, if you like, for Tony Lumpkins red coat in the doorway, or imagine Miss Hardcastles quilted petticoat on the stair. III. It is characteristic of Mr. Frank Millets checkered career, with opposites so much mingled in it, that such work as he has done for these pages should have had as ]ittle in common as possible with midland English scenery. He has been less a pro- ducer in black and white than a promot- er and, as I may say, a protector of such production in others, but none the less the back volumes of Har- per testify to the ac- tivity of his pencil as well as to the variety of his interests. There was a time when he drew little else but Cossacks and Orient- als, and drew them as one who had good cause to be vivid. Of the young generation he was the first to know the Russian plastically, especially the Russian soldier. and he had paid hea- vily for his acquaint- ance. During the Russo-Turkish war he was correspondent in the field (with the vic- tors) of the New York Herald and the London Daily Newsa capacity in which he made many out-of- the-way, many precious, observations. He has seen strange countriesthe East and the South and the West and the North and practised many arts. To the London Graphic in 1877 he sent striking sketches from the East, as well as capital prose to the journals I have mentioned. He has always been as capable of writing a text for his own sketches as of making sketches for the text of others. He has made pic- tures without words and words without pictures. He has written some very clever ghost stories, and dra\vn and painted some very recognizable realities. He has lately given himself up to these latter objects, and discovered that they have mysteries more absorbing than any others. I find in these pages, in 1885, A Wild-goose Chase through North Germany and Denmark, in which both pencil and pen are Mr. Millets, and both show the natu- ral and the trained observer. He knows the art schools of the Conti- nent, the studios of Paris, the dodges of Antwerp, the subjects, the models of Venice, and has had much ~esthetic as well as much personal experience. He has draped and distributed Greek plays at Harvard, as well as ridden over Balkans to post pressing letters, and invented Eng- lish villages where susceptible Americans may get the strongest sensations with the (1 ~/1 F. D. MILLETFrom a pen sketch by George Du Manner. 54 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. least trouble to themselves. If the trou- ble in each case xviii have been largely his, this is but congruous with the fact that he has not only found time to have a great deal of history himself, but has suffered himself to be converted by others into an elementbeneficent I should call it if dis- cretion did not forbid meof their his- tory. Springing from a very old New England stock, lie has found the practice of art a wonderful antidote, in his own language, for belated Puritanism. He is very modern, in the sense of having tried many things and availed himself of all of the facilities of his time; but espe- cially on this ground of having fought out for himself this battle of the Puritan habit and the ii~sthetic experiment. His expei-iment was admirably successful from the moment that the Puritan levity was forced to consent to its becoming serious. In other words, if Mr. Millet is artis- tically interesting to-day (and to the au- thor of these remarks lie is highly so), it is because he is a striking example of what the typical American quality can achieve. He began by having an excellent pen- ci I, because as a thoroughly practical man he could not possibly have had a poor one. But nothing is more remuner- ative to follow than the stages by which faculty in general (which is what I mean by the characteristic American qual- ity) has become the particular faculty; so that if in the artists present work one rec- ognizesrecognizes even fondlythe na- tional handiness, it is as handiness regen- erate and transfigured. The American adaptiveness has become a Dutch finish. The only criticism I have to make is of the preordained paucity of Mr. Millets drawings; for my mission is not to speak of his work in oils, every year more im- portant (as was indicated by the brilliant interior with figures that greeted the spectator in so friendly a fashion on the threshold of the Royal Academy exhiibi- tion of 1888), nor to say that it is illustra- tion tooillustration of any old-fashioned song or story that hums in the brain or haunts the memorynor even to hint that the admirable rendering of the charming old objects with which it deals (among which I include the human face and fig- ure iii dresses unfolded from the lavender of the past), the old surfaces and tones, the stuffs and textures, the old mahogany and silver and brassthe old sentiment too, and the old picture-making vision2~~are in the direct tradition of Terburgh and De Hooghi and Metzu. Iv. There is no paucity about Mr. Abbey as a virtuoso in black and white, and if one thing more than another sets the seal upon the quality of his work, it is the rare abundance in which it is produced. It is not a frequent thing to find combinations infinite as well as exquisite. Mr. Abbey has so many ideas, and the gates of com- position have been opened so wide to him, that we cultivate his company with a mix- ture of confidence and excitement. The readers of this Magazine have had for years a great deal of it, and they will eas- ily recognize the feeling I allude tothe expectation of familiarity in variety. The beautiful art and taste, the admirable ex- ecution, strike the hour with the same note; but the figure, the scene, is ever a fresh conception. Never was ripe skill less mechanical, and never was the faculty of perpetual evocation less addicted to prudent economies. Mr. Abbey never saves for the next picture, yet the next picture will be as expansive as the last. His whole career has been open to the readers of Harper, so that what they may enjoy on any particular occasion is not only the talent, but a kind of affectionate sense of the history of the talent. That history is, from the beginning, in these pages, and it is one of the most interesting and instructive, just as the talent is one of the richest and the most sympathetic in the art annals of our generation. I may as well frankly declare that I have such a taste for Mr. Abbeys work that I cannot affect a judicial tone about it. Criticism is appreciation or it is nothing, a~nd an intelligence of the matter in hand is recorded more substantially in a single positive sign of such appreciation than in a volume of sapient objections for objec- tions sakethe cheapest of all literary commodities. Silence is the perfection of restrictive criticism, and it has the great merit of leaving the value of speech, when the moment comes for it, unimpaired. Accordingly it is important to translate as adequately as possible the positive side of Mr. Abbeys activity. None to-day is more charming, and none helps us more to take the large, joyous, observant, va- rious view of the business of art. He has enlarged the idea of illustration, and he EDWIN A. ABBEY.From a crayon sketch by John S Sargent 56 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. plays with it in a hundred spontaneous, ingenious ways. Truth and poetry is the motto that is legibly stamped upon his pencil-case, for if he has on the one side a singular sense of the familiar, sa- lient, importunate facts of life, on the other they reproduce themselves in his mind in a delightfully qualifying medi- um. It is that medium that the fond ob- server must especially envy Mr. Abbey, and that a literary observer will envy him most of all. Such a hapless personage, who may vainly have spent hours in trying to pro- duce something of the same result by sad- ly different means, will measure the dif- ference between the roundabout, faint de- scriptive tokens of respectable prose and the immediate projection of the figure by the pencil. A charming story-teller in- deed he would be who should write as Mr. Abbey draws. However, what is style for one art is style for another, so blessed is the fraternity that binds them together, and the worker in words may take a lesson from the picture-maker of She Stoops to Conquer. It is true that what the verbal artist would like to do would be to find out the secret of the pictorial, to drink at the same fountain. Mr. Abbey is essentially one of those who would tell us if he could, and conduct us to the ma- gic spring; but here he is in the nature of the case helpless, for the happy ambiente, as the Italians call it, in which his crea- tions move is exactly the thing, as I take it, that he can least give an account of. It is a matter of genius and imagination one of those things that a man determines for himself as little as he determines the color of his eyes. How, for instance, can Mr. Abbey explain the manner in which he directly observes figures, scenes, places, that exist only in the fairy-land of his fancy? For the peculiar sign of his tal- ent is surely this observation in the re- mote. It brings the remote near to us, but such a complicated journey as it must first have had to make! Remote in time (in differing degrees), remote in place, re- mote in feeling, in habit, and in their am- bient air, are the images that spring from his pencil, and yet all so vividly, so mi- nutely, so consistently seen! Where does he see them, where does lie find them, how does he catch them, and in what language does he delightfully converse with them? In what mystic recesses of space does the revelation descend upon him? The qnestious flow from the beguiled but puzzled admirer, and their tenor suf- ficiently expresses the claim I make for the consummate artist when I say that his truth is interfused with poetry. He spurns the literal and yet superabounds in the characteristic, and if he makes the strange familiar, he makes the familiar just strange enough to be distinguished. Everything is so human, so humorous, and so caught in the act, so buttoned and petticoated and.gartered, that it might be round the corner; and soit is; but the cor- ner is the corner of another world. In that other world Mr. Abbey went forth to dwell in his extreme youth, as I need scarcely be at pains to remind those who have followed him in these pages. It is not important here to give a catalogue of his contributions to them: turn to the back volumes and you will meet him at every step. Every one remembers his young, tentative, prelusive illustrations to Herrick, in which there are the prettiest glimpses, guesses, and foreknowledge of the effects he was to make completely his own. The Herrick was done mainly, if I mistake not, before he had been to Eng- land, and it remains, in the light of this fact, a singularly touching as well as a singularly promising performaiice. The eye of sense in such a case had to be to a rare extent the minds eye, and this con- vertibility of the two organs has persisted. From the first and always that other world and that qualifying medium in which I have said that the human spec- tacle goes on for Mr. Abbey have been a county of old England which is not to be found in any geography, though it bor- ders, as I have hinted, on the Worcester- shire Broadway. Few artistic phenome- na are more curious than the congenital acquaintance of this perverse young Phil- adelphian with that mysterious locality. It is there that lie finds them allthe nooks, the corners, the people, the clothes, the arbors and gardens and tea-houses, the queer courts of old inns, the sun-warmed angles of old parapets. I ought to have mentioned for completeness, in addition to his pictures to Goldsmith and to the scraps of homely British song (this latter class has contained some of his most ex- quisite work),his delicate drawings for Mr. William Blacks Judith Shakespeare. And in relation to that distinguished name I dont mean Mr. Blacks it is a comfort, if I may be allowed the expres OUR ARTISTS IN EUROPE. 57 sion, to know that (as, to the best of my belief, I violate no confidence iii saying) he is even now engaged in the great work of illustrating the comedies. He is busy witi) The Merchant of Venice; lie is up to his neck in studies, in rehearsals. Here again, while in prevision I admire the result, what I can least refrain from ex pressing is a sort of envy of the process, knowing what it is with Mr. Abbey, and wbat explorations of the delightful it en- tailsarduous, indefatigable, till the end seems almost smothered in the means (such material complications they engen- der), but making on& s daily task a thing of beauty and honor and beneficence. I THE OLD HOUsE, THE rHIoRY, BROADWAY, USED AS A 5TUDIO BY MILLET AND ABBEY. 58 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. V. Even, if Mr. Alfred Parsons were not a masterly contributor to the pages of Har- per, it would still be almost inevitable to speak of him after speaking of Mr. Ab- bey, for the definite reason (I hope that in giving it I may not appear to invade too grossly the domain of private life) that these gentlemen are united in domestic circumstance as well as associated in the nature of their work. In London, in the relatively lucid air of Campden Hill, they dwell together, and their beautiful studios are side by side. However, there is a reason for commemorating Mr. Par- sons~s work which has nothing to do with the accidentalthe simple fact that that work forms the richest illustration of the English landscape that is offered us to- day. Harper has for a long time past been full of Mr. Alfred Parsons, who has made the dense, fine detail of his native land familiar in far countries, amid scen- ery of a very different type. This is what the modern illustration can do when the ripeness of the modern sense is brought to it, and the wood-cutter plays with difficul- ties as the brilliant Americans do to-day, following his original at a breakneck pace. An illusion is produced which, in its very completeness, makes one cast an uneasy eye over the dwindling fields that are still left to conquer. Such art as Alfred Par- sonsssuch an accomplished translation of local aspects, translated in its turn by cunning hands, and diffused by a wonder- ful system of periodicity through vast and remote communities, has, I confess, in a peculiar degree, the effect that so many things have in this age of multiplication that of suppressing intervals and differ- ences, and making the globe seem alarm- ingly small. Vivid and repeated evoca- tions of English rural thingsthe mea- dows and lanes, the sedgy streams, the old orchards and timbered houses, the stout, individual, insular trees, the flowers under the hedge and in it and over it, the sweet rich country seen from the slope, the bend of the unformidable river, the actual ro- mance of the castle against the sky, the place on the hill-side where the gray church begins to peep (a peaceful little grassy path leads up to it over a stile)all this brings about a terrible displacement of the very objects that make pilgrimage a passion, and hurries forward that ambiguous ad- vantage which I dont envy our grand- children, that of knowing all abaut every~ thing in advance, having trotted round the globe annually in the magazines, and lost the bloom of personal experience. It. is a part of the general abolition of mys- tery with which we are all so complacent- ly busy to-day. One would like to retire to another planet with a box of Mr. Par- sonss drawings, and be homesick there for the pleasant pl~ces they commemorate. There are many things to be said about his talent, some of which are not the easiest in the world to express. I shall not, however, make them more difficult by attempting to catalogue his contribu- tions to these pages. A turning of the leaves of Harper brings one constantly face to face with him, and a systematic search speedily makes one intimate. The reader will remember the beautiful il- lustrations to Mr. Blackmores novel of Springhaven, which were interspersed with striking figure pieces from the pencil of that very peculiar pictorial humorist Mr. Frederick Barnard, who, allowing for the fact that he always seems a little too much to be drawing for Dickens, and that the foot-lights are the illumination of his scenic world, has so remarkable a sense of~ English types and attitudes, costumes and accessories, in what may be called the great-coat-and-gaiters periodthe period when people were stiff with riding, and wicked conspiracies went forward in sand- ed provincial~ inn parlors. Mr. Alfred. Parsons, who is still conveniently young, awaked to his first vision of pleasant material in the comprehensive county of Somerseta capital centre of impression for a painter of the bucolic. He has been to America; he has even reproduced with remarkable discrimination and truth some of the way-side objects in that country, not making them look in the least like their English equivalents, if equivalents they may be said to have. Was it there that Mr. Parsons learned so well how Americans would like England to appear? I ask this idle question simply because the England of his pencil, and not less of his. brush (of his eminent brush there would be much to say), is exactly the England that the American imagination, restricted to itself, constructs from the poets, the novelists, from all the delightful testimony it inherits. It was scarcely to have been supposed possible that the native point of view would embrace and observe so many of the things that the more or less famish- ed outsider is, in vulgar parlance, after. OUR ARTISTS IN EUROPE. 59 In other words (though I appear to utter a foolish paradox), the danger might have been that Mr. Parsons knew his subject too well to feel itto feel it, I mean, 4 lAm~ricaim. He is as tender of it as if he were vague about it, and as certain of it as if he were blas6. But after having wished that his coun- try should be just so, we proceed to dis- cover that it is in fact not a bit different. Between these phases of our conscious- ness he is an unfailing messen~er. The reader will remember how often he has accompanied with pictures the text of some amiable paper describing a pastoral regionWarwickshire or Surrey, Devon- shire or the Thames. He will remember his exquisite designs for certain of Words- wortWs sonnets. A sonnet of Words- worth is a difficult thing to illustrate, but Mr. Parsonss ripe taste has shown him the way. Then there are lovely morsels from his hand associated with the drawings of his friend Mr. Abbeyhead-pieces, tail- pieces, vignettes, charming combinations of flower and foliage, decorative clusters of all sorts of pleasant rural emblems. If he has an inexhaustible feeling for the country in general, his love of the myriad English flowers is perhaps the fondest part of it. He draws them with a rare perfection, and always little, definite, delicate, tremulous things as they are with a certain nobleness. This latter quality, indeed, I am prone to find in all his work, and I should insist on it still more if I might refer to his important paintings. So composite are the parts of which any distinguished talent is made up that we have to feel our way as we enumerate them; and yet that very am- biguity is a challenme to analysis and td characterization. This nobleness on Mr. Parsonss part is the element of style // / 7/ - ALFRED PARSONS From a photograph by Elliott and Fry, London. 60 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. something large and manly, expressive of the total character of his facts. His landscape is the landscape of the male vision; and yet his touch is full of senti- ment, of curiosity and en dearrnent. These things, and others besides, make him the most interesting, the most living, of the new workers in his line. And what shall I say of the other things besides? How can I take precau- tions enough to say that among the new workers, deeply English as lie is, there is comparatively something French in his manner? Many people will like him be- cause they see in himor they think they doa certain happy mean. Will they not fancy they catch him taking the mid- dle way between the unsociable French etude and the old-fashioned English pic- ture? If one of these extremes is a des- ert, the other, no doubt, is an oasis still more vain. I have a recollection of pro- ductions of Mr. Alfred Parsonss which might have come from a Frenchman who was in love with English river-sides. I call to mind no studiesif he has made anyof French scenery; but if I did they would doubtless appear English enough. It is the fashion among sundry to mani- tam that the English landscape is of no use for la peinture .s~rieuse, that it is wanting in technical accent, and is in general too story - telling, too self - con- scious and dramatic, also too lumpish and stodgy, of a greendun vert bate- which, when reproduced, looks like that of the chromo. Certain it is that there are many hands which are not to be trust- ed with it, and taste and integrity have been known to go down before it. But Alfred Parsons may be pointed to as one who has made the luxuriant and lovable things of his own country almost as se- rious as those familiar objectsthe pas- ture and the poplarwhich, even when infinitely repeated by the great school across the Channel, strike us as but meagre morsels of France. VI. In speaking of Mr. George H. Boughton, A.R.A., I encounter the same difficulty as with Mr. Millet; that is, I find the win- dow closed through which alone almost it is just to take a view of his talent. Mr. Boughton is a painter about whom there is little that is new to tell to-day, so con- spicuous and incontestable is his achieve- ment, the fruit of a career of which the beginning was not yesterday. He is a draughitsman and an illustrator only on occasion and by accident. These acci- dents have mostly occurred, however, in the pages of Harper, and the happiest of them will still be fresh in the memory of its readers. In the Sketching Rambles in Holland Mr. Abbey was a participant (as witness, among other things, the admi- rable drawing of the old Frisian woman bent over her Bible in church, with the heads of the burghers just visible above the rough archaic pew-topsa drawing opposite to page 112 in the handsome vol- ume into which these contributions were eventually gathered together); but most of the sketches were Mr. Boughtons, and the charming, amusing text is altogether his, save in the sense that it commemo- rates his companions impressions as well as his ownthe delightful, irresponsible, visual, sensual, pictorial, capricious im- pressions of a painter in a strange land the person surely whom at particular moments one would give most to be. If there be anything happier than the im- pressions of a painter, it is the impres- sions of two, and the combination is set forth with uncommon spirit and humor in this frank record of the innocent lust of the eyes. Mr. Bough ton scruples little, in general, to write as well as to draw, when the fancy takes him; to write in the man- ner of painters, with the bold, irreverent, unconventional, successful brush. If I were not afraid of seeming patronizing, I would say that there is little doubt that if as a painter lie had not had to try to write in character, he would certainly have made a characteristic writer. He has the most enviable finds, not dream- ed of in timid literature, yet making cap- ital descriptive prose. Other specimens of them may be encountered in two or three Christmas tales, signed, in these pages, with the name whose usual place is the corner of a valuable canvas. If Mr. Boughton is in this manner not a simple talent, further complications and reversions may be observed in him, as, for instance, that having reverted from Amer- ica, where lie spent his early years, back to England, the land of his origin, he has now in a sense oscillated again from the latter to the former country. He came to London one day years ago (from Paris, where he hind been eating nutri- tively of the tree of artistic knowledge), in order to re-embark on the morrow for OUR ARTISTS IN EUROPE. 61 the United States; but that morrow never cameit has never come yet. Certainly now it never cart come, for the country that Mr. Boughton left behind him in his youth is no longer there; the old New York is no longer a port to sail to, unless for phantom ships. In imagina- tion, however, the author of The Return of the Mayflower has several times taken his way back; he has painted with con- spicuous charm and success various epi- sodes of the early Puritan story. He was able on occasion to remember vividly enough the low New England coast and the thin New England air. He has been perceptibly an inventor, calling into be- ing certain types of face and dress, certain tones and associations of color (all in the line of what I should call subdued har monies if I~were not afraid of appearing to talk a jargon), which people are hungry for wheii they acquire a Bougliton, and which they can obtain on no other terms. This pictorial element in which he moves is made up of divers delicate things, and there would be a roughness in attempting to unravel the tapestry. There is old English, and old American, and old Dutch in it, and a friendly, unexpected new Dutch tooan ingredient of New Amsterdam a strain of Knickerbocker and of Washington Irving. There is an admirable infusion of landscape in it, from which ~ome people regret that Mr. Boughton should ever have allowed him- self to be distracted by his importunate love of sad-faced, pretty women in close- fitting coifs and old silver-clasped cloaks. I (Ii It GEORGE H. BOUGHTONFrom a pencil sketch by L. Ainsa-Tadema. 62 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. And indeed, though his figures are very tender, his landscape is to my sense tenderer still. Moreover, Mr. Boughton bristles, not aggressively, but in the de- gree of a certain conciliatory pertinacity, with contradictious properties. He lives in one of the prettiest and most hospita- ble houses in London, but the note of his work is the melancholy of rural things, of lonely people. and of quaint, far-off legend and refrain. There is a delightful ambiguity of period and even of clime in him, and he rejoices in that inability to depict the modern which is the most con- vincing sign of the contemporary. He has a genius for landscape, yet he abounds in knowledge of every sort of ancient fashion of garment; the buckles and but- ton-holes, the very shoe-ties, of the past are dear to him. It is almost always autumn or winter in his pictures. His horizons are cold, his trees are bare (he does the bare tree beautifully), and his draperies lined with fur; but when lie exhibits him- self directly, as in the fantastic Ram- bles before nientioned, contagious high spirits are the clearest of his showing. Here he appears as an irrepressible felici- tous sketcher, and I know no pleasanter record of the joys of sketching, or even those of simply looking. Thdophile Gau- tier himself was not more inveterately addicted to this latter wanton exercise. There ought to be a pocket edition of Mr. Boughtons book, which would serve for travellers in other countries too, give them the point of view, and put them in the mood. Such a blessing, and such a distinction too, is it to have an eye. Mr. Boughtons, in his good-humored Dutch wanderings, holds from morning till night a sociable, graceful revel. From the mo- ment it opens till the moment it closes, its day is a round of adventures. His jolly pictorial narrative, reflecting every glint of October sunshine and patch of russet shade, is capable of confirming us afresh in the genial faith that the painters life is the best life, in that it is the one which, on the whole, misses fewest im- pressions. VII. Mr. Du Maurier has a brilliant history, but it must be candidly recognized that it is written or drawn mainly in another periodical. It is only during the last two or three years that the most ironical of the artists of Punch has exerted himself for the entertainment of the readers of Harper ; - but I seem to come too late with any commentary on the nature of his sat- ire or the charm of his execution. When he began to appear in Harper he was al- ready an old friend, and for myself I confess I have to go through rather a com- plicated mental operation to put into words what I think of him. What does a man think of the language lie has learn- ed to speak? He judges it only while he is learning. Mr. Du Mauriers work, in regard to the life it embodies, is not so much a thing we see as one of the condi- tions of seeing. That is, he has inter- preted for us for so many years the so- cial life of England that the interpreta- tion has become the text itself. We have accepted his types, his categories, his con- clusions, his sympathies, and his ironies. It is not given to all the world to thread the mazes of London society, and for the great body of the disinherited, the vast majority of the Anglo-Saxon public, Mr. Du Manners representation is the thing represented. Is the effect of it to nip in the bud any remote yearning for personal participation? I feel tempted to say yes, when I think of the follies, the fiatnesses, the affectations and stupidities, which his teeming pencil has made vivid. But that vision immediately merges itself in an- othera panorama of tall, pleasant, beau- tiful people, placed in becoming attitudes, in charming gardens, in luxurious rooms, so that I can scarcely tell which is the more definite, the impression satiric or the ixnpressioii plastic. This I take to be a sign that Mr. Dii Manner knows how to be general, and has a conception of completeness. The world amuses him, such queer things go on in it; but the part that amuses him most is certain lines of our personal structure. That amusement is the brightest; the oth- er is often sad enough. A sharp critic might accuse Mr. Dii Maurier of lingering too complacently on the lines in question; of having a certain ideal of lissome~ elongation to which the promiscuous truth is sometimes sacrificed. But in fact this artists truth never pretends to be promis- cuous; it is avowedly select and specific. What he depicts is so preponderantly the body of people who constitute what is called society that the remainder of the picture, in a notice as brief as the present is obliged to be, may be neglected. If his people are not all the tenants of drawing- rooms, they are represented at least in. OUR ARTISTS IN EUROPE. 63 some relation to these. Arry and his friends at the fancy fair are in society for the time; the point of introducing them is to show how the contrast intensifies them. Of late years Mr. Du Maurier has perhaps been a little too docile to the muse of elegance; the idiosyncrasies of the masher and the high girl with elbows have beguiled him into occasional inat- tention to the doings of the short and shabby. But his career has been long and rich, and I allude, in such words, but to a moment of it. The moral of itI refer to the artistic oneseen altogether, is striking and ed- ifying enough. What Mr. Du Manner has attempted to do is to give, in a thou- sand interrelated drawings, a general sa- tiric picture of the social life of his time and country. It is easy to see that through them an increasing purpose runs; they all hang together and refer to each othercomplete, confirm, correct, illuminate each other. Sometimes they are not satiric: satire is not pure charm, and the artist has allowed himself to go in for pnre charm. Sometimes lie has allowed himself to go in for pnre gro- tesqueness, and satire (which should hold on to the mane of the real) slides off the other side of the runaway horse. But he remains, on the whole, pencil in hand, a wonderfully copious and veracious his- torian of his age and his civilization. VIII. I have left Mr. Reinhart to the last because of his importance, and now that very importance operates as a sort of re- striction to the remarks that I have left myself scanty space for. To go well round him at a deliberate pace would / I/I Jr GEORGE DU IbiAURiER.Frorn a photograph by Elliott and Fry, London. 64 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. take a whole paper. With Mr. Abbey, Mr. Reinhart is the artist who has con- tributed most abundantly to these pages; his work, indeed, in quantity, considera- bly exceeds Mr. Abbeys. He is the ob- server of the immediate, as Mr. Abbey is that of the considerably removed, and the conditions lie asks us to accept are less expensive to the imagination than those of his colleague. He is, in short, the vig- orous, racy prosateur of that human com- edy of which Mr. Abbey is the poet. He illustrates the modern sketch of trav- el, the modern talethe poor little qui- et, psychological, conversational modern tale, which I often think the artist invited to represent it to the eye must hate, un- less lie be a very intelligent master, so little, on a superficial view, would there appear to be in it to represent. The su- perficial view is, after all, the natural one for the picture-maker. A talent of the first order, however, only wants to be set thinking, as a single word will often make it. Mr. Reinhart, at any rate, triumphs; whether there be life or not in the little tale itself, there is unmistakable life in his version of it. Mr. Reinhart deals in that element purely with admirable frank- ness and vigor. He is not so much sug- gestive as positively and sharply repre- sentative. His facility, his agility, his universality, are a truly stimulating sight. He asks not too many questions of his subject, but to those he does ask he insists upon a thoroughly intelligible answer. By his universality I mean, perhaps as much as anything else, his admirable drawing; not precious, as the ~sthetic say, nor pottering, as the vulgar, but free, strong, and secure, which enables him to do with the human figure at a moments notice anything that any occasion may demand. It gives him an immense range, and I know not how to express (it is not easy) my sense of a certain capable indif- ference that is in him otherwise than by saying that he would quite as soon do one thing as another. For it is true that the admirer of his work rather misses in him that intimation of a secret preference which many strong draughtsmen show, and which is not ab- sent, for instance (I dont mean the secret, but the intimation), from the beautiful do- ings of Mr. Abbey. It is extremely pre- sent in Mr. Du Mauriers work, just as it was visible, less elusively, in that of John Leech, his predecessor in Punch. Mr. Abbey has a haunting type; Du Manner has a haunting type. There was little perhaps of the hannted about Leech, but we know very well how he wanted his pretty girls, his British swell, and his hunting men to look. He betrayed a predilection; he had his little ideal. That an artist may be a great force and not have a little ideal, the scarcely too much to be praised Charles Keene is there (I mean he is in Punch) to show us. He has not a haunting typenot heand I think that no one has yet discovered how lie would like his pretty girls to look. He has kept the soft conception too much to himselflie has not trifled with the common truth by letting it appear. This common truth, in its innumerable combi- nations, is what Mr. Reinhart also shows us (with of course infinitely less of aparti pris of laughing at it), though, as I must hasten to add, the female face and form in his hands always happen to take on a much lovelier cast than in Mr. Keenes. These things with him, however, are not a private predilection, an artists dream. Mr. Reinhart is solidly an artist, but I doubt whether as yet lie dreams, and the absence of private predilections makes him seem a little hard. He is sometimes rough with our average humanity, and especially rough with the feminine portion of it. He usually represents American life, in which that portion is often spoken of as showing to peculiar advantage. But Mr. Reinliart sees it, generally, as very bourgeois. His good ladies are apt to be rather thick and short, rather huddled and plain. I shouldnt mind it so much if they didnt look so much alive. They are incontes- tably possible. The long, brilliant series of drawings lie made to accompany Mr. Charles Dudley Warners papers on the American watering-places form a rich bourgeois epic, which imaginations haunt- ed by a type must accept with philosophy, for the sketches in question will have carried the tale, and all sorts of irresistible illusion with it, to the four corners of the earth. Full of observation and reality, of happy impressionism, taking all things as they come, with many a charming pic- ture of youthful juxtaposition, they give us a sense, to which nothing need be added, of tlm~ energy of Mr. Reinharts pencil. They are an incomparable col- lection of pictorial notes on the man- ners and customs, the aspects and habi- tats, in July and August, of the great CHARLES S. REINHARTFroni a aketch by P. A. J. Dagnan 66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. American democracy; of which,certainly, taking one thing with another, they give a very comfortable, cheerful account. But they confirm that analytic view of which I have ventured to give a hintthe view of Mr. Reinhart as an artist of immense capacity who yet, somehow, doesnt care. I must add that this aspect of him is modified in the one case very gracefully, in the other by the operation of a sort of constructive humor, remark ably strong, in his illustrations of Spanish life and his sketches of the Berlin political world. His fashion of remaining outside, as it were, makes him (to the analyst) only the more interesting, for the analyst, if he have any critical life in him, will be prone to wonder why he doesnt care, and wheth- er matters may not be turned about in such a way as that he should, with the conse- quence of his large capacity becoming more fruitful still. Mr. Reinhart is open to the large appeal of Paris, where he livesas is evident from much of his workwhere he paints, and where in crowded exhibitions reputation and hon- ors have descended upon him. And yet Paris, fdr all she n~iay have taught him, has not given him the mystic sentiment about which I am perhaps writing non- sense. Is it nonsense to say that, being very much an incarnation of the modern international spirit (he might be a French- man in New York were he not an Ameri- can in Paris), the moral of his work is possibly the inevitable want of finality, of intrinsic character, in that sweet free- dom? Does the cosmopolite necessarily pay for his freedom by a want of function the impersonality of not being repre- sentative? Must one be a little narrow to have a sentiment, and very local to have a quality, or at least a style; and would the missing type, if I may mention it yet again, haunt our artistwho is some- how, in his rare instrumental facility, outside of quality and stylea good deal more if he were not, amid the mixture of associations and the confusion of races, liable to fall into vagueness as to what types are? He can do anything he likes; by which I mean he can do wonderfully even the things he doesnt like. But he strikes me as a force not yet fully used. SATURNS RINGS. BY PROFESSOR GEORGE HOWARD DARWIN. FEW persons have memories so reten- tive as to recollect astronomical de- tails with which they have probably at some time been acquainted, and it will therefore be well to begin by reminding my readers of the most salient facts con- cerning the planet Saturn. To the naked eye Saturn appears as a brilliant star, which shines, without twinkling, with a yellowish light. It is always to be found very nearly in the ecliptic, moving slowly amongst the fixed stars at the rate of only FIG. 1.THE PLANET 5ATUEN.-After a drawing by Sond.

66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. American democracy; of which,certainly, taking one thing with another, they give a very comfortable, cheerful account. But they confirm that analytic view of which I have ventured to give a hintthe view of Mr. Reinhart as an artist of immense capacity who yet, somehow, doesnt care. I must add that this aspect of him is modified in the one case very gracefully, in the other by the operation of a sort of constructive humor, remark ably strong, in his illustrations of Spanish life and his sketches of the Berlin political world. His fashion of remaining outside, as it were, makes him (to the analyst) only the more interesting, for the analyst, if he have any critical life in him, will be prone to wonder why he doesnt care, and wheth- er matters may not be turned about in such a way as that he should, with the conse- quence of his large capacity becoming more fruitful still. Mr. Reinhart is open to the large appeal of Paris, where he livesas is evident from much of his workwhere he paints, and where in crowded exhibitions reputation and hon- ors have descended upon him. And yet Paris, fdr all she n~iay have taught him, has not given him the mystic sentiment about which I am perhaps writing non- sense. Is it nonsense to say that, being very much an incarnation of the modern international spirit (he might be a French- man in New York were he not an Ameri- can in Paris), the moral of his work is possibly the inevitable want of finality, of intrinsic character, in that sweet free- dom? Does the cosmopolite necessarily pay for his freedom by a want of function the impersonality of not being repre- sentative? Must one be a little narrow to have a sentiment, and very local to have a quality, or at least a style; and would the missing type, if I may mention it yet again, haunt our artistwho is some- how, in his rare instrumental facility, outside of quality and stylea good deal more if he were not, amid the mixture of associations and the confusion of races, liable to fall into vagueness as to what types are? He can do anything he likes; by which I mean he can do wonderfully even the things he doesnt like. But he strikes me as a force not yet fully used. SATURNS RINGS. BY PROFESSOR GEORGE HOWARD DARWIN. FEW persons have memories so reten- tive as to recollect astronomical de- tails with which they have probably at some time been acquainted, and it will therefore be well to begin by reminding my readers of the most salient facts con- cerning the planet Saturn. To the naked eye Saturn appears as a brilliant star, which shines, without twinkling, with a yellowish light. It is always to be found very nearly in the ecliptic, moving slowly amongst the fixed stars at the rate of only FIG. 1.THE PLANET 5ATUEN.-After a drawing by Sond. SATURNS RINGS. 67 13~ per annum. It is the second largest planet of the solar system, being only ex- ceeded in size by the giant Jupiter. It weighs 91 times as much as our earth, but, being as light as cork, occupies 690 times the volume, and is 9 times as great in cir- cumference. Notwithstanding its great size it rotates round its axis far more rap- idly than does the earth, its day being only 10-i of our hours. It is 10 times as far from the sun as we are, and its year, or time of revolution round the sun, is equal to 30 of our years. It was deemed by the early astronomers to be the planet farthest from the sun, but that was before the discovery by Herschel, at the end of the last century, of the farther planet Ura- nus, and that of the still more distant Neptune by Adams and Leverrier in the year 1846. The telescope has shown that Saturn is attended by a retinue of satellites almost as numerous as, and closely analogous to, the planets circling round the sun. These moons are eight in number, are of the most various sizes, the largest as great as the planet Mars, and the smallest very small, and are equally diverse in respect of their distances from the planet. But besides its eight moons Saturn has another attendant absolutely unique in the hea- vens; it is girdled with a flat ring, which, like the planet itself, is only rendered visible to us by the illumination of sun- light. Fig. 1, to which further reference is made below, shows the general appear- ance of the planet and of its ring. The theory of the physical constitution of that ring forms the subject of the present essay. A system so rich in details, so diversi- fied and so extraordinary, would afford, and doubtless has afforded, the subject for many descriptive essays; but description is not my present object. Accident has recently directed my at- tention to the works of a man of genius, M. Edonard Roche, and my choice of a subject has been dictated by the desire to rescue one at least of his discoveries from an unmerited neglect. In science the old proverb that good wine needs no bush can only be accepted in a qualified sense, for, in the first place, some interpreter is al- ways needed to make technical researches intelligible to the world at large, and in the second place, some accidental circum- stance may for a long time distract the attention of men of science from the works of any writer irrespectively of their merits. voL. Lxxlx.No. 469.6 M. Roch~, who died in 1883, was Pro- fessor of Mathematics in the faculty of science at the old city of Montpellier, in the south of France. He was obviously a patriotic citizen, and was one of the ori- ginal founders of the Academy of Sciences of Montpellier, which institution he en- thusiastically supported by communica- ting to it all his various memoirs from 1847 to 1882. It is the function of such bodies as the Academy of Montpellier and the Midland Institute* to foster a love of knowledge and to promote science in their several centres, and in so doing they perform a great and useful work. Unfortunately their activity may sometimes in one re- spect fail to tend to the rapid promotion of science. The multiplicity of scientific publications has now become so great that it is no longer possible for any but the lar- gest libraries to possess them all. When, then, the memoirs of an author have not been published in such centres as London, Paris, or Berlin, it sometimes happens that a long time elapses before their merits are generally recognized. It has thus come about that the admirable memoirs publish- ed at Montpehlier are apparently but little known even to men of science, and the local patriotism of the authors has thus operated detrimentally to the diffusion of their discoveries. I have not yet met a single English mathematician who has read Roches papers. The necessary limitation of space pre- vents me from giving a sketch of the gen- eral scientific activity of Roche, but one of his investigations has an important bear- ing upon the constitution of Saturns ring. The existence of the ring of Saturn seems now a very commonplace piece of knowledge, and yet it is only 250 years since the moons of Jupiter and Saturn were first detected, and since suspicion was first aroused that there was some- thing altogether peculiar about the Sn- turnian system. These discoveries,indeed, depended entirely on the invention of the telescope. It may assist the reader to re- alize how necessary the aid of that instru- ment was when I say that Saturn,when at his nearest to us, is the same in size as a sixpenny piecet held up at a distance of 210 yards. * This essay formed the subject of a lecture de- livered at the Midland Institute, Birmingham, on November 21, 188~7. ~ A sixpenny piece is exactly three-fourths of an 68 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. It was the celebrated Galileo who first principl& of our present powerful refrac- invented a combination of lenses such as tors), began to examine the planet, and is still used in our present opera-glasses, saw that it was furnished with two loops for the purpose of magnifying distant ob- or handles. Soon after the ring disap- jects. peared; but when, in 1659, it came into In July of 1610 he began to examine view again, he at last recognized its true Saturn with his telescope. His most character, and announced that the planet powerful instrument only magnified 32 was attended by a broad fiat ring. times, and although such an enlarge- A few years later it was perceived that ment should have amply sufficed to en- there were really two rings, concentric able him to make out the ring, yet he with one another. The division, which persuaded himself that what he saw was may easily be seen in drawings of the a large bright disk, with two smaller ones planet, is still named after Cassini, one touching it, one on each side. His lenses of its discoverers. Subsequent observers were doubtless imperfect, but the princi- have detected other less marked divisions. pal cause of his error must have been the Nearly two centuries later, namely, extreme improbability of the existence of in 1850, Bond in America and Dawes in a ring girdling the planet. He wrote an England, independently and within a fort- account of what he had seen to the Grand- night of the same time, observed that in- Duke of Tuscany, Giuliano de Medici, and side of the well-known bright rings there to others; he also published to the world is another very faint dark ring, which is an anagram which, when the letters were so transparent that the edge of the planet properly arranged, read as follows: Al- is visible through it. There is some rca- tissimum planetam tergeminum obser- son to believe that this ring has really vavi (I have seen the farthest planet as become more conspicuous within the last triple), for it must be remembered that 200 years, so that it would not be right Saturn was then the farthest known to attribute the lateness of its detection planet. entirely to the imperfection of earlier oh- In 1612 Galileo again examined Saturn, servations. and was utterly perplexed and discour- It was already discovered in the last aged to find his triple star replaced by a century that the ring is not quite of the single disk. He writes, Is it possible same thickness at all points of its circum- that some mocking demon has deceived ference, that it is not strictly concentric me ? And here it may be well to re- with the planet, and that it revolves about mark that there are several positions in its centre. Herschel, with his magnifi- which Saturns rings vanish from sight, cent reflecting telescope, detected little or so nearly vanish as to be only visible beads on the outer ring, and by watching with the most powerful modern telescopes. these he concluded that that ring corn- When the plane of the ring passes through pletes its revolution in 10~ hours. the sun, only its very thin edge is illumi- This sketch of the discovery and obser- nated; this was the case in 1612, when vation of Saturns rings has been necessa- Galileo lost it; secondly, if the plane of rily very incomplete, but we have perhaps the ring passes through the earth, we already occupied too much space with it.* have only a very thin edge to look at; Fig. 1 exhibits the appearance of Sat- and thirdly, when the sun and earth are urn and his ring. The drawing is by on opposite sides of the ring, the face of Bond of Harvard, and is considered an the ring which is presented to us is in excellent one. shadow, and therefore invisible. It is usual to represent the planets as Some time afterward Galileos perplex- they are seen through an astronomical ity was increased by seeing that the planet telescope, that is to say, reversed. Thus had then a pair of arms, but he never in Fig. 1 the south pole of the planet is succeeded in unravelling the mystery, and at the top of the plate, and unless the tel- blindness closed his career as an astrono- escope were being driven by clock-work, mer in 1626. the planet would appear to move across About thirty years after this the great the field of ~view from right to left. Dutch astronomer Huygens, having in- The plane of the ring is coincident with vented a new sort of telescope (on the * See Proctors Satuns and his SystEm; Aragos inch in diameter. The American reader may ima- Popular Astronomy; Miss Clerkes History of As- gine what a silver twelve-cent piece would be. tronomy. SATURNS RINGS. 69 the equator of the planet, and both ring and equator are inclined to the plane of the planets orbit at an angle of 27g. A whole essay might be devoted to the discussion of this and other pictures, but we must confine ourselves to drawing at- tention to the well-marked split, called Cassinis division, and to the faint internal ring through which the edge of the planet is visible. The scale on which the whole system is constructed is best seen in a diagram of concentric circles, showing the limits of the planets body and of the successive rings. Such a diagram, with explanatory notes, is given in Fig. 2. An explana RuThes Limit. Outer Ring. Cussinis Division. loner Ring. Dark Ring. purely scientific point of view they be- come the most remarkable bodies in the heavens, except, perhaps, those still less useful bodies, the spiral nebulas. When we have actually seen that great arch swung over the equator of the planet without any visible connection, we can- not bring our minds to rest. We can- not simply admit that such is the case, and describe it as one of the observed facts of nature, not admitting or requir- ing explanation. We must either ex- plain its motion on the principles of me- chanics, or admit that in the Saturnian realms there can be motion regulated by laws which we are unable to explain.* It may easily be imagined, then, that astronomers, not content with the mere portrayal of what they saw, have been led to speculate as to the nature of these rings, as to their permanence and decay, as to their origin and future fate. As might be expected, also, the speculations as to the physical constitution of the Equator of Plunut. rings have been diverse, and a final con- clusion has only been reached by degrees. From the great brilliancy of their re- flecting power Herschel was firmly per- suaded that the rings were solid. And notwithstanding the speculative protests of a few astronomers, this view was uni- versally held until some thirty years ago. Laplace, second only to Newton as a mathematical astronomer, analyzes the conception of a solid annular satellite.t He says that it is contrary to all proba- bility that such a ring should hold to- gether by the cohesion of its molecules; for, if it were so, the parts nearest to the planet, being attracted by the planet, would gradually be detached from the rings, which by an insensible degrada- tion would end in total destruction. But he makes this remark with the view of urging that a solid ring can only subsist if it has a particular form of section. He accordingly treats the case of a solid ring covered by a layer of fluid, and he then determines the shape in which this fluid will rest when the s~ystem rotates round the planet and is subject to the attrac- tion of the planet and of the ring itself. He concludes that if a solid ring has the same shape of section as that which he finds for the fluid layer, the solid ring will hold together without any tax on * Maxwell. Stability of Saturns Rings: 1859. Macmillan, p. 1. f Micanique Cileste, Bk. III., chap. 6. FIG. 2.DIAGRAM OF 5ATURN AND HIS RINGS. tion of the outermost circle, called Roches limit, will be given later. The follow- ing are the dimensions of the system :* Equatorial diameter of planet 73,000 miles. Interior diameter of dark ring 93,000 miles. Interior diameter of bright rings... 111,000 miles. Exterior diameter of bright rings .. 169,000 miles. We may also remark that the radius of the limit of the rings is 2.38 times the mean radius of the planet, whilst Roches limit is 2.44 such radii. The greatest thickness of the ring is uncertain, but it seems probable that it does not exceed 200 or 300 miles. The pictorial interest, as we may call it of all this wonderful combination is obvious, but our curiosity is further stim- ulated when we reflect on the difficulty of reconciling the existence of this strange satellite with what we know of our own planet and of other celestial bodies. It may be admitted that no disturbance to our ordinary way of life would be felt if Saturns rings were annihilated, but, as Clerk-Maxwell has remarked, from a * From Proctors Saturn and his System, with suns parallax taken as 8.8. 70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the cohesive forces. He thus proves that force is merely an effect of motion. There the section of a solid ring must be a flat- is a difficulty in mentally following a tened oval or ellipse, and that the den- whirling body in its orbit, but it is per- sity of the planet cannot be more than missible to simplify the problem by al- one-third greater than that of the ring, lowing the motion of revolution to drop He next proves that it is also necessary, out of sight, provided that an ideal centri- in order that a ring may continue to re- fugal force is introduced. volve concentrically with the planet, that Centrifugal and centripetal force are it should be weighted in one point of its simply two views of the same thing, circumference, or, what amounts to the namely, the tension of the string; it is same thing, that its section should be named one way when we consider the in- greater in one part than another. The terest of the whirler, the other way when inference of Laplace seems to have been we consider the thing whirled. The same that there are actually several solid rings double view of the same thing occurs in revolving about Saturn, each of the prop- commerce, where a transaction which er oval but irregular section. stands on the credit side in the books of The great weight of Laplaces name one merchant appears on the debit side had apparently the effect of lulling to in the books of the other. rest the spirit of speculation on this I am going to show that the experi- topic for some fifty years after his time. ment with the string and stone presents But in reality Larrlaces investigation, an analogy with the case of the moon re- although marked by his usual ability, volving about the earth. should by its incompleteness rather have The moon whirls round the earth once had the effect of stimulating inquiry than in 27~- days, and tends to fly away Un- of discouraging it. der the influence of centrifugal force, but The matter remained in this unsatis- is restrained by the centripetal force of factory condition until 1848, when Roche the earths attraction. When a stone is published the investigation which is the whirled, the total centrifugal force on it cause of this essay. The conclusion at exactly balances the total centripetal pull which he arrived failed to attract the no- of the string; so also the total centrif a- tice of astronomers and it was not until gal force on the moon exactly balances 1857 that a Cambridge mathematician, the total attraction of the earth. In fact handling the subject in a new and on- the invisible bond between the two bodies ginal manner, commanded general atten- plays just the same part as does the string tion when he announced the same result between hand and stone. as his French precursor. I shall now When a body is whirled, centrifugal proceed to tell what were the arguments force is greater the further we go from and what the results of these independent the axis of whirling. Now the axis round investigators, which the moon is whirled is at the earth The immediate object of Roches work (or very nearly so), and so the parts of was a problem of abstract celestial me- the moons body which are farther from chanics, and thus his attack on the Satur- the earth, being farther from the axis of nian question was of an indirect charac- whirling, have a stronger tendency to fly ter. away from the earth than the parts which In order, then, to give an idea of are nearer. So far the cases of the stone Roches paper, we must now leave Sat- and of the moon resemble one another. urns ring out of view, and must consider But a difference arises when we come a purely ideal mechanical problem. But to compare the attraction of the earth it will be simplest in the first instance to with the tension of the string, for the give this problem ~a concrete shape by earth attracts every particle of the moon considering a very simple problem, and whereas the string pulls only along a nar- then passing on to discuss the relation- row line where it girdles the stone. The ship between our moon and the earth. earth does not, however, attract every If you tie a string to a stone and whirl particle of the moon with equal force, for it round, the pull on your hand is called it pulls the nearer parts of the moon more centrifugal force, and the pull on the strongly than the farther parts, as is oh- stone by which it is prevented from fly- vious from the nature of the law of at- ing off, is called centripetal force. It is traction. well to remark, however, that centrifugal Thus at the part of the moon which is SATURN~S RINGS. 71 nearest to the earth, and therefore nearest to the axis of whirling, the attraction is at its strongest, whilst the centrifugal ten- dency is at its weakest. And conversely at the part of the moon which is farthest from the earth, and therefore farthest from the axis of whirling, the attraction is at its weakest, whilst the centrifugal tendency is at its strongest. Now remem- bering that on the whole attraction and centrifugal tendency are exactly equal and opposite, we see that where attraction is strong and centrifugal tendency weak, attraction must over-balance., centrifugal tendency; also where attraction is weak and centrifugal tendency strong, centrifu- gal tendency must over-balance attraction. We know that the moon always shows us the same face. Let the circle in Fig. 3 represent a section of the moon, and let D the earth be a long way off in the direc- tion E. Then V is the middle of the hemisphere facing the earth: it is the mid- dle of the moons face which we see at full moon. I is the middle of the hemi- sphere away from the earth: it is the mid- dle of the invisible side of the moon. Then V is the part of the moon which is nearest to the earth and nearest to the axis of whirling. At this point attrac- tion over-balances centrifugal force, and the fact is noted on the figure by an ar- row pointing toward E, the earth. Again, I is the part of the moon which is farthest from the earth and farthest from the axis of whirling. At this point centrifugal force over-balances attraction, and the fact is noted on the figure by an arrow pointing away from E, the earth. The earth being a long way off, it fol- lows that the over-balance in the one case is almost exactly equal to that in the oth er case. This is noted by making the ar- rows at V and I of equal length. It would take too long to show how mathematicians actually examine the whole surface of the moon, and trace from point to point which way the battle between the centrifugal and centripetal forces turns. I must ask my readers to accept the results of such an analysis as indicated in the diagram. The direction and magnitude of the over - balance are here shown by the direction and length of the arrows. We have already seen that the forces at V and I, the middles of the visible and invisible faces, are directed away from the moons centre. The edges of the moons disk, as seen at full moon, are at D and D; and here it will be noticed that the ar- rows showing the resultant of the battle between the opposing forces point inward to the moons centre, and are half as long as those at V and I. At inter- mediate points they are inter- mediate both in size and di- rection. in the figure the forces in- dicated thus symbolically by arrows are called tide-gen- erating forces. The reason of this is as follows: if we had been examining the forces ex- ercised by the moon on the earth, the argument would have been of just the same char- acter, save that the earth does not always turn the same face to the moon as does the moon to the earth.* The re- sultants of the battling centrifugal and centripetal forces would then have been called tide-generating forces, because they are the cause of the oscillations of sea- level called tides. In the case we are considering the forces arise from the same causes, and we still call the resultant of centripetal and centrifugal forces at any point of the moon tide-generating force, * In applying the argument to find the moons tide-generating force on the earth it must he borne in mind that the moon and earth really revolve in an orbit about the common centre of gravity of the two bodies. Since the earth is very heavy compared with the moon, the centre of gravity is so close to the earths centre that it was permissible above to speak of the moon whirling round the earth instead of about the centre of gravity of the two bodies. But in the present case we must bear in mind that the moon is really being whirled round this centre of gravity at the rate of one revolution in 2Th days. FIG. 3.DIAGRAM OF TIDE-GENERATING FORCES. 72 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. although there is no lunar ocean in which tides can be generated. It is obvious from an inspection of Fig. 3 that the tide-generating forces cause a tendency for the moon to fly to pieces; but this does not imply that it ought to break up, for the tendency is counter- acted. If you stood on the moon and picked up a stone it would be heavy, only not nearly so heavy as it is here. If you were standing at V or I, the tide-gener- ating force would make the stone less heavy, because, as the arrows show, there is a tendency for the stone to fly away from the moons centre. And obviously, if you stood at D, the stone would be more heavy, for just the converse reason. If the moon were covered with an ocean, the slightly diminished heaviness at V and I would allow the sea-level to rise there, and the slightly increased heaviness at D and D would cause the sea-level to sink there. Thus the moons ocean would protrude on both sides, tow- ard the earth on the nearer face, and away from the earth on the farther, in- visible face; all round the edges of the disk the sea-level would be depressed, so that the moon would look a little smaller at full moon than would be the case if tide-generating force did not exist. The moons ocean would, in fact, be egg- shaped (only with both ends alike), and the long axis of the egg would be pointed straight to the earth. Now unless the moon were made of fabulously strong matter, her shape, even if she is quite solid, must be just the same as that of an ideal ocean covering her sur- face, and hence we may conclude that the moon is actually slightly egg-shaped. If the moon were nearer to us, the tide- generating forces would be stronger, and the egg shape would be more pronounced. In fact, if she were at half her actual dis- tance, the difference between the long axis and the short axis of the egg would be 8 times as great as it is; if at a third of her actual distance, 27 times as great, or, in technical language, tide - genera- ting force varies inversely as the cube of the distance. Let us conceive, then, that the moon, still always showing the same face as she revolves round the earth, is brought very slowly nearer and nearer to the earth. Unless made of materials of inconceiv- able strength, she will continually elon gate, and- become less in girth round her visible disk. It may easily be suspected that the elongation might become so great that she would break to pieces. If, for exam- ple, she were so near as to be drawn out into the shape of a drawing-pencil with rounded ends, pointing straight toward the earth, this rod of matter would cer- tainly break up into several globules un- der the influence of its own gravitation, just as when a streak of oil is put on wa- ter it breaks into drops. There is therefore a certain degree of elongation corresponding to a certain proximity to the earth, which the moon could just endure without breaking into globules, and if brought nearer to the earth than this, she must break up. Now, by arguments of great subtlety, but too technical to explain here, Roche has determined the limiting degree of elongation, and therefore the limiting proximity of the moon to the earth. His investigation is, indeed, abstract, and ap- plies to any fluid satellite which revolves about a spherical planet in such a way as always to show the same face to the planet. In explaining his theory it was, however, easier to make the example a concrete one by considering the moon and earth. I will not follow IRoche into the various cases which arise according to the rela- tive sizes and densities of the satellite and planet, but will only consider the one case, which is interesting in application to Saturn, namely, where the satellite is exceedingly small compared with the planet. Fig. 4 represents the section of the sat- ellite when it is elongated to the utmost possible extent. The planet about which it revolves is a large globe with its cen- tre on the prolongation of the longest axis of the egg-like body in the direction of E. As it revolves, the longest axis of the satellite always points straight tow- ard its planet. The egg, though not strictly circular in girth, is very nearly so. Thus another section at right angles to this one would be of nearly the same shape. One diameter of the girth is in fact only longer than the other by a sev- enteenth part. The shortest of the three axes of the slightly flattened egg is at right angles to the plane of the orbit in which the satellite revolves. The longest axis of the body is nearly twice as long SATURNS RINGS. 73 as either of the two shorter 6nes; for if retical limit coincides with the limit of we take the longest as 1000, the other two the rings. I may here say that Roches would be 496 and 469. Fig. 4 represents memoir contains other results of great a section through the two axes equal re- interest. spectively to 1000 and to 469, so that we are here supposed to be looking at the satellites orbit edgewise. But Roche determined not only the shape of the satellite ~ when thus elongated to the utmost possible extent, but also its nearness to the planet, and he proved that the centre FIG. 4.ROCHES FIGURE OF A SATELLITE WHEN ELONGATED of such a satellite must be at TO THE UTMOST. a distance from the planets centre of 2~ ~ of the planets radius. This distance of 2~ ~ or 2.44 of a plan- ets radius I call Roches limit for that planet. The meaning of this is that in- side of a circle drawn round a planet at a distance so proportionate to its radius no satellite can circulate. The reason being that if a lump of matter were started to revolve about the planet inside of that circle, it would be torn to pieces under the action of the forces we have been considering. It is true that if the lump of matter were so small as to be more properly described as a stone than as a satellite, then the cohesive force of stone might be strong enough to resist the dis- ruptive force. But the size for which co- hesion is sufficient cause toenable a mass of matter to hold together is small com pared with the smallest celestial body. We are therefore justified in concluding that if anywhere in the heavens there is matter circulating about a planet inside of Roches limit, it can only be in the form of dust, rocks, and fragments. Now Saturn is the only body in the heavens round which there is matter cir- culating within that limit, and here alone do we find a ring. We seem, then, to be justified in the belief that Saturns rings consist of dust and fragments. Although Roche himself dismisses this matter in one or two sentences, he saw the full bearing of his remarks, and to do him justice we should date from 1848 the proof that Saturns rings consist of me- teoric stones. Roches limit is marked on the diagram (Fig. 2) of Saturn and his rings, to which reference was made above. It is inter- esting to observe how ciosely* the theo * The coincidence is so close that it is proper to remark that we ought not to lay too much stress on Although this paper was published nearly forty years ago, I have never seen in any text-book or treatise any allusion to Roches view. Indeed we read that Bond was the first in modern times to suggest the meteoric constitution of the rings. His suggestion, based on tele- scopic evidence, was dated 1851. And now to explain how the Cambridge mathematician to whom reference was made above, in ignorance of Roches work of nine years before, arrived at the same conclusion. In 1857 Clerk-Maxwell, one of the most brilliant men of science who have taught in the University of Cambridge, and whose early death we still deplore, attacked the problem of Sat- urns rings in a celebrated essay, which gained for him what is called the Adams prize. He first took up the question of the motion of a solid ring at the point where Laplace had left it, and determined what amount of weighting at one point of a solid uniform ring is necessary to in- sure its steady motion round the pianet. He found that there must be a mass at- tached to the circumference of the ring weighing 4+ times as much as the ring it- self. In fact the system becomes a satel- lite with a light ring attached to it. As there is no appearance, he says, about the rings justifying a belief in so great an irregularity, the theory of the so- lidity of the rings becomes very improba- ble. When we come to consider the ad- ditional difficulty of the tendency of the fluid or loose parts of the ring to accumu- the closeness, for Roches calculation avowedly de- pends ia a measure on certain suppositions with re- gard to tIle densities of the planet and satellite, and he found it necessary to ne,,lect certain considera- tions which would modify the result to a slight ex- tent. 74 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. late at the thicker parts, and thus to de- stroy that nice adjustment of the load on which~ the stability depends, we have an- other powerful argument against solidity. And when we consider the immense size of the rings and their comparative thin- ness, the absurdity of treating them as rigid bodies becomes self - evident. An iron ring of such a size would be not only plastic, but semifluid, under the forces which it would experience, and we have no reason to believe these rings to be arti- ficially strengthened with any material unknown on this earth.* The hypothesis of solidity being con- demned, Maxwell proceeds to suppose that the ring is composed of a number of equal small satellites. This is a step tow- ard the hypothesis of an indefinite num- ber of meteorites of all sizes. The con- sideration of the motion of these equal satellites affords a problem of immense difficulty, for each satellite is attracted by all the others and by the planet, and they are all in motion. If they were arranged in a circle round the planet at equal distances, they might continue to revolve round the planet, pro- vided that each satellite remained in its place with mathematical exactness. Let us consider that the proper place of each satellite is at the ends of the spokes of a revolving wheel, and then let us suppose that none of them is exactly in its place, some being a little too far advanced, some a little behind, some too near and some too far from the centre of the wheelthat is to say, from the planet then we want to know whether they will swing to and fro in the neighborhood of their places, or will get farther and far- ther from their places, and whether the ring will end in confusion. Maxwell treated this problem with con- summate skill, and showed that if the sat- ellites are not too large, confusion will not ensue, but each satellite will oscillate about its proper place. At any moment there are places where the satellites are crowded and others where they are spaced out, and he showed that the places of crowding and of spacing out will travel round the ring at a different speed from that with which the ring as a whole revolves. In other words, waves of condensation and of rarefaction are prop- agated round the ring as it rotates. * Maxwell. On the Stabiliq~ of Saturns Rings, p. 57. Macmillan, 1859. He cobstructed a model, now in the laboratory at Cambridge, to exhibit these movements: it is pretty to observe the changes of shape of the ring and of the crowding of the model satellites as they revolve. I cannot sum up the general conclu- sions at which Maxwell arrived better than by quoting his own words. In the summary of his paper he says :* If the satellites are unequal, the prop- agation of waves will no longer be regu- lar, but the disturbances of the ring will in this, as in the former case, produce only waves and not growing confusion. Supposing the ring to consist, not of a single row of satellites, but of a cloud of evenly distributed unconnected particles, we found that such a cloud must have a very small density in order to be perma- nent, and that this is inconsistent with its outer and inner parts moving with the same annular velocity. Supposing the ring to be fluid and continuous, we found that it will necessarily be broken up into small portions. We conclude, therefore, that the rings must consist of disconnect- ed particles; these may be either solid or liquid, but they must be independent. The entire system of rings must therefore consist either of a series of many concen- tric rings, each moving with its own ve- locity, and having its own system of waves, or else of a confused multitude of revolving particles, not arranged in rings, and continually coming into collision with each other. Taking the fit~st case, we found that in an indefinite number of possible cases the mutual perturbation of two rings, stable in themselves, might mount up in time to a destructive magnitude, and that such cases must continually occur in an exten- sive system like that of Saturn, the only retarding cause being the possible irregu- larity of the rings. The result of long- continued disturbance was found to be the spreading out of the rings in breadth, the outer rings pressing outward, while the inner rings press inward. The final result, therefore, of the me- chanical theory is that the only system of rings which can exist is one composed of an indefinite number of unconnected par- ticles revolving round the planet with different velocities according to their re- spective distances. These particles may be arranged in a series of narrow rings, or * Saturns Rings, pp. 66, 67. SATURNS RINGS. 75 they may move through each other ir- regularly. In the first ease the destruc- tion of the system will be very slow; in the second case it will be more rapid, but there may be a tendency toward an ar- rangement in narrow rings, which may retard the process. We are not able to ascertain by obser- vation the constitution of the two outer di- visions of the system of rings, but the inner ring is certainly transparent, for the limb (i. e., edge) of Saturn has been observed through it. It is also certain that though the space occupied by the ring is transpar- ent, it is not through the material particles of it that Saturn was seen, for his limb was observed without distortion, which shows that there was no refraction, and therefore that the rays did not pass through a medium at all, but between the solid or liquid particles of which the ring is composed. Here, then, we have an op- tical argument in favor of the theory of independent particles as the material of the rings. The two outer rings may be of the same nature, but not so exceeding- ly rare that a ray of light can pass through their whole thickness without encounter- ing one of the particles. It has thus been shown by several lines of investigation that Saturns rings consist of independent meteorites, moving, each in its orbit, about the planet, and this con- clusion may be safely accepted as correct. But every field of thought is now seething with the evolutionary ferment, and as we cannot rest satisfied with any conclusion as a finality, we here merely find ourselves at the starting-point of new speculations. What, then, is the history of these rings, and what their future fate? They are clearly intimately related to the planet, and their history would be complete if we could with the minds eye watch their birth from the planet and follow their subsequent changes. Now although the details of such a history are obscure, yet at least a shadowy outline of it may be confidently accepted as known. In the remote past all the matter which now forms the Saturn ian system of planet, satellites, and rings was far more dif- fused than at present. There was proba- bly a nucleus of denser matter round which slowly revolved a mass of rarefied gases and meteorites. The central por- tion was intensely hot, with heat derived by condensation from a state of still great- er dispersion. Voa. LXXIX.No. 4697 As this nebula cooled it contracted, and therefore revolved more quickly. If you watch the water emptying itself from a common wash-hand basin when the plug at the bottom is removed, you will see an example of such quickened rotation. When the basin is full, the water is com- monly revolving slowly in one or the other direction, but as the level falls and the water approaches the hole, it spins more quickly, and the last drops are seen to whirl round with violence. The revolving nebula is flattened at the poles like an orange, and the amount of flattening increases as it contracts and spins quicker. At a certain stage it can no longer subsist in a continuous mass, and an annular portion is detached from the equator, leaving the central ball to continue its contraction. We are pretty safe in saying that the rings of Saturn took their origin in some such mode as this. But it cannot be main- tained that we understand it all, for we have not more than a vague picture of the primitive nebula, and the mode in which the matter aggregated itself into a ring and detached itself is obscure. M. Roche has done perhaps more than any one else to impart mathematical precision to these ideas, hut even he has not been wholly successful. This theory, commonly called the neb- ular hypothesis, was advanced indepen- dently both by the philosopher Kant and by Laplace. Various modifications have been suggested by others, but the theory, in whatever form, is replete with difficul- ties, and must at present be only regarded as an approximation to the truth.* If the past history of the ring is not wholly clear, it is at least more ascertain- able than its future development. It is nearly certain that the ring now presents a markedly different appearance from that which was seen by its discoverers. Indeed the only doubt lies in the uncertainty as to the amount of allowance which must be made for differences of observers and of instruments. Huygens described the interval between the bright ring and the planet as rather exceeding the width of the ring, but we need only look at Fig. 1 or 2 to see that this is now flagrantly in- correct. It is improbable that Huygens * I have recently presented a paper to the Royal Society of London (November, 1888), in which I have tried to throw light on the mechanical pro- cesses involved in the nebular hypothesis. 76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. was incorrect, although, on the other hasfd, by the most delicate micrometric measure- ments Struve has been unable to detect any change in an interval of thirty years of this century. We may call to mind that Maxwell showed that a spreading of the rings both outward and inward was a theoretical re- sult of the inevitable impacts between the constituent meteorites, which he used to describe as a shower of brickbats. Thus, whether or not the immense changes sus- pected since 1659 are true, it remains al- most certain that changes of this kind are in progress. I venture, then, to hazard a few words of speculation as to the future of the rings. The outward spreading will in time carry many meteorites beyond Roches limit~ here there will no longer be an obstacle to aggregation into a celestial body, such aggregation will probably ensue, and a ninth satellite will be formed. The in- ward spreading will in time carry the meteorites to the limits of Saturns atmos- phere, where, heated by friction as they rush through the air, they will disinte- grate and fall on to the planet as dust. After a time,of which no estimate can be formed, the ring will have vanished, leav- ing the ninth satellite as its descendant. But it must be admitted that all this is highly speculative, and we can only hope that further investigations will give us firmer grounds for a forecast. It has only been possible to touch briefly on these vast fields for inquiry, but enough has been said to show how much we have yet to learn, and I trust that I may have enabled my readers to realize to some ex- tent the mystery and charm of Saturns rings. THE PROBLEMS OF PSYCHIC RESEARCH. BY JOSEPH JASTROw, PH.D. I have no other theory to support than that of the constancy of the well-ascertained laws of nature; and my contention is that where apparent departures from them take place through human instrumen- tality we are justified in assuming in the first instance either fraudulent deception, or unintentional self-deception, or both combined, until the absence of either shall have been proved by every conceivable test that the sagacity of sceptical experts can devise. William B. Carpenter. AN interesting commentary to the his- tory of civilization can be read in the records of the strivings and pretensions of that ever-present body of enthusiasts who by occult and ambitious flights aim to short-circuit the route to knowledge and immortality. The advance of science by slow and careful steps naturally seems tame and tedious to these illuminati, loudly proclaiming the success of their wonderful discoveries and at times suc- ceeding by their din in momentarily drowning the still small voice of truth. When this occurs the historian adds an- other page to the record of error, already replete with the horrors of witchcraft, the follies of alchemists, astrologers, and their kind, the wide-spread misery of psychic epidemics, and the bestial self-tortures of crazed ascetics. Such deviations from the normal progress of knowledge appear to the evolutionist as reversions to a more ru- dimentary state of thought. The savage, like the child, constantly meets with the unexpected; every experience lying the least outside his narrow domain strikes him with a shock, and often fills him with fearthe handmaid of ignorance. Na- ture is pictured as a fearful monster, and the world peopled with tyrannical beings. Step by step the region of the known ex- pands, and suggests the nature of the un- known; men expect, they foresee, they predict. The apparent chaos of mutually inimical forces gives way to the profound harmony of unifying law. So gradual is this development of rational expectancy that one seems justified in reserving its full realization for the expert man of science. The received spiritualistic the- ory, says Mr. Tylor, belongs to the philosophy of savages.... Suppose a wild North American Indian looking on at a spirit sdance in London. As to the presence of disembodied spirits, manifest- ing themselves by raps, noises, voices, and other physical actions, the savage would be perfectly at home in the proceed- ings; for such things are part and parcel of his recognized system of Nature. Until the participation by intelligent per- sons in such proceedings and in the be- liefs which such an adherence implies shall be looked upon as we now look upon

76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. was incorrect, although, on the other hasfd, by the most delicate micrometric measure- ments Struve has been unable to detect any change in an interval of thirty years of this century. We may call to mind that Maxwell showed that a spreading of the rings both outward and inward was a theoretical re- sult of the inevitable impacts between the constituent meteorites, which he used to describe as a shower of brickbats. Thus, whether or not the immense changes sus- pected since 1659 are true, it remains al- most certain that changes of this kind are in progress. I venture, then, to hazard a few words of speculation as to the future of the rings. The outward spreading will in time carry many meteorites beyond Roches limit~ here there will no longer be an obstacle to aggregation into a celestial body, such aggregation will probably ensue, and a ninth satellite will be formed. The in- ward spreading will in time carry the meteorites to the limits of Saturns atmos- phere, where, heated by friction as they rush through the air, they will disinte- grate and fall on to the planet as dust. After a time,of which no estimate can be formed, the ring will have vanished, leav- ing the ninth satellite as its descendant. But it must be admitted that all this is highly speculative, and we can only hope that further investigations will give us firmer grounds for a forecast. It has only been possible to touch briefly on these vast fields for inquiry, but enough has been said to show how much we have yet to learn, and I trust that I may have enabled my readers to realize to some ex- tent the mystery and charm of Saturns rings. THE PROBLEMS OF PSYCHIC RESEARCH. BY JOSEPH JASTROw, PH.D. I have no other theory to support than that of the constancy of the well-ascertained laws of nature; and my contention is that where apparent departures from them take place through human instrumen- tality we are justified in assuming in the first instance either fraudulent deception, or unintentional self-deception, or both combined, until the absence of either shall have been proved by every conceivable test that the sagacity of sceptical experts can devise. William B. Carpenter. AN interesting commentary to the his- tory of civilization can be read in the records of the strivings and pretensions of that ever-present body of enthusiasts who by occult and ambitious flights aim to short-circuit the route to knowledge and immortality. The advance of science by slow and careful steps naturally seems tame and tedious to these illuminati, loudly proclaiming the success of their wonderful discoveries and at times suc- ceeding by their din in momentarily drowning the still small voice of truth. When this occurs the historian adds an- other page to the record of error, already replete with the horrors of witchcraft, the follies of alchemists, astrologers, and their kind, the wide-spread misery of psychic epidemics, and the bestial self-tortures of crazed ascetics. Such deviations from the normal progress of knowledge appear to the evolutionist as reversions to a more ru- dimentary state of thought. The savage, like the child, constantly meets with the unexpected; every experience lying the least outside his narrow domain strikes him with a shock, and often fills him with fearthe handmaid of ignorance. Na- ture is pictured as a fearful monster, and the world peopled with tyrannical beings. Step by step the region of the known ex- pands, and suggests the nature of the un- known; men expect, they foresee, they predict. The apparent chaos of mutually inimical forces gives way to the profound harmony of unifying law. So gradual is this development of rational expectancy that one seems justified in reserving its full realization for the expert man of science. The received spiritualistic the- ory, says Mr. Tylor, belongs to the philosophy of savages.... Suppose a wild North American Indian looking on at a spirit sdance in London. As to the presence of disembodied spirits, manifest- ing themselves by raps, noises, voices, and other physical actions, the savage would be perfectly at home in the proceed- ings; for such things are part and parcel of his recognized system of Nature. Until the participation by intelligent per- sons in such proceedings and in the be- liefs which such an adherence implies shall be looked upon as we now look upon THE PROBLEMS OF PSYCHIC RESEARCH. 77 the approval of witch-burning by pious worthies of two centuries ago, until it shall be generally recognized that all this company of supernaturalists are simply repeating in new costumes and with improved scenic effects the tragic comedy of former times, the moral mission of science will not be accomplished. The border-land of science of to-day, though thus closely akin to that of for- mer days, presents one hopeful difference: enough of the spirit of true science has oozed over the boundary to substitute, to some extent, definiteness of statement and adherence to fact for extravagant speculation and obscuring irrelevancy. In the main, the problems of psychic research ~~re capable of a scientific state- ment, and in many cases of a scientific proof or refutal. It is often forgotten that the term psychic research is sim- ply a convenient and somewhat arbitrary mode of referring to a group of phenom- ena now under investigation; the term does not refer to a single kind of phenom- enon to be proved or refuted by a single kind of evidence, as is often supposed, but includes several different problems, each of which is to be worked out on its own de- tailed evidence. For the present purpose these problems may be considered under three heads, which, though connected in several respects, are logically distinct: (I.) the study of the milder forms of abnormal mental states in normal or not markedly abnormal persons, including hypnotism with all its varieties; (II.) the exami- nation of alleged physical manifestations of supernatural agencies, such as are con- cerned in apparitions, haunted houses, mediumistic phenomena, theosophy, etc.; (III.) the examination of the evidence for the existence of new psychic agencies or new modes of working of known forces: here belong such questions as thought transferrence, odic force, faith-cure, and the like. 1.Here we are in comparatively known regions; the experiences of dream life, the mental effects of drugs and gas- es, natural and diseased forms of men- tal idiosyncrasy, have impressed man- kind from remote times, and have been influential in shaping the beliefs and thought - habits of early man. After these states came to be regarded as a proper subject for scientific study, the discovery of a new method of inducing them was not in itself an improbable oc- currence. The reasons why the processes of hypnotism, though announced a cen- tury ago, were not scientifically accepted until within about. the last decade, are to be found in the quackish methods of its first professors. Mesmer came forth with an extravagant magnetic theory, and offered bottles of magnetized water to the credulous and excitable Parisians as a universal panacea, while his follow- ers elaborated ridiculously minute direc- tions for applying the planetic and tellu- nc fluid, and the rest of their self-invented paraphernalia.* In 1842 Braid divested the subject of much of its mystery by showing that any violent stimulus was sufficient to induce the hypnotic state, that the personality of the operator was the most insignificant factor in the pro- cess and that a most important factor was the expectancy of the subject. Shortly after 1872, the study of the phenomena as minor forms of nervous affections was taken up by professional neurologists in France, and since then a most valuable technical literature in French, German, Italian, and English has been contributed. Of the many important and remarkable facts thus brought to light it will be pos- sible to mention here only a few of the most essential. The state is induced by any sudden and unusual strainstaring at a bright button held close to the eyes, strongly rubbing the space between the eyebrows, and so on; it all depends upon the susceptibility of the subject, who can be trained to pass into the hypnotic state by almost any ma- nipulation. After the subject has been often hypnotized the expectation of the condition is sufficient to realize it; a mere command, or even the impression that a command has been given (when really nothing has been done), will at times be sufficient. Anybody can hypnotize a good subject, and the personality of the opera- tor is simply effective in the first induc- tions of the state; this means nothing more than that a determined, impressive * Deleuze, a follower of Mesiner, says: One m magnetize a pitcher of water in two or three min- utes, a glass of water in one minute, if done with attention and a determinate will. He also tells us that the magnetizer who uses a wand ought to have one of his own, and not lend it to any per- son, lest it should be charged with different fluids a precaution more important than it is commonly thought to be. Mesiner himself claimed to have magnetized the sun. 78 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. manner, aided by a powerful physique and prestige, is naturally more apt to influ- ence a susceptible temperament than a feeble, hesitating manner lacking such evidences of will power. A sudden stim- ulus, such as a blow or a shout, reawakens the sleeper. The proportion of persons susceptible to hypnotization is very vari- ously estimated by different observers, and depends upon the nationality, class, temperament, and so on, of the individu- als observed. It is probably a fair state- ment that about ten to twenty per cent. make acceptable subjects. To what extent such susceptibility is evidence of nervous impairment is a ques- tion upon which all writers are not agreed; but it is generally admitted that the prev- alence of a neurotic temperament amongst hypnotic subjects is far greater than amongst the population at large, that this trait is most marked amongst the most susceptible and interesting subjects, and that the most delicate phenomena are usually presented by hysterical patients. It is thus affiliated with the milder but common and (to the physician) tantalizing forms of nervous disease, shading by im- perceptible degrees to normal health. As to the nature of the state, we have little sure knowledge. Some speak of it as an attention-cramp; some describe it as an inhibition of the higher psychic brain-centres, a shutting off of all that most delicately constituted portion of the brain associated with voluntary control. In daily life we attend to only a small fraction of the thoughts that find a mo- mentary resting-place in our minds; to think rationally we constantly and sys- tematically exclude (inhibit) a host of sug- gestions from the chamber of conscious- ness, allowing an audience only to such as are germane to the end in view. In dream- ing we dismiss the guard from the door, and the most extravagant conglomeration of fanciful notions throngs into the cham- ber. In hypnotism there is a spring on the door which the operator pushes open, letting in one suggestion at a time, to which the subject must give audience, with his attention, usually divided amongst a crowd of suitors, intensely concentrated upon a single claimant. The subject be- comes an automaton played upon by the irresistible suggestions of the operator. The further consideration of hypnotism would bring us at once to what is now the crucial point at issue between the two schools! of hypnotism, known as the school of Paris, of which Dr. Charcot is the acknowledged head, and the school of Nancy, presided over by Dr. Bernheim.* The latter regards the infinitely variable and protean phenomena that hypnotized patients exhibit as one and all due to the effects of suggestion, conscious or uncon- scious. With them the state is psychical in character. The former distinguishes three different stages of hypnotism, the passage from one of which to the other is by physical meansclosing or opening the eyes, pressure at definite points. Of these three stages the cataleptic is distinguished by an unnatural immobility, enabling the subject to assume and retain most trying bodily positions; the lethargic, by an es- pecial excitability of nerve and muscle; and the somnambulic, which is most akin to the general state discussed by the sug- gestionists, by the automatic character of the subjects mental operations. This is psychologically the most interesting phase, and it is here that all the deli- cate forms of suggestion have freest play; here that marked sensibility to one kind of stimulus is effected which in turn gives rise to tales of clairvoyance; it is this state that presents the striking adoption of foreign personalities, and makes the travelling mesmerists show so popularly attractive. Referring for detailed description of these interesting conditions to the more extended accounts, it remains to notice briefly a few points of special interest here: (1) the genuineness, (2) the border-land, and (3) the dangerous aspect of this study. The first is easily disposed of: the rigid extension of the arm for nearly half an hour without any of the waverings ac- companying such an attempt in a normal person, the assumption of r6les and ac- tions utterly impossible in the normal state (e. g., an illiterate factory girl perfect- ly imitated an elaborate exercise which Jenny Lind extemporized as a test), the * It should be added that the position of the school of Nancy is rapidly becoming acknowledged as the correct one. German and Swiss critics who have carefully examined the phenomena almost as a unit side with Dr. Bernheim and against Dr. Oharcot. They believe the latter to have been misled by the idiosyncrasies and unexpected (and probably uncon- scious) shrewdness of his hysterical patients. La En,lish one may refer to Animel 2lfegnetism by Binet and Ferd, pupils of Charcot, and to the forth- coming translation of Dr. Bernheims classic work, for the views of the two schools. THE PROBLEMS OF PSYCHIC RESEARCH. 79 quickening of the perceptive processes as measured by the reaction-time to sen- sory stimuli and to mental associations, and a variety of similar tests place the genuineness of the phenomena beyond question, and every new study strengthens the evidence thus accumulated. Under the second head we have to dis- cuss the connection between hypnotism and thought transferrence, magnetism, clairvoyance, and so on.* It is often stated that in the deepest hypnotic states the sub- ject becomes clairvoyant, predicts future events, reads the numbers on bank-notes known only to the holder, and performs many similar and more wonderful feats. It is safe to say that the evidence for none of these miracles is satisfactory. In 1837 a prize of 3000 francs was offered to any one reading without the aid of eyesight, and remained unredeemed, though several ap- plicants were successfully exposed; the usual trick consisted in the power to see a great deal through a very small opening in the skilfully manceuvred bandage. It is well known that the hypnotic state favors just this kind of sensibility, and the exam- ples already on record of the exalted sen- sibilities of such subjects especially, when combined with the exquisite shrewdness and passionate love of deceit of a hysteri- cal temperament, make the attributing of apparently incredible occurrences to more remote causes a very questionable proceed- ing. The most important source of error * Amongst the phenomena now under investiga- tion, two deserve to be mentioned. 1. French observ- ers record that when a subject has responded to the suggestion that one arm is paralyzed, the application of a magnet to the other arm causes the paralysis to vanish from the side first affected and be trans- ferred to the other side. Several observers in re- peating the experiment find that the transfer suc- ceeds equally well when the patient believes the mag- net to be there; and in one case a subject who failed to exhibit the usual result was allowed to witness it in another subject, and herself repeated the performance the next day. This illustrates the difficulty of excluding suggestion from these experi- ments. 2. Messrs. Bourru and Burot affirm that with certain subjects the mere approach of a her- metically sealed vial containing a drug (the nature of which may be unknown both to subject and operator) produces all the characteristic effects of strong doses of the substance. This incredible ob- servation when thoroughly studied may prove to be a case of hyper~sthesia of smell, together with a shrewd appreciation of suggestions; it requires the sharpest and most prolonged observation to estab- lish such a fact as evidence for a new psychic sense. The most recent studies strengthen the explanation of these facts as cases of extremely delicate uncon- scious suggestions. in all such experiments is the unconscious suggestion of the expected result. The tone of the question, the look of satisfac- tion when the desired result takes place, the impressive silence at a critical mo- ment, and a host of less obvious indica- tions are all seized upon and shrewdly in- terpreted. Whether they fully explain all that scientific observers have recorded may be doubted, but they show the neces- sity of the most minute cautions, which in the absence of such knowledge would be no less than foolish.* Finally, it cannot be too strongly in- sisted upon that the practical considera- tion by the public of these topics has a dangerous aspect. Public exhibitions of hypnotism have been legally prohibited in several European countries; criminal complications in which the subject plead- ed hypnotic suggestiont as a defence for crime have been introduced, and our courts must soon decide the question of responsibility in such cases. Hypnotism is not a parlor amusement nor a toy for dilettanti. It belongs to specialists, and it is they alone who can conduct the ex- periments so as to benefit mankind, and draw the conclusions that validly follow from the observations. The public is al- ways over-anxious for an immediately practical result, and does not appreciate the moral value of scientific reserve. Be- cause a refractory boy who while hypno- tized was impressed with the necessity of his reform really seemed to improve, hyp * It should not be overlooked that the discovery of these extraordinary susceptibilities is itself a valuable result. They make evident the marvellous control of the psychic over the physical mechanism of perception, and in those cases in which swellings are produced and taken away, insensibility brought on, or pain made to vanish, they show a mental con- trol of such normally involuntary processes as secre- tion, nutrition, and circulation. We here touch the scientific basis of the mind-cure, and it is to be hoped that reputable physicians will rescue this natural aid from the evil surroundings in which it is now found. ~ This refers to a post-hypnotic suggestion. It is found that if a hypnotized subject be told that on waking, or at a certain time after waking, he will do such and such an action, even if it is a discour- teous, or foolish, or criminal one, he actually does it. I once told a subject that on the following day at noon he would write me a postal-card. Though he had never written to me before, I received the postal as suggested. It should be added that the effect of the hypuotization is claimed to be as often ben- eficial as harmful; yet enough cases are on record in which more or less transient deleterious after- effects resulted to serve as a caution for the inex- perienced. 80 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. notic moralization is proposed as a patent mode of education, in disregard of all the dangers attending such a practice, of the insecurity of our knowledge in the mat- ter, and of its analogy with such normal experience as that of an impressive acci- dent rearranging the moral disposition of a susceptible youth. Remember that this hasty practical application of newly dis- covered facts (?) is often the mark of char- latanry. It was Mesmer who, on discov- ering animal magnetism, immediately had it ready for sale, to be applied for the cure of all diseases; it is the phrenologist who, glimpsing the fact that different areas of the brain serve different pur- poses, rushes to open a shop where, under the inspiration of a fee, cranial bumps can be converted into combativeness and amiability. 11.In passing to the consideration of alleged physical manifestations of super- natural agencies it is necessary to accent more emphatically the logical aspect of the question. The problem is a twofold one: 1. Does the evidence justify the con- clusion; and if not, what is the most ra- tional explanation? 2. How is it that those who sincerely accept the spiritual- istic theory come to do so? Recent expe- riences enable me to dispose of both these questions in a summary manner. It would certainly require a lively imagina- tion to picture the amount and kind of evidence necessary to even presumptively establish any such fact as is here referred to. To admit its possibility for the sake of argument is much like supposing a world where two and two make five. The collective experience, and much more the collective experimentation, of civilized centuries stand as a unit opposed to such a supposition. But apart from such considerations there is great interest and value in understanding how such appar- ent deviations from natural law are brought about. The chief movements that to-day make claims to be placed in this category are spiritualism and theoso- phy. Omitting all reference to the (often ennobling) theoretical beliefs attached to the physical phenomena, it is sufficient to refer to Mr. Hodgsons conclusive ex- posure of the immoral and systematic trickery by which theosophic marvels were announced to the world; to the va- ried and often amusing experiences of the Seybert commission for investigating spir itualism,. substituting at every step de- frauding trickster for medium, and lay- ing bare a score of contemptible devices* by which the credulity of simple-minded folk is preyed upon; to the experiences of certain members of the English Society for Psychic Research endorsing this con- clusion; and to the host of public and private exposures, ~incl uding almost every known medium.t Our knowledge of le- gerdemain is more than ample to account for anything that was ever really exhibit- ed by mediums, and thus enables me to simply refer to the light in which these practices now stand, without burdening these pages with a detailed account of them. The reason why so many are deceived is, I believe, due more than to anything else to the failure to perceive that the power and the right of forming an opinion as to the modus opcrandi of this kind of performance is a strictly technical acquire- ment. Imagine that much used but sel- dom accessible being, the average man, to witness for the first time the performance of a good prestidigitateur, and without knowing that a natural explanation was possible, to explain what he sees as best he can: he would be utterly dumfounded. Accustomed to implicitly trust the evi- dence of his senses because the ordinary affairs of life are so regulated as to make such a confidence generally valid and use- ful, he suddenly finds them testifying to occurrences startling to his common-sense. He is ready to accept any hypothesis that is impressively urged. Before the me- dium he is in exactly the same position; and to this must be added that the spir- itualistic hypothesis appeals to the emo- tions, and is pleasant to believe; that the phenomena occurring without a medium are precisely so arranged as to give the best possible conditions for self-deception (and with this all reason is often shatter- ed); and that it has been experimentally proven that the amount and kind of mal- observation and mal-description of me- * One of the greatest strongholds of spiritualists is the so-called slate-writing, in which messages appear on a clean slate, held so as to apparently give the medium no chance to write upon it. The trick has been explained and repeated by several professional cpnjurers, and to cap the climax a noted medium actually bought of such a conjurer a new slate-writing trick with the avowed intention of usin it in his sdances. 1 For a general account of these, see an article in the Popular Science Monthly, April, 1889. THE PROBLEMS OF PSYCHIC RESEARCH. 81 diumistic phenomena are amply sufficient to account for the divergence between the clever trick that was really done and the incredible miracle described by the con- fiding believer or the baffled observer. The study of these phenomena has thus contributed an interesting chapter to the natural history of error, showing how readily the emotions carry away the rea- son, and what a child the layman is be- fore the professional expert in sense-~ deception. 111.The possibility of the transfer- rence of thought apart from the recognized channels of sensation is of a remote kind. The evidence necessary to make such a fact probable must at least outweigh the long- accumulated counter-evidence against it, and is not to be expected in the lifetime of any one now living. The objection to this position on the ground that had it been held with regard to the announce- ments of Galileo and Columbus the dark ages would have been prolonged is un- warranted, because then the conflict was between the method of scientific demon- stration and the method of authority, while the questions here considered are by both parties admitted to be soluble by the scientific method only. It is the pol- icy of science to leave such questions open, and to examine any reputable mass of ev- idence in favor of the existence of a new force or a new mode of working of a known force, demanding for the admit- tance of the new view an amount of evi- dence proportional to its opposition to the received body of truth. The citation at the head of this article admirably express- es the view here taken. And from this point of view the question is whether or not such facts as have been collected can be satisfactorily explained by extending the significance of the recognized chan- nels of sensation, without recourse to an unphysiological hypothesis.* The answer to this question will depend on ones esti- mate of the inherent improbability of the telepathic hypothesis, as well as of the re- liability and significance of the most strik * I say nuphysiological because we have every reason to believe that the only method of impress- ing the brain-centres so as to arouse an impression having objective reality is through the conduction of nerves connected with special sense organs, each reacting to its own kind of stimulus, and conducting the disturbance thus imparted in absolute isolation, even to the isolation of every microscopic nerve fibre from its neighbor. ing experinients. The principle of these experiments consists in having one person guess a number, name a card, draw a dia- gram, etc., of which another person is at- tentively thinking, without any communi- cation between the two, and with the num- ber of successes due to chance foretold. The English Society claim that the number of successes with certain subjects so large- ly exceeds the number that chance would account for as to establish the direct trans- ferrence of ideas from mind to mind, and this they term telepathy. On this ba- sis they explain such wonderful occur- rences as death-bed coincidences, a typi- cal instance of which is the oft-repeated tale in which an irresistible impression (or even a spectral apparition*) of a distant friend is found to coincide with the time of death or other serious misfortune of that friend. Even with the mildest estimate of the inherent improbability of this hy- pothesis, and with the most liberal esti- mate of the reliability of the accumulated evidence, one cannot but consider this announcement, and especially the violent use thus made of it, as entirely premature. To my mind not only is the amount of evidence hopelessly insufficient, but the value of it extremely questionable. The precautions taken against deception (or at least the account of them) are far from complete; there was not even an at- tempt made to find out whether the na- ture of the failures did not suggest the modus opcrandi of the successes; whether the eye or the ear, for example, was in- dicated as the more active in the process; or, again, whether the conditions of great- est success do not shed such light.t It is all a technical question of stringency of con- ditions; and had the entire energies of the able committees of the English Society been spent simply uiion the discovery of * The evidence for such apparitions, for haunted houses, etc., is so beset with unreliable and inaccu- rate details that it seems impossible to give it a scientific shape. The most hopeful method is the recording of such instances by scientific men with a knowledge of the sources of error in such tales. This, like other problems of psychic research, has an anthropological interest apart from its eventual so- lution. ~ Another important consideration is the errone- ous calculation of the chances of a certain degree of success by neglect of the natural community and sim- ilarity of mens thoughts. In the Proceedings of the American Society for Psychic Research will be found most striking instances of the extreme limitations of natural mental products, and the bearings of these on the telepathic arguments. See especially Dr. Mi- nots articles in numbers 3 and 4. 82 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the sources of error in such experiments, I am confident that their results would have covered far fewer pages, but with a compensating value per page. Our know- ledge of the endless methods of uncon- sciously suggesting an expected result, of the exalted sensibilities in special direc- tions with which some persons are gifted or which they have cultivated, as well as of the incredibly clever means of decep- tion (and the fondness for exercising them), is already so advanced and so con- stantly increasing as to make the proposi- tion of an unscientific explanation, with- out the most crucial examination of the dews furnished by such knowledge, more than ever unwarranted. This hasty action of the English Society is sure to set a precedent pernicious to the mental health of the community. Al- ready a writer has announced that this society has shown -the historical miracles to be no longer mysterious, and has found that the low morality exhibited by plan- chette writing is due to telepathy, that prayer is thought transferrence, and in short has set up a religious faith that is threatened to change by every new num ber of the proceedings of a Psychic Re- search Society. Men and women of good mental calibre become intensely interested in these topics, and seem to lose their char- acteristic reserve. All this is largely due to the ignoring of the technical aspect of these problems. The acceptance and ap- plication, by the laity, of ideas that are to be only provisionally and theoretically entertained by specialists is mischievous to the extreme. It shakes the foundations upon which are built the approaches to the higher intellectual life, and paves the way for superstition and charlatanry. Let the scientific students of this study record their observations and draw their conclusions with all the caution and de- liberation characteristic of solid scienti tic advance. Let them give to the public only what is definitely established, and mindful of the special liability to abuse in- herent in this study, let them accompany their statements with a caution in this re- gard. In this way will they at once pro- mote the true progress of knowledge and secure the maintenance of that mental and moral health that makes for civiliza- tion and intellectual freedom. LITAIRENE. DEATH, come to me! Take this pain and striving Out of my brain. Take this gnawing misery Out from my heart. With your pale cold fingers Lay straight these bones That are weary! Shut from my sight The azure and the green And the opaline splendor of nature, Ensnaring the soul with hope And visions of a life as splendid! B~numb my ears that they hear not The wail of the thousands Who labor with bleeding hands Yet may not reap. Stop the ebb and the flow of life That brings force only for defeat, And quickens the heart only That it may bear its anguish. At least bring silence and peace, 0 tender and beautiful Death!

82 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the sources of error in such experiments, I am confident that their results would have covered far fewer pages, but with a compensating value per page. Our know- ledge of the endless methods of uncon- sciously suggesting an expected result, of the exalted sensibilities in special direc- tions with which some persons are gifted or which they have cultivated, as well as of the incredibly clever means of decep- tion (and the fondness for exercising them), is already so advanced and so con- stantly increasing as to make the proposi- tion of an unscientific explanation, with- out the most crucial examination of the dews furnished by such knowledge, more than ever unwarranted. This hasty action of the English Society is sure to set a precedent pernicious to the mental health of the community. Al- ready a writer has announced that this society has shown -the historical miracles to be no longer mysterious, and has found that the low morality exhibited by plan- chette writing is due to telepathy, that prayer is thought transferrence, and in short has set up a religious faith that is threatened to change by every new num ber of the proceedings of a Psychic Re- search Society. Men and women of good mental calibre become intensely interested in these topics, and seem to lose their char- acteristic reserve. All this is largely due to the ignoring of the technical aspect of these problems. The acceptance and ap- plication, by the laity, of ideas that are to be only provisionally and theoretically entertained by specialists is mischievous to the extreme. It shakes the foundations upon which are built the approaches to the higher intellectual life, and paves the way for superstition and charlatanry. Let the scientific students of this study record their observations and draw their conclusions with all the caution and de- liberation characteristic of solid scienti tic advance. Let them give to the public only what is definitely established, and mindful of the special liability to abuse in- herent in this study, let them accompany their statements with a caution in this re- gard. In this way will they at once pro- mote the true progress of knowledge and secure the maintenance of that mental and moral health that makes for civiliza- tion and intellectual freedom. LITAIRENE. DEATH, come to me! Take this pain and striving Out of my brain. Take this gnawing misery Out from my heart. With your pale cold fingers Lay straight these bones That are weary! Shut from my sight The azure and the green And the opaline splendor of nature, Ensnaring the soul with hope And visions of a life as splendid! B~numb my ears that they hear not The wail of the thousands Who labor with bleeding hands Yet may not reap. Stop the ebb and the flow of life That brings force only for defeat, And quickens the heart only That it may bear its anguish. At least bring silence and peace, 0 tender and beautiful Death! ~ BY C H. FARNHAM. IDWINTER life in Montreal offers many brilliant and fascinating scenes. What visitor, for example, can for- get the toboggan slide on a gala night? The white ob- scurit~ of moonlight gives the snowy world a distant, visionary look; and the sky is strange, with a misty luminous atmosphere that puts out the stars and yet allows the moon to peer through shift- ing veils of ruddy smoke. A galaxy of lights and fires all down the mountain- side and over the plain tinges the snow with intense colors, and marks a stream of warni humanity running freely in the arctic night. The stream is of buxom young men and women, delusively light- some and fluffy in blanket suits, stepping quickly past you on the upward path tow- ard the invisible summit; the sounds of their glad but decorous voices seem to be almost lost in the space and the silence of a winter nighta low babbling brook of confiding sounds. Presently the tobog- guns come swooping down as on the wing; the rush is breathless; the com- pact row of figures, the eager crouching steersman, the cloud of snow whirling up in their wake, all flash upon your sight like a mngic picture, from the dimness of night into the vividness of a red light or a green, or the shadowy glow of a bonfire. The vision has gone into obscurity ere you saw. it; and you follow it downward in wonder by the audible perspective, as it were, of vanishing shouts. Then, again, you will recall that you seem to gaze into another world in seeing the ice palace. It is an opalescent castle intensely brilliant in the sunshine, with walls of translucent shadows edged with prismatic hues. One expects to meet Kubla Khan at every turn within those walls of light, faint, cool, pearly colors. Even when men come nud storm it as an army of snow-shoers, it still remains an unearthly vision; it becomes an ice vol- cano shooting rockets and candles, and raining fire over winter snows; or a castle all incandescent in red or green lights. The snow-shoers with their torches then wind up the mountain and about its summit, while more pyrotechnics are shot from that height into the sky. The car- nival on skates is still more memorable, a unique scene of great beauty. The rink is brilliant, with a floor of ice like a mirror, in the centre an ice fountain with marble statues, all about it rows of people sitting patiently in the cold, the great roof hung with flags, and the whole lighted with electricity. The band strikes up, and calls out two long lines of skilful skaters, youths and maidens, dressed in fancy costumes; they and their reflections in the ice mirror wind about the rink for a time in various figures, and then break up into a general m~l~e, going round and round the rink by the hour, and offering a continual kaleidoscopic interchange of colors and costumes. The city is thus full of cheerful life and leisure, sports and gayeties. The bracing air lends a zest to all enjoyments. VOL. LXXIX.No. 4698

~ BY C H. FARNHAM. IDWINTER life in Montreal offers many brilliant and fascinating scenes. What visitor, for example, can for- get the toboggan slide on a gala night? The white ob- scurit~ of moonlight gives the snowy world a distant, visionary look; and the sky is strange, with a misty luminous atmosphere that puts out the stars and yet allows the moon to peer through shift- ing veils of ruddy smoke. A galaxy of lights and fires all down the mountain- side and over the plain tinges the snow with intense colors, and marks a stream of warni humanity running freely in the arctic night. The stream is of buxom young men and women, delusively light- some and fluffy in blanket suits, stepping quickly past you on the upward path tow- ard the invisible summit; the sounds of their glad but decorous voices seem to be almost lost in the space and the silence of a winter nighta low babbling brook of confiding sounds. Presently the tobog- guns come swooping down as on the wing; the rush is breathless; the com- pact row of figures, the eager crouching steersman, the cloud of snow whirling up in their wake, all flash upon your sight like a mngic picture, from the dimness of night into the vividness of a red light or a green, or the shadowy glow of a bonfire. The vision has gone into obscurity ere you saw. it; and you follow it downward in wonder by the audible perspective, as it were, of vanishing shouts. Then, again, you will recall that you seem to gaze into another world in seeing the ice palace. It is an opalescent castle intensely brilliant in the sunshine, with walls of translucent shadows edged with prismatic hues. One expects to meet Kubla Khan at every turn within those walls of light, faint, cool, pearly colors. Even when men come nud storm it as an army of snow-shoers, it still remains an unearthly vision; it becomes an ice vol- cano shooting rockets and candles, and raining fire over winter snows; or a castle all incandescent in red or green lights. The snow-shoers with their torches then wind up the mountain and about its summit, while more pyrotechnics are shot from that height into the sky. The car- nival on skates is still more memorable, a unique scene of great beauty. The rink is brilliant, with a floor of ice like a mirror, in the centre an ice fountain with marble statues, all about it rows of people sitting patiently in the cold, the great roof hung with flags, and the whole lighted with electricity. The band strikes up, and calls out two long lines of skilful skaters, youths and maidens, dressed in fancy costumes; they and their reflections in the ice mirror wind about the rink for a time in various figures, and then break up into a general m~l~e, going round and round the rink by the hour, and offering a continual kaleidoscopic interchange of colors and costumes. The city is thus full of cheerful life and leisure, sports and gayeties. The bracing air lends a zest to all enjoyments. VOL. LXXIX.No. 4698 84 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Montreal is a striking exception to the text that a house divided against itself cannot stand. Its divisions are so funda- mental and persistent that they have not diminished one iota in a century, but rather increased. The two irreconcilable elements are Romanism and Protestant- ism; the armies are of French and Eng- lish blood. The outlook for peace is well- nigh hopeless, with two systems of educa- tion producing fundamental differe~ices of character, and nourishing religious in- tolerance, race antipathy, social division, political antagonism, and commercial sep- aration. Nevertheless, this city of disunion flour- ishes as the green bay-tree, with a steady if not an amazing growth, which is due chiefly to the separate, not the united, efforts of the races. The English social life of Montreal is in a transition state between the former garrison life and the developments that commercial life will bring. Up to 1872 the city was garrisoned successively by many regiments of distinction, having in command prominent members of the Eng- lish aristocracy. Society then consisted almost entirely of ebout two hundred army officers, a few government officials, and the English ladies of the town; a few French Canadian families of the better class who adopted English ways, and a very few civilians, were admitted to this somewhat aristocratic company. Society therefore was formed on the army ideals, habits, etiquette. When the English re- giments were withdrawn, society lost it~ chief features, and the removal of the capital to Toronto, Quebec, and finally to Ottawa took away the bureaucracy. Since then, with a marked increase of wealth, society has acquired new elements foreign influences also have added some- what to the disorganization. Hence the polish of society has very naturally de- clined somewhat, but the conventionali ties helped by the persistence of niilitary traditions and a strong general spirit of conservatism still maintain their promi- nence in social intercourse. On the oth- er hand, hospitable customs, the buoyant. health and spirits of the people, and their easy good-fellowship, cultivated by the practice of out-door sports, help to balance these conventional tendencies and to keep them from becoming too weighty a burden on the national character. The colonial relations still give to society its dominant. featuresEnglish fashions, manners, and customs; but intercourse with the United States introduces some secondary elements% from American life, which have increased much since the departure of the English garrison and the growth of trade with the United States. GENERAL vi~w OF MCGILL COLLEGE. MONTREAL. 85 The population comprises three race divisionsthe English - speaking Scotch, English, Irish, and Americans; the French Canadians; and a few mixed families of English and French. Foreigners are al- most unknown in Montreal, if the Amer- icans be excepted. The community or society in general has no clearly defined castes. What aristocracy there was disap- peared with the garrison; and as English aristocratic manners and customs seem ill adapted to this commercial community, all attempts in this direction have failed. Society thus lacks the order and the pow- er that may be derived from large homo- geneons and reasonable divisions; unhap- pily it suffers, as many other cominuni- ties do, from the pettiness of small divi- sions or cliques. The ultra-fashionable set changes personnel rather rapidly, with the changes of wealth, but preserves enough leaven of polish from decade to VICTORIA SQUARE. 86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. decade to raise the material. The nation- al character and many homes well fur- nished in the English style give to the city a delightful air of comfort, cheerful- ness, and solidity. One of the largest and most important social elements of Mont- real are the professors of McGill Univer- sity. The Americans, about one hun- dred families, are not a prominent ele- ment in fashionable life. The Scotch are easily the leading people here, as they are so generally in British colonies. And the Irish fill here their customary industrial and political r6les, generally in peace and order, but now and then with an Orange riot or some outbreak of hatred against the French Canadians. The social season in Montreal is natural- ly midwinter, and a charming season it is: gayeties, as they say, come and go with the snow. The chief forms of enter- tainment are dinners, quite English in style and appointments, American par- ties, with dancing, balls, and five-oclock teas. In public amusements the city is somewhat deficient, considering its size and its metropolitan importance in the Dominion? The clergy of both religions regard the theatre with much disfavor; and the division of the population as to language also makes the development of the drama difficult. But notwithstand- ing these hinderances two theatres are supported; in one of them the celebrities of the day play short engagements from time to time. The snow-shoe concert de- serves mention as a feature of some origi- nality; it is generally a creditable ama- teur performance of songs, choruses, read- ings, etc., in the key of high hilarity; and the clubs all seem to have a good number of members who can carry off such affairs in a manly, pleasant way. For a stran- ger the audience is the chief interesta lot of well-made athletic men, of whole- some color, despite the confinement of their professional or commercial lives. Montreal is said to possess the secret of forming successful clubsa power natu- rally developed where society matters are such a prominent element. The English have two social clubs, the St. James and the Metropolitan, besides a number of so- cieties devoted to special pursuits. The Hunt Club, having the oldest pack of hounds and the finest establishment in America, contains much of the 4lite of Montreal society. The climate leads to some features of organization not found in the hunts of England; the club has a house, regular membership to support it, accommodations for visiting members and horses, and it joins to its special amuse- ment the social feature of dances given in its house in winter. The club meets, oc- curring twice a week from September till Ck ~t J7. ~ S~ ~a-~- ~ cr;~ zc~ZL 88 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. snow falls, present one of the most pic- turesque sights about the city, with fine horses, fine riders, the scarlet coats, and the eager hounds bursting across the country after the wily fox. Athletics are the chief amusement and the keenest interest of a large part of the well-to-do men and women of Montreal. This life centres, perhaps, about the large gymnasium which is the head-quarters of various branches of the Athletic Associa- tion; but physical well-being is secured by many other meansa most enthusias tic yet reasonable practice of many out- of-door pastimes: lacrosse, foot.ball, boat- ing, bicycling, hunting, golf, racket, ten- nis, racing, skating, tobogganing, curling, snow-shoeing, fishing, shooting, and crick- et create in the city an unusual number of successful clubs. And as if these were not enough, the English population, not half of the total of about 175,000, support with good attendance quite a complete volunteer military service. It contains one cavalry regiment, one corps of engi- neers, one battery of field artillery, one of BON5ECOUR5 MARKET. MONTREAL. 89 garrison artillery, two rifle regiments, one of Highianders, one of Fusileers. The French Canadians furnish only a rifle re- gitnent. As has already been intimated, besides gayeties and athletics, church-go- ing and works of piety are a prominent element in social occupations. The city is remarkably full of churches of both re- ligions, and charitable irvstitutions abound to an unusual extent. Intellectual interests are not a promi- nent element of Montreal life. The liter- ary life of the city has but just begun to shine, beyond a very small circle of local writers, into the ranks of society. But that literary interests are awakening in society is shown by an increase of study, if not yet by many notable productions. There are now the usual clubs for the reading of Shakespeare and Browning, and many other societies looking to social improve- ment through the cultivation of letters. Montreal is said to be the chief book cen- tre of Canada, but the city does not pos- sess a public general library, excepting the Frazer Institute, just struggling into existence; the libraries of individual insti- tutions do not cover well any other top- ics than theology and civil law, and the six chief libraries together, of both lan- guages, contain only about 100,000 vol- umes. The press of Montreal is very much hampered by the constant necessi- ty of being politic in a sharply divided community. Music suffers from the dis- favor with which the churches regard the drama; for without successfultheatres or an opera an orches- tra cannot be main- tained, and the art thus lacks its chief means of expression. There are, however, some amateur or- ganizations of pub- lic use; the Mendels- sohn Choir, which treats the public now and then to part songs and light choral works; the Philharmonic Society, but lately formed, which gives two or three concerts each winter; military bands~ and a number of lesser companies te~tify to some interest in the art. But it is generally conceded that the study of music is quite lukewarm, and that music is not an important part of social life; the choirs of the city inevi- tably reflect the general level of the art. Montreal is but just beginning also to adorn itself with painting, and sculpture. The Art Association, incorporated in 1860, is doing much to cultivate the public taste by exhibitions and instruction; and edu- cation also includes more or less study of technical art. The pictures in the Roman Catholic churches are insignificant, but a few good canvases are to be seen in two or three wealthy houses. The chief sat- isfactions in Montreal are not intellectual and artistic gratifications, but gayeties, out-door sports, and a conservative piety. Living costs much less than it does in the chief cities of the United States; social entertainments are not led by rival ex- travagance; the moderate pace of life al- CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL. U 90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. BONSEcOURs CHURCH. lows men of business to take some leisure without dropping out of the race. The dominant qualities of this English colonial community are comfort, cheerfulness, and so- lidity. The French Canadian upper classes are in a singular social condition. They form a society that is mature, being the product of an old and complete system of education, laws, language, cus- toms, and religion. They are gre- garious by nature, and given to social enjoyments; they are nat- MONTREAL. 91 urally a capable race; they have always been most closely united in national in- terests and sympathy, and opposed to internal variations in culture as well as to external influences; and they have, relatively to the cost of their educa- tion and their living, always been suffi- ciently well-to-do to command what edu- cation their Church chose to give. It is true that the conquest deprived the na- tional life of most of its seigneurs and leaders of society, and that the old fam- ilies since then have died out or sunk into the ranks. But these misfortunes merely changed the personnel of society from the titled to the professional class, which, if more democratic, is also more numerous and more active. Courtliness of manners undoubtedly declined; but the institutions of learning were in no way disturbed; the religious, moral, and intellectual forces and interests and ten- dencies were not changed. The race has increased wonderfully in numbers and power and means of culture; and it seems probable that society has grown with the growth of the country to be both larger and more cultivated than it was before the conquest. And as to keeping stead- fastly to its characteristics, so faithfully have the French Canadian Roman Cath- olic manners, customs, traditions, educa- tion, language, laws, domestic life, social unity, been preserved that the race is a marvel to all visitors. It seems, then, not unjust to say that French Canadian soci- ety is quite mature, sufficiently numer- ous, and in native capacity able to sus- tain a social life of varied interests and elevating efforts. The surprise is there- fore great to find the society of this lar- gest and most wealthy of French Canadi- an communities almost without social or- ganization, lacking social leaders, amuse- ments of worth, intellectual, scientif- ic, and artistic centres and activities. Doubtless the lack of large fortunes and some other material circumstances may have contributed somewhat to this result; but it cannot be doubted that the chief cause is the fact that the civilization of the French Canadian people is to such an extent moulded and restricted by its re- ligious guardians. The chief beauty of Montreal is the vastness of its surroundings. From the mountain you look upon a view of almost limitless expanse, and of singular nobil- ity and simplicity. You stand high above an immense plain; its monuments are a group of isolated mountain cones; you sa- lute in the distance the Green Mountains and the Adirondacks, for these are out- posts of our republic. The St. Lawrence, joined by the Ottawa near by, flows straight on through the plain; you feel the might of its rush, and you almost hear the roar of its gleaming and enor- mous rapids. The vast expanse of sky, the majestic pageantry of clouds, the clear sunlight all about and so far away, the generous wind of this pure Northern airall of it is broad and full of nobil- ity. Then the city at your feet has but little that bemeans this magnificence. It stretches about five miles along the river, and runs about two miles back, over a series of terraces rising to the mountain; factories, mills, and the homes of workmen are at each end, and the cen- tral portion is occupied by the shipping, the public buildings, the business thor- oughfares; near the mountain, along wide shady streets, are the houses of the middle and upper classes. Victoria Bridge, markets, elevators, spires, domes, and huge monasteries rise above the common level of roofs. The green plain lies all about it, and the forest runs down the streets and stretches its arms over the homes of men. As you descend for a walk about town you pass many delightful views, nooks, gullies, lanes, and turns of road and path in this Mount Royal park. In architecture the city disappoints any one looking for artistic and picturesque fea- tures. An old church or two and a cha- teau or two of the French rdgime awaken your expectations, but lead to no satis- faction. And yet the general impression it gives is decidedly one of beauty and brightness. Montreal presents a seaport 250 miles inland from salt-water, 1000 miles from the Atlantic. It is also singular as a sea- port without the usual forest of masts. Black ocean steam-ships, white compact lake steamers, canal - boats, and river steam-boats are almost the only craft to be seen. There is, however, one sailing vessel, the quaint pinpiat, square-bowed, square-sterned, flat-bottomed, with one tall mast covered with square sails. Manned by the primitive French Canadian habi- tants, it comes to town with wood or hay, and forms the most picturesque element of the port. The river-front is fine. The wharves at the water level are provided 92 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. with a railroad and with removable freight sheds for the ice sweeps away every- thing that is perishableand the Lachine Canal continues the frontage around large basins. Back of all this rises a stone re- vetement wall supporting the river street, and above this again stands a long line of massive warehouses, the Bonsecours Mar- ket and Church, and the Custom-house. In its general plan, solidity, and unity it reminds one of the quals of Paris. But it presents a sight in the spring impossi- ble to that brilliant capital. When the St. Lawrence awakens after his long sleep, the ice collects, shoves over the wharves and even over the high wall, and presents a chaos of blocks, a veritable mer de glacc. The spring freshet is an event of anxiety and very often of loss to the city. The water-side seems to be without the usual seaport slums; its massive business front is clean, sedate, and very proper. The unfailing attraction of a market scene will draw you to Bonsecours. The old church has fallen a prey to the lack of veneration, so strange and yet so com- mon in this Roman Catholic community the very champion of tradition. Be- fore recent repairs were done it was pic- turesque with its line of shops backed up along the foot of its plain high wall. Within the church is a statue of the Vir- gin which was carried through the streets in religious procession to stop the cholera many years ago; and again in 1885, to destroy the small-pox. The market-place offers a quaint lot of people, generally dull, heavy, material, but kindly. On one side of the walk rise the Hall and the line of little booths, selling the small wares of an economical people; on the other is a line of one-horse carts loaded with small lots of farm and garden produce. The scene is singularly devoid of color or oth BON5ECOUR5 MARKETMARKET-DAY, JACQUE5 CARTIER sQUARE. MONTREAL. 93 er beauty. The customers are generally of the middle and the lower classes, dress- ed very plainly, even with a sombre ef- fect, in black or dark stuffs without orna- ments. The peasant has abandoned his homespun, but he is still an elementary man. The dealing is done in a quiet way, with low voices and a decorous spir- it; no one is hurried. As a rule there is no market price; a vender, either on the market or in the French Canadian retail shops of the city, asks generally at least double what he expects to get; and the buyer always offers about half what is asked. The French Canadian is by na- ture so litigious and intriguing that a prompt bargain is distasteful to him; he desires the disputation of dickering and NOTRE DAME DE LOURDES. 94 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the excitement. After an endless amount of fencing and changing of prices the habitant will leave the store, and the shop- keeper will complacently call him back; and when the customer gets home and finds that his purchase is dear, he justifies it by saying that he got a lot of dickering thrown in for nothing. Montreal is divided sharply into two parts, the French and the English, the East and the West ends. In each part the business portion lies near the river, the wealthier homes near the mountain. In the poorer French region the signs, the trades, the domestic life, the houses, are all distinctly French and quite Continental in character. The streets have lines of small houses of one or one and a half stories, with dormer-windows peeping out of steep roofs, and here and there a little niche of a piazza; a lane now and then gives some shadowy and broken forms and quiet nooks. But all unity and effec- tiveness are lost by the presence of many modern houses utterly plain and ungra- cious. The chief business streets of the city St. James, Notre Dame, McGillgive a good impression by their massive lime- stone buildings, both public and commer- cial. Here and there in the town is met a touch of grace and beauty, as in the English cathedral and the Chapel of Notre Dame de Lourdes. The cut - stone residences along -- Sherbrooke and other streets at the foot of the mountain embody well the leading tones of the English life heresolidity, comfort, and cheerfulness. But you feel everywhere that Montreal is distinctly a Northern city: the winter predominates; the best life is within, both in character and in architect- ure. Naturally enough the most interesting features of the city to an American visitor thus strolling about are those con- nected with the leading ele- ment of the French Cana- dian lifethose of the Ro- man Catholic religion. Here, among a Roman Catholic population noted chiefly for their lack of wealth, is build- ing a cathedral one-third the size of St. Peters, and of the same shape, excepting that this one has a pointed roof to shed snow. They have already, besides many other churches, the great Notre Dame, the largest in America ex- cepting the cathedral of Mexico. It seats 10,000 people, and will hold 15,000. The official poster at the door asserts that the great bell in the tower is the largest in the world. It is the eighth bell in size, weighing only 24,780 pounds. In the in- terior, vast but somewhat harsh and gaudy, you may see an ornate spiral pul- pit and a bronze statue of St. Peter, of which the toes are well polished. You can continue visiting churches and chapels all day. None of them contain any art of importance, but they reveal a religious life of the Middle Ages kept up with mar- vellous force in this nineteenth century. One of the pleasantest scenes of this reli- gious life may be witnessed in the city of the dead. In the cemetery on the moun- tain, along the streets of tombs, are erect- ed little grottoes, each having in colored alto-rilievo a tableau of the stations of the cross. A priest leads slowly the flock from station to station, and explains to the kneeling people the dogmatic value of the sufferings portrayed. The trees, birds, chants, sunshine, and the murmur- ing winds all combine to make the cere- niony touching. The route ends on a - -72:~ CLOCK AND GATEWAY OF 5T. sTJLrIcE. MONTREAL. 95 knoll where three huge crosses and fig- big enou~h to contain the entire corn- ures represent most realistically the final munity; and to-day the same ratio holds, agony. When I visited the place, of a for the largest edifices of the city are fine June day, a company of convent convents. And as the population of the girls and nuns were holding a merry pic- city is divided as to relilon, the place nic at this place. After their picnic they has a duplicate of nearly every kind of knelt for prayer, and then drove away re- charitable institution, besides a great num- joicing. On many of the graves are evi- her of churches. Probably the chief ob- dences of tender regard for the departed struction to the citys growth is this ec- little plaster statues of saints, photographs clesiastic element. I was told that about of the deceased, or little altars with candles and crucifixes, set up in glass-covered lit- tle boxes or toy chapels. The most noted grave of the place is undoubtedly that of Guibord, buried at the point of English bayonets after years of opposition and even riotous commotion over his inter- ment. His rest was secured by filling his grave with cement strengthened by hoops and scraps of iron, and on top was laid a huge stone block, rou~,h, obdurate, im- inoyable. The inscription, however, was not so enduring. It has been entirely erased. Montreal seems to be full of gigantic monasteries. Indeed the city was found- ed by building first of all a monastery twenty per cent. of the property pays no taxes; many religious corporations manu- facture various articles and make a ruin- ous competition with the working classes; and much of the land is locked up in re- ligious orders that will neither sell nor improve it. Montreal has always been the metropo- lis of Canada, in being from the earliest days of the colony the central starting- point for the fur-trader, the missionary, and the explorer. Its picturesque epoch is that of the French regime, so admirably described by Mr. Parkman; and it pre- served for nearly a century after the con- quest at least an after-glow of romance in the Hudson Bay Companys operations at THE WAY OF THE CROSS IN THE CEMETERY. 96 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Lachine. But the railroads and canals have at last banished the bark canoe, the Indian, the voyageur, and the missionary to more remote posts of the interior. Mis- sions and the fur trade proved to be very unproductive elements for the growth of a colony; the city grew with amazing slow- ness. In 1765, afternearly a century and a quarter of existence, the city had but 5733 souls. The English brought new forces and elements, but still it moved slowly, and did not reach 15,000 till 1819, and 59,000 till 1852. The disadvantages that the St. Lawrence and the climate liii- posed on trade even as lately as fifty years ago had much to do with this backward- ness. Navigation was difficult in summer and impossible in winter. No ocean ves- sel larger than 300 tons could come up the St. Lawrence above Lake St. Peter, because of the shallowness of the river in that ex- pansion. And the St. Mary current just along the city front is so strong that ves- sels used to lie below it for days or even weeks awaiting a fair wind, and even the steam-boats of early times had to add many yokes of oxen to their power. Such ob- structions naturally enough deprived Mont- real of the clipper ships that helped so powerfully to develop American trade; but the city had a fair share of the com- merce of the continent, done in smaller vessels. Of course the winter closed the port for five or six long months. Inland navigation was even more difficult, for the St. Lawrence and the Ottawa present at once impassable rapids. The slow growth of Montreal for two centuries was there- fore inevitable. The chief elements of its trade were the importation of goods from Europe, the selling and forwarding of them to west- ern towns, the sending of supplies to the lumbermen of the Ottawa, the exportation of grain, and the fur trade. It was near- ly all a carrying trade; and this was pre- cisely what was most difficult in those days. The building of steam-boats and the opening of the Lachine and Ottawa and Rideau canals had improved matters very much by 183040. But the active growth of Montreal dates from 1850 to 1860, in answer to the opening of the St. Lawrence system of canals, the comple- tion of the Victoria Bridge, the deepening of Lake St. Peter, the building of the Grand Trunk Railway, and the formation of ocean steam-ship lines. Such a num- ber of great commercial advantages rarely falls upon a city in a period of ten or fif- teen years. The canals of the St. Law- rence are the greatest achievements of the kind in the world, considering the small population of the two provinces that built themabout 400,000. They are much larger than those of the United States; indeed some men consider them to be too costly for the best results, since they have not paid the dividends expected. If a part of their cost had been invested in other ways, the country perhaps would have benefited more. Montreal now pos- sesses many advantages, giving it good prospects of an indefinite expansion. At the head of ocean navigation and the be- ginning of inland navigation, it is natu- rally the most central port for importa- tion, distribution, and exportation. Thus far it has been this natural key of the great St. Lawrence highway to the cen- tre of the continent. If, however, the canal system of the St. Lawrence should be enlarged to pass ocean vessels directly to the lakes, some elements of her impor- tance will probably wane. The ocean fleet of Montreal consists of five weekly lines of steamers to Liverpool and Glas- gow, eight fortnightly lines to London, Bristol, Newcastle - on - Tyne, Hamburg, Antwerp, the lower St. Lawrence, New- foundland, and Cape Breton; there are also many independent steamers. The inland fleet, while of smaller Vessels, ag- gregates a little more tonnage than the ocean fleet. The business of the port in 1887 reveals these totals: value of ex- ports, $29,391,798 ; value of imports, $43,100,183; customs duties collected, $8,745,526; number of sea-going vessels, 767; tonnage of sea-going vessels, 870,773. Four lines of railways enter the citythe Grand Trunk, the Canadian Pacific, th~e Central Vermont, and the Southeastern. The railways take nearly all the west- bound traffic, and the water brings nearly all the east- bound, which is composed mainly of grain, lumber, and minerals. A great quantity of American grain passes in bond through the port bound for Euro- pean markets. Although Montreal is the most important port of Canada, and Can- ada is the fourth maritime country of the world, yet the imports of the city do not represent by any means the total ofthe imports of the St. Lawrence bound for upper Canadian towns. Importation in Canada has always been more diffused than it is in the United States, where the MONTREAL. 97 seaports do almost all of that business. In Canada many merchants of smaller inland cities import directly a great part of their goods. Although the traffic of M6ntreal has increased at a more rapid ratio than that of New York, or perhaps that of any other port of this continent, yet this showing is somewhat deceptive as an indication of the general prosperity of the Dominion; for Montreal is the only port for all western Canada, while no city in the United States enjoys such a monop- oly. Of the traffic of the continent Mon- treal has not attracted quite its share of increase, but the growth of its trade is nevertheless very satisfactory. A great deal of the wealth of Montreal is in bank stock, and it is said that about BANK OF MONTREAL AND rosT-OFFIcE. 98 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. $15,000,000 of it goes and comes between Montreal, New York, and Chicago in obe- dience to the stock market. The state of trade is not a healthy one; long credits prevail, and the attendant evils are com- mon. Manufactures have been added only since about 1875 to the other commercial elements of Montreal, and the city offers some advantages in this line by its cheap fuel brought from England as ballast or from Nova Scotia, by its central position, and by the cheap labor drawn from the contented, docile, unambitious French Canadians. The city is by far the chief manufacturing centre of Canada; it turns out now almost anything from a locomo- tive to a cigar. And as her markets are extended in the west indefinitely by the commercial traveller and the railway, the city must grow rapidly in this department of civilization. Montreals relations to the lake States and to New England were formerly much more intimate than they are now. Before the telegraph and rail- road brought the farmers market to his door the commercial traveller was more often a buyer than a seller. Montreal merchants used to travel in the lake States to buy produce more than to sell; but they also sold goods in the lake cities, and did a large share of the carrying trade. The most of the grain they brought went vid Montreal to Europe, and, on the other hand, some of the Ontario grain crossed the lakes to American mills. In New England Montreal found a considerable market for agricultural products and for lumber if reciprocity existed for any- thing besides defaulters. Americans were then a prominent element in Montreal. Several Boston hardware firms founded branches there, and did the most of that business; the hotels and inns were all in the hands of Americans; most of the jew- elry stores and hat stores also. They were prominent in the movement to make Hochelaga the commercial part of the city, whereby quiet water would have given better facilities to shipping. and level land would have offered space for the commerce of the town. But only two or three names of that colony now remain. The Americans now in Montreal are not at the head of very important branches of trade. They do something in coal and in small manufactures for the Canadian market, and a few have sunk money in lumber and in mines. The French Canadian merchant does not hold a commanding position com- mercially. French Canadians themselves prefer to deal with English houses and to work for English employers. In the en- tire province scarcely a French Canadian has ever organized an important successful enterprise; lumbering, wholesale trade, public works, are almost invariably in other hands. /1 VIEW FROM THE cusToM-HousE. FRIENDLY RIVALRY. A STORY OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY. BY JAMES SULLY. I T was a windy day in the month of Marx, year 48 of the Commune (March, 1950, according to old chronology). In spite of the cutting east wind a considera- ble crowd was gathered as early as seven oclock before the doors of the Cambridge Examination Hall. It was made up pretty equally of young men and maidens, both alike dressed in blouse, ample corduroy pantaloons, and wide-brimmed felt hats, much after the fashion of the Savoyards of the nineteenth century, the only notice- able difference being the greater length of the womans blouse. They were talking together rapidly and excitedly, and from the eager, impatient manner in which they now and again turned to the closed door it was evident that something of un- usual interest was going on inside. To understand this matutinal and self- forgetful curiosity, we must recall one or two events. When the new Socialism began to take definite practical shape at the close of the nineteenth century, the University of Cambridge shrewdly re- solved to give the movement academic authority and guidance. It accordingly proceeded to construct a new and exact science of society on a Communistic base, under the name of Demics. A new Demic Tripos was founded, which very soon, from its exceptional difficulty and su- preme interest, became the favorite with the most ambitious undergraduates. Af- ter Communism took actual shape at the beginning of the century, a high place in the Demic Tripos came to be recognized as a sure stepping-stone to the much cov- eted office of Scientific Adviser to one of the great Communal Councils. In order to secure fairness in this examination the Central Educational Board of Whitechap- el sent down two Scrutators, who were required to affirm that they did not know any of the candidates even by name, and whose business it was to make an exact comparative measurement of Phe scientific competence and degree of altruistic de- velopment of the several candidates, part- ly by an estimate of their theses, partly by careful cranioscopic experiments car- ried out on the candidates after keing hypnotized. VOL. LxxIX.No. 4699 In the year of our story there was un- usual curiosity respecting the result of the examinations. Two candidates were pop- ularly r.egarded at Cambridge as having brains of maximum development. These were Sylvia Harwood, a dainty - looking little blonde of eighteen, and Frank Simes a big awkwardly built youth, with a large untidy head, and of about the same age as Sylvia. This gifted young woman had not only carried everything before her in the matter of examinations, but had shown herself the most efficient debater at the new Union. Frank had proved himself a mathematician and logician of the third degree of eminence, and his ad- mirers predicted the highest things of him, if only he would master one weak- nessa sort of atavistic fondness for the sentimental poetry of an earlier age. The testing, which was carried out in a thor- oughly scientific way, was as 1000 to 999.66 in favor of Sylvia. This might seem to ordinary minds to point to an in- appreciable difference between the two, but to the nicely discriminative Cam- bridge intellect it was exceedingly im- portant. Punctually on the last stroke of eight oclock the doors opened, and two men, distinguished by blouses on which were embroidered in white various educational symbols, proceeded to read from docu- ments in strict simultaneity the following award: We, the duly deputed Scrutators of the Educational Board, declare Sylvia Harwood to be First, and Frank Simes Second, Demic of the year. To the former is awarded the Shepherds Crook, now the symbol of freely accepted Social guidance; and to the latter, sent to Cambridge from the poor Commune of Mayfair, we decree a sum sufficient to remunerate his Com- mune for the loss of his services. The announcement was greeted by a volley of plaudits, among which one could recog- nize the cries 5 Long live the Commune ! Honor the women ! and so forth. Odd as it may seem, Sylvia and Frank had never met. It seems that when So- cialism came in, it got to be a rule at Cam- bridge that, with a view to exclude all

FRIENDLY RIVALRY. A STORY OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY. BY JAMES SULLY. I T was a windy day in the month of Marx, year 48 of the Commune (March, 1950, according to old chronology). In spite of the cutting east wind a considera- ble crowd was gathered as early as seven oclock before the doors of the Cambridge Examination Hall. It was made up pretty equally of young men and maidens, both alike dressed in blouse, ample corduroy pantaloons, and wide-brimmed felt hats, much after the fashion of the Savoyards of the nineteenth century, the only notice- able difference being the greater length of the womans blouse. They were talking together rapidly and excitedly, and from the eager, impatient manner in which they now and again turned to the closed door it was evident that something of un- usual interest was going on inside. To understand this matutinal and self- forgetful curiosity, we must recall one or two events. When the new Socialism began to take definite practical shape at the close of the nineteenth century, the University of Cambridge shrewdly re- solved to give the movement academic authority and guidance. It accordingly proceeded to construct a new and exact science of society on a Communistic base, under the name of Demics. A new Demic Tripos was founded, which very soon, from its exceptional difficulty and su- preme interest, became the favorite with the most ambitious undergraduates. Af- ter Communism took actual shape at the beginning of the century, a high place in the Demic Tripos came to be recognized as a sure stepping-stone to the much cov- eted office of Scientific Adviser to one of the great Communal Councils. In order to secure fairness in this examination the Central Educational Board of Whitechap- el sent down two Scrutators, who were required to affirm that they did not know any of the candidates even by name, and whose business it was to make an exact comparative measurement of Phe scientific competence and degree of altruistic de- velopment of the several candidates, part- ly by an estimate of their theses, partly by careful cranioscopic experiments car- ried out on the candidates after keing hypnotized. VOL. LxxIX.No. 4699 In the year of our story there was un- usual curiosity respecting the result of the examinations. Two candidates were pop- ularly r.egarded at Cambridge as having brains of maximum development. These were Sylvia Harwood, a dainty - looking little blonde of eighteen, and Frank Simes a big awkwardly built youth, with a large untidy head, and of about the same age as Sylvia. This gifted young woman had not only carried everything before her in the matter of examinations, but had shown herself the most efficient debater at the new Union. Frank had proved himself a mathematician and logician of the third degree of eminence, and his ad- mirers predicted the highest things of him, if only he would master one weak- nessa sort of atavistic fondness for the sentimental poetry of an earlier age. The testing, which was carried out in a thor- oughly scientific way, was as 1000 to 999.66 in favor of Sylvia. This might seem to ordinary minds to point to an in- appreciable difference between the two, but to the nicely discriminative Cam- bridge intellect it was exceedingly im- portant. Punctually on the last stroke of eight oclock the doors opened, and two men, distinguished by blouses on which were embroidered in white various educational symbols, proceeded to read from docu- ments in strict simultaneity the following award: We, the duly deputed Scrutators of the Educational Board, declare Sylvia Harwood to be First, and Frank Simes Second, Demic of the year. To the former is awarded the Shepherds Crook, now the symbol of freely accepted Social guidance; and to the latter, sent to Cambridge from the poor Commune of Mayfair, we decree a sum sufficient to remunerate his Com- mune for the loss of his services. The announcement was greeted by a volley of plaudits, among which one could recog- nize the cries 5 Long live the Commune ! Honor the women ! and so forth. Odd as it may seem, Sylvia and Frank had never met. It seems that when So- cialism came in, it got to be a rule at Cam- bridge that, with a view to exclude all 100 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. possibility of the old anti-social feeling of rivalry, competitors for distinction should remain strangers to one another. This rule had been severely criticised: on the side of its ineffectiveness by some, who said that if a person were unevolved enough to wish to fight, he could just as readily make a foe of an unknown quan- tity as of a familiar concrete personality; and on the side of its needlessness by others, who thought it an insult to the highly socialized Cambridge type of man to suppose him capable of anything but the most amicable contest. The eminent lady mathematician with whom each of the two aspirants had read shared in this feeling, and but for an almost he- roic effort of self-control she might have lapsed more than once into petulant com- plaint at the endless trouble to which she was put avoiding a rencontre between her two gifted pupils. So, on the very day the result of the examination was made known, she proceeded with some- thing dangerously near a feeling of mali- cious satisfaction to invite her pupils to dine with her. Both accepted the invita- tion, but with unequal degrees of eager- ness. Sylvia, absorbed in the problems of abstract science, set little store by con- crete personality, and she looked forward to meeting her competitor with a feeling approximating to indifference. Far oth- erwise with Frank. His sentimental na- ture had already invested his fellow- Demic with the charm of mystery, and he felt something bordering on trepidation at the thought of the uplifting of the veil. At five oclock the little company as- sembled in division A, compartment 28, of the University Prytaneion. The scene contrasted strongly with the gorgeous dis- plays of Hall and Common-Room of the past century. No silver or cut glass adorned the board, which was of the plainest. The simple blouse costume of the guests lent the scene a further home- liness. The repast consisted of three courses, viz., meat, rice and butter, and fruit, all divided beforehand in propor- tions accurately measured according to the latest results of the Science of Dietet- ics. Learned discussion on knotty points in pure mathematics, psychics, and de- mics supplied a pleasing diversion in the intervals of the meal. Sylvia was at her best; she felt she had an appreciative audience, and her swiftly moving brain threw off quite a shower of brilliant and, to her less advanced audience, startling suggestions. Frank gave himself up to intemperate admiration, and, as a conse- quence, was even less talkative than usual. He just sat and drank in with eye and ear every movement of the glistening gray eyes, every modulation of the clear, em- phatic voice. He felt himself in presence of a perfect mind, a brain the action of which combined the swiftness of the wo- mans with the certainty of the mans, and which was motived by the intensest devotion to truth and humanity. He accepted the Scrutators award not only with resignation, but with enthusiastic approval. He felt all personal emotion submerged in joyous admiration of a per- fect cerebral organization. As, however, he laid his own hemispheres on the pil- low that night he dreamed not of Sylvia~ s perfectly evolved convolutions, but of things not so far off, it is true, but yet widely differentthe lovely curve of a black eyebrow, the exquisite modelling of a dainty ear. He laughed at himself next morning. Could he, a newly declared Demic, be already falling back into the egotistic fancies of a pre-scientific age? The Cambridge Demics were expected, after serving awhile as Scientific Advisers an office supposed to be specially befit- ting adolescence, with its prodigality of new ideasto take part in the more ma- ture and responsible functions of the Legis- lative Body, which was now known as the Silent Chamber, and in order to prepare for this they were required to undergo two years legal training. In the course of their study of the law, Sylvia and Frank frequently met in lecture-room and din- ing-hall. In the latter the Spartan sim- plicity of the age reflected itself in the se- vere limitations of the repast. The only feature of the proceedings which savored of an old-fashioned indulgence was the allowance of a single pipe of tobacco to each student, male and female, at the close of the meal. Perhaps Sylvia might have struck an observer of the nineteenth century as a little unf~minine as she sat in the cloudy atmosphere of the smoking- room, in a company predominantly male, puffing away vigorously at the long peo- ples pipe. To Frank, however, she never seemed so delightful as when she figured as the centre of a group of ruminating jurists, supplying them in the shape of new and unexpected queries with ample FRIENDLY RIVALRY. 101 material for reflection. Sometimes there was given him the rarer happiness of Syl- vias undivided companionship in a stroll homeward across the Central Peoples Park, around which the new London, re- duced to a reasonable size, was built. At such a time they were apt to loiter and watch the citizen families, knowing no difference of costume or manner, sipping the gooseberry wine supplied by the Ag- ricultural Board in quantities nicely pro- portioned to ages. Sylvia would try to improve such an occasion by indoctrina- ting Frank in the higher truths of Social- isin, of which she suspected he had not a sufficiently firm grasp. How beautiful, she remarked, during one of their halts, this perfect regularity of life! Isnt this infinitely preferable to the so-called picturesque variety of the past, with its cruel juxtapositions of bloat- ed satiety and crime-urging want ? But surely, replied Frank, you can have variety without such harsh contrasts as those. Econfess I find this everlasting blouse, for example, a little monotonous. Would it be a dreadful heresy to suggest a minimum of variety in the shape of a colored sash, or even a bow ? Oh, Frank I she replied, earnestly, dont you know color has something dis- tinctly invidious in it? You cannot in- troduce difference of color without inak- ing some citizens more conspicuous than others. But I suppose we can still admire color in nature ? he went on, rather gloomily. Certainly not. The perfect Socialist sees no beauty in nature, where, as Darwin long ago showed, there is so much of the accidental and fluky. The truly beau- tiful is that which embodies a perfectly thought plan, and this is only to be found in our new social organization. But isnt it a bit hard to have to give up so much of the picturesque in life ? Picturesque ? she retorted, a little impatiently. Just look at that citizen group, and note with what a tender grace the elders rise from their seats in order to offer respectful salutation to the bevy of children that has just approached them. Is there not something more truly beau- tiful in this recognition by the present of the superior claim of the future than in any feature of natures unmeaning show ? Perhaps you are right. But I am ashamed to say I find it a little awkward trying to live for posterity. There seems a want of reality about beings who, after all, you know, may never be at all. But surely you know that Socialism takes care to provide a posterity to benefit by our efforts ? Oh yes, of course, but many things might happen to frustrate its intention. Science cannot as yet assign the exact date to the extermination of our species. So there is a little uncertainty about the mat- ter, after all. Why, Frank, you are somewhat un- just to Socialism. It does not bid us over- look the living. See therepointing to a sort of announcement board, before which a throng of citizens was gathering; the Intelligence Board has just signalled some news. Wait; I can just decipher the words: The days record of altruistic ser- vices, Singular devotion to the People of a man of science. Does not this illustrate what I was saying? Try to imagine a newspaper reader of the nineteenth cen- tury, accustomed to his savory dish of murders, divorces, and so forth, taken by an eager curiosity to hear of the latest in- stance of philanthropy. It is just here, in this wonderful vital union of all parts of our social organism, which makes it im- possible for anything to happen at this point without exciting sympathetic tre- mors at all other pointsit is in these fine nerve-like bonds of attachment that I find a really worthy and perpetually delight- ful object of contemplation. In spite of the r6le of objector which Frank was fond of playing at such times, he was really finding himself more and more in accord with her views. The new faith lost all trace of extravagance and preciousness~~ when it was professed by that clear-sighted mind. The process of education was taking effect, and Frank tried hard to live up to Sylvias doctrine, and began to indulge less and less in his favorite pastimedreaming, over a vol- ume of Shakespeare or Goethe, of a van- ished type of woman. One evening they went together to the new Hall of Harmony. This building had been erected by the Board of Ethico-IEs- thetes, not to supply entertainment to the citizens, but to develop and regulate their emotions. The music, in which the in- strumental was strictly subordinate to the vocal, and in which all citizens were ex- pected to exercise themselves, was marked neither by the pretty tunefulness of ~1o- zart and the Italians nor by the rich har 102 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. monic complexities of Wagner. It was simple and regular in form, and having no leading melodic part, it resembled somewhat the polyphonic composition of an earlier age. It was thus excellently adapted for its purpose, viz., the excita- tion of a proper admiration for that per- fect harmony of various yet equal parts which only fully reveals itself in right social organization. The hymns sung all illustrated one theme, the surpassing love- liness of civic co-operation. After joining in a number of hymns, Sylvia and Frank left the hall, and took the aerial electric car that went in the direction of Sylvias lodgings. Franks spirit had been put in excellent tune by the hymnal exercise, and he was just in the mood to enjoy the scene below them. There lay the white city about its spacious green park, the whole bathed in the light of the great electric suna recent contriv- ance of the Board of Engineers, which by means of an elaborate system of reflectors diffused its light equally in all directions. No trace of smoke or mist thickened the air: science had made an end of these. Every detail of the scene was clearly de- fined. Sylvia, recognizing his complacent mood, thought she would leave it with him this time to take up the burden of Socialistic praise, and her expectation was not disappointed. How delightful, he presently began, in awe-snbdued tones, this absolute expulsion of darkness and fog from our towns! If our ancestors had only fully understood the action of the physical on mans morale, and the way in which darkness isolates and desocializes the citizen, there would have been fewer Thames and other mysteries, I fancy. He then proceeded, to Sylvias great satisfaction, to extol the new social order, with its firm cement of brotherly affec- tion. From the subject of civic brotherhood to that of human affection in the abstract the leap is not a wide one, and a conver- sation about affection in the abstract be- tween a youth and a maiden sympathet- ically attuned, and amid exhilarating physical surroundings, is apt to resolve itself into a more confidential talk about one particnlar concrete instance. And this Frank discovered as, after one of those sympathetic i-esponses of Sylvias eyes, he exclaimed: I feel, Sylvia, as if you and I up here were the perfect embodiment of the new spirit of fraternity. Why should we not make the bond yet closer I A quick observer might have detected something like a fugitive blush on Syl- vias cheek at this sudden turn in the conversation. But she instantly recov- ered herself, and in a light, playful tone replied: What, Frank, you, a Cambridge Demic, affected by a passion for the con- crete? You know that you and I are pledged to reach the fifth degree of altruism. But for once Frank did not give way to Sylvias commanding speech. He grew more daring, and actually broached the idea of Pa~dotrophic Partnership, the term by which the new Socialism designated a particular and relatively permanent va- riety of sexual attachment. His evident earnestness compelled her to drop the play- ful bantering tone; so she grew serious also, and urged that a closer union would be unfavorable to the fullest discharge of their high social functions. You would, she observed, be troubling about my pale face when you ought to be ab- sorbed in public service. And, she add- ed, with a smile, I might be corrupted by your example. As she saw he was still unconvinced, she brought forward new objections: Have you considered, Frank, that any closening of the tie between us would al- most certainly be fatal to our amicable, ungrudging rivalry? I know you, I fancy, better than you know yourself. You admire me now just because I am not bound to you save by a free act of friend- ly collaboration. Were you to bind me more closely, so as to look on me in a sense as belonging to you, you would begin to dislike my competing with you as your equal. Yes, Frank, you are an excellent citizen, but I strongly suspect that you have a vein of the old Adam in you. I have more than once detected in you a lingering trace of that strange con- ception of woman, evidently the product of mans brain, according to which she is just to be a perfect iesthetic object for his delightful contemplation, and consequent- ly to be shielded from all damaging con- tact with the rough usage of the world. In brief, Frank, you would soon grow jealousof my work, I mean, of course. This was too much for Frank. How can you so misconceive my feeling for you ? he retorted, in something of an injured tone. You surely know that 9 FRIENDLY RIVALRY. 103 my affection is based on admiration of qualities which can only fully disclose themselves in a larger field of public ser- vice, and this being so, I should be cut- ting away the roots of my affection were I to attempt to interfere in the slightest with your perfect liberty of action. Are you so sure of yourself, Frank? Well, I will put you to the test. Let us go on as we are to the end of the first year of our practice in the courts. There, as you know, you will again and again have to face me as your forensic antagonist. If we find that we can bear these rough collisions with perfect good temper and without the least tarnishing of our pre- sent feeling of cordial comradeship, we may, I think, feel quite sure of one an- other. Frank, lifted out of the slough of de- jection by these magic words, gratefully accepted the proposal. When it was a question of winning such a prize as Syl- via, a years probation seemed a trifle. He rather looked forward to the period of friendly contest as bringing him into more continual contact with that stimu- lating spirit, and as he returned to his lodgings that evening his face radiated an almost superhuman good-will on all citizens who were so fortunate as to cross his path. The year of trial commenced. As every- body predicted, Sylvia soon came to the front. One hardly knew which to admire most, her perfect grasp of principles, her luminous insight into the complexity of her case, or her persuasive tact, which adapted itself, with no trace of conscious intention, to the type of mind she had to influence. She got to be recognized by judges and advocates as the ablest pleader of the court, and when the highly esteem- ed post of Peoples Defender became va- cant, the agreeable duty of which was to represent individual citizens in all ac- tions brought against them by Communal Bodies, Sylvia was at once appointed to the office. It soon became evident that Sylvia was very much in earnest in enforcing her test. She tried Frank to the utmost. Never was she so scathingly brilliant, so remorselessly crushing, as when called on to meet the arguments of her learned brother, as advocates now called one another. This came to be so well known that the appearance of the two in the same case was looked forward to as one of the great forensic sights. On the eve of such a display a disengaged advocate would ask his friend, Are you going to see the Demic Throw to-morrow ? meaning by this figurative expression, borrowed from the peoples favorite game of wrestling, a peculiar art of refutation which Sylvia had developed to a high degree of perfec- tion. It was even whispered that the judges were in the habit of hurrying over cases which stood in the way of one of these Demic Duels. For a time Frank bore this fierce bap- tism heroically. At first, indeed, he felt nothing but keen delight in watching Sylvias continuous triumph. It was an exquisite pleasure to him to see the sombre face of some veteran judge light up with an expression of vivid interest at contact with the electric current of Sylvias elo- quence. So little did he think of his own personal interest in this performance that more than once he surprised himself half unconsciously selecting his objections for the very purpose of displaying her powers more fully. Then followed a stage in which he grew indistinctly aware that Sylvias brill- iant triumphs were his own defeats. At first, however, the recognition of this, so far from vexing him, intensified his joy. He knew the supreme delight of perfect self - abnegation, and thought he could understand, better than before, the state of ecstasy of the old martyrs. This stage lasted a couple of months or so. Then a new feeling arose, similar to the sense of sufficiency which prompted the martyrs to cry for a moments relief. Frank had had as much of altruistic bliss as he was just now capable of. The expelled Ego returned more insistent for his temporary exile. He sometimes caught himself say- ing, half audibly, I wish she werent so confoundedly brilliant, or, Why doesnt she sometimes level her fierce satire at others, by way of a change ? And al- though he fought valiantly against these uprisings of the natural unevolved man, he fought in vain. The feeling of per- sonal pique, though never allowed to rise into clear utterance now, lurked in the dark depths below, and developed a chronic irritability. He felt that the best in him had been tarnished; that he was unequal to the task that had been laid on him; nay, more, when he had to encoun- ter Sylvias reassuring smile in private, he felt convicted of the traitors meanness. 104 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. So things went on till the last quarter of the probationary year was reached. At this moment a case of exceptional interest arose. It seems that upon the establishment of Socialism the ancient form of marriage had been completely abrogated; that is to say, it was no longer possible for a man and woman to contract themselves into a partnership for life. To suit the diversities of tastes of candidates, a num- ber of easier forms of alliance were made legitimate. Of these the most solemn, and that bearing the closest resemblance to the ancient institution of marriage, was that already alluded to, and known as the Piedotrophic Partnership, or, colloquially5 as the P. P. Those entering into this union had to affirm that their sole motive in combining was piedagogic zeal, and that with a view to realizing their object they were willing to continue the domestic partnership till their children had reached the age of fifteen, by which time it was supposed the beneficial influence of the parents exhausts itself. Owing to the special gravity of this mode of domestic association, it was held that all the laws of marriage, in so far as they were not expressly repealed, contin- ued to be valid for the new form. Now it so happened that among the laws not thus expressly abrogated were those rela- ting to breach of promise. The probable explanation of this curious omission is as follows: At the close of the nineteenth century the rapid opening up of indus- trial competition to women led to a sud- den revolution in the feeling of the sex toward marriage. Instead of being ar- dently desired as the consummation of woman~ s mission, it was regarded as de- sirable only for those unfortunates who could not of their own unaided powers maintain their place in the industrial struggle. Hence no action for breach of promise occurred after 1895, and so it came to pass that when the framers of the new Socialistic Constitution came to recast the marriage laws this ancient redress of ag- grieved women got to be overlooked. It may easily be imagined, then, what astonishment was excited by the an- nouncement in the year 51 (0.0. 1953) that a woman was going to bring an ac- tion of breach of promise against a man who had proposed P. P. The idea was ridiculed by the laity, but the lawyers held that the point was a nice and debatable one. The court was thronged on the day when application was to be made. Five judges presided. Frank appeared for the plaintiff and Sylvia for the defendant. Frank, in opening the case, argued learn- edly that Piedotrophic Partnership was the direct historical descendant of the ancient institution of marriage. Thus, while all lighter forms of association might be entered upon without formal notice, the notice of intention to proceed to P. P. had to be posted up in the Temple of Humanity three months beforehand a provision evidently borrowed from the ancient custom of publishing the banns. This being so, the wise framers of their new constitution had rightly laid down that where a law of marriage was not formally repealed, it should continue to apply to its successor. He was confident that his learned sisterand here Frank turned to Sylvia with as courteous a bend as his awkward frame was capable ofin spite of her almost clairvoyant gift of re- search, would be unable to make out that any portion of the laws relating to breach of promise had been expressly set aside. He contended, therefore, that his client, who would affirm that the defendant had made her a serious proposal of Piedo- trophic Partnership, was entitled to bring the present action. As Sylvia rose to reply, it was evident that she was more than usually excited. The deeper flush on her cheek, -the accel- erated phonation, the dilatation of the prettily turned nostrils, all indicated that to the serene gladness of the combatant who knows no hostility, but loves contest for the sake of its strenuous exercise, was now added something of the wild, agita- ting joy of the emancipated woman. She did not dispute the fact that the law un- der which the present action was brought was unrepealed, and prima facie therefore still operative. She concentrated her di- alectic force on refuting Franks propo- sition that Piedotrophic Partnership was historically continuous with marriage. By a learned comparative examination of the laws expressly repealed and those left standing, she endeavored to show that the whole conception of union with man as a thing of substantive advantage to woman, ~o which in certain cases she might claim a tangible right, and for the loss of which she might demand compen- sation, had vanished with the social sys- tems of the past. FRIENDLY RIVALRY. 105 To the large yet discriminating vision of Socialism, she went on, the pa~dagogic function of woman, though undoubtedly an important one, was not the sole one, nor necessarily even the highest one. A truly evolved woman, at once capable and desirous of serving the community, would always find other, and possibly nobler, al- tars than that of Hymen. She concluded by urging that since the very notion of suing for breach of prom- ise was so foreign to the Socialistic idea of sexual alliance, the non-repeal of the laws relating thereto should be viewed as an accident, and the present suit dismissed as frivolous. The judges retired, and spent four hours in considering the legal point. They then returned, and announced that prima facie an action lay, and that they were prepared to hear the suit. Only too well prepared, whispered a member of the advocate crowd to his neighbor, ~ to judge by the merry twinkle in their lordships eyes. A jury of twenty-four, twelve men and twelve women, was then collected from among the eager aspirants to the office that frequented the court. These having been craniometrically examined by the Court Anthropomel~rists, and pronounced competent in the first or second degree, were accommodated with easy - chairs placed as far from one another as pos- sible in a circular gallery running round the hall. The object of this sequestra- tion, it was said, was partly to promote in- dependent judgment, and partly to insure that no aspect of the case should be lost sight of. Frank then rose, and with unmistak- able signs of nervousness proceeded to open the case. He admitted that women in general did not attach the old, and he was ready to concede the extravagant, importance to alliance with man. There were someand. here he turned signifi- cantly toward Sylviawho were disposed to look on any form of such partnership as an insufferable restraint on their lib- erty. But, fortunately for the commu- nity, there were still women, competent citizens too, who saw in the piedotrophic life one of the highest forms of service. They agreed with the words put by a once famous writer, Oliver Goldsmith, into the mouth of the hero of his story: I was ever of opinion that the honest man who married and brought up a large family did more service than he who continued single and only talked of population. No doubt it was easy to smile (and here Frank turned almost fiercely on a group of titterers behind him) at the unscientific state of mind indicated by the words a large family. He contended, however, that this maxim, though crudely express- ed, contained a valuable germ of truth. His client was one of those who by in- stinct and taste were clearly marked out for the piedotrophic life. To such a wo- man the deliberate disappointment of a hope such as he was prepared to show the defendant had inflicted on her was a real and substantial wrong. But she did not appeal to this court, like women of an earlier age, for pecuniary satisfaction. She had brought the action because she believed the community would be the loser through non-fulfilment of her right function. And she would be satisfied by a bare verdict, carrying with it, as it would, an emphatic condemnation of the defendants conduct. The plaintiff, a fair, blue-eyed, and somewhat pensive-looking young woman, was then called, and after being put through the new form of affirmation by the presiding judge, was examined by Frank as to her dealings with the de- fendant. She related that they had met as piedagogues in the same Communal School, and had studied together the Sci- ence of Piedagogics. After two years ac- quaintance the defendant informed her that he wished to proceed to P. P., and that on the whole he considered her a fit and proper person to be his ally. She had great respect for the defendants judg- ment, and on the ground of their long and harmonious intimacy at once consent- ed to the proposal. A day or two after, she was a little taken aback at receiving a letter from the defendant in which he told her that he had acted impetuously in proposing P. P., and that he had since thought of another woman with distinctly higher piedagogic qualifications than her own. If she doubted his estimate, he in- vited her to a comparative measurement by the authorized craniometrists, by the result of which he would feel bound. She declined his proposal, considering that the defendant ought not to have proposed P. P. to her unless he was clearly of opinion that she was most fitted for the alliance. His vacillation had been peculiarly an- noying to her, since she had felt jus 106 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tified in telling her friends of her new plans; and even her pupils had heard of them, and were, she had reason to know, actually engaged in drawing up a con- gratulatory address to her. Under the advice of more than one legal friend she had determined to bring the present ac- tion. A perceptible wave of excitement passed over the well-packed court when Sylvia rose to cross-examine the plaintiff. One could see that she was making a special effort at self-control as she proceeded to ask the witness, in the pleasantest and most reassuring manner: Were you much taken aback by the defendants proposal l I think not. Could you without serious inconven- ience tell the Court why not ? No answer. Have you ever happened to remark to other female ptedagogues that the de- fendant was the handsomest man on the staff ? I may have done so. Have you ever placed, or caused to be placed, a vase of flowers on the defend- ants desk ? Oh dear yes; why, that was quite a common custom in our school. Possibly. Now as to the conjoint p~dagogic studies. Who first suggested them, should you say ? I did. Did you find yourselves in close agree- ment on p~edagogic questions ? Fairly so. Fairly so. Now pray be more than usually thoughtful. Do you remember a conversation on the exploded dictum of Herbert Spencer that a child should re- traverse the stages of intellectual develop- ment traversed by the race ? Oh yes, very well. Kindly give us a short account of your discussion. The defendant was one day attacking the maxim, as I thought, rather savagely, urging that it had led to pernicious prac- tices; for example, allowing childrens fancies to feed on ridiculous fairy stories, such as Jack the Giant-Killer. which plainly set at naught the most fundament- al laws of the physical worlda practice which, as we can see from the literature of the 2ast half of the nineteenth century, led to the indulgence of a vicious taste for the supernatural in later life. And what view did you take of Spen- cers maxim ? I think I rather defended it, urging that it was a pity to rob infancy of all its illusions, and to transform children of four or five into exact scientific reason- ers. Quite so. And you are still of opin- ion that you and the defendant were in substantial agreement l No answer. Sylvia then courteously motioned the witness to retire. This being the plaintiffs case, Sylvia opened for the defence. She said she thought it would be fairer to the plaintiff not to indicate the line of defence she in- tended taking till after she had called her witnesses. They would consist of two only, the defendant, and one of the plain- tiffs most intelligent pupils. Their lord- ships having approved, the defendant, a decidedly good-looking man of about thir- ty, stepped into the box. He said it was quite true that he and the plaintiff had seen a good deal of one another, and had studied p~edagogics together. She was undoubtedly philanthropic in the second degree, and it was this trait which had first attracted him to her. A closer study, however, taught him that her mind was essentially unscientific and inexact. She had a latent fondness for the sentimental- ities of Rousseau, which he, the defend- ant, abhorred. The defendant in an apologetic tone ex- plained that he had impulsively pledged himself to the plaintiff, as they met in the nineteenth-century section of the Nation- al Picture-Gallery, near a lovely study of childhood by Millais. That same night I saw what a social blunder I had commit- ted. I was tormented by the reflection that the plaintiff was unscientific, senti- mental, and retrograde. I then bethought me of another female ptedagogue whose mind contrasted strongly with the plain- tiffs. The recollection served still fur- ther to show me the unhappy conse- quences of my conduct, and I reso]ved to advise the plaintiff on the desirability of letting the matter drop. I wrote the letter to which the plaintiff has alluded with the firm conviction that I was act- ing for the highest good of the commu- nity. And not hearing from her in re- ply, I was beginning to hope that she saw matters in the same light, when no- tice of the present suit reached me. FRIENDLY RIVALRY. 107 Frank having declined to cross-exam- ine the witness, Sylvia bade him retire, and then proceeded to call, in a clear, sil- very tone, Bridget Trapnell. For nearly a minute there seemed to be no response to this siren call; then a slight commotion was observable in the vicinity of the affirmation stand, and a downward inclination of heads on the part of some of the closely packed by- standers, and finally there emerged from the throng and mounted the steps of the stand a small maiden of a height that seemed to register six years or so, but with a queer, old-fashioned, solemn little face that might properly belong to an ex- perienced middle-aged dwarf. She wore a kind of pinafore modification of the cit- izen blouse, and had her bright flaxen hair cropped in a way that would have shocked the feelings of an earlier age. Having repeated the affirmation form with something of childish deliberation and emphasis, she directed her glances to the plaintiff, who was sitting nearly op- posite her, apparently waiting for instruc- tions as to how to proceed. A titter went through the court at this quaint revival of school habits. Sylvia at once set her right by bidding her attend to herself and answer her questions. Your name, she began, is Bridget Trapuell, is it not ? Yes. Where do you live ? Section B, Block 5, Printers Quar- ter. What is your exact age ? Eight and five-sixths years to-mor- row. Then you have been just four and five-sixths years at school ? Yes, deducting three months of ill- ness. Tell me how far on you are with your studies. I was put in the grade of sub-evolved minors last term. Then you have made a serious study of Social Science and History ? Yes; very serious, I should say; that is, I have heard three courses of lectures on these subjects. Who is your lecturer ? Pa~dagogue Kidnerpointing to the plaintiff. How would you estimate her teach- ing ? It shows interest in the subject and a VOL. LXXIX.No. 469.i 0 praiseworthy wish to inform our minds, but is lacking in Scientific Grasp. Can you illustrate what you mean by this ? Well, when lecturing on the Victori- an era it seemed to me that her critical judgment was obscured by admiration of what she called the splendors of that pe- riod. Try, if you can, to recall some partic- ular instance. I remember one very well. It was an unusually hot day in June, and we were feeling a little languid. Our lecturer, per- ceiving a slight falling off in our inquisi- tiveness, suddenly broke off the thread of her expositionI forget the exact subject and exclaimed, Do you know, little Evolutes (she always used this pet name when she was particularly amiable), ex- actly sixty-four years ago there was a summer as hot as thisa summer made memorable by a glorious event, the cele- bration of the fiftieth anniversary of the reign of Queen Victoria, under the name of the Jubilee? She then proceeded to give us a graphic description of the pa- geant. She seemed to attach great im- portance to the number of persons of roy- al or sub-royal rank who took part in the ceremony. She asked us whether we should not have liked to see the sight. One of the younger girls asked her wheth- gr it was not rather babyish of the Queen to care about so many flags and brass bands and bonfires, and she resented the interruption. She said the observation lacked penetration, and told us that what the Queen cared for was not so much the show itself as the feeling which prompt- ed it. Did she characterize this feeling ? Yes; I remember distinctly she called it a chivalrous feeling toward a lady. Did she say anything about the cost of the show, or about the wicked extrav- agance of spending money in this waste- ful way, when there was such a mass of suffering poverty in the metropolis ? In fact she left on your opening minds the impression that it was altogether a worthy and highly cQmmendable per- formance ? Certainly. That will do, Bridget. But stay; one more question before you retire. In treat- ing of the writers of the period, what name did she praise most highly ? 108 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Lord Tennyson. Did she always speak of him as Lord Tennyson ? Always, without exception. The Court is exceedingly obliged to you, Bridget, for your candor. Bridget was about to retire in the best of spirits, when Frank gently detained her. Excuse me, nascent citizen, he said, but I see that you have made a strong impression on the Court distinctly unfavorable to my client. It becomes my duty, therefore, to put one or two ad- ditional questions to you. But pray be assured that I shall make my interroga- tions as pleasant as possible. Happily it is the exception in our age (and here he half turned toward Sylvia) to resort to the disagreeable style of cross-examina- tion which was once tolerated and even admired. He then proceeded to question Bridget with the view of drawing out other fea- tures of the plaintiffs teaching. But his inquiries elicited little of any advantage to him, and in some instances only served to disclose more fully the wide divergence of the plaintiffs mind from the properly evolved type. And at the end he com- mitted a decided blunder, when he asked Bridget, with exquisite gravity of man- ner, whether she might not have been mis- taken in supposing that her lecturer de- scribed the feeling the Jubilists entertain- ed toward their sovereign as chival- rous. She might, you know, have said frivolous, perhaps, and been much nearer the truth. Bridget met this insinuation of misapprehension with a contemptuous toss of the small head, which so took Frank aback that he had to bring his cross-examination to a premature and de- cidedly undignified termination. Sylvia then proceeded to address the jury for the defence. She began by dep- recating her learned brothers insinua- tion that she thought lightly of sexual alliances. So far from this, she was pre- pared to adopt his own proposition, that the institution of P. P. was designed to secure the perfect discharge of one of the most important civil functions. By this arrangement the rearing of the infant citizen was assigned, not, as Plato had pro- posed, to a public body, but to the parents. And what did this solemn trust presup- pose? Obviously, perfect ptndagogic com- petence in the prospective parents. Now she asked them, as citizens trained in cx- act psychological intuition, whether they could, with the most generous intentions pronounce the plaintiff a properly qual- ified pi~edotrophist. Did not her very ap- pearancea certain coquettishness in the arrangement of her hair and dress, she would leave them to discover more exact- ly wheresuggest an undue development of the self-regarding sentiments? And as to her scientific competence, surely they had been able to collect sufficient data to form a judgment on the point from the evidence of the defendant, and of that~ diminutive but exceedingly valuable witness Bridget Trapuell. What, citizen brothers and sisters, is to be thought of the pindagogic competence of a woman who reckons among the great theorists Rousseau the Sentimentalist, who held that a child, instead of being shaped as soon as possible into a good citizen, was best brought up as a healthy young sav- age, as far away from society as possible, and who somewhat oddly illustrated his theory in his own practice by roughly tossing his offspring, as soon as they were born, into the arms of the community. And then how could a woman be said to be qualified to rear truly socialized citi- zens who, as was plain from her own pu- pils evidence, still bowed down in her heart to the idols of royalty and rank l Coming to the relations of the plaintiff to the defendant, she contended that, in the language of another age, which happily was becoming strange and unintelligible to their ears, she had made a dead set at him. What did those flowers mean, renewed each morning with such fond so- licitude? Was this not a feminine device admirably suited to awaken in a man like the defendant (who she was compelled to admit did not belong to the highest social stratum of completely evolved) that ridic- ulous romantic sentiment, misnamed love, which used to be regarded as the proper attendant of alliances between man and woman? The old right of reply having been done away with, it rested with the learned judges to sum up. They proceeded to do so seriatim, and in the ascending order of age, so as to give the oldest the last word. The following points were then submit- ted to the jiiry: 1. Did the defendant propose bona fide, and with plenary volition, Piedotrophic Partnership to the plaintiff? 2. Did the plaintiff prove herself in any FRIENDLY RIVALRY. 109 respect disqualified for the piedotrophic function in general? 3. Did the plaintiff prove herself to be maladjusted to the defendant? The jury then retired to the smoking- room, where was served out to them a species of tobacco known to have a pecul- iarly calming influence on the emotions. After an hours quiet and perfectly ami- cable deliberation they returned with their verdict. To questions 2 and 3 they gave a cate- gorical Yes. With regard to question 1 they held that there had been a slight discrepancy in the evidence of the plain- tiff and the defendant, and with a view to eliminate the effect of this, and reach sci- entific certainty of conclusion, they re- quested an official examination into the numerical values of the moral capacities of the two. This request was at once acceded to, and the plaintiff and defendant then re- tired in the charge of the Court Anthro- pometrists. After applying their most searching and trustworthy tests, they re- ported that the trustworthiness of the de- fendant was slightly in excess of that of the plaintiff, the ratio being 45 to 44. With this new datum to guide them, the jury again retired, and in a few minutes re-entered the court, and gave in the fol- lowing answer: In view of the agitating surroundings of the picture-gallery and of the speedy retractation, the defendants offer, though made bona fide, cannot be regarded as an act of plenary volition. It remained with the judges to propor- tion the amount of correctional discipline necessitated by the verdict. They decreed, first of all, that the plaintiff be sent back to the category of semi-evolved for a pe- riod of five years, during which time she would be expected to suspend pmdagogic service, and frequent the Social Science Lectures and the courses of moral gym- nastics at the Correctional College. The defendant would also be suspended from his office a year, and spend that time in strengthening his higher nerve centres by practising such exercises in the control of impulse as the Moral Therapeutists might prescribe for him. The two advocates were then asked whether, on behalf of their clients, they entirely approved of the result of the trial as furthering the common good. After a brief consultation with their clients they responded. Sylvia said the defendant was in complete accord with jury and judges alike. Frank added that the plaintiff was equally satisfied with the result, except in respect of one of its features. She wished to inform the judges that by the time her correctional discipline was over she would only have remaining one months eligi- bility for P. p. And she wished to sug- gest that, supposing, as they all hoped, the reformatory studies to be successful, this might prove to be to the detriment of the community. The judges held this objection to be a sound one, and consequently reduced the period to four and a half years. At the rising of the Court little jets of talk and laughter gushed forth at all points, making a pleasant contrast to the ponder- ous tones of the judges. Sylvia was copi- ously congratulated on her adroitness in having extricated her client from the quagmire into which he had so awkward- ly fallen. And the heightened flush on her cheek and her witty rejoinders might have led one to suppose that she was en- joying to the full the delights of well- earned success. A close observer, however, would have noticed that every now and again she glanced swiftly and anxiously in the di- rection of Frank, who sat conversing with his client. The object of these inquiring looks did not or would not perceive them, so that she had at last to retire without the customary exchange of friendly glances. The fact was that Frank was out of tune by a good semitone at least. The trial had brought his disaffection to a head. He had taken up his clients cause con amore, for he thought lie recognized in her that historical type of woman whom he had always secretly preferred. During the progress of the case he could not but con- trast her and Sylvia, whose perfect self- sufficiency now seemed unfeminine and repellent. Sylvias tone of conscious su- periority, too, in addressing the plaintiff had irritated him exceedingly, and had driven him to identify himself still more completely with this unfortunate young woman. It was very natural, therefore, that dur- ing the next few weeks Frank often found himself in the company of his client. He wanted to understand more of this archaic but, as he thought, very feminine variety of woman. One evening they had been sitting in the Peoples Botanic Gardens listening to a lecture on the domestic cul 110 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY -MAGAZINE. ture of the cowslip. The audience had dispersed, but Frank and his companion sat on in the pleasant summer twilight. Frank suddenly diverted the talk to the cultivation of the human flower, and ask- ed his companion what she thought of Wordsworths view of childhood. She gave him so very appreciative an answer that Frank, carried away by excitement, quite turned on his seat, and was in the very act of taking her hand and thanking her, when he encountered the eyes of Syl- via, who had been listening to the lecture also, some little distance off. Frank look- ed extremely awkward for a moment, but, recovering himself, tried to respond cordially to the greeting she sent him as he moved away. This rencontre upset him a good deal. He thought he had surprised a new look on Sylvias facea look he could not well interpret. It seemed to speak of so many things: anxious curiosity, longing, and ~something very like regret. It looked strange enough on that usually bright, serene face, and he was puzzled by it. The next morning lie received a note from Sylvia, asking him to row her that evening on the Elliptical Lake. This puzzled him still more, for he well knew that Sylvia, who was an uncommonly good oar, usually disliked to be rowed sit- ting in the stern, as she somewhat causti- cally put it, with nothing better to do than admire the male biceps. The phrasing of her letter too was new, less piquant and more gentle in tone. And what was stranger still, the very handwriting seem- ed changed, being less large and assertive- looking than usual. What did it all mean? Frank tried desperately hard to look at his ease as he went to meet Sylvia that evening, but those experienced eyes in- stantly spied the extra shade of shyness. The evening was all that a pair of old- fashioned lovers could have desired. The lake was lively with moving craft, and the freshest of breezes, perfumed only by the sweet metropolitan gardens, blew across the waters. A month ago Frank would have been in his happiest humor, but now he sat and rowed, sombre and sunk in him- self, as if rowing wer~ a sort of absorbing penance. Sylvia, whose duties as steerer sat light- ly on her, looked at him from time to time with a curious changeful expression, now keenly quizzing, now harmoniously smil ing, and . now quieting down to a half- sad look of pity. By-and-by she said, very softly, Frank, I want to tell you I have decided to resign the post of Peoples Defender. This announcement brought up Frank from the gloomy depths in an instant. Resign, Sylvia? Why, you know you cannot. You have no valid grounds to allege. Yes, I have, though. You must know that I didnt really believe that your fair client placed herself before that picture on purpose; but I saw the idea would tell, and it was too tempting. But, after all, you did not say you be- lieved it. No; but I suggested it, and you know that suggestio falsi is as bad as a com- plete misstatement. I shall confess to mendacity of the second degree, and that, you know, is a sufficient disqualification. By George, Sylvia, you are too scru- pulous. As if every advocate did not oc- casionally do that sort of thing! Why, you didnt really suppose that I believed my client had characterized the Jubilee enthusiasm as frivolous ? Of course not. But then it was so evident that you had been driven to the fanciful supposition in despair; and you looked so very guilty when you brought it out that it could not have imposed on the most simple-minded of juries. Frank was obliged to laugh at this. There was something, too, of tlie dear, clev- er, good-natured Sylvia of other days in the words, and he felt that the mists of melancholy were rapidly lifting. Meanwhile the boat had approached one of the two islands placed exactly at the foci of the ellipse. From this point the lake and its surroundings looked par- ticularly well. The observer could here appreciate the beautiful geometric pattern formed by a system of narrow elliptical paths parallel to the circumference of the lake intersected by a system of broader footways radiating from the foci. Frank felt the moral effect of the scene where all was regularity and conformity to law. He grew calmer. In spite of his first im- pulse to champion the brilliant forensic Sylvia against the gentler and more wo- manly Sylvia, who he saw was bent on displacing her, he was in his heart more than content with the revolution. In truth it brought to his long-troubled spirit a large, pervading peace. FRIENDLY RIVALRY. 111 But, Sylvia, he suddenly asked, start- hug her out of the reverie into which the silence had thrown her, if you resign, what are you going to do afterward? Oh, there is more than one thing to fall back upon, she replied, cheerfully. One of my friends offered me one alter- native some months ago. Frank tried hard to look as if he didnt understandan effort which produced on his strong, honest face a decidedly comical effect. Frank, she continued, with just a trace of a spasm in her voice, indicative of strenuous moral effort, I will be quite open with you. I have come to think of late that I was unnecessarily hard in im- posing such a long period of probation: I have learned that you men, even the most evolved of you, do not understand friend- ly rivalry as we women do. I suppose evolution hasnt had time to purify your blood of the old killing instinct. Any- how I can see that you are like children, and cant play at fighting without want- ing to fight in earnest. So that I feel as if I owed you some compensation. Would you think me miserably weak if I were to propose to dispense with the last few months ? Frank was electrified. He shouted, Weak, Sylvia ? and made so sudden a lunge forward that he threatened to upset the boat. Sylvia, instantly divining his object, gently drew her hand out of his reach, and trying hard to look shocked, rejoined, Pray remember, Frank, that we are Demics of the year 48, and not a conceited redcoat and his silly girl admirer of the last century. Frank took the check to his demonstra- tiveness quite seriously, and once more lapsed into silence. In a minute or so Sylvia went on: You must not think, Frank, I am pro- posing this reduction out of pure altru- ism. I have something to confess to you. You know how I used to congratulate myself that I had nothing of the small vices of the unevolved woman in me? But I have recently made the humilia- ting discovery that I can be jealous just like any ordinary woman. I took a pos- itive dislike to that client of yours from the first, becausebecause (and here oc- curred something suspiciously like a fem- inine sob) I saw she answered better than I to yonr ideal of woman. It was this, I must tell ~you, that made me so hard on her. I was bent on defeating her, not you, and when you took up her cause so warmly I grew downright envious of her; and then, seeing you together last even- ing Here the thread of speech sud- denly broke off, cut across by a genuine sob, and the proud favorite of college and law court turned away her tear-blinded eyes just like the weakest of sorrowful maidens. This was too much for Frank. Before she could think of stopping him he had somehow managed safely to couch his big frame at her feet and to gain possession of both her hands. She no longer wished to withdraw them. She was tired of acting, and, as if mastered by some superior force, she bowed her head toward him and~ let him press his lips against her brow in a kiss in which all the mans suppressed love seemed to find a grateful outlet. Then she suddenly sat up, and looking at him with eyes which vainly tried to hide the tears under a roguish twinkle, said, Isnt all this a terrible lapse into pre-scientific habits, and by you and me, Frank, of all people, who thought our- selves most evolved ? It doesnt matter, Sylvia. I have long been coming to see that it is only too easy to get over-evolved in these days. He said this with a new authoritative emphasis. He was beginning to enjoy the mans proud consciousness of being able to set the woman right. But, Frank, she began again, you must not let our partnership cut you off from other and larger service. Dont be solicitous about that. I love you too well to run the risk of hurt- ing you by want of zeal for the Common- wealth. And you? What will citizens say if you wholly withdraw your great gifts from public affairs ? Leave that to me, Frank. I may per- chance find other forms of service no less precious. Frank blessed her for this. These were the very words he had used in court when alluding to the piedotrophic life. The news that Sylvia and Frank were going to embark on P. P. excited a good deal of wonder, not a little merriment, and some indignation. One of the wags that frequented the court remarked, It re- minds one of what used to happen among tradesmen: fierce opposition at fii~st; a 112 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. dogged determination on each side to drive the hated rival out of the industrial field suddenly giving place to partnership and amity. Exactly so, replied one of his hearers, who rather liked the idea of the partnership co-operation in place of individual competition; thats quite in the order of evolution, you know. The ceremony took place in one of the Temples of Humanity set aside for social rites. It was a circular building lit by a dome, the walls of which were covered with designs in fresco, emblematic of the course of human evolution, such as the first discovery of the uses of the flint. Just opposite the main entrance hung the new Decalogue. Immediately in front of this stood a small rostrum. This consti- tuted the whole furniture of the temple. The floor was paved with square tiles, each bearing a number, and arranged apparent- ly in some kind of gradation. At 7.45 A.M. the temple began to fill, the citizens, mostly men, taking up stand- ing position on tiles according to their altruistic rank. It was noticeable that the most perfect altruists were all rather young. Soon after, Frank and Sylvia en- tered and passed through the congrega- tion, hand in hand, to a position just in front of the rostrum. Their blouses were distinguished by a curious ornamentation along the borders, setting forth in symbols the dignity of the paAotrophic office. They looked neither excited nor dejected, as ancient brides and bridegrooms are said to have looked, but merely a shade more thoughtful than usual. Sylvia answered a number of friendly greetings, and then her eyes rested on the Decalogue. As she looked, her expression pei~ceptibly sad- dened. She had by accident lit on the fourth prohibition, which ran as follows: Thou shalt not measure thyself against another, whether to despise him as thy in- ferior or to envy him as thy superior, for such measurement of self with others surely hindereth highest service. Her eyes moistened as she read. She recalled with a penitential pang her feel- ing for the plaintiff when she rose to cross-examine her. She was presently roused from her musings by the entrance of the Priest of Humanity, a man of about thirty, with something of the look of a re- cluse in his pale thought-lined face, but of a strikingly benevolent expression. He wore a white robe on which was woven an intricate device, illustrating the conver gence of a11 the virtues in the love of hu- manity. As he took his seat on the ros- trum a choir of boys in a recess behind chanted in the new polyphonic manner a hymn opening with the lines: STROPHE. Not to indulge a paltry whim of self, That cries forever ~ Give me this one wight; Not to appease the lonesome egoists wish For word and glance and touch to soothe or cheer; ANTISTROPHE. But all for love of great humanity Would we, evolved man and woman, pair. Sylvia and Frank had to repeat each verse after the choir. Frank seemed to find this fairly easy, but Sylvia evidently had to rouse herself to an extraordinary exertion, as if she were half conscious of falling short of the lofty standard of the hymn, but at the same time passionately resolved to reach it. The young priest then catechised the pair thoroughly as to their object in enter- ing the Partners Path, and probed their ideas on the true method of training small citizens. He then turned to the congre- gation and said: I find Sylvia Harwood and Frank Simes duly qualified for P~do- trophic Partnership. If any citizen knows an obstacle to the union, let him now de- clare it. An awkward silence followed this ques- tion. Then a curious noise as of a scuffle and a medley of whispering voices was heard proceeding from a spot at the back of the hail. Frank turned and recognized the plaintiff in the late suit making vio- lent efforts to raise her arm in order to catch the priests eye, while a number of women about her were trying to restrain her. The priest, remarking the commo- tion, asked whether this woman had aught to object. One of her companions then raising her arm addressed him thus: The citizen is disqualified to object. I sub- jected her to a medical examination this morning, and found her cerebral capilla- ries distended by about one-tenth of their normal calibre. Frank heaved a sigh of relief. The citizen partners then duly registered their contract in a book supplied by the priest, and the ceremony termina- ted with another hymn, sung only by the choir, and addressed to the newly consti- tuted partners by way of a counsel of perfection. It was a lovely afternoon in the spring TWO SONGS. 113 of 55 (1957). Sylvia and Frank had been model partners for nearly five years. Two healthy and comely boys supplied material for their pa~dotrophic zeal. Syl- via had fatigued herself and them in the morning by a visit to the Bakeries, where for the first time the staple article of diet was manufactured on strictly scientific principles. She had meant it as an ob- ject-lesson to impress on her boys the de- pendence of the individual citizen on the community. So in the afternoon she had thought herself justified in giving them a little relaxation in the garden. She was just helping them make a daisy chain when Frank entered the garden. He stopped for a moment and, unobserved, looked down with a queer smile on the pretty citizen group. Then, stepping for- ward and touching Sylvias shoulder, he said, gayly: Thats right, Miitterchennot too much of the citizen just at first. Besides, a temperate love of flowers is permitted to children. So says the last edict of the Educational Boardthough Im not quite sure that they would approve the daisy chain. Doesnt that savor somewhat of old -fashioned sentiment, self- regarding May-queens, shepherdesses, and that sort of thing eh, most enlightened of ex- Demics ? Sylvia smiled contentedly. She recog- nized the tone of triumphant banter which he always adopted when he was particu- larly well pleased at finding her coming round to his view of things. He then put a question or two to the children on the mornings object-lesson, and endeavored to rouse in their youth- ful breasts an enthusiastic admiration for their great benefactor, Evolution, by giv- ing them a description of the horrible mixtures th~t used to pass for bread in London toward the end of the nineteenth century. Then he turned to Sylvia again, and with a merry laugh told her he had just heard a most comical piece of news. Our old clients in the cause c~l~bre have patched up matters, and are going in for P. P. after all. You dont mean it! Why, I thought my client had thrown over yours in favor of a more evolved woman. That was so. But it seems that she, being so very evolved, rather objected to pairing with a man who might every now and again have to retire and under- go therapeutic exercises. So when my clients term was up, and your client found himself still precluded from p~edo- trophic functioning, he renewed his pro- posals. It is said that she treated them with scant courtesy at first. But when months passed, and she saw he really knew his own mind this time, when, too the term of her eligibility was drawing to a close, she gave the proposal a fair hearing. And the upshot of the matter is that their names are duly posted up on the door of the temple. Frank was more than half prepared for a slight eruption of Sylvias old caustic humor on hearing of this d6nouement of the little tragi-comedy. But she merely remarked: Im very glad to hear it, Frank. You know some of us did treat her rather roughly at that trial. I dare say she is not such a lukewarm citizen after all. Frank thought he detected in her tone a touch of that subdued and chastened mood which, man-like, he had come to prefer to all her others. So he just press- ed her hand gratefully and said nothing. TWO SONGS. BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. I. Q 0 sweet, so sweet, she sang, is love, ~J Lifting the cup to lips that laughed, Drinking the deep enchantment off, Fire, spice, and honey in the draught. II. So sad, so sad, she sighed, is love, Bitter the lees, and black the art That from the deep enchantment wrings A spell to break a womans heart!

TWO SONGS. 113 of 55 (1957). Sylvia and Frank had been model partners for nearly five years. Two healthy and comely boys supplied material for their pa~dotrophic zeal. Syl- via had fatigued herself and them in the morning by a visit to the Bakeries, where for the first time the staple article of diet was manufactured on strictly scientific principles. She had meant it as an ob- ject-lesson to impress on her boys the de- pendence of the individual citizen on the community. So in the afternoon she had thought herself justified in giving them a little relaxation in the garden. She was just helping them make a daisy chain when Frank entered the garden. He stopped for a moment and, unobserved, looked down with a queer smile on the pretty citizen group. Then, stepping for- ward and touching Sylvias shoulder, he said, gayly: Thats right, Miitterchennot too much of the citizen just at first. Besides, a temperate love of flowers is permitted to children. So says the last edict of the Educational Boardthough Im not quite sure that they would approve the daisy chain. Doesnt that savor somewhat of old -fashioned sentiment, self- regarding May-queens, shepherdesses, and that sort of thing eh, most enlightened of ex- Demics ? Sylvia smiled contentedly. She recog- nized the tone of triumphant banter which he always adopted when he was particu- larly well pleased at finding her coming round to his view of things. He then put a question or two to the children on the mornings object-lesson, and endeavored to rouse in their youth- ful breasts an enthusiastic admiration for their great benefactor, Evolution, by giv- ing them a description of the horrible mixtures th~t used to pass for bread in London toward the end of the nineteenth century. Then he turned to Sylvia again, and with a merry laugh told her he had just heard a most comical piece of news. Our old clients in the cause c~l~bre have patched up matters, and are going in for P. P. after all. You dont mean it! Why, I thought my client had thrown over yours in favor of a more evolved woman. That was so. But it seems that she, being so very evolved, rather objected to pairing with a man who might every now and again have to retire and under- go therapeutic exercises. So when my clients term was up, and your client found himself still precluded from p~edo- trophic functioning, he renewed his pro- posals. It is said that she treated them with scant courtesy at first. But when months passed, and she saw he really knew his own mind this time, when, too the term of her eligibility was drawing to a close, she gave the proposal a fair hearing. And the upshot of the matter is that their names are duly posted up on the door of the temple. Frank was more than half prepared for a slight eruption of Sylvias old caustic humor on hearing of this d6nouement of the little tragi-comedy. But she merely remarked: Im very glad to hear it, Frank. You know some of us did treat her rather roughly at that trial. I dare say she is not such a lukewarm citizen after all. Frank thought he detected in her tone a touch of that subdued and chastened mood which, man-like, he had come to prefer to all her others. So he just press- ed her hand gratefully and said nothing. TWO SONGS. BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. I. Q 0 sweet, so sweet, she sang, is love, ~J Lifting the cup to lips that laughed, Drinking the deep enchantment off, Fire, spice, and honey in the draught. II. So sad, so sad, she sighed, is love, Bitter the lees, and black the art That from the deep enchantment wrings A spell to break a womans heart! JUPITER LJGHTS.* BY CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON. XIX. THEY walked for some distance with- out speaking. I have just been writing to Ferdie, Paul said at last. The gray-green wood had seemed to Eve like another world, an enchanted land. Now she was forced back to real life. Must I take up all that again ? something within her protested. Cant I have just a little moment of life for my- self alone? How selfish I am! But I dont care if I am selfish. I want some happiness; only a littlelike this walk. Oh, if he would say nothingjust go on without speaking. Its all I ask. I shall go down there in ten days or so, Paul went on. Ferdie will be up thenin all probability well. I shall take him to Savannah, and from there we shall sail. Sail? To Norway.~~ Norway ? Didnt I tell you? I have made up my mind that a good long voyage in a sailing vessel will be the best thing just now. And you go too ? Of course. Four or five weeks, perhaps ? Four or five months; as it grows cold- er, we can come down to the Mediterra- nean. A chill crept slowly over Eve. Was itwasnt it difficult to arrange for so long an absence ? As Hollis would phrase it, You bet it was! answered Paul, laughing. I shall come back without a cent in either pocket. But Ive been centless before; Im not terrified. If you would only take some of mine ! You will have Cicely; we shall both have our hands full. She looked up at him more happily. They were to be associated together in one way, then, after all. But a vision fol- lowed, a realization of the blankness that was to come. Less than two weeks and he would be gone. How the hours would drag; how empty the days would be, with nothing to think of or to plan forno- thing to look forward to, pleasant or un- pleasant, from morning to night! The cottage would protrude all its bare dreari- ness again; and going out would be even worse, with the clattering Main Street, the public square with its ragged neglected grass strewn with bits of paper, the mud, the half-built houses with their scaffold- ing, the smell of green lumber, the whistles of the boats, all these, half forgotten when there was anybody to meet, or hope of meetingthese would stand forth in fresh- ened ugliness and create a deadly depres- sion. The hideous Park, could she ever walk there again? Could she keep on the mask of words, of conversation? The days would be like a taste of copper in the mouth, like a drink of fiat water that had been standing in a close room. When the journey is over, shall you come back to Bois Blanc ? she asked aloud. Yes; I must. Shall you bring themshall you bring your brother with you ? That depends. On the whole, I think not. Ferdie would hate the place; he would hate the snow and the stumps. Its comical what tastes he has, that boy; he ought to have been born a mediinval Italian prince. My idea is that he will do better in South America; he has al- ready made a beginning there, and likes the life. This time he will take Cicely, and that will help to steady him. He will go to house-keeping; he will be a model family man. And Paul smiled: to him Ferdie was still the lad of fifteen years before. But in Eves mind rose a recollection of the yellow light of a candle far down a forest road. Oh, dont let her go with him! Dont! Paul stopped. You are sometimes so frightened! I have noticed that. And yet you are no coward. What happened really? What did you do ? What did you do! She could not speak. Im a brute to bother you about ~ Paul went on. But I have always felt sure that you did more that night than you have ever acknowledged. Cicely couldnt tell us, you see, because she had * Begun in January number, 1889.

JUPITER LJGHTS.* BY CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON. XIX. THEY walked for some distance with- out speaking. I have just been writing to Ferdie, Paul said at last. The gray-green wood had seemed to Eve like another world, an enchanted land. Now she was forced back to real life. Must I take up all that again ? something within her protested. Cant I have just a little moment of life for my- self alone? How selfish I am! But I dont care if I am selfish. I want some happiness; only a littlelike this walk. Oh, if he would say nothingjust go on without speaking. Its all I ask. I shall go down there in ten days or so, Paul went on. Ferdie will be up thenin all probability well. I shall take him to Savannah, and from there we shall sail. Sail? To Norway.~~ Norway ? Didnt I tell you? I have made up my mind that a good long voyage in a sailing vessel will be the best thing just now. And you go too ? Of course. Four or five weeks, perhaps ? Four or five months; as it grows cold- er, we can come down to the Mediterra- nean. A chill crept slowly over Eve. Was itwasnt it difficult to arrange for so long an absence ? As Hollis would phrase it, You bet it was! answered Paul, laughing. I shall come back without a cent in either pocket. But Ive been centless before; Im not terrified. If you would only take some of mine ! You will have Cicely; we shall both have our hands full. She looked up at him more happily. They were to be associated together in one way, then, after all. But a vision fol- lowed, a realization of the blankness that was to come. Less than two weeks and he would be gone. How the hours would drag; how empty the days would be, with nothing to think of or to plan forno- thing to look forward to, pleasant or un- pleasant, from morning to night! The cottage would protrude all its bare dreari- ness again; and going out would be even worse, with the clattering Main Street, the public square with its ragged neglected grass strewn with bits of paper, the mud, the half-built houses with their scaffold- ing, the smell of green lumber, the whistles of the boats, all these, half forgotten when there was anybody to meet, or hope of meetingthese would stand forth in fresh- ened ugliness and create a deadly depres- sion. The hideous Park, could she ever walk there again? Could she keep on the mask of words, of conversation? The days would be like a taste of copper in the mouth, like a drink of fiat water that had been standing in a close room. When the journey is over, shall you come back to Bois Blanc ? she asked aloud. Yes; I must. Shall you bring themshall you bring your brother with you ? That depends. On the whole, I think not. Ferdie would hate the place; he would hate the snow and the stumps. Its comical what tastes he has, that boy; he ought to have been born a mediinval Italian prince. My idea is that he will do better in South America; he has al- ready made a beginning there, and likes the life. This time he will take Cicely, and that will help to steady him. He will go to house-keeping; he will be a model family man. And Paul smiled: to him Ferdie was still the lad of fifteen years before. But in Eves mind rose a recollection of the yellow light of a candle far down a forest road. Oh, dont let her go with him! Dont! Paul stopped. You are sometimes so frightened! I have noticed that. And yet you are no coward. What happened really? What did you do ? What did you do! She could not speak. Im a brute to bother you about ~ Paul went on. But I have always felt sure that you did more that night than you have ever acknowledged. Cicely couldnt tell us, you see, because she had * Begun in January number, 1889. JUPITER LIGHTS. 115 fainted. How strange you look! Are you ill? It is nothing. Let us walk on. As you please. If they go to South America, why shouldnt you go with them ? he said, after a while, returning to his first topic. You will have to go if you want to keep a hold on Jack, for Cicely will never give him up to you for good and all, as you have hoped. Norway. And I to South America ! So ran her thoughts. If you were with them, I, up here, should feel a great deal safer. Well, that was something. Was this, then, to be her occupation for the future by a watch over Ferdie, to make his bro- ther more comfortable? She tried to give a sarcastic turn to this idea. But again the crushed feeling swept over her: Oh, if it had only been any one but Ferdinand Morrison !Ferdinand Morrison! How you shuddered ! said Paul. Walking beside her, he had felt her tremble. You certainly are ill. No. But dont let us talk of any of those things to-day; let us forget them. How can we I can. And you must. The color rose suddenly in her cheeks, a contrast to her former pallor; her blue eyes had a deep light. For the moment she was won- derfully beautiful. My last walk with him! When he is gone, the days will be a blank, and the people; I shant care for anything. Her brothers name came to her, as though some one had spoken it. Well, you had what you wanted, Jack; you had Cicely. Am I to have nothing at all ?nothing all my life ? It is my last walk with you ! she said aloud, pursuing the current of her thoughts. He looked at her askance. She turned and left him; she walked rapidly toward the lake, coming out on the beach beyond Eagle Point. He followed her, and as he came up his eyes took possession of and held hers, as they had done before. Then, after a moment, he put his arm round her, drew her to him, and bent his face to hers. She tried to spring from him. But he still held her. What shall I say to ex- cuse myself, Eve ? The tones of his voice were very sweet. But he was smiling a little too. She saw it. She broke from his grasp. VOL. LXXIX.No. 469.il You look as though you could kill me! he said. (And she did look so.) Forgive me, he went on; tell me you dont mind. I should have thoughtthat what I confessed to youyou know, that day But there were no subtleties in Paul. Why, that was the very reason, he said. What did you tell me for, if you didnt want me to think of it ? Then he took a lighter tone. Come, forget it. It was nothing. Whats one kiss ? Eve colored deeply. And then, suddenly, Paul Tennant col- ored too. He turned his head away, and his glance, resting on the water, was stopped by somethinga dark object float- ing. He put up a hand on each side of his face and looked more steadily. Yes. No. Yes! Theres a woman out there lashed to something. She is probably drowned. I must go out and see. He had thrown his hat down upon the sand as he spoke; he was hastily taking off his coat and waistcoat, his shoes and stock- ings; then he waded out rapidly, and when the rock shelved off, he began to swim. Eve stood watching him mechanically. He has already forgotten it ! Then a new thought came to her. The water of Lake Superior is icy coldshe had heard somebody say this. It will chill him, numb him; he will sink, and I shall not be able to help him! Oh, how far is it round that point? If I should go out to the end, could I see down the other side, and wave to the others to come ? But the end of the point was far away, and Paul was swimming in exactly the opposite direction; she could not bring herself to leave him, even in search of aid. He reached the dark object. Then, af- ter a short delay, she could see that he was trying to bring it in. But his progress was slow. The water is icy cold ! she kept re- peating to herself. The water is icy cold! Oh, there must be something the mat- ter! Perhaps a cramp has seized him. A terrible impatience took possession of her it was impossible for him to hear her, yet she cried to him at the top of her voice, and fiercely: Letitgo! Let it go,I say! Come in alone. Who cares for it, what- ever it is? Save yourself ! It was not until his burden lay at her feet that she could turn her mind from him in the 116 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. least, or think of what he had brought, or Yes.4 care. Get in, then. He stepped out of the boat, and she took his place. He pushed it off and waded beside her until the wa- ter came to his chin; then he began to swim, directing her course by a movement of his head. She used her paddle very cautiously, now on one side, now on the other, the whole force of her will bent upon keeping the little craft steady; for she did not know how to paddle; she had only seen it done; her yes meant that she would do it; not, certainly, that she could. After a while, chancing to raise her eyes, she saw something dark ahead, and fear seized her. She could not look at it. She felt sick. Oh, I must not stop now; I must not lose my self-control. Fool, hypocrite, why should you be afraid, when you have seen a man drop and throw out his arms in that aw- ful way, when your own hand shot him down ! Thus governing herself by ter- ror, with a determined effort of will she succeeded in turning the canoe without upsetting it, and then waited steadily un- til Paul gave the sign. Keeping her eyes carefully away from that side, she started back toward the shore, Paul convoying his floating freight. As they approached the beach he made a motion signifying that she should take the canoe farther down. When she was safely at a dis- tance he brought his tow ashore. It was the body of a sailor. The fragment of deck planking to which he was tied had one end charred; this told the dreadful tale: fire at sea. The sailor was dead, though it was some time before Paul would acknowledge it. At length he desisted from his efforts. He came down the beach to Eve, wiping his forehead with his wet sleeve. No use. Hes dead. lam going out again. I will go with you, then. If you are not too tired ? They went out a second time. They saw another dark object half under wa- ter. Again the sick feeling seized her. But she turned.,the canoe safely, and they came in withwtheir load. This time when he dismissed her, as though it were a place of refuge, she went back to the lit- tle girl, and landing, sat down. She was very tired. After a while she heard soundsfour canoes coming rapidly round the point, the Indians using their utmost speed. She rose. Hollis, who was in the first canoe, The burden was a girl of ten, a fair child with golden curls, now heavy with water; she was prettily dressed, and her face was calm, the eyes peacefully closed. She had been lashed to a long plank by somebodys handwhose? Her fathers? Or had it been done by a sobbing mother, praying, while she worked, that she and her little daughter might be kept from death, when they reached the deep cold lake? Its dreadful, when theyre so young, said big Paul, bending over the body rev- erently to loosen the ropes. He finished his task, and straightened himself, with wet eyes. A collision or a fire. If it was a fire, they must have seen it from Jupiter Light. He scanned the lake. Perhaps there are others who are not dead; I must have one of the canoes at once. Ill go by the beach. You had better follow me. He put on his shoes and was off again like a flash, running beside the water toward the west at a vig- orous speed. Eve watched him until he was out of sight. Then she sat down beside the lit- tle girl and began to dry her pretty curls one by one, smoothing them with her handkerchief. Even then she thought, He has forgotten it ! By-and-byit seemed to her a long timeshe saw a canoe coming round the point. It held but one person Paul. He paddled rapidly toward her. Why didnt you follow me, as I told you to ? he said, almost angrily. Hollis has gone back to the camp for more canoes and the Indians; he took Cicely, of course. And he ought to have taken you. I wanted to stay here. You will be in the way; drowned peo- ple are not always a pleasant sight. Sit where you are, then, since you are here. If I come across anything I shall row in at a distance from you. He paddled off again. But before very long she saw him re- turning. Are you really not afraid ? he asked, as his canoe grated on the beach. No. Theres some one out there. But I find I cant lift anything into this canoe aloneits so tottlish; I could swim and tow, though, if I had the canoe as a help. Can you paddle ? JUPITER LIGHTS. 117 saw her, and directed his canoe toward her. Why did you stay here ? he de- manded, sternly, as he saw the desolate little figure of the child. Eve began to excuse herself. I was of use before you came. I went out; I helped. Paul shouldnt have asked you. He had to; he couldnt do it alone. He shouldnt have asked you. He went off to Paul, and she sat down again. She took up her task of drying the pret- ty curls. After a while the sound of voices and of paddles ceased altogether, and she knew that the work of restoration had again proved unavailing, and that they had all gone far out on the lake for further search. She went on with what she was doing. But presently, in the stillness, she began to feel that she must turn and look; if she did not she should be haunted by the idea that some one one of the men who had been supposed to be drowned, perhapswas stealing up noiselessly to look over her shoulder. She turned. And then she saw Hollis sitting not far away. Oh, I am so glad you are there ! Hollis rose and came nearer, seating himself again quietly. I thought I wouldnt leave you all alone. She scanned the water. The five canoes were clustered together far out; present- ly, still together, they moved in toward the shore. They are bringing in some one else. Shant we go farther away ? suggest- ed Hollis farther toward the point? Ill go with you. No; I shall stay with this little girl. I want to be able to tell her mother, or whoever comes to visit her poor little graveI want to be able to tell them that I did not leave her, that I staid with her to the last. You wont understand this, of course; only a woman would un- derstand it. Oh, I understand, said Hollis. But Eve ignored him. The canoes are keeping all together in a way they havent done before. Do you thinkoh, it must be that they have got some one who is living I Its possible. They are holding something up so carefully. She sprang to her feet. I am sure I saw it move! Paul has saved a life! How can you sit there, Mr. Hollis? Go. Go and find out ! Hollis went. In twenty minutes he came back. Well? said Eve, breathlessly. Yes, theres a chance for this one. Hell come around, I guess. Paul has saved him. I dont know that hes much worth the saving. He looks a regular scala- wag. How can you say that a human life ! Hollis looked down at the sand, abashed. Couldnt I go over there for a mo- ment ? Eve said, watching excitedly the distant group. Better not. Tell me just how Paul did it, then ? she asked, hight-heartedly. For of course it was he; the Indians dont know any- thing. Well, I cant say how exactly. He brought him in. Isnt he wonderful ! I have always thought him the clev- erest fellow I have ever known in all my life, responded poor Hollis, stoutly. The next day the little girl, freshly robed and fair, her small hands full of flowers, was laid to rest in the forest bury- ing - ground belonging to Jupiter Light. Eve had not left her. There were thirty new mounds there before the record was finished. Steamer Mayhew burned, Tuesday night, ten miles east Jupiter Light. Fif- teen persons known to be saved. May- hew carried thirty cabin passengers, a hundred emigrants, besides crew. Total loss. (Bois Blanc despatch to the As- sociated Press.) The camp was abandoned. Reaching the muddy streets of Bois Blanc again, with the near proximity of pressing, clat- tering, breathless business, and the near departure for the South hovering before her, with the memory too of those stiff dead forms left behind at the Light, Eve said to herself: He has forgotten. It is natural that he should forget. xx. Fourth of July. A brilliant morning, with the warm sun tempering the cool air, and shining with glittering radiance on the pure cold lake. At ten oclock precisely the cannon began to boom; it looked as though the town had undertaken a siege of the water, 118 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. for the guns were plant~ed at the ends of the piers, their muzzles pointing seaward. Each cannon was to be fired thirteen times, in honor, of course, of the immortal Colonies; and the Bois Blanc Light Artil- lery held themselves sternly erect, trying to appear unconscious of the near presence of all Bois Blanc, sitting close behind with pea-nuts, and criticising them. The salute over, the piers were deserted. The procession was formed. The follow- ing was the order: The Marshal of the Day. The Goddess of Liberty (Parthenia Drone) on her car. The Clergy. (In carriages.) Fire-Engine E. P. Snow. (Trimmed with smilax.) The Mayor and Common Council. (In carriages.) Hook and Ladder Company No. 1. (With angel on the ladder.) The Immortal Thirteen. (Thirteen little girls in a lumber wagon, singing The Red, White, and Blue.) Fire - Engine Leander Braddock. (With streamers of pink tarlatan.) The Carnival of Venice. A Tableau. (This tableau represented the facade of a Venetian palace, skilfully constructed upon the model of the Parthenon, with Wolf Roth, in an Indian canoe below, playing upon his guitar. Wolf was at- tired as a Venetian, in a turban, Cardigan jacket, high boots with spurs, and pow- dered hair. The second Miss Drone, as Ceres, looked down upon him from the palace balcony.) Fire-Engine Conqueror. (With a performing dog.) Reader of the Declaration of Indepen- dence and Orator of the Day. (In car- riages.) Hook and Ladder Company No. 2. (With a Cupid.) The Survivors of the War. (On foot, with banners.) Fire-Engine Senator M. P. Hagan. (With an oil-portrait of the Senator.) Model of the Bois Blanc Monument to our Fallen Heroes. (Crowned with laurel.) Hook and Ladder Company No. 3. (With a cornet playing The Sweet By- and-By.) Widows of our Fallen Heroes. (In carriages.) Fire-Engine Excelsior. (Carrying the drum corps, drumming.) The Arts and Sciences. (Represented by the drays of Bois Blanc, the portable printing-press of the Bois Blanc Courier and the coal wagons.) Citizens. (Boys hooting and whist- ling; little girls pushing baby wagons; Indians.) Cicely watched the procession from the windows of Pauls office, laughing con- stantly with wild little outbursts of glee; the expression of her face reminded Eve of her moonlit dance at Romney, seven months before. When Hollis passed, sit- ting stiffly erect in his carriagehe was the Reader of the Declaration of Inde- pendenceshe threw a bouquet at him, and compelled him to bow. Hollis was adorned with a broad stiff scarf of white satin, fastened on the right shoulder by an immense rosette of the national colors. I am going to the public square to hear him, Cicely announced suddenly. Come, Paul. You couldnt see anything; youre too little, answered Paul. You can put me on the fence. Eve, you must go too, and grandpa. Come, grandpa. I will keep out of the rabble, I think; it appears indiscriminate, said the Judge. (He had observed the negro barber. of Bois Blanc among the Survivors of the War, with a star-spangled helmet.) Oh, come on; I dare say you have never heard the thing read through in your life, suggested Paul, laughing. Thomas Jefferson, sir, was my great- uncle. My grandfather, one of the repre- sentatives from Georgia, was a Signer. Sign a treaty of peace now, grandpa. And take Eve. The Judge offered his arm. The one church bell (Baptist) and the two little fire bells were jangling merrily when they reached the street. People were hurrying toward the square. Many of them were delegates from neighboring towns; they had accompanied their fire- engines to Bois Blanc, and were proud of their appearance. White dresses were abundant. The favorite refreshment was a lemon partially scooped out, the hollow filled with lemon candy. When they reached the square, Paul established Ci- cely on the top of a fence, standing behind to steady her; and presently the procession appeared, wheeling slowly in, and falling into position in a half-circle before the main stand, the fire-engines in front. the JUPITER LIGHTS. 119 hook and ladders behind, with the Carni- val of Venice and the Goddess of Liberty as the keystone of the arch. The Clergy, the Mayor and Common Council, the Ora- tor of the Day, were escorted to their places on the stand, and the ceremonies opened. By-and-by came the turn of Hollis. In a high, chanting voice he began: Whenin the courseof human events, it becomes ne.essary for one peo- ple to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another Cheer, whispered Cicely to Paul. Paul, entering into it, set up a mighty hurrah with so much vigor that all the people near him joined in patriotically, to the confusion of the Reader, who went on, however, as well as he could, and in a higher key than ever: We holdthese truthsto be self-evi- dent, that allmen are created equal Again, murmured Cicely. And again Pauls corner burst forth ir- repressibly, followed after a moment by the entire assemblage, glad to be doing something in a vocal way on their own account after so much pious silence, and determined to have their moneys worth of jollity if of nothing else. And so, from the present King of Great Britain to our lives, oar forr- chuns, and our sacrred honor, on it went, a chorus of hurrahs growing louder and louder until they became roars genu- yne Lake Superior smiles, as Hollis called them later, when, his official duties over and his glaring satin scarf removed, he appeared at the cottage to talk it over. I knew it was you, he said to Paul, with one of his grins, as he seated him- self in the elaborate extension-chair which Paul had (mistakenly) bought for the shrunken little figure of the Judge. But say, did you notice the Widows of our Fallen Heroes, now? To me they looked scared; they had a sort of glare under their crape. You see, once we had eight of em; but this year there is only one left; all the rest have married again. Now it happens that this very year the Soldiers~ Monument is done at last, and naturally the committee wanted the Widows of the Fallen to ride in the procession as a sort of souvenir. The one Widow who was left declared that she would not ride all alone; she said it would look as though no one had asked her, whereas she had had at least three good offers. So the committee went to the others and asked them to dress up as former Widows just for to-day. Lots of people cried when they came along, two and two, all in black, so pathetic. He sprang up to greet Eve, who was en- tering, and the foot-board entangled itself with his feet, after the peculiarly insidi- ous fashion of extension-chairs. Hang it all! Instrument of torture ! he said, crossly. I will leave it to you in my will, de- clared Paul. And perhaps it is just as well to say it now, before witnesses, be- cause to-morrow I am going away. Cicely stopped laughing. Going away? What for ? Business. I shall be back in plenty of timetwo or three days before I start South. There go half of the last few hours thought Eve. The second evening after, Hollis came up the path to Pauls door. The Judge, Eve, Cicely, and Porley with Jack, were sitting on the steps, after the Bois Blanc fashion; they had all been using their best blandishments to induce Master Jack to go to bed. But that young gentleman refused; he played patty - cake steadily with Porley, looking at the others out of the corner of his eye; and if Porley made the least attempt to rise, he began what Cicely called his Ulalumeloud bewail- ings, with his face screwed up, but with- out a tear. It was suspected that these were pure artifice, and not one of his worshippers could help admiring his sa- gacity. They altogether refrained from punishing it. I was at the post-office; so I thought Id just inquire for you, said Hollis. There was only one letter. Its for Miss Bruce. Eve took the letter and put it in her pocket. She had recognized the hand- writing instantly. Hollis, who also knew the handwriting, began to praise himself up in his own mind as rapidly as he could for bringing it. It was a good thing to do. And a kind thing. You must manage jobs like that for her often, C. Hollis; then youll be sure that you aint, yourself, a plumb fool. She doesnt open it? Of course she doesnt, Tom Noddy! Go and sit down, and stop your jawing. Eve did not open her letter until she reached her own room at eleven oclock. When she was safely behind her bolted door she took it from its envelope and 1f~O HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. read it. She read it and re-read it. Hold- ing it in her hand, she pondered over it. She was standing by the mantel-piece be- cause her lamp was there. The soles of her feet began to ache, and she sat down. This was at one oclock. The letter was as follows: DEAR EvE, Now that I am away from her, I can see that Cicely is not so well as we have thought. All that laugh- ing yesterday morning was too much. I am afraid that she will break down when I go awayI mean when I start South. So I write to suggest that you take her off for a trip of ten days or so. You might go up to St. Paul. Then I neednt see her at all, and it really would be better. As to seeing you again Yours sincerely, PAUL TENNANT. Why did he write, As to seeing you again, and then stop? What was it that he had intended to say, and why did he leave it unfinished? As to seeing you again Supposing it had been, As to seeing you again, I dread it! But no; he would never say that; he doesnt dread anythingme least of all! Probably it was only, As to seeing you again, there would be nothing gained by it; it would be for such a short time. But imagination soon took flight anew. Possibly, remembering that day in the wood, he was going to write, As to seeing you again, do you wish to see me? Is it really true that you care about me a lit- tle? It was so brave to tell it! A weak woman, a petty spirit, could never have done it. But no, that is not what he would have thought. He likes the other kind of womenthose who do not tell. She laid her head down upon her arms. I wish I could make myself over ! Presently she began to ponder again: He had certainly intended to write something which he found himself unable to finish; the broken sentence tells that. What idea, what thought, could it have been? Any ordinary sentence, like, As to seeing you again, it is not necessary, as you know already my plans about Cicely if it had been anything like that, he would have finished it. It would have been easy to do so. No; it was something different. Oh, if it could only have been, As to seeing you again, I must see you; it must be managed in some way~ I can- not gd without a leave-taking! Her eyes were now radiant and sweet. Their glance happened to fall upon her watch, which was lying, case open, upon the ta- ble. Three oclock. And I have sat here since eleven! I am losing my wits. She undressed rapidly, angrily. Clad in white, she stood brushing her hair, her supple figure taking, all unconsciously, enchanting postur8s as she now held a long lock at arms-length to let the comb pass through it, and now, putting her right hand over her shoulder, brushed out part of the golden mass that fell from the back of her head to her knees. But he must have intended to write something unusual, even if not of any of the things I have been thinking ofsomething un- usual and important; then he changed his mind. That is the only solution of his leaving it unfinishedthe only possible solution. And it was dawn before she fell asleep. The evening before, sitting in the bar- room of the Star Hotel, Lakeville, Paul had written his letter. He had got as far as, Then I neednt ~ee her at all, and it really would be better. As to seeing you again, when a voice said, Hello, Ten- nant !busy ? Nothing important, replied Paul, pushing back the sheet of paper. The visitor shook hands; then he seated himself, astride, on one of the bar-room chairs, facing the wooden back, which he hugged tightly. He had come to talk about Pauls Clay County iron. He had one or two ideas about it which he thought might come to something. Paul, too, thought that they might come to something when he heard what they were. He was excited. He began to jot down figures on the envelope which he had intended for Eve. Finally he and the new-coiner went out together. Be- fore going he put the letter in his pocket. When he came in, it was late. First mail to Bois Blanc ? he inquired. Five oclock to-morrow morning, re- plied the drowsy waiter. Must finish it to-night, then, he thought. He took out the sheet, and open- ing it, read through what he had written. What was it I was going to add ? He tried to recall the train of thought. But he was very sleepy (as Hollis said, Paul had a genius for sleep). Besides, his mind was occupied by the new business plan. I havent the slightest idea what JUPITER LIGHTS. I was going to say. A clear profit of fifty thousand in two years; that isnt bad. Ferdie will need a good deal of it. Ye-ough ! (a yawn). What was it I was going to say? I cant imagine. Well, it wasnt important in any case; Ill just sign it, and let it go. So he wrote, Yours sincerely, Paul Tennant, and went to bed. xx. We had better spend the night at the butter womans, then, suggested Paul. What fun! If there arent beds enough, we can sleep on the hay, said Cicely. Paul had returned, and had found her still at Bois Blanc. She had refused to go to St. Paul. The only Paul I care for is the one we have here. What an i-dea, Eve, that I should choose just this moment for a trip, Heaven knows where Pauls last days! And youve urged it so that it looks as though you were trying to keep me away from him. Im not trying; its Paul, Eve might have answered; but she did not. It must be curious to be such a sort of person as you are, Cicely went on, looking at her. You have only one feeling that ever gives you any trouble, havent you? Thats anger. I am never angry with you, Eve answered, with the humility which she always showed when Cicely made her cutting little speeches. But Paul had been right. As the time of his departure for Romney drew near, Cicely grew restless. She was seized with fits of weeping. Then, dashing away the tears, she would go to the woods, and run through the green aisles like a wild crea- ture, run so far, and for so many minutes at a timeten, fifteen, twentythat Eve remonstrated. At last, one evening,when there were only two days left, her little face looked so drawn and white thai Paul proposed a driveanything to change, even if only upon the surface, the cur- rent of her thoughts. We will go to Betsy Lake, and pay a visit to the an- tiquities. The copper mine at Betsy Lake-the Lac aux Becs-Scies of the early Jesuit ex- plorershad been abandoned. Recently traces of work there in prehistoric times had been discovered, with primitive tools which excited interest in the minds of antiquarians. The citizens of Bois Blanc were not antiquarians; they said Az 121 tees, Mound-builders, and went about their business. Eve did not go with the little party. They had started at three oclock, intend- ing to visit a hill from which there was an extensive view, before going on to the butter womans farm-house. At four she herself went out for a solitary walk. As she was passing a group of wretch- ed half-built shanties, beyond the out- skirts of the town, a frightened woman came out of one of them, calling loud- ly, Mrs. Halley! oh, Mrs. Halley, your Lyddy is dying I A second woman, who was hanging out clothes, dropped the garment she had in her hand and ran within. Eve fol- lowed her. A young girl, who appeared to be in a spasm, occupied the one bed, a poor one. The mother rushed to her. But in a few seconds the danger was over, and the girl fell into a heavy sleep. That Mrs. Sullivanshes too inten- tional, said Mrs. Halley, after she had dismissed her frightened neighbor. I just invited her to sit here trenquilly while I put out me clothes, when lo! she begins and screams like mad. Shes had no education; thats very plain. Theres nothing the matter with my Lyddy ex- cept that shes delicate, and as soon as shes a little better Im going to have her take music lessons on the peanner. Eve looked at Mrs. Halleys ragged wet dress and at the wan, pinched face of the sleeping girl. It is a pity you have to leave her, she said. Couldht you get somebody to do your washing? I take in washing, miss; Im a lady- laundress. Only the best; I never wash for the boats. How much do you earn a week ? Oh, a tidy sum, answered Mrs. Hal- ley. Then, seeing that Eve had taken out her purse, her misery overcame her pride, and she burst forth, suddenly: Never more than three dollars, miss, with me slaving from morning to night. And Ive five children besides poor Lyddy there. Oh, may the Lorrd bless you! Oh, what luck the day ! She began to cry. And me with my skirt, all wet and the house not clean when the chariot of the Lord descended upon me ! She sank into a chair, her toil-worn hands over her face, her tired back bent forward, relaxed at last, and resting. Eve pursued her investigations. She sent a boy to town for provisions, and 122 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. waited to see a meal prepared. Mrs. Hal- ley, still wet and ragged, but now refresh- ed by joy, moved about rapidly; at last there was nothing more to do but to sit down and wait. She was the prettiest of all my children, she remarked indi- cating the sleeping girl with a motion of her head. She is still pretty, Eve answered. Yet you never saw her making eyes at gentlemen like some. Theres a great deal of making eyes in Boblar. Rose Bonham, nowshe got a silk dress out of Mr. Tennant no longer ago as last March. Mr. Tennant? Yes; the gentleman who superintends the mine. Not that I have anything to say against him. Gentlemen has their priviluges. All I say isgirls havent ! Eve had risen. I must go now; I will come again soon.~~ Oh, miss, said the woman, dropping her gossip, and returning to her gratitude (which was genuine) oh, miss, maynt I know your name? I want to put it in my prayers. There was just three cents in the house, miss, when you came; and Lyddy she couldnt eat the last meal I got for hera cracker and a piece of mack- erel. You can pray for me without a name,~~ said Eve, going out. She felt as though there were hot coals in her throat. She could scarcely breathe. She went toward the forest, and enter- ing it by a cart track, walked rapidly on. Rose Bonham was the daughter of the butter woman. Bonham had a rough forest farm about five miles from Bois Blanc, on the road to Betsy Lake, and his wife kept Pauls cottage supplied with but- ter. Eve had seen the daughter several times. She was a very beautiful girl. Eve and Cicely thought her bold. But the women who eat the butter are apt to think so of those who bring it, if the bring- ers have sparkling eyes, peach-like com- plexions, curling hair, and the gait of Hebe. And Paul himself had suggested the spending the night therean entirely un- necessary thingunder the pretence of gaining thereby an earlier start in the morning. She came to a little pool of clear water. Pausing beside it, half unconsciously, she beheld the reflection of her face in its mirror. Something seemed to say to her, And what is your education, your cul- ture, in short all your ladyhood, worth when compared with the peach-like face of that young girl ? Her own image looked up at her, pale and cold, pale and stern; it did not seem to her to have a trace of beauty. She took a stone, and casting it in the pool, shattered the pic- ture. I wish I were beautiful beyond words! I wish I had everything! I could be beautiful if I had everything. If no- thing but the finest lace and velvet touch- ed me, if I never raised my hand to do anything for myself, if I had only dainty and delicate and beautiful things about me, I should be beautifulI know I should. Bad women have those things, they say. Why havent they the best of it? She began to walk on again. She had not as yet given much thought to the di- rection her steps were taking. Now it came to her that the road to Lake Betsy, and therefore to Bonhams, was not far away, and she crossed the wood toward it. When she reached it, she turned tow- ard Bonhams. Five miles. And it was now after five oclock. When she came in sight of the low roof and scattered out-buildings a sudden realization came to her, and she stopped. What was she doing there? If they should see her, any of them, what would they think? What could she say? And as though they were already upon her, she took refuge hastily behind the high bushes with which the road was bordered. What have I come here for? It is hu- miliating. Oh, let me get back home! let me get back home ! She returned toward Bois Blanc by the fields and the woods, avoiding the road. The shadows were dense now; it was almost night. She had gone more than a mile when she stopped and retraced her steps. When she reached Bonhams the second time, lights were shining from the windows. I had to come! I had to come! The roughly built house rose directly from the road. Blinds and curtains were evidently considered superfluous. With breathless eagerness she drew near. The evening was cool, and the windows were closed. Through the small wrinkled panes she could distinguish a wrinkled Cicely, a wrinkled Judge, a Hollis much askew, and a Paul Tennant with a dislo- cated jaw. They were playing a game. After some moments she recognized that. TOTHER MISS MANDY. 123 it was b~zique. She almost laughed aloud, a bitter laugh at herself: she had walked five miles to see a game of b~zique. A dog barked; she turned away and began her long journey homeward. Presently the thought came to her, and would not leave her, After the game is over, and the others have gone to bed, he will see that girl somehow, somewhere. She did not find the road a long one. Passion made it short, a passion of de- spair. Reaching the town at last, she passed an ice-cream saloon with a large window. Seated within, accompanied by a Bois Blanc youth of the hobbledehoy species, was Rose Bonham, eating pink ice-cream. I lowed, miss, dat yer mus have gone out dair yousef on foot, to dat dair but- ter womans, yous been gone so turrible long, said Porley, by way of an immense joke. The next evening at six the excursion party returned. At seven they were seated at the tea-table. The little door- bell jangled loudly in the near hall. There was a sound of voices. Paul, who was nearest the door, rose and went to see what it was. After a long delay he came back and looked in. They had all left the table, and Cicely had gone to her room. Paul beckoned Eve out silently. His face had a look that made her heart stop beating. In the narrow hall, under the small lamp, he gave her, one by one, three telegraphic despatches, open. The first: Monday. Break it to Cicely. Dear Ferdie died at dawn. SABRINA AnEnonoMnIE. The second: Monday. Morrison died this morning. Tele- graph your wishes. EDwAnD KNOX, M.D. The third: Wednesday. Morrison buried this afternoon. Ad- dress me, Pulaski House, Savannah. EDWAnD KNOX, M.D. I ought to have had them two days ago, said Paul. He stood with his lips slightly apart looking at her, but without seeing her or seeing anything. [TO BE CONTINUED.] TOTHER MISS MANDY. BY NANNIE MAYO rITzHuGH. UT HERS pap, Aun Drusy ? VV Fur the Ians sake, Malviny, don ast me nothin bout yo pap. His goin s an doins is mon he can keep the straight of hissef, let alone other folks. Ef I knowed where he was, dinner wouldn be a-settin here spilin, after me gittin roun so peart to have it on time, an me with the misery in my head that bad I cant hardly live right now. I don know no- thin bout him, thout hes in the horse lot. What you want of yo pap any- ways ? But there was none to answer. Through the open door Aunt Drusy could see, when, startled at the silence, she turn- ed round, a pair of brown thin legs scam- pering as fast as their scantiness of di- inension would allow in the direction of the horse lot. Malviny, wise from expe- rience, never waited the end of her aunt Drusys harangues if she could elude ob- servation long enough to gain the door. Across the road and down the stony hill she sped, wholly unbeautiful, with her little seven-year-old figure all bones and Vot. LXXIX.No. 46912 angles, and hair, skin, and eyes sun-wash- ed to one monotonous sickly drab. In the horse lot she found her father putting on his coat preparatory to going to dinner. Pap, she said, tother Miss Mandy done come. As she spoke she peered with eyes full of anxiety into his face. He had not even turned to see who it was when he heard her coming, and now nei- ther his attitude nor his stolid, impene- trable face showed any interest in the announcement. I don keer, he said, indifferently. She don look contrairy, neither,con- tinued the child, undaunted by this dis- couraging reception of news whose im- portance seemed consuming her; like them other school-teachers what gits up schools roun here; shes powerful kin- spoken, an. Oh, pap, air you goin to sign me She hardly expected an answer, and she received none. Except when some neighbors sturdy son by chance would

TOTHER MISS MANDY. 123 it was b~zique. She almost laughed aloud, a bitter laugh at herself: she had walked five miles to see a game of b~zique. A dog barked; she turned away and began her long journey homeward. Presently the thought came to her, and would not leave her, After the game is over, and the others have gone to bed, he will see that girl somehow, somewhere. She did not find the road a long one. Passion made it short, a passion of de- spair. Reaching the town at last, she passed an ice-cream saloon with a large window. Seated within, accompanied by a Bois Blanc youth of the hobbledehoy species, was Rose Bonham, eating pink ice-cream. I lowed, miss, dat yer mus have gone out dair yousef on foot, to dat dair but- ter womans, yous been gone so turrible long, said Porley, by way of an immense joke. The next evening at six the excursion party returned. At seven they were seated at the tea-table. The little door- bell jangled loudly in the near hall. There was a sound of voices. Paul, who was nearest the door, rose and went to see what it was. After a long delay he came back and looked in. They had all left the table, and Cicely had gone to her room. Paul beckoned Eve out silently. His face had a look that made her heart stop beating. In the narrow hall, under the small lamp, he gave her, one by one, three telegraphic despatches, open. The first: Monday. Break it to Cicely. Dear Ferdie died at dawn. SABRINA AnEnonoMnIE. The second: Monday. Morrison died this morning. Tele- graph your wishes. EDwAnD KNOX, M.D. The third: Wednesday. Morrison buried this afternoon. Ad- dress me, Pulaski House, Savannah. EDWAnD KNOX, M.D. I ought to have had them two days ago, said Paul. He stood with his lips slightly apart looking at her, but without seeing her or seeing anything. [TO BE CONTINUED.] TOTHER MISS MANDY. BY NANNIE MAYO rITzHuGH. UT HERS pap, Aun Drusy ? VV Fur the Ians sake, Malviny, don ast me nothin bout yo pap. His goin s an doins is mon he can keep the straight of hissef, let alone other folks. Ef I knowed where he was, dinner wouldn be a-settin here spilin, after me gittin roun so peart to have it on time, an me with the misery in my head that bad I cant hardly live right now. I don know no- thin bout him, thout hes in the horse lot. What you want of yo pap any- ways ? But there was none to answer. Through the open door Aunt Drusy could see, when, startled at the silence, she turn- ed round, a pair of brown thin legs scam- pering as fast as their scantiness of di- inension would allow in the direction of the horse lot. Malviny, wise from expe- rience, never waited the end of her aunt Drusys harangues if she could elude ob- servation long enough to gain the door. Across the road and down the stony hill she sped, wholly unbeautiful, with her little seven-year-old figure all bones and Vot. LXXIX.No. 46912 angles, and hair, skin, and eyes sun-wash- ed to one monotonous sickly drab. In the horse lot she found her father putting on his coat preparatory to going to dinner. Pap, she said, tother Miss Mandy done come. As she spoke she peered with eyes full of anxiety into his face. He had not even turned to see who it was when he heard her coming, and now nei- ther his attitude nor his stolid, impene- trable face showed any interest in the announcement. I don keer, he said, indifferently. She don look contrairy, neither,con- tinued the child, undaunted by this dis- couraging reception of news whose im- portance seemed consuming her; like them other school-teachers what gits up schools roun here; shes powerful kin- spoken, an. Oh, pap, air you goin to sign me She hardly expected an answer, and she received none. Except when some neighbors sturdy son by chance would 124 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. recall the old disappointment, Lije Meeks seemed absolutely to forget the existence of the motherless child whose birth had been the occasion of his keenest sorrow, by reason of her sex. Malviny was not a being constituted to reconcile her father. He was a man subject to bursts of hot, ungoverned anger, and at such times he would whip her cruelly, though less bru- tally than if she had been the boy he longed for, yet his nature was affection- ate and home-loving, and a union of femi- nine and childish graces would have avail- ed completely to win for Malviny all her sex had lost her in his heart. But acute natural sensitiveness produced a repel- lent, unchildlike reserve that took away all hope her unlovely little person had left her. She lived always under a sort of conviction of sin. They had reached the corner of the old worm-fence where the new school-mistress had reined her horse. The man dreaded the interview, and embarrassment and de- fiance modified the greeting he wished to make entirely cordial. You the school-mistis I heerd um say was going round gittin up signers, I reckon, he said, after she had been press- ed and had refused to dismount. Yes, she answered; I suppose my little friend here told you Im going to take possession of her. She smiled at the child, who stood shy and silent be- hind her father, watching the visitor with furtive steadiness. Ive already been promised most of her friends. Of course you will want the little girl in school this spring ? A pair of self-expressing, self-uncon- scious eyes were raised in abandonment of entreaty to him who seemed to Malvinys mind to hold the very keys of destiny. Pap, she whispered, trusting the hope she held most dear to the force of that one appeal, ef you sign me, Ill git up rith- metic uvva night same as I was a boy. She caught the intent gaze of the young school-mistress, and a tide of agonizing self-consciousness seemed to drown her faculties. The next instant her eyes met Mildreds in a flash of that mutual recog- nition which, while it lasts, precludes all possibility of shyness between those who share it. Mr. Meeks, said the new teacher, im- petuously, does it seem to you that you have the right to keep that child out of school ? He did not resent thisa fact at which Mildred wondered upon subsequent re- flectionbut put himself instantly on the defensive. I don know as I ever said I wouldn sign, though I low to not bein no gret han fur women teachers. Miss Mandy now, she was one o them kin, cose, an that school o hem was jes natually the no-countes place. Any- ways, I don know but what I will sign some. Bill Murphy now, I low he signed a right smart. My loW ef I had half that there tobacco land of Bills, I wouldnt stan back fur a little money when it come to schoolin. Miss Owen silently handed him the list of signatures and amounts. He studied it critically for a few moments, trying to calculate the amount due from him in or- der to preserve the proportion between the sum subscribed and the subscribers property and social standing which the previous signers had established. Pre- sently he laid the ar-tick-le on his care- fully poised knee, and wrote his name with grave and laborious precision, hold- ing his tongue between his teeth the while. Miss Owen replaced the paper without looking at it, and made a second move- ment toward starting. But Mr. Meeks, after the manner of those conquered un- consciously to themselves, was disposed to be gracious, and insisted on detaining her as his guest at dinner. Mildreds first impulse was to seal her conquest over masculine prejudice by ac- cepting this invitation, but a vision of the unknown Drusy in housewifely dis- comfiture at the thought of entertaining a distinguished guest without the red cloth on the table, or time to beat up a bowl of float, chose for her the part of dis- cretion, and made her plead her promise to dine at her boarding-house. And Malviny watched, till she lost them in the shadow of the woods, the white horse and the gleam of his riders hair on her dark habit, with the spell upon her of that divine, half-fearful glimpse that sometimes startles every life the dim awakening of a human soul to its own beauty. The school was having recess. Through the open windows, from the dense netting of green boughs that crowded the very eaves and shut off the mid-day rays of the hot June sun, came a faint delicious emanation that was not fragrance, but TOTHER MISS MANDY. 125 seemed the woods own consciousness of their glad, mute, mysterious life. Before the stove that served her for a desk, in default of anything better, Mil- dred sat correcting various documents of remarkable appearance which had been presented for her inspection as composi- tions. Presently her attention was ar- rested by a dispute that was going on in stage-whispers at the other end of the room. You ast her. I wont ast her; yall make me ast her uvva thing. The large girls were intrenched, ac- cording to custom, behind the tall bench- es of the corner, from which strong- hold Miss Owen had tried at every in- termission to eject them by strategy. The dispute in the corner grew louder, emphasized by sundry sibilant ejacula- tions of sh, sh, and shet up, the school-mistress being well aware that these demonstrations of concern lest her peace should be disturbed were exaggerated in order to attract her attention, and draw from her some question that might open the subject on which it was evident they desired an interview. Malviny oughter ast her; she looks like she could eat her up with them starin eyes o her Ef I sot as much sto by anybody as Malviny do by teacher, Id uppen ast her uvva thing come into my head. The child shrank back with a flush of embarrassment at the giggle of apprecia- tion that followed this display of wit at her expense. To her the teacher was a sacred being, of whom to speak lightly was profanation. Ef Malviny wont, I will, proceeded the speaker. Then raisingher voice, which the hush of expectation made unnaturally distinct, she said, in an apologetic drawl, Miss Mildred. Well? Air you engaged to marry ? The unlooked-for nature of this inquiry threw her off her guard so completely that she forgot the impropriety of the question, and only answered No, with a face of expectant surprise. Lawsy me ! replied the questioner, Im most always engaged to three. Wasnt you never engaged to three ? Miss Owens conversational powers seemed paralyzed to a condition of mon- osyllabic uniformity. No, she said, still expectantly. You wasnt! Well, I declare! Its a sight of fun. Th aint hardly a one of us Fif Reader girls what aint engaged; but I jes as live not be engaged at all as to jes have one feller. Mildred felt her face crimson. She was silent a moment, overcome by a sense of the disproportion between the wisdom re- quired to deal helpfully with her girls and her own power to supply that wisdom. When she spoke, it was in decided but earnest, sympathetic language that was so much good seed in the fertile soil of their fresh, receptive minds, though the immediate result of her words would have discouraged her. She had risen as she spoke, and taking her hat and the dipper from their nails, went through the open door, looking back over her shoulder with a smile as she said the last words. Well, that do beat all 1 ejaculated the girl, in slow bewilderment. Sech talk- ins that air pintedly a new word to me. She went out powerful suddent, fo any- body could ast her nothin. Its droll at aint nobody settin up to hergood-look- in woman like teacher. She war right smart pleggedin reason. I heerd some person say at they was a mm to spark school-mistis, put in an- other girl, and thats Teed Cribbins. She glanced across the room to see the effect of the name on a girl who sat ab- sorbed in her arithmetic, and was at this moment engaged in proving the correct- ness of her multiplication by going over the operation on her fingers. Every eye of the group in the corner instinctively followed the speakers. The faint pink of the mathematicians cheek deepened and crept over brow and neck, but the bent head did not move, and the accurate, slow movement of her fingers was unbroken. Teed lowed they couldnt nobody hen- der him from goin to see school-mistis, ef she did boad at ole Mis Halls, continued the last informant, ostensibly for the ben- efit of her immediate neighbors. A half- uneasy, wholly appreciative giggle fol- lowed this. Shet up, Emmy, said one. You done got Barbry that plegged she cant get her rithmetic. The object of this consideration did not notice it. A, little lower she bent over the obdurate figures on the slate, but only the varying crimson of her half-turned cheek betokened that she heard. She could not help listening with painful in- 126 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tentness at every mention of Teed Crib- binss name any more than she could re- strain the vexatious scarlet waves that told her secret; but a year of continual vain attempts at defending herself from her school-mates friendly curiosity and her mothers reproaches convinced hj~r of the greater wisdom of ignoring both. There was, truly, either in words or si- lence, very little hope for the mutual love of Teed and Barbry. Teed, otherwise Stephen Cribbins, was the son of a farmer, respectable but notoriously devoid of ca- pacity for managing his farm, who, dying and leaving his son penniless, had just be- fore death bound him to Lije Meeks. In return for his labor he was to get his sup- port, and when at twenty-one he became free, a horse and saddle. When it first dawned upon old Mrs. Halls mind that his regard for her daugh- ter was something deeper than a praise- worthy appreciation of the charms of a social superior, she was conscious only of a passing indignation at his presumption. But when Teed, made bold by love, plain- ly asked her to let Barbry wait for him, she received him with a perfectly sincere dramatic scorn that gave him no chance to explain his audacity by bringing for- ward the girls confessed preference for him above all her other admirers. This perversity of affection on her daughters part the old woman soon discovered for herself; and until the time when the teach- er had taken up her board with them, Barbry had lived in an atmosphere of persecution as thoroughly uncomfortable as disappointed maternal pride and an unwise use of maternal authority could make it. Outwardly she accomplished her designs. Barbry esteemed obedience her highest duty, and her relations with Teed relapsed into the most formal speak- in quaintance; but she knew and he knew that in spite of her apparent vic- tory, the old womans cause was losing ground all the time. Whose house is a - burnin, Viny? Cant you hold on ther long enough to listen at a feller ats bustin his throat a-hollerin at you ? The child stopped reluctantly and stared up into the good - humored face that belied the roughness of its owners address, in disconsolate appeal. Oh, Teed ! she said, despairingly, as if recog- nizing certain detention, quit a-foolin wid me. Tother Miss Mandy 11 be done gone an lef me. To her this was a far more reasonable explanation of her haste than somebodys house being on fire. She was the only. pupil whose way lay with the teachers, and the daily walk was her chief joy and pride. In school, where, with her natural quickness of com- prehension, she would do her appointed tasks in half the allotted time, there were others whose presence put restraint on the dumb worship of her eyes. But here the privilege was hers alone. The con- stant flow of talk in which Miss Mildred told her wonderful things about the very weeds they passed, or the far-off places she had seen, or, stranger still, about the Jesus whom Malviny had always thought of as a ghostly being, much to be avoided as a subject of conversation, and dimly connected with hellall was for her. Ef thats what all this gittin up an gittins fur, replied Teed, deliberately feeling in his pocket as he spoke, its lucky you come upon me fo you run them skeeter legs o yourn plum off. I seen school-mistis half-way to them sugar- maples when I was longside yo paps new barn. He drew a much - folded sheet of foolscap from his pocket, and stood regarding it with a sort of tender anxiety. I got sumpn here at I want to git you to ten to, an firs thing you know youll be a-gittin to ride behin me on that ther high-steppin nag o mine. Im a-goin to put this ere letter in yo speller, an when you git to school you jes sorter slip it in that ther dest in the fur corner where the dinner buckets sets. I aint afeard to walk right up an give it to teacher, cried Malviny, her eyes sparkling at the thought of being of service to Miss Mandy in her love affairs. She remembered what her school-mates had said of Teeds intentions, and taking it literally, had not now a doubt that she was assisting the aspirant in a prelimi- nary step. The young fellow half withdrew the pa- per in his alarm. Oh, say now, Viny ! he exclaimed, dont you go to doin no- thin ficety. You needn mm bout givin it to nobody; shell git it, an no mistake. You jes pintedly do what you hear me say fur you to do, and don let on to nobody, and some o these days youll fin vosef goin to meetin with one o them new cali- coes up at the cross-roads on yo back. Malvinys heart was beating with exul TOTHER MISS MANDY. 127 tation as she trotted through the pasture. She had never forgotten how Mildred had blushed during that memorable conversa- tion in the school-room, nor how the girls had attributed it to mortification. They would not be able to speak any more with that tone of half wonder, half contempt, of Miss Mandys lack of admirers. Teed meditatively continued his way, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets as an aid to thought. It comes sorter hard to Teed Cribbins he said, half aloud, these here sneakin ways; taint hardly to say sneakin nei- ther. I done fair by ole Mis Hall, an now Im goin to do fair by Teed awhile. Im twenty-one, a month come cot day, an what with my horse, an croppin with Lije this year, I don see but what me n Barbry 11 have as good a showin fur a start as any of um. I aint good enough for Barbry, an thats so; but ef shes fool enough to think so, why, it suits Teed powerful well, an Ill be pleggoned ef I don come as nigh it as these here sto- cloes fellers what ole Mis Hall sets so much sto by. He was not apprehensive of wearying l3arbry with his persistency. She was too true to the line of conduct she had adopted to allow herself to give him so much as one glance of assurance through all those weary months; but at every chance meeting at play party, meet- in, or spelling match, there had come to them, with the mere presence of the other, a strong mutual consciousness that was in itself complete assurance of each others constancy. Teed was not quite successful in carry- ing out his plans. There were days when Malviny would be late, and he dared not trust her getting her precious charge de- posited unobserved, and sometimes she would join her teacher in the morning be- fore he could see her alone. At the end of two weeks Barbry had been the recip- ient of five brief communications, written with infinite difficulty and the most con- scientious attention to the epistolary for- malities in which her correspondent had been instructed during his two terms at school. He was bitterly disappointed at receiving no reply, but would not listen to his reasons hint of discontinuance. He determined to try once moreat the same moment that Barbry was resolving in her own mind that she would return the next unopened. She had been trying to force herself to this measure ever since the receipt of the second. She told herself that it was unpardonable presumption, a breach of faith with her mother, that she would not read another word, and with these indig- nant resolutions almost on her lips, she every morning raised the desk lid in a tremor of expectation. When she found nothing there but her books she took up her slate and applied herself unreservedly to her promiscous examples, without admitting there had been the faintest pos- sibility of there being anything else in the desk. On the five occasions when Mal- viny succeeded, the teacher was at a loss to account for the suppressed radiance of her cleverest pupils eyes, and the startled alacrity that replaced her usual serene confidence in recitation. I aint goin to wait na nother time, thought Barbry at last, decidedly; ef Teed aint already quit them fool doins o hisn, Im goin to jes make Malviny take him uvva las letter back right to-day ! School had been in progress some fifteen minutes when Malviny arrived. She was out of breath, and instead of taking her seat, hurried up to Miss Owen, and laid a timid hand in hers. Hits your letter, she said, in a shrill undertone of eager- ness and diffidence. Pap hollered at me to come back an hunt his knife what I los, an I couldn git here any quicker. Barbry sat trying to control the agoni- zing crimson of her cheeks while her teacher read the almost indecipherable scrawl in slow bewilderment. Then she glanced over at the girl in sudden instinc- tive comprehension, and put the paper in her pocket without a word. When the closing hour had comealready the day had seemed interminable to her impatience Barbry asked for a private talk on their way home, and carried out her resolution to ease her overburdened heart by taking her teacher into her confidence. Mildred was amazed at the strength of the girls principle, as well as at the violence of her emotions. She seemed to struggle between respect for her mother and indignation at her treatment of her lover. The young teach- ers short experience had taught her that the former feeling had probably not been fostered by her training, while the perfect equality between parent and child in fami- lies in which the childs authority was not supreme made her wonder that any spark of feeling of reverence remained. 128 I~ARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. But Barbry did not merit Mildreds re- spect quite so much when they had gone further. When they reached home she had worked herself up to such a pitch of excitement that her tears blinded her. Ma oughter be shamed hersef, Miss Mildred, she said, passionately she ought in reason. Its jes plum contrairi- ness in ma, a-sayin mean Teed shant talk to one nother, nor nothin like thatlike as if Teed want good enough for anybody an him an her both members down at Bethelshe choked with a sob of wound- ed pride. Mrs. Hall appeared at the door, with a frying-pan in her hand and a stare of as- tonishment on her face. Id say Bethel Meetin-house! she exclaimed, in irrele- vant repetition of Barbrys words. What in the land o gracious, Barbry, air you up to now ? Mildred hurried in to escape the scene which she knew would follow. She tried in vain to shut out the sound of Mrs. Halls high-keyed reproaches and the girls broken, excited defence. At last she was relieved to hear Barbry take up the buckets, and her mothers voice raised as if for a parting thrust. Taint nothin to me noways. Lor knows taint. Taint me a-fixin to mar- ry somebodys bound-out boy, thank the gracious. Jes go right long an git mar- ried; twont be me a-makin a fool o my- sef. I low you jes as live uppen tell him youre a-lovin him right this min- ute. Cose gals wasnt raised that a-way in my day an time, but I low you jes as live tell him as to not. Barbry stopped in the path outside and turned toward the door with blazing eyes. I aint got no call to tell him, she said, distinctly; tam no use a-tellin folks what they know aready. Miss Owen watched the buckets and their bearer out of sight, and then saun- tered into the kitchen with the charitable purpose of diverting Mrs. Halls thoughts to a pleasanter channel. Finding this hopeless, she sat down and encouraged the excited woman to go over the whole ground of her grievance, using her utmost wisdom to drop a word now and then that might help her to see at once the best view of Teeds suit, and the hopelessness of opposing it. Mrs. Hall gradually grew calm and more reasonable, and then Mil- dred began to work on her affection by some adroit praise of her daughter. Barbara is over nineteen, she was saying, in conclusion, and has only a few months of school life. So, after all, if she does marry Mr. Cribbins, she will not be losing any of her schooling. A shadow darkened the door, and the owner of the name she had just called took off his hat to her with a gravity that almost deceived Mildred into thinking he had not heard. Whers Barbry, Mis Hall ? he asked, with awkward deference, yet as coolly as though he were a constant and welcome guest. The old woman was secretly willing to yield, yet ashamed of her easy surrender. Shes done gone to the spring; go on an git her. I low yous on the same ole business. Im done. Jes dont pes- ter me no mo bout it. I got all I can do tenin to my own business, let alone folks what don pay no tention to ole folks no- ways. Teed could hardly wait until the kitchen door was out of sight before he gave vent to his triumph and amusement at the school-mistresss unintentional disclosure. He had fretted under Mrs. Halls opposi- tion and Barbrys compliance with her wishes, but the greatest of his fears for two weeks had been with regard to the state of her own mind. He chuckled and whistled and talked to himself as he went down the hill, out of sheer lightness of heart. At the bottom he met the object of his search resting before she attempted the steep winding path. Teed was seized with sudden gravity. Gimme them buckets, he said, abruptly. They were the first words he had spoken to her, ex- cepting in salutations, for a year. Barbry took up her burdens without heeding the hands outstretched for them. I hope I aint that puny I cant pack a little water, she said, ungraciously. He made no further effort to relieve her, and they walked on silently. Barbrys uppermost feeling was a sense of her tear- disfigured face. Teed felt no need of words. He was content for a little while. But it was he that spoke first. I heerd bout teacher gittin my letter I sont you, he said, an I lowed shed tell yo ma, an so I got in the mm to come up an have it out with your ma right now. She wouldnt gimme no chance, though. I couldn git nothin outen her but jes Go long, git Barbry. Teacher dont tell nothin, retorted TOTHER MISS MANDY. 129 Barbry, choosing the portion of his words for r& ply withinstinctivediscretion. Shes jes pintedly the sweetest woman ever I seen. I jes love Miss Mildred, I do. Barbry, he said, suddenly, say sumpn to me. Ive been waitin a year an mo. She tried to force a reply of light ir- relevancy, but her lips trembled. Them buckets aint in no hurry, he went on presently; set down here a spell. She put down the buckets in mechanical obe- dience to the masterful tone of his words, but did not change her position. Her excitement had worn away, leaving only weariness. She was sick for sympathy and rest, and Teeds manner seemed por- tentous of another combat. The young fellow felt his confidence fast ebbing under the discouragement of her persistent silence. Ef you aint wantin to talk to me now, he said, in the low, even tone of suppressed feeling, you wont never talk to me. Barbrys perversity chose to construe this as a threat. Im thinkin, then, she answered, turning to him her flushed cheeks and shining eyes, at well call it never. Teed looked at her with a long gaze of quiet hopelessness. I lowed all the time twould be this a-way, he said, simply. It didn hardly seem like it could be so las year when you told me you thought right smart of me; an gra- cious knows you aint had no call to keep on a-lovin me all these mons. He turned abruptly and walked away without looking back. The girl put her arm around the tree under which she stood and leaned her head low against it. She told herself that her mother might be waiting for her, and wondered why she did not move. Then it seemed as if she had been standing there a great while, as if a lifetime had passed since he left her. Presently she fancied she heard a step be- hind her, and then his voice fell on her ear. Barbry, he was saying, so low and indistinctly that she barely caught the words, say at you didn mean it when you tole me to go away. She straightened herself with an effort, and looked at him as she spoke with her brown honest eyes. I don remember of nobody senin you away. All I re- member of is jes you went thout no tell- in. I alays thought folks what loved nother didn pay no tention to mons and years. I don know nothin bout this here kind o lovin what gits started an then stops. I low that mus be men-folks way o doin. She bent her head over the buckets she was about to lift. Teed intercepted the hand that was nearest him, and took it in both his own. Bar-ar-bry ! came a shrill, strong voice froni the kitchen door, make hase an~ come on huh an hep git supper.~~ It was one of the occasions, so appalling to his family, when the whole force of Lije Meeks anger seemed aroused. At the same hour when Teed and Barbry sat in Mrs. Halls porch content in the hap- piness of reconciliation, Lije Meeks came home wrathful from the exaggerated ac- counts he had heard of his little daugh- ters share in the matter. As regarded herself merely she could hardly have been guilty of anything more degrading in his eyes, and Teeds position in her fathers house as a favored inmate gave a suspi- cious look to the affair. The suggestion at least of complicity on his part would cross the minds of all who heard the story. He felt that the suspicion of un- derhand dealing connected with his name was more than he could bear. The mo- ment he entered the tiny kitchen where Malviny sat disposing of biscuits and sarghum the childs heart grew cold with fear. The few times when she had seen him equally incensed had burned the expression of his mouth and brows into her memory. Aunt Drusy saw it too, and instantly put herself on the de- fensive. Leave her alone tell she gets up her kindlin, she interposed; I cant go out in the wet with this here misery in my headgo long, Malviny. The child crept