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diff --git a/15080-8.txt b/15080-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..944d2fc --- /dev/null +++ b/15080-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7378 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Godey's Lady's Book, Vol. 42, January, 1851, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Godey's Lady's Book, Vol. 42, January, 1851 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 16, 2005 [EBook #15080] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Keith Edkins and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: NEW YEAR'S DAY IN FRANCE.] + + * * * * * + +MODEL COTTAGE. + +[Illustration: _A Cottage in the Style of Heriot's Hospital, Edinburgh_.] + +The elevation is shown in fig. 1, the ground-plan in fig. 2. + +_Accommodation_.--The plan shows a porch, _a_; a lobby, _b_; living room, +_c_; kitchen, _d_; back-kitchen, _e_; pantry, _f_; dairy, _g_; bed-closet, +_h_; store-closet, _i_; fuel, _k_; cow-house, _l_; pig-stye, _m_; yard, +_n_; dust-hole, _q_. + +The Scotch are great admirers of this style, as belonging to one of their +favorite public buildings, which is said to have been designed by the +celebrated Inigo Jones. The style is that of the times of Queen Elizabeth, +and King James VI. of Scotland and I. of England. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +GODEY'S + +LADY'S BOOK. + +PHILADELPHIA, JANUARY, 1851. + + * * * * + +[Illustration] + +THE CONSTANT; OR, THE ANNIVERSARY PRESENT. + +BY ALICE B. NEAL. + +(_See Plate._) + +It has an excellent influence on one's moral health to meet now and then in +society, or, better still, in the close communion of home life, such a +woman as Catherine Grant. She influences every one that comes within the +pure atmosphere of her friendship, and as unconsciously to them as to +herself. She never moralizes, or commands reform. There is no parade of her +individual principle in any way, but she always _acts_ rightly; and, if her +opinion is called forth, it is given promptly and quietly, but very firmly. + +Yet, though even strangers say this of her now, there was a time when few +suspected the moral strength of her character. Not that principle was +wanting; but it had never been called forth. She moved in her own circle +with very little remark or comment. She was cheerful, and even sprightly in +her manner, and her large blue eyes, as well as her lips, always spoke the +truth. I do not know that she was ever called beautiful; but there was an +air of _ladyhood_ about her, from the folding of her soft brown hair to the +gloving of a somewhat large but exquisitely-shaped hand, that marked her at +once as possessing both taste and refinement. + +I remember that friends spoke of her engagement with Willis Grant as a +"good match," and rather wondered that she did not seem more elated with +the prospect of being the mistress of such a pleasant little establishment +as would be hers, for she was one of a large family of daughters, and her +father's income as a professional man did not equal that of Willis, who was +at the head of one of our largest mercantile houses. But it was in her +nature to take things calmly, though she was young, and all the kindness of +his attentions, and the prospect of a new home, as much as any happy bride +could have done. It _was_ a delightful home--not so extravagantly furnished +as Willis would have chosen it to be, but tasteful, and withal including +many of those luxuries and elegancies which we of the nineteenth century +are rapidly, too rapidly, learning to need. Willis declared that no one +could be happier than they were; and, strange as it may seem, the envious +world for once prophesied no cloud in the future. + +But we have nothing to do with that first eventful year of married +life--the year of attrition in mind and character, when two natures, +differing in many points, and these sharpened as it were by education, are +suddenly brought into immediate contact. There were some ideals overthrown, +no doubt--it is often so; and some good qualities discovered, which were +unsuspected before. The second anniversary of the wedding-day was also the +birth-day of a darling child, and the home was more homelike than ever. + +Yet Willis Grant was seldom there. It was not that he loved his wife the +less--that her beauty had faded, or her temper changed. She was the same as +ever--gentle, affectionate, and thoughtful for his wishes; and he +appreciated all this. But before he had known her, in those wild idle days +of early manhood, when the spirit craves continual excitement, and has not +yet learned that it is the love of woman's purer nature which it needs, +Willis had chosen his associates in a circle which it was very difficult to +break from, now that their society was no longer essential to him. He was +close in his attention to business; his great, success had arisen from +industry as well as talent; but when the counting-house was closed, there +was no family circle to welcome him, and the doors of the club-house were +invitingly open. + +True, it was one of the most respectable clubs of the city, mostly composed +of young business men like himself, who discussed the tariffs and their +effects upon trade over their _recherche_ dinners, and chatted of European +politics over their wine. And this reminds us of one thing that argues +much, if not more than anything else, against the club-house system, that +is so rapidly gaining favor in our cities. It accustoms the young man just +entering life to a surrounding of luxury that he cannot himself +consistently support when he begins to think of having a home of his own. +He passes his evenings in a beautiful saloon, where the light is brilliant, +yet tempered; where crimson curtains and a blazing fire speak at once of +comfort and affluence of means. There are no discomforts, such as any one +meets with more or less, inevitably, in private families--nothing to jar +upon the spirit of self-indulgence and indolence which is thus fostered. +The dinners, in cooking and service, are unexceptionable; and there are +always plenty of associates as idle and thoughtless, and as good-natured, +as himself, to make a jest of domestic life and domestic virtues. And, +by-and-by, there is a stronger stimulus wanted, and the jest becomes more +wanton over the roulette table or the keenly contested rubber; and the wine +circulates more freely as the fire of youth goes out and leaves the ashes +of mental and moral desolation. Ah no! the club-house is no conservator of +the purity of social life, and this Catherine Grant soon felt, as night +after night her husband left her to the society of her own thoughts, or her +favorite books, to meet old friends in its familiar saloons, and show them +that he at least was none the less "a good fellow" for being a married man! + +It was all very well, no doubt, to be able to break away from the pleasant +parlor, and the interesting woman who was the presiding genius of his +household, and spend his evenings in the society of gay gallants who talked +of horses and Tedesco's figure, or the gray-headed votaries of the whist +table, who played the game as if the presidency depended upon "following +lead," and each trump was a diamond of inestimable worth, to be cherished +and reserved, and parted with only at the last extremity. Sometimes a +thought of comparison would arise, as he sat with elevated feet beside the +anthracite fire, and gazed steadfastly on his patent leathers. Sometimes +the idle jests and the heartless laughter would jar upon his ear; and the +cigar was suffered to die out as, in thoughts of wife and child, he forgot +to put it to his lips. But the injustice of his conduct, in thus depriving +them of his society, did not once cross his mind, until he was +involuntarily made the witness of a visit between Catherine and a lady who +had been her intimate friend before marriage. + +He had returned hurriedly one morning in search of some papers left in his +own room, dignified by the name of study, though it must be confessed that +he passed but little time there. It communicated with Catherine's +apartment, which was just then occupied by the two ladies in confidential +chat. + +"And so you won't go to Mrs Sawyer's to-night?" said Miss Lyons, who had +thrown herself at full length upon a couch, and was idly teazing the baby +with the tassel of her muff. "How provoking you are! You might as well be +dead as married! It's well for your husband that I'm not in your place. +Why, every one's talking about it, my child, how you are cooped up here, +and Willis at the club-house night after night. Morgan told me he was +always there, and asked me what kind of a wife he had--whether you +quarreled or flirted, that he was away from you so much." + +Had the heedless speaker glanced up from her play with little Gertrude, she +would have seen her friend's face suffused with a slight flush, for the +last was a view of the case entirely new to her. But she said, quietly as +ever-- + +"'Everybody' might be in better business, Nell; and why is it well for +Willis that you are not in my place?" + +"Why? Because I'd pay him in his own coin; he should not have the game all +in his own hands. If he went to the club, I'd flirt, that's all, and we'd +see who would hold out the longer." + +"Bad principle, Nelly. 'Two wrongs,' as the old proverb says, 'never make a +right;' and yet I am sorry I said that, for so long as it gives Willis +pleasure, and he is not drawn from his business by it, it is no wrong, +though there is danger to any man in confirmed habits of 'good-fellowship,' +as it is called. No one could see that more plainly than I do, or dread it +more. Of course, when we love a person it is natural to wish to be with him +as much as possible; and I must confess I am a little lonely now and then. +But your plan would never succeed, nor would it be wise to annoy my husband +with complaints. Nothing provokes a man like an expostulation." + +"And what do you do, then?" + +"Nothing at all but try to make his home as pleasant as possible, and when +he is weary of his gay companions he will return to me with more interest." + +"Well, well," broke in her visitor; "Morgan can make up his mind to a very +different state of things. I shall stipulate, first of all, that he must +give up that abominable club-house." + +"And do you intend to lay your flirting propensities on the same altar of +mutual happiness?" + +Willis did not hear the reply, for he stole softly away, annoyed, as he +thought, at having been a listener to what was not intended for his ears. +But there was a little sting of self-reproach at his selfish desertion of +home, and, more than all, that Catherine should have been blamed for +offences that any one who had known her would never have attributed to her. + +"Ah, by the way, Kate," he said that evening, turning suddenly, as she +stood arranging her work-table beneath the gas light, "how about that +invitation to Mrs. Sawyer's? It was for to-night, if I recollect?" + +"I sent regrets, of course, as you expressed no wish to go; and, to tell +the truth, I would much rather pass the evening quietly here with you. How +long it is since we have had one of those nice old-fashioned chats! Not +since baby has been my companion." + +This was said in a cheerful tone, as a reminiscence, not as a reproach; and +yet Willis felt the morning's uncomfortable sensations return, though he +tried to dispel them by stooping to kiss her forehead. Nevertheless, he +ordered his coat, as the servant came in to remove the tea things, and took +up his gloves from the table. The very consciousness of being in the wrong +prevented an acknowledgment, even by an act so simple as giving up one +evening's engagement. + +"And here she comes!" he said, as the nurse drew the cradle from an +adjoining room, so lightly that the little creature did not move or stir in +her sweet sleep. And when his wife threw back the light covering, and said, +"_Isn't she beautiful_, Willis?" as only a young mother could say it, it +must be confessed that he thought himself a very fortunate man to have two +such treasures, and he could not help saying so. + +"I love to have the little thing where I can watch her myself; so, when +there is no one in, nurse spares her to me, and we sit here as cosily as +possible. I could watch her for hours. Sometimes she does not move, and +then she will smile so sweetly in her sleep--and only look at those dear +little dimpled hands, Willis!" + +And yet Willis took the coat when it came, though with a guilty feeling at +heart. The greater the self-reproach, the more the pride that arose to +combat it; and he drew on his gloves resolutely. + +"Don't sit up for me," he said, as he had said a hundred times before; and +in a moment the hall door shut with a clang, as he passed into the street. +Catherine echoed the sound with a half sigh. The morning's conversation +rose to her recollection, and she had hoped, she scarce knew why, that +Willis would remain with her that evening. But she checked the regretful +reverie, and took up the pretty little sock she was knitting for Gertrude, +and soon became engrossed in counting and all the after mysteries of this +truly feminine employment. + +Willis was ill at ease. He met young Morgan on the steps, and returned his +bow very coldly. His usual companions were absent, and, after haunting the +saloon restlessly for an hour, he strolled down to his counting-house. He +knew that the foreign correspondence had just arrived, and, as he expected, +his confidential clerk was still at the desk. And here he found, much to +his dismay, that the presence of one of the firm was immediately necessary +in Paris, and that, as the partner who usually attended to this branch of +the business was ill, the journey would devolve on him. He was detained +until a late hour, and as he turned his steps homeward the scene that he +had left there rose vividly to his mind. He hurried up the steps, hoping to +find Catherine still there, but the room was empty, and the fire, glowing +redly through the bars of the grate, was the only thing to welcome him. He +stood a long time, leaning his elbow on the marble of the mantel, and +thought over many things that had happened within the last few years--the +many happy social evenings he had passed at that very hearth; the unvarying +love and constancy of his wife; of his late neglect, for he could call it +by no gentler name; and then came the thought that he must leave all this +domestic peace, which he had valued so little--and who knew what might +chance before he should return? He kissed his sleeping wife and child with +unwonted tenderness, as he entered their apartment, and thought that they +had never been so dear to him before. + +It would be their first protracted separation, and Catherine was sad enough +when its necessity was announced to her. But all preparations were +hastened; and, at the close of the week, they were standing together in the +dining-room, the last trunk locked, and the carriage waiting at the door +that was to convey Willis to the steamer. + +"And mind you do not get ill in my absence, Kate," he said, as he smoothed +back her beautiful hair, and looked down fondly in her face. "If you are +very good, as they tell children, I will send you the most charming present +you can conceive of, or that Paris can offer, for the anniversary of our +wedding-day. Too bad that we shall be separated, for the first time; but +three months will soon pass away." + +And Catherine smiled through the tears that were trembling in her eyes, at +the half sad, half playful words; and a wifelike glance of trustfulness +told how very dear he was. + +There is nothing very romantic nowadays in a voyage to Europe. It has +become a commonplace, everyday journey. You step to the deck of the steamer +with less fear and trembling of friends than was once bestowed on a passage +down the Hudson, and before you are fairly recovered from the first shock +of sea-sickness, you have reached the destined port. But, for all that, +longing eyes watch the rapid motion of the vessel as it lessens in the +distance, and many a prayer is wafted to its white sails by the sighing +night-wind. There are lonely hours to remind one that the broad and silent +sea is rolling between us and those we love, and we know that it is +sometimes treacherous in its tranquillity. + +It is then we bless the quiet messengers that come from afar to tell us of +their well-being--when, the seal, with its loving device, is pressed to +trembling lips, and the well-known hand recalls the form of the absent one +so vividly. So, at last, the long-looked-for letters came with tidings of +the safe arrival of Mr. Grant at his destination, and the hope that his +return would be more speedy than had been anticipated. A month passed +slowly away, and little Gertrude had been her mother's best comforter in +absence. Every day some new intelligence lighted her bright eyes, and +Catherine could trace another token of resemblance to the absent one. But, +suddenly, the child grew ill, and the pain of separation was augmented as +day by day the mother watched over her alone. + +It was her first experience of the illness of childhood, and it required +all her strength and all her calmness to be patient, while sitting hour +after hour with the moaning infant cradled in her arms, unable to +understand or relieve its sufferings, and tortured by the dull look of +apathy which alone answered to her fond or despairing exclamations. She had +forgotten that the birthday of the infant was so near--that first +birthday--and the anniversary which they had twice welcomed so joyfully. At +last the crisis came; the long night closed in drearily, and the physician +told her that, ere morning, there would be hope or despair. Those who have +thus watched can alone understand the agony of that midnight vigil; how +every breath was counted, and every flush marked with wild anxiety. And +Catherine sat there, forgetting that food or rest was necessary to her, +conscious only of the suffering of her child, and picturing darkly to +herself the loneliness of the future, should it be taken from her. How +could she survive the interval that would elapse before her husband's +return? and how dreary would be the meeting which she had hitherto +anticipated with so much pleasure! + +She was not to be so sorely tried. The hard feverish pulse gave place to a +gentler beating; the fever flush passed away; and the regular heaving of a +quiet sleep gave token at length that all danger to the child was over. + +Then, for the first time, Catherine was persuaded to seek rest for herself, +and all her anxiety was forgotten in a deep and trance-like slumber. + +When she awoke there were letters and packages lying beside her bed, +directed by her husband; and after she had once more assured herself that +it was no dream the child was really safe, she opened them eagerly. The +letter announced that the business was happily adjusted, and that his +return might be looked for by the next steamer. Meantime, he said, he had +sent some things to amuse her, and more particularly the choice gift for +the anniversary of their marriage. It was the morning of that very day! She +had not thought of it before. She stooped to place a birthday kiss upon the +fair but wasted little face beside her, and then tore open the envelops. +There were many beautiful things, "such as ladies love to look upon," and +at the last she came to a small package marked, "_For our wedding day_." It +contained a little jewel case; but there was nothing on the snowy satin +cushion but a pair of daintily wrought clasps for the robe of the little +child, marked, "with a father's love;" and then, as she was replacing them, +a sealed envelop caught her eye. There was an inclosure directed to a name +she was not familiar with, and a few lines penciled for herself:-- + +"DEAR KATE: I have searched all over Paris, and could not find anything +that I thought would please you better than the inclosed, which is my +resignation of club membership. Will you please send it to the president, +and accept the true and earnest love of YOUR ABSENT HUSBAND." + +Then he had not been unmindful of her silent regret; he still loved his +home, and the dangerous hour of his temptation was passed! Had she not +great reason for the gush of love and thankfulness that filled her heart +and renewed her strength that happy morning--her child saved, and her +husband, as it were, restored to her? Ere he came, the little one was fast +regaining her bright playfulness, and became a stronger tie between Willis +Grant and his happy home. I do not know that you and I, dear reader, would +have learned the secret of his renewed devotion to his wife, had he not +told Nelly Lyons himself that "Kate's way was the best, and she had better +try it with Morgan, if ever he showed an undue fondness for the club after +their marriage." Of course, the volatile girl could not help telling the +story, and when two know a thing, as we are all aware, it is a secret no +longer. + + * * * * * + +A PARABLE. + +BY JAMES CARRUTHERS. + +"It is a marvel," remarked the youth Silas to his companion, "that, after +so many years of unremitting application, favored by the combination of +extraordinary advantages, I should yet have accomplished nothing. Scholarly +toil, indeed, is not without its meet reward. But in much wisdom is much +grief, when it serves not to advance the well-being of its possessor." + +"I have remarked, as thou hast," returned the companion of Silas, "how +sorely thou hast been distanced in thy life's pursuit by those who came +after with far less ability and fewer advantages; and, if thou wilt believe +me, have read the marvel. Last noon, while in attendance on the Syrian +race, I observed that the untamed, high-mettled steed, that, in his daring +strength and almost limitless swiftness, scorned his rider's curb, though +traveling a space far more extended than the appointed course, and, +surmounting every hill, left the race to be won by the well-governed +courser that obeyed the rein, and, in the track marked out for his +progress, reached the goal." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + +ERAS OF LIFE. + +BY MRS. A.F. LAW + +(_See Plate._) + +BAPTISM + +"We receive this child into the congregation of Christ's flock, and do sign +her with the sign of the cross--in token that hereafter she shall not be +ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, and manfully fight under +his banner against sin, the world, and the devil; and to continue Christ's +faithful soldier and servant, unto her life's end."--BAPTISMAL SERVICE OF +P.E.C. + + In the house of prayer we enter, through its aisles our course we wend, + And before the sacred altar on our knees we humbly bend; + Craving, for a young immortal, God's beneficence and grace, + That, through Christ's unfailing succor, she may win the victor race. + Water from _baptismal fountain_ rests on a "young soldier," sworn + By the cross' holy signet to defend the "Virgin-born." + May she never faint or falter in the raging war of sin, + And, encased in Faith's tried armor, a triumphant conquest win! + To the Triune One our darling trustingly we now commend, + And for full and _free_ salvation, from our hearts pure thanks ascend. + + * * * * + +COMMUNION. + + "Hail! sacred feast, which Jesus makes-- + Rich banquet of his flesh and blood: + Thrice happy he who here partakes + That sacred stream, that heavenly food." + + With a bearing meekly grateful, slow approach the _sacred feast_, + And, with penitential gladness, take, by faith, this Eucharist. + Hark! how sweetly, o'er it stealing, come the sounds of pardoning love! + Winning back to paths of virtue all who now in error rove. + Here is food for all who languish, and for those who, fainting, thirst-- + Free, from Christ, the _Living Fountain_, crystal waters ceaseless burst! + Come, ye sad and weary-hearted, bending 'neath a weight of woe-- + Here the _Comforter_ is waiting his rich blessings to bestow! + None need linger--_all_ are bidden to this "Supper of the Lamb:" + Come, and by this outward token, worship God, the great "I AM!" + + * * * * + +MARRIAGE + + "One sacred oath hath tied + Our loves; one destiny our life shall guide; + Nor wild nor deep our common way divide!" + + Choral voices float around us, music on the night air swells; + Hill and dell resound with echoes of the gleeful wedding bells! + Ushered thus, we haste to enter on a scene of radiant joy-- + List'ning vows in ardor plighted, which alone can death destroy. + Passing fair the bride appeareth, in her robes of snowy white, + While the veil around her streameth, like a silvery halo's light; + And amid her hair's rich braidings rests the pearly orange bough, + With its fragrant blossoms pressing on her pure, unclouded brow. + Love's devotion yields the future with young Hope's resplendent beam; + And her spirit thrills with rapture, yielding to its blissful dream! + + * * * * + +DEATH. + + "Death, thou art infinite!" + "All that live must die, + Passing through nature to Eternity." + + Now we chant a miserere which proclaims the _end of man_-- + Telling, in prophetic language, "_Life,"_ at best, "_is but a span!"_ + Scarcely treading, slowly enter, reverently bend the knee-- + List the Spirit's inward whisper, and from _worldly thoughts_ be free. + Here we view a weary pilgrim, cradled in a dreamless sleep; + Human sounds no more shall reach her, for its spell is "long and deep!" + Gaze upon the marble features! Mark how peacefully they rest! + Anguished thought, and sorrow's heavings, all are parted from that + breast! + Soon on mother earth reposing, this cold form shall calmly lie, + Till, by God's dread trump awakened, it shall mount to realms on high. + + * * * * * + +FOUR SONNETS TO THE FOUR SEASONS. + +BY MARY SPENSER PEASE. + +(_See Plate._) + +SPRING. + + From mountain top, and from the deep-voiced valley, + The snow-white mists are slowly upward wreathing: + Now floating wide, now hovering close, to dally + With sportive winds, around them lightly breathing, + Till, in the quickening Spring-shine through them creeping, + Their gloomy power dissolves in warmth and gladness; + While swift, new tides through Nature's heart-pulse sweeping. + Floods all her veins with a delicious madness. + Warmed into life, a world of bright shapes thronging-- + Young, tender leaf-buds in fresh greenness swelling, + Flower, bird, and insect, with prophetic longing, + Pour forth their joy in tremulous hymns upwelling: + Thus, Love's Spring sun dispels all chill and sorrow + With joyful promise of Love's fullest morrow. + + * * * * + +SUMMER. + + Sweet incense from the heart of myriad flowers, + Sweet as the breath that parts the lips of love, + Floats softly upward through the sunny hours, + Hiving its fragrance in the warmth above: + Big with rich store, the teeming earth yields up + The increase of her harvest treasury; + While golden wine, from Nature's brimming cup, + Quickens her pulse to love-toned melody. + Full choiréd praise from countless glad throats break, + More dazzling bright doth gleam night's dewy eyes; + A newer witchery doth the great moon wake; + More mellow languisheth the bending skies: + Thus, through the heart Life's Summer-sun comes stealing, + Spring's wildest promise in Love's fulness sealing. + + * * * * + +AUTUMN. + + Athwart the ripe, red sunshine fitfully, + Like withering doubts through Love's warm, flushing breast, + With wailing voice of saddest augury, + Sweeps from the frozen North a phantom guest. + With icy finger on each yellow leaf + Writes he the history of the dying year. + Love's harvest reaped, the grainless stalk and sheaf-- + Like plundered hearts, unkerneled of sweet cheer-- + Lie black and bare, exposed to rudest tread: + While still, with semblance of the Summer brave, + Soft, pitying airs float o'er its cold death-bed; + Bright flowers and motley leaves flaunt o'er its grave: + As in Earth's Autumn--so, through weeping showers, + Love sighs a mournful requiem over bygone hours. + + * * * * + +WINTER. + + Locked in a close embrace, like that of Death, + Earth's pulseless heart reposes, mute and chill; + Within her frozen breast, her frozen breath, + In its forgotten fragrance, slumbereth still: + Sapless her veins, and numb her withered arms, + That still, outstretched, stand grim mementos drear + Of her once gorgeous and full-leavéd charms. + Of flower and fruit, all increase of the year: + Voiceless the river, in ice fretwork chained; + Hushed the sweet cadences of bird and bee; + Dumb the last echo to soft music trained, + And warmth and life are a past memory: + Thus, buried deep within dull Winter's rime, + Love dreamless sleeps through the long Winter-time. + + * * * * * + +LIFE IN THE WOODS.--A SONG. + +BY GEO. P. MORRIS. + + A merry life does the hunter lead! + He wakes with the dawn of day; + He whistles his dog--he mounts his steed, + And sends to the woods away! + The lightsome tramp of the deer he'll mark, + As they troop in herds along; + And his rifle startles the cheerful lark, + As she carols his morning song. + + The hunter's life is the life for me! + That is the life for a man! + Let others sing of a home on the sea, + But match me the woods if you can. + Then give me a gun--I've an eye to mark + The deer, as they bound along! + My steed, dog, and gun, and the cheerful lark, + To carol my morning song. + +[Illustration: THE SYLPHS OF THE SEASONS] + + * * * * * + +WHAT IS LIFE? + +BY MARY M. CHASE. + +One sunshiny afternoon, a little girl sat in a wood playing with moss and +stones. She was a pretty child; but there was a wishful, earnest look in +her eye, at times, that made people say, "She is a good little girl; but +she won't live long." But she did not think of that to-day, for a fine +western wind was shaking the branches merrily above her head, and a family +of young rabbits that lived near by kept peeping out to watch her motions. +She threw bread to the rabbits from the pockets of her apron, and laughed +to see them eat. She laughed, also, to hear the wild, boisterous wind +shouting among the leaves, and then she sang parts of a song that she had +imperfectly learned-- + + "Hurrah for the oak! for the brave old oak, + That hath ruled in the greenwood long!" + +and the louder the wind roared, the louder she sang. Presently, a +light-winged seed swept by her; she reached out her pretty hand and caught +it. It was an ugly brown seed; but she said, as she looked at it-- + +"Mother says, if I plant a seed, may be it will grow to be a tree. So I +will see." + +Then she scraped away a little of the mellow earth, and put the seed safely +down, and covered it again. She made a little paling around the spot With +dry sticks and twigs, and then a thoughtful mood came over her. + +That brown seed is dead now, thought she; but it will lie there in the dark +a great while, and then green leaves will come up, and a stem will grow; +and some day it will be a great tree. Then it will live. But, if it is dead +now, how can it ever live? What a strange thing life is! What makes life? +It can't be the sunshine; for that has fallen on these stones ever so many +years, and they are dead yet: and it can't be the rain; for these broken +sticks are wet very often, and they don't grow. What is life? + +The child grew very solemn at her own thoughts, and a feeling as if some +one were near troubled her. She thought the wind must be alive; for it +moved, and very swiftly, too, and it had a great many voices. If she only +could know now what they said, perhaps they would tell what life was. And +then she looked up at the aged oaks, as they reared their arms to the sky, +and she longed to ask them the question, but dared not. A small spring +leaped down from a a rock above her, and fled past with ceaseless murmurs, +and she felt sure that it lived, too, for it moved and had a voice. And a +strong feeling stirred the young soul, a sudden desire to know all things, +to hold communion with all things. + +Now the day was gone, and the child turned homewards; but she seemed to +hear in sleep that night the whispered question, "What is life?" She was +yet to know. + +The seed had been blown away from a pine tree, and it took root downward +and shot green spears upward, until, when a few summers had passed, it had +grown so famously that a sparrow built her nest there, among the foliage, +and never had her roof been so water-proof before. There, one day, came a +tall, fair girl, with quick step and beaming eyes, and sat down at its +root. One hand caressed lovingly the young pine, and one clasped a folded +paper. How she had grown since she put that brown seed into the earth! She +opened the paper and read; a bright color came to her cheeks, and her hand +trembled-- + +"He loves me!" said she. "I cannot doubt it." + +Then she read aloud-- + +"When you are mine, I shall carry you away from those old woods where you +spend so much precious time dreaming vaguely of the future. I will teach +you what life is. That its golden hours should not be wasted in idle +visions, but made glorious by the exhaustless wealth of love. True life +consists in loving and being loved." + +She closed the letter and gazed around her. Was this the teaching she had +received from those firm old oaks who had so long stood before the storms? +She had learned to know some of their voices, and now they seemed to speak +louder than ever, and their word was--"Endurance!" + +The never-silent wind, that paused not, nor went back in its course, had +taught her a lesson, also, in its onward flight, its ceaseless exertion to +reach some far distant goal. And the lesson was--"Hope." + +The ever-flowing spring, whose heart was never dried up either in summer or +winter, had murmured to her of--"Faith." + +She laid her head at the foot of the beloved pine and said, in her heart, +"I will come back again when ten years are passed, and will here consider +whose teachings were right." + +It was a cold November day. A rude north wind raved among the leafless oaks +that defied its power with their rugged, unclad arms. The heavy masses of +clouds were mirrored darkly in the spring, and the pine, grown to lofty +stature, rocked swiftly to and fro as the fierce wind struck it. Down the +hill, over the stones, and through the tempest, there came a slight and +bending form. It was the happy child who had planted the pine seed. + +She threw herself on the dry leaves by the water's edge, and leaned wearily +against the strong young evergreen. How sadly her eyes roved among the +trees, and then tears commenced to fall quickly from them. She was very +pale and mournful, and drew her rich mantle closely around her to shield +her from the wind. It had been as her lover had said. She had gone out into +the world, had tasted what men call pleasure, had put aside the simple +lessons she had learned in her childhood, to follow _his_ bidding, to live +in the light of _his_ love. Ten years had dissolved the dream. The young +husband was in his grave; the child she had called after him was no more. +Weary and heart-broken, she had hurried back to the home she had left, and +the haunts she had cherished. + +She embraced the young pine, tenderly, and exclaimed-- + +"Oh, that thy lot was mine! Thou wilt stand here, in a green youth, a +century after I am laid low. No fears perplex thee, no sorrows eat away thy +strength. Willingly would I become like thee." + +At last she grew calm; and the old question which she had never found +answered to her satisfaction--"What is life?"--sprang up into her mind. All +the deeds of past days moved before her, and she felt that hers had not +been a life worthy of an immortal soul. She heard again the voices of the +trees, the wind, and the stream, and a measure of peace seemed granted to +her. "Endurance--Hope--Faith," she murmured. She rose to go. + +"Farewell, beloved pine," she said. "God knows whether I shall see thee +again; but such is my desire. With his help, I will begin a new existence. +Farewell, monitors who have comforted me. I go to learn 'what is life.'" + +In a distant city, there dwelt, to extreme old age, a pious woman, a Lydia +in her holiness, a Dorcas in her benevolence. Years seemed to have no power +over her cheerful spirit, though her bodily strength grew less. Great +riches had fallen to her lot; but in her dwelling luxury found no home. A +hospital--a charity school--an orphan asylum--all attested her true +appreciation of the value of riches. In her house, many a young girl found +a home, whose head had else rested on a pillow of infamy. The reclaimed +drunkard dispensed her daily bounty to the needy. The penitent thief was +her treasurer. Prisons knew the sound of her footstep. Alms-houses blessed +her coming. She had been a faithful steward of the Lord's gifts. + +Eighty-and-eight years had dropped upon her head as lightly as withered +leaves; but now the Father was ready to release his servant and child. Her +numerous household was gathered around her bed to behold her last hour. On +the borders of eternity, a gentle sleep fell upon her. She seemed to stand +in a lofty wood, beside a towering pine. A spring bubbled near, and soft +breezes swept the verdant boughs. She looked upon the tree, glorious in its +strength, and smiled to think she could ever have desired to change her +crown of immortality for its senseless existence. Then the old +question--"What is life?"--resounded again in her ears, and she opened her +eyes from sleep and spoke, in a clear voice, these last words-- + +"He that believeth in the Son hath everlasting life. This is the true life +for which we endure the trials of the present. For this we labor and do +good works. A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things he +possesseth; for to be spiritually-minded is life. I have finished my +course; my toil will be recompensed an hundredfold; and I go to Him whose +loving kindness is better than life." + + * * * * * + +A POETICAL VERSION. + +OF A PORTION OF THE SECOND CHAPTER OF JOEL. + +BY LADD SPENCER. + + In Zion blow the trumpet, + Let it sound through every land; + And let the wicked tremble, + For the Lord is nigh at hand. + Alas! a day of darkness-- + A day of clouds and gloom-- + Approaches fast, when all shall be + As silent as the tomb! + + As the morn upon the mountains, + There comes a mighty train, + The like of which hath never been. + And ne'er shall be again. + A burning fire before them, + And behind a raging flame-- + Alas, that beauty so should be + Enwrapt in sin and shame! + + The earth doth quake before them, + The sun withdraws its light; + The heavens and earth are shrouded + In darkest, deepest night. + Then weep, ye evil doers, + Let tears of anguish flow; + Your evil deeds have brought you + A load of endless woe! + + * * * * * + +TAKING BOARDERS. + +BY T.S. ARTHUR. + +CHAPTER I. + +A lady, past the prime of life, sat, thoughtful, as twilight fell duskily +around her, in a room furnished with great elegance. That her thoughts were +far from being pleasant, the sober, even sad expression of her countenance +too clearly testified. She was dressed in deep mourning. A faint sigh +parted her lips as she looked up, on hearing the door of the apartment in +which she was sitting open. The person who entered, a tall and beautiful +girl, also in mourning, came and sat down by her side, and leaned her head, +with a pensive, troubled air, down upon her shoulder. + +"We must decide upon something, Edith, and that with as little delay as +possible," said the elder of the two ladies, soon after the younger one +entered. This was said in a tone of great despondency. + +"Upon what shall we decide, mother?" and the young lady raised her head +from its reclining position, and looked earnestly into the eyes of her +parent. + +"We must decide to do something by which the family can be sustained. Your +father's death has left us, unfortunately and unexpectedly, as you already +know, with scarcely a thousand dollars beyond the furniture of this house, +instead of an independence which we supposed him to possess. His death was +sad and afflictive enough--more than it seemed I could bear. But to have +this added!" + +The voice of the speaker sank into a low moan, and was lost in a stifled +sob. + +"But what _can_ we do, mother?" asked Edith, in an earnest tone, after +pausing long enough for her mother to regain the control of her feelings. + +"I have thought of but one thing that is at all respectable," replied the +mother. + +"What is that?" + +"Taking boarders." + +"Why, mother!" ejaculated Edith, evincing great surprise, "how can you +think of such a thing?" + +"Because driven to do so by the force of circumstances." + +"Taking boarders! Keeping a boarding-house! Surely we have not come to +this!" + +An expression of distress blended with the look of astonishment in Edith's +face. + +"There is nothing disgraceful in keeping a boarding-house," returned the +mother. "A great many very respectable ladies have been compelled to resort +to it as a means of supporting their families." + +"But, to think of it, mother! To think of _your_ keeping a boarding-house! +I cannot bear it." + +"Is there anything else that can be done, Edith?" + +"Don't ask _me_ such a question." + +"If, then, you cannot think for me, you must try and think with me, my +child. Something will have to be done to create an income. In less than +twelve months, every dollar I have will be expended; and then what are we +to do? Now, Edith, is the time for us to look at the matter earnestly, and +to determine the course we will take. There is no use to look away from it. +A good house in a central situation, large enough for the purpose, can no +doubt be obtained; and I think there will be no difficulty about our +getting boarders enough to fill it. The income, or profit, from these will +enable us still to live comfortably, and keep Edward and Ellen at school." + +"It is hard," was the only remark Edith made to this. + +"It is hard, my daughter; very hard! I have thought and thought about it +until my whole mind has been thrown into confusion. But it will not do to +think forever. There must be action. Can I see want stealing in upon my +children, and sit and fold my hands supinely? No! And to you, Edith, my +oldest child, I look for aid and for counsel. Stand up, bravely, by my +side." + +"And you are in earnest in all this?" said Edith, whose mind seemed hardly +able to realize the truth of their position. From her earliest days, all +the blessings that money could procure had been freely scattered around her +feet. As she grew up, and advanced towards womanhood, she had moved in the +most fashionable circles, and there acquired the habit of estimating people +according to their wealth and social standing, rather than by qualities of +mind. In her view, it appeared degrading in a woman to enter upon any kind +of employment for money; and with the keeper of a boarding-house, +particularly, she had always associated something low, vulgar, and +ungenteel. At the thought of her mother's engaging in such an occupation, +when the suggestion was made, her mind instantly revolted. It appeared to +her as if disgrace would be the inevitable consequence. + +"And you are in earnest in all this?" was an expression, mingling her clear +conviction of the truth of what at first appeared so strange a proposition, +and her astonishment that the necessities of their situation were such as +to drive them to so humiliating a resource. + +"Deeply in earnest," was the mother's reply. "We are left alone in the +world. He who cared for us, and provided for us so liberally, has been +taken away, and we have nowhere to look for aid but to the resources that +are in ourselves. These, well applied, will give us, I feel strongly +assured, all that we need. The thing to decide is, what we ought to do. If +we choose aright, all will, doubtless, come out right. To choose aright is, +therefore, of the first importance; and to do this, we must not suffer +distorting suggestions nor the appeals of a false pride to influence our +minds in the least. You are my oldest child, Edith; and, as such, I cannot +but look upon you as, to some extent, jointly, with me, the guardian of +your younger brothers and sisters. True, Miriam is of age, and Henry nearly +so; but still you are the eldest--your mind is most matured, and in your +judgment I have the most confidence. Try and forget, Edith, all but the +fact that, unless we make an exertion, one home for all cannot be retained. +Are you willing that we should be scattered like leaves in the autumn wind? +No! you would consider that one of the greatest calamities that could +befall us--an evil to prevent which we should use every effort in our +power. Do you not see this clearly?" + +"I do, mother," was replied by Edith in a more rational tone of voice than +that in which she had yet spoken. + +"To open a store of any kind would involve five times the exposure of a +boarding-house; and, moreover, I know nothing of business." + +"Keeping a store? Oh, no! we couldn't do that. Think of the dreadful +exposure!" + +"But in taking boarders we only increase our family, and all goes on as +usual. To my mind, it is the most genteel thing that we can do. Our style +of living will be the same. Our waiter and all our servants will be +retained. In fact, to the eye there will be little change, and the world +need never know how greatly reduced our circumstances have become." + +This mode of argument tended to reconcile Edith to taking boarders. +Something, she saw, had to be done. Opening a store was felt to be out of +the question; and as to commencing a school, the thought was repulsed at +the very first suggestion. + +A few friends were consulted on the subject, and all agreed that the best +thing for the widow to do was to take boarders. Each one could point to +some lady who had commenced the business with far less ability to make +boarders comfortable, and who had yet got along very well. It was conceded +on all hands that it was a very genteel business, and that some of the +first ladies had been compelled to resort to it, without being any the less +respected. Almost every one to whom the matter was referred spoke in favor +of the thing, and but a single individual suggested difficulty; but what he +said was not permitted to have much weight. This individual was a brother +of the widow, who had always been looked upon as rather eccentric. He was a +bachelor, and without fortune, merely enjoying a moderate income as +book-keeper in the office of an insurance company. + +But more of him hereafter. + + * * * * + +CHAPTER II. + +Mrs. Darlington, the widow we have just introduced to the reader, had five +children. Edith, the oldest daughter, was twenty-two years of age at the +time of her father's death; and Henry, the oldest son, just twenty. Next to +Henry was Miriam, eighteen years old. The ages of the two youngest +children, Ellen and Edward, were ten and eight. + +Mr. Darlington, while living, was a lawyer of distinguished ability, and +his talents and reputation at the Philadelphia bar enabled him to +accumulate a handsome fortune. Upon this he had lived for some years in a +style of great elegance. About a year before his death, he had been induced +to enter into some speculation that promised great results. But he found, +when too late to retreat, that he had been greatly deceived. Heavy losses +soon followed. In a struggle to recover himself, he became still further +involved; and, ere the expiration of a twelve-month, saw everything falling +from under him. The trouble brought on by this was the real cause of his +death, which was sudden, and resulted from inflammation and congestion of +the brain. + +Henry Darlington, the oldest son, was a young man of promising talents. He +remained at college until a few months before his father's death, when he +returned home, and commenced the study of law, in which he felt ambitious +to distinguish himself. + +Edith, the oldest daughter, possessed a fine mind, which had been well +educated. She had some false views of life, natural to her position; but, +apart from this, was a girl of sound sense and great force of character. +Thus far in life, she had not encountered circumstances of a nature +calculated to develop what was in her. The time for that, however, was +approaching. Miriam, her sifter, was a quiet, gentle, retiring, almost +timid girl. She went into company with reluctance, and then always shrunk +as far from observation as it was possible to get. But, like most quiet, +retiring persons, there were deep places in her mind and heart. She thought +and felt more than was supposed. All who knew Miriam, loved her. Of the +younger children we need not here speak. + +Mrs. Darlington knew comparatively nothing of the world beyond her own +social circle. She was, perhaps, as little calculated for doing what she +proposed to do as a woman could well be. She had no habits of economy, and +had never, in her life, been called upon to make calculations of expense in +household matters. There was a tendency to generosity rather than +selfishness in her character; and she rarely thought evil of any one. But +all that she was need not here be set forth, for it will appear as our +narrative progresses. + +Mr. Hiram Ellis, the brother of Mrs. Darlington, to whom brief allusion has +been made, was not a great favorite in the family--although Mr. Darlington +understood his good qualities, and very highly respected him--because he +had not much that was prepossessing in his external appearance, and was +thought to be a little eccentric. Moreover, he was not rich--merely holding +the place of book-keeper in an insurance office, at a moderate salary. But, +as he had never married, and had only himself to support, his income +supplied amply all his wants, and left him a small annual surplus. + +After the death of Mr. Darlington, he visited his sister much more +frequently than before. Of the exact condition of her affairs, he was much +better acquainted than she supposed. The anxiety which she felt, some +months after her husband's death, when the result of the settlement of his +estate became known, led her to be rather more communicative. After +determining to open a boarding-house, she said to him, on the occasion of +his visiting her one evening-- + +"As it is necessary for me to do something, Hiram, I have concluded to move +to a better location, and take a few boarders." + +"Don't do any such thing, Margaret," her brother made answer. "Taking +boarders! It's the last thing of which a woman should think." + +"Why do you say that, Hiram?" asked Mrs. Darlington, evincing no little +surprise at this unexpected reply. + +"Because I think that a woman who has a living to make can hardly try a +more doubtful experiment. Not one in ten ever succeeds in doing anything." + +"But why, Hiram? Why? I'm sure a great many ladies get a living in that +way." + +"What you will never do, Margaret, mark my words for it. It takes a woman +of shrewdness, caution, and knowledge of the world, and one thoroughly +versed in household economy, to get along in this pursuit. Even if you +possessed all these prerequisites to success, you have just the family that +ought not to come in contact with anybody and everybody that find their way +into boarding-houses." + +"I must do something, Hiram," said Mrs. Darlington, evincing impatience at +the opposition of her brother. + +"I perfectly agree with you in that, Margaret," replied Mr. Ellis. "The +only doubt is as to your choice of occupation. You think that your best +plan will be to take boarders; while I think you could not fail upon a +worse expedient." + +[Illustration] + +"Why do you think so?" + +"Have I not just said?" + +"What?" + +"Why, that, in the first place, it takes a woman of great shrewdness, +caution, and knowledge of the world, and one thoroughly versed in household +economy, to succeed in the business." + +"I'm not a fool, Hiram!" exclaimed Mrs. Darlington, losing her +self-command. + +"Perhaps you may alter your opinion on that head some time within the next +twelve months," coolly returned Mr. Ellis, rising and beginning to button +up his coat. + +"Such language to me, at this time, is cruel!" said Mrs. Darlington, +putting her handkerchief to her eyes. + +"No," calmly replied her brother, "not cruel, but kind. I wish to save you +from trouble." + +"What else can I do?" asked the widow, removing the handkerchief from her +face. + +"Many things, I was going to say," returned Mr. Ellis. "But, in truth, the +choice of employment is not very great. Still, something with a fairer +promise than taking boarders may be found." + +"If you can point me to some better way, brother," said Mrs. Darlington, "I +shall feel greatly indebted to you." + +"Almost anything is better. Suppose you and Edith were to open a school. +Both of you are well--" + +"Open a school!" exclaimed Mrs. Darlington, interrupting her brother, and +exhibiting most profound astonishment. "_I_ open a school! I didn't think +_you_ would take advantage of my grief and misfortune to offer me an +insult." + +Mr. Ellis buttoned the top button of his coat nervously, as his sister said +this, and, partly turning himself towards the door, said-- + +"Teaching school is a far more useful, and, if you will, more respectable +employment, than keeping a boarding-house. This you ought to see at a +glance. As a teacher, you would be a minister of truth to the mind, and +have it in your power to bend from evil and lead to good the young +immortals committed to your care; while, as a boarding-house keeper, you +would merely furnish food for the natural body--a use below what you are +capable of rendering to society." + +But Mrs. Darlington was in no state of mind to feel the force of such an +argument. From the thought of a school she shrunk as from something +degrading, and turned from it with displeasure. + +"Don't mention such a thing to me," said she fretfully, "I will not listen +to the proposition." + +"Oh, well, Margaret, as you please," replied her brother, now moving +towards the door. "When you ask my advice, I will give it according to my +best judgment, and with a sincere desire for your good. If, however, it +conflicts with your views, reject it; but, in simple justice to me, do so +in a better spirit than you manifest on the present occasion. Good +evening!" + +Mrs. Darlington was too much disturbed in mind to make a reply, and Mr. +Hiram Ellis left the room without any attempt on the part of his sister to +detain him. On both sides, there had been the indulgence of rather more +impatience and intolerance than was commendable. + + * * * * + +CHAPTER III. + +In due time, Mrs. Darlington removed to a house in Arch Street, the annual +rent of which was six hundred dollars, and there began her experiment. The +expense of a removal, and the cost of the additional chamber furniture +required, exhausted about two hundred dollars of the widow's slender stock +of money, and caused her to feel a little troubled when she noted the +diminution. + +She began her new business with two boarders, a gentleman and his wife by +the name of Grimes, who had entered her house on the recommendation of a +friend. They were to pay her the sum of eight dollars a week. A young man +named Barling, clerk in a wholesale Market Street house, came next; and he +introduced, soon after, a friend of his, a clerk in the same store, named +Mason. They were room-mates, and paid three dollars and a half each. Three +or four weeks elapsed before any further additions were made; then an +advertisement brought several applications. One was from a gentleman who +wanted two rooms for himself and wife, a nurse and four children. He wanted +the second story front and back chambers, furnished, and was not willing to +pay over sixteen dollars, although his oldest child was twelve and his +youngest four years of age--seven good eaters and two of the best rooms in +the house for sixteen dollars! + +Mrs. Darlington demurred. The man said-- + +"Very well, ma'am," in a tone of indifference. "I can find plenty of +accommodations quite as good as yours for the price I offer. It's all I pay +now." + +Poor Mrs. Darlington sighed. She had but fifteen dollars yet in the +house--that is, boarders who paid this amount weekly--and the rent alone +amounted to twelve dollars. Sixteen dollars, she argued with herself, as +she sat with her eyes upon the floor, would make a great difference in her +income; would, in fact, meet all the expenses of the house. Two good rooms +would still remain, and all that she received for these would be so much +clear profit. Such was the hurried conclusion of Mrs. Darlington's mind. + +"I suppose I will have to take you," said she, lifting her eyes to the +man's hard features. "But those rooms ought to bring me twenty-four +dollars." + +"Sixteen is the utmost I will pay," replied the man. "In fact, I did think +of offering only fourteen dollars. But the rooms are fine, and I like them. +Sixteen is a liberal price. Your terms are considerably above the ordinary +range." + +The widow sighed again. + +If the man heard this sound, it did not touch a single chord of feeling. + +"Then it is understood that I am to have your rooms at sixteen dollars?" +said he. + +"Yes, sir. I will take you for that." + +"Very well. My name is Scragg. We will be ready to come in on Monday next. +You can have all prepared for us?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Scarcely had Mr. Scragg departed, when a gentleman called to know if Mrs. +Darlington had a vacant front room in the second story. + +"I had this morning; but it is taken," replied the widow. + +"Ah! I'm sorry for that." + +"Will not a third story front room suit you?" + +"No. My wife is not in very good health, and wishes a second story room. We +pay twelve dollars a week, and would even give more, if necessary, to +obtain just the accommodations we like. The situation of your house pleases +me. I'm sorry that I happen to be too late." + +"Will you look at the room?" said Mrs. Darlington, into whose mind came the +desire to break the bad bargain she had just made. + +"If you please," returned the man. + +And both went up to the large and beautifully furnished chambers. + +"Just the thing!" said the man, as he looked around, much pleased with the +appearance of everything. "But I understood you to say that it was taken." + +"Why, yes," replied Mrs. Darlington, "I did partly engage it this morning; +but, no doubt, I can arrange with the family to take the two rooms above, +which will suit them just as well." + +"If you can"-- + +"There'll be no difficulty, I presume. You'll pay twelve dollars a week?" + +"Yes." + +"Only yourself and lady?" + +"That's all." + +"Very well, sir; you can have the room." + +"It's a bargain, then. My name is Ring. Our week is up to-day where we are; +and, if it is agreeable, we will become your guests to-morrow." + +"Perfectly agreeable, Mr. Ring." + +The gentleman bowed politely and retired. + +Now Mrs. Darlington did not feel very comfortable when she reflected on +what she had done. The rooms in the second story were positively engaged to +Mr. Scragg, and now one of them was as positively engaged to Mr. Ring. The +face of Mr. Scragg she remembered very well. It was a hard, sinister face, +just such a one as we rarely forget because of the disagreeable impression +it makes. As it came up distinctly before the eyes of her mind, she was +oppressed with a sense of coming trouble. Nor did she feel altogether +satisfied with what she had done--satisfied in her own conscience. + +On the next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Ring came and took possession of the room +previously engaged to Mr. Scragg. They were pleasant people, and made a +good first impression. + +As day after day glided past, Mrs. Darlington felt more and more uneasy +about Mr. Scragg, with whom, she had a decided presentiment, there would be +trouble. Had she known where to find him, she would have sent him a note, +saying that she had changed her mind about the rooms, and could not let him +have them. But she was ignorant of his address; and the only thing left for +her was to wait until he came on Monday, and then get over the difficulty +in the best way possible. She and Edith had talked over the matter +frequently, and had come to the determination to offer Mr. Scragg the two +chambers in the third story for fourteen dollars. + +On Monday morning, Mrs. Darlington was nervous. This was the day on which +Mr. Scragg and family were to arrive, and she felt that there would be +trouble. + +Mr. Ring, and the other gentlemen boarders, left soon after breakfast. +About ten o'clock, the door-bell rang. Mrs. Darlington was in her room at +the time changing her dress. Thinking that this might be the announcement +of Mr. Scragg's arrival, she hurried through her dressing in order to get +down to the parlor as quickly as possible to meet him and the difficulty +that was to be encountered; but before she was in a condition to be seen, +she heard a man's voice on the stairs saying-- + +"Walk up, my dear. The rooms on the second floor are ours." + +Then came the noise of many feet in the passage, and the din of children's +voices. Mr. Scragg and his family had arrived. + +Mrs. Ring was sitting with the morning paper in her hand, when her door was +flung widely open, and a strange man stepped boldly in, saying, as he did +so, to the lady who followed him-- + +"This is one of the chambers." + +Mrs. Ring arose, bowed, and looked at the intruders with surprise and +embarrassment. Just then, four rude children bounded into the room, +spreading themselves around it, and making themselves perfectly at home. + +"There is some mistake, I presume," said Mrs. Scragg, on perceiving a lady +in the room, whose manner said plainly enough that they were out of their +place. + +"Oh no! no mistake at all," replied Scragg. "These are the two rooms I +engaged." + +Just then Mrs. Darlington entered, in manifest excitement. + +"Walk down into the parlor, if you please," said she. + +"These are our rooms," said Scragg, showing no inclination to vacate the +premises. + +"Be kind enough to walk down into the parlor," repeated Mrs. Darlington, +whose sense of propriety was outraged by the man's conduct, and who felt a +corresponding degree of indignation. + +With some show of reluctance, this invitation was acceded to, and Mr. +Scragg went muttering down stairs, followed by his brood. The moment he +left the chamber, the door was shut and locked by Mrs. Ring, who was a good +deal frightened by so unexpected an intrusion. + +"What am I to understand by this, madam?" said Mr. Scragg, fiercely, as +soon as they had all reached the parlor, planting his hands upon his hips +as he spoke, drawing himself up, and looking at Mrs. Darlington with a +lowering countenance. + +"Take a seat, madam," said Mrs. Darlington, addressing the man's wife in a +tone of forced composure. She was struggling for self-possession. + +The lady sat down. + +"Will you be good enough to explain the meaning of all this, madam?" +repeated Mr. Scragg. + +"The meaning is simply," replied Mrs. Darlington, "that I have let the +front room in the second story to a gentleman and his wife for twelve +dollars a-week." + +"The deuce you have!" said Mr. Scragg, with a particular exhibition of +gentlemanly indignation. "And pray, madam, didn't you let both the rooms in +the second story to me for sixteen dollars?" + +"I did; but"-- + +"Oh, very well. That's all I wish to know about it. The rooms were rented +to me, and from that day became mine. Please to inform the lady and her +husband that I am here with my family, and desire them to vacate the +chambers as quickly as possible. I'm a man that knows his rights, and, +knowing, always maintains them." + +"You cannot have the rooms, sir. That is out of the question," said Mrs. +Darlington, looking both distressed and indignant. + +"And I tell you that I will have them!" replied Scragg, angrily. + +"Peter! Peter! Don't act so," now interposed Mrs. Scragg. "There's no use +in it." + +"Ain't there, indeed! We'll see. Madam"--he addressed Mrs. +Darlington--"will you be kind enough to inform the lady and gentleman who +now occupy one of our rooms"-- + +"Mr. Scragg!" said Mrs. Darlington, in whose fainting heart his outrageous +conduct had awakened something of the right spirit--"Mr. Scragg, I wish you +to understand, once for all, that the front room is taken and now occupied, +and that you cannot have it." + +"Madam!" + +"It's no use for you to waste words, sir! What I say I mean. I have other +rooms in the house very nearly as good, and am willing to take you for +something less in consideration of this disappointment. If that will meet +your views, well; if not, let us have no more words on the subject." + +There was a certain something in Mrs. Darlington's tone of voice that +Scragg understood to mean a fixed purpose. Moreover, his mind caught at the +idea of getting boarded for something less than sixteen dollars a-week. + +"Where are the rooms?" he asked, gruffly. + +"The third story chambers." + +"Front?" + +"Yes." + +"I don't want to go to the third story." + +"Very well. Then you can have the back chamber down stairs, and the front +chamber above." + +"What will be your charge?" + +"Fourteen dollars." + +"That will do, Peter," said Mrs. Scragg. "Two dollars a week is +considerable abatement." + +"It's something, of course. But I don't like this off and on kind of +business. When I make an agreement, I'm up to the mark, and expect the same +from everybody else. Will you let my wife see the rooms, madam?" + +"Certainly," replied Mrs. Darlington, and moved towards the door. Mrs. +Scragg followed, and so did all the juvenile Scraggs--the latter springing +up the stairs with the agility of apes and the noise of a dozen rude +schoolboys just freed from the terror of rod and ferule. + +The rooms suited Mrs. Scragg very well--at least such was her report to her +husband--and, after some further rudeness on the part of Mr. Scragg, and an +effort to beat Mrs. Darlington down to twelve dollars a-week, were taken, +and forthwith occupied. + + * * * * + +CHAPTER IV. + +Mrs. Darlington was a woman of refinement herself, and had been used to the +society of refined persons. She was, naturally enough, shocked at the +coarseness and brutality of Mr. Scragg, and, ere an hour went by, in +despair at the unmannerly rudeness of the children, the oldest a stout, +vulgar-looking boy, who went racing and rummaging about the house from the +garret to the cellar. For a long time after her exciting interview with Mr. +Scragg, she sat weeping and trembling in her own room, with Edith by her +side, who sought earnestly to comfort and encourage her. + +"Oh, Edith!" she sobbed, "to think that we should be humbled to this!" + +"Necessity has forced us into our present unhappy position, mother," +replied Edith. "Let us meet its difficulties with as brave hearts as +possible." + +"I shall never be able to treat that dreadful man with even common +civility," said Mrs. Darlington. + +"We have accepted him as our guest, mother, and it will be our duty to make +all as pleasant and comfortable as possible. We will have to bear much, I +see--much beyond what I had anticipated." + +Mrs. Darlington sighed deeply as she replied-- + +"Yes, yes, Edith. Ah, the thought makes me miserable!" + +"No more of that sweet drawing together in our own dear home circle," +remarked Edith, sadly. "Henceforth we are to bear the constant presence and +intrusion of strangers, with whom we have few or no sentiments in common. +We open our house and take in the ignorant, the selfish, the vulgar, and +feed them for a certain price! Does not the thought bring a feeling of +painful humiliation? What can pay for all this? Ah me! The anticipation had +in it not a glimpse of what we have found in our brief experience. Except +Mr. and Mrs. Ring, there isn't a lady nor gentleman in the house. That +Mason is so rudely familiar that I cannot bear to come near him. He's +making himself quite intimate with Henry already, and I don't like to see +it." + +"Nor do I," replied Mrs. Darlington. "Henry's been out with him twice to +the theatre already." + +"I'm afraid of his influence over Henry. He's not the kind of a companion +he ought to choose," said Edith. "And then Mr. Barling is with Miriam in +the parlor almost every evening. He asks her to sing, and she says she +doesn't like to refuse." + +The mother sighed deeply. While they were conversing, a servant came to +their room to say that Mr. Ring was in the parlor, and wished to speak with +Mrs. Darlington. It was late in the afternoon of the day on which the +Scraggs had made their appearance. + +With a presentiment of trouble, Mrs. Darlington went down to the parlor. + +"Madam," said Mr. Ring, as soon as she entered, speaking in a firm voice, +"I find that my wife has been grossly insulted by a fellow whose family you +have taken into your house. Now they must leave here, or we will, and that +forthwith." + +"I regret extremely," replied Mrs. Darlington, "the unpleasant occurrence +to which you allude; but I do not see how it is possible for me to turn +these people out of the house." + +"Very well, ma'am. Suit yourself about that. You can choose between us. +Both can't remain." + +"If I were to tell this Mr. Scragg to seek another boarding-house, he would +insult me," said Mrs. Darlington. + +"Strange that you would take such a fellow into your house!" + +"My rooms were vacant, and I had to fill them." + +"Better to have let them remain vacant. But this is neither here nor there. +If this fellow remains, we go." + +And go they did on the next day. Mrs. Darlington was afraid to approach Mr. +Scragg on the subject. Had she done so, she would have received nothing but +abuse. + +Two weeks afterwards, the room vacated by Mr. and Mrs. Ring was taken by a +tall, fine-looking man, who wore a pair of handsome whiskers and dressed +elegantly. He gave his name as Burton, and agreed to pay eight dollars. +Mrs. Darlington liked him very much. There was a certain style about him +that evidenced good breeding and a knowledge of the world. What his +business was he did not say. He was usually in the house as late as ten +o'clock in the morning, and rarely came in before twelve at night. + +Soon after Mr. Burton became a member of Mrs. Darlington's household, he +began to show particular attentions to Miriam, who was in her nineteenth +year, and was, as we have said, a gentle, timid, shrinking girl. Though she +did not encourage, she would not reject the attentions of the polite and +elegant stranger, who had so much that was agreeable to say that she +insensibly acquired a kind of prepossession in his favor. + +As now constituted, the family of Mrs. Darlington was not so pleasant and +harmonious as could have been desired. Mr. Scragg had already succeeded in +making himself so disagreeable to the other boarders that they were +scarcely civil to him; and Mrs. Grimes, who was quite gracious with Mrs. +Scragg at first, no longer spoke to her. They had fallen out about some +trifle, quarreled, and then cut each other's acquaintance. When the +breakfast, dinner, or tea bell rang, and the boarders assembled at the +table, there was generally, at first, an embarrassing silence. Scragg +looked like a bull-dog waiting for an occasion to bark; Mrs. Scragg sat +with her lips closely compressed and her head partly turned away, so as to +keep her eyes out of the line of vision with Mrs. Grimes's face; while Mrs. +Grimes gave an occasional glance of contempt towards the lady with whom she +had had a "tiff." Barling and Mason, observing all this, and enjoying it, +were generally the first to break the reigning silence; and this was +usually done by addressing some remark to Scragg, for no other reason, it +seemed, than to hear his growling reply. Usually, they succeeded in drawing +him into an argument, when they would goad him until he became angry; a +species of irritation in which they never suffered themselves to indulge. +As for Mr. Grimes, he was a man of few words. When spoken to, he would +reply; but he never made conversation. The only man who really behaved like +a gentleman was Mr. Burton; and the contrast seen in him naturally +prepossessed the family in his favor. + +The first three months' experience in taking boarders was enough to make +the heart of Mrs. Darlington sick. All domestic comfort was gone. From +early morning until late at night, she toiled harder than any servant in +the house; and, with all, had a mind pressed down with care and anxiety. +Three times during this period she had been obliged to change her cook, +yet, for all, scarcely a day passed that she did not set badly-cooked food +before her guests. Sometimes certain of the boarders complained, and it +generally happened that rudeness accompanied the complaint. The sense of +pain that attended this was always most acute, for it was accompanied by +deep humiliation and a feeling of helplessness. Moreover, during these +first three months, Mr. and Mrs. Grimes had left the house without paying +their board for five weeks, thus throwing her into a loss of forty dollars. + +At the beginning of this experiment, after completing the furniture of her +house, Mrs. Darlington had about three hundred dollars. When the quarter's +bill for rent was paid, she had only a hundred and fifty dollars left. +Thus, instead of making anything by boarders, so far, she had sunk a +hundred and fifty dollars. This fact disheartened her dreadfully. Then, the +effect upon almost every member of her family had been bad. Harry was no +longer the thoughtful, affectionate, innocent-minded young man of former +days. Mason and Barling had introduced him into gay company, and, +fascinated with a new and more exciting kind of life, he was fast forming +associations and acquiring habits of a dangerous character. It was rare +that he spent an evening at home; and, instead of being of any assistance +to his mother, was constantly making demands on her for money. The pain all +this occasioned Mrs. Darlington was of the most distressing character. +Since the children of Mr. and Mrs. Scragg came into the house, Edward and +Ellen, who had heretofore been under the constant care and instruction of +their mother, left almost entirely to themselves, associated constantly +with these children, and learned from them to be rude, vulgar, and, in some +things, even vicious. And Miriam had become apparently so much interested +in Mr. Burton, who was constantly attentive to her, that both Mrs. +Darlington and Edith became anxious on her account. Burton was an entire +stranger to them all, and there were many things about him that appeared +strange, if not wrong. + +So much for the experiment of taking boarders, after the lapse of a single +quarter of a year. + +(To be continued.) + + * * * * * + +DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY OF SIXTEEN. + +BY MRS. L.G. ABELL. + + Oh, I cannot, cannot think of her without a starting tear; + So late, in youthful loveliness, I felt her presence near: + Her healthful form of fairest mould, I seem to see her still, + And to hear her sweet and gentle voice, as the voice of summer rill. + + Her eye of blue, like azure sky of clear pure light above, + With soft silk fringes on the lids, shading the deepest love, + Was a light that gleamed from out the heart, and its rainbow hues + revealed-- + A ray from its own full happiness, too full to be concealed. + + At twilight's calm and silent hour, on the hushed lake's quiet breast, + I saw her gliding joyously, as glide the waves to rest-- + And music, too, was on the air, soft as Eolian strain; + But I thought not then that Death was near, a victim soon to gain. + + Oh, can it be that this is life!--a thing so frail as this! + Like a lovely flower that only smiles to give one thought of bliss-- + That blooms in light and beauty a fleeting summer day, + Then closes up its sweetness, and passes thus away? + + How still she lies! her ringlets droop, of pale and soft brown hair-- + Parted upon her marble brow, they fall neglected there; + Her cold hands folded on her breast, her round arms by her side-- + How sad all hearts that knew her well that she so soon has died! + + How she is missed from out each spot where she so late has been; + Her silent chamber thrills the heart with keenest throbs of pain; + Her music, too, of voice and string seems ling'ring on the ear, + Only to fill the heart with woe that its sound ye cannot hear. + + How long life looked to her; its far and distant day + Seemed like the rosy path she trod, and perfumed all the way; + No tear but those for others' woe had ever dimmed her eye, + For her youth was cloudless as the morn, and bright as noonday sky. + + But ah! how soon the light is quenched that shone so sweetly here-- + And oh! if love to God was hers, it glows in a brighter sphere! + That strange, mysterious spark of mind, shrined in the frailest clay, + Now flames amid the seraph band in a "house" that will not decay. + + This world we know is full of tombs, covered with fairest flowers; + But yet how soon we all forget, and think them _rosy bowers_! + We build our hopes of pleasure here, select a fairy spot; + But Death soon proves to our pierced souls that he has not forgot! + + Oh! wisely, wisely let us learn that this earth is not our home; + 'Tis but the trial-place of life--a race that's swiftly run:-- + Our precious hours are links of gold in that mysterious chain, + That fastens to our life above its _pleasure_ or its _pain_. + + Reclining on a Saviour's arm, we then walk safely here; + He whispers holiest words to us, and wipes the falling tear: + If Death appears, He takes away his cruel, poisonous sting-- + Then for a home of perfect bliss He plumes the spirit's wing. + + * * * * * + +THE JUDGE; A DRAMA OF AMERICAN LIFE. + +BY MRS. SARAH J. KANE. + +PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. + + JUDGE BOLTON. + HENRY BOLTON, _son of the Judge_. + DR. MARGRAVE, REV. PAUL GODFREY, _Classmates and friends of the Judge_. + PROF. OLNEY, _Teacher of a Classical School_. + FREDERICK BELCOUR, _son of Madame Belcour_. + CAPT. PAWLETT, _friend of Fred. Belcour_. + LANDON, _Counselor at Law_. + SHERIFF. + CLERK OF THE COURT. + CRIER OF THE COURT. + OFFICERS OF THE COURT. + TWELVE JURYMEN. + DENNIS O'BLARNEY, _servant of Dr. Margrave_. + MICHAEL MAGEE, _servant of the Judge_. + CITIZENS, MESSENGERS OF THE COURT, WATCHMEN, &c. + MADAME BELCOUR, _a widow, cousin of the Judge, and presiding in his + household_. + BELINDA, _daughter of Madame Belcour_. + LUCY, _daughter of the Judge_. + MRS. OLNEY, _wife of Prof. Olney_. + ISABELLE, _reputed daughter of Prof. Olney_. + RUTH, _waiting-maid at Judge Bolton's_. + +SCENE--partly in the city; partly at Rose Hill, near the city. + +TIME OF ACTION, twenty-four hours, commencing at 10 o'clock, A.M., and +ending at the same hour on the following day. + +ACT I. + +SCENE I.--_A Doctor's study. Books and instruments scattered around. Table +in the centre, strewn with books and pamphlets._ DR. MARGRAVE _seated by +the table, cutting the leaves of a pamphlet_. + + DR. MARGRAVE. + Thus, ever on and on must be our course: + Even as the ocean drinks a thousand streams, + And never cries "enough!"--the human mind + Would drain all sources of intelligence, + Yet ne'er is filled, and never satisfied. + And theory succeeds to theory + As regular as tides that ebb and flow. + This treatise will disprove the last I read. + Shade of Hippocrates! what creeds are formed, + What antics practiced with your "Healing Art!" + I will not sport with fate, nor tamper thus + With man's credulity and nature's strength. + No: I will gently coincide with nature, + And give her time and scope to work the cure-- + Strengthening the patient's heart with trust in God, + And teaching him that genuine health depends + On true obedience to the natural laws + Ordained for man--not on the doctor's skill. + + _Enter_ DENNIS, _with a card to the Doctor_. + + DENNIS. + The gentleman awaits you in the hall. + + DR. MARGRAVE (_reading the card_). + "Reverend Paul Godfrey"--my old college chum! + Is't possible! (_To_ DENNIS.) Bring him up, instantly. + [_Exit_ DENNIS. + + I have not seen him since our hands were clasped + In Harvard Hall:--I wonder if he'll know me. + (_Enter_ REV. PAUL GODFREY.) + Ah! welcome! welcome!--You are Godfrey still. + The changes of--how many years have passed + Since last we parted? + + GODFREY. + Thirty years;--and you-- + + MARGRAVE. + Are altered, you would say. I know it well. + My hair, that then was black as midnight cloud, + Is now as white as moonbeams on the snow. + The image that my mirror gives me back + I scarce believe my own--so pale and worn. + Would you have known me had we met by chance? + + GODFREY. + Ay, ay--among a million--if you spoke. + There's the old touch of kindness in your voice; + And then your eye from its dark thatch looks out + Like beacon-light, soul-kindled, as of yore. + Warm hearts will hold their own, tho' frosts of age + May lay their blighting fingers on our hair. + + MARGRAVE. + Thank Heaven 'tis so!--But you are little changed, + Save the maturing touch that manhood brings + When health and strength have won the victory, + And laid their trophies on the shrine of mind! + + GODFREY. + My lot has been amid the wild, fresh scenes + Of Nature's wide domain; where all is free. + Life seems t' inhale the vigorous breath required + To struggle with the elements around, + And thus keeps Time at bay. Like good old Boone, + The patriarch hunter, in the forest wilds + I've found that God supplied, and healed, and blessed. + Men live too fast in cities. + + MARGRAVE. + Not if they + Would give their energies a noble aim. + The opportunities to compass good, + And good effected--these are dates that give + The sum of human life. + + GODFREY. + True; most true. + It is in cities where men congregate, + And good and evil strive for mastery, + The sternest strength of soul must needs be tested. + But all that stirs the passions makes us old. + 'Twould wear me out--this round of ceaseless toil, + In the same range of artificial life; + And I must greet you with a traveler's haste, + And back to my free forest home again. + + MARGRAVE. + 'Tis well that every part and scene in life + Can find its actors ready for the stage, + And well that our wide land has scope for all. + And yet to feel that those who raised together + Their hope-swelled canvass when life's voyage began-- + Like ships, storm-parted, on the world's rough sea-- + Can sail no more in sweet companionship! + 'Tis a sad thought! Of all our college friends, + But one, beside myself, is here to greet you. + + GODFREY. + Who is he?--There is one would glad my heart. + When college scenes arise, yourself and Bolton-- + + MARGRAVE. + 'Tis he I mean. + + GODFREY. + What, Bolton? Harry Bolton? + I heard some fellow-travelers in the cars + Talking of one Judge Bolton, as the man + Who filled his orb of duty like the sun-- + Shining on all, and drawing all t' obey. + Surely this cannot be our Harry Bolton-- + The frank, warm-hearted, but most wayward youth. + Whose mind was like a comet--now all light. + Anon, away where reason could not follow. + He surely has not reached this grave estate + Of Judge! + + MARGRAVE. + The same, the same--our Harry Bolton. + And better still, a man whom all men honor. + + GODFREY. + I must see him. Let us go at once. I feel + A joy like that of Joseph's when he found + That his young brother Benjamin had come. + Though now the order is reversed, for here + The youngest claims the honors. + + + MARGRAVE. + No, not so. + Your order should be first in estimation, + And always is, where men are trained for heaven + And mine would be the second, were we wise, + And followed Nature as you follow God. + And Law is the third station on the mount, + When men are placed as lights above life's path + And Bolton is, in truth, a light and guide. + + + GODFREY. + Where shall I find him? + + + MARGRAVE. + In his place, to-day, + The seat of Justice. We'll go--it is not far + The cause is one of special interest: + I'll give its history as we pass along. + Wilt go? + + + GODFREY. + Ay, surely, surely. I am ready now. + It is the very place and time to see him. + [_Exeunt._ + + * * * * + +SCENE II.--_A street. Crowds of people hurrying on._ + + _Enter PROFESSOR OLNEY and FREDERICK + BELCOUR._ + + OLNEY. + You say the sentence will be passed to-day? + + + BELCOUR. + Most certainly; and crowds will press to hear it + Judge Bolton has a world-wide reputation, + And 'tis a cause to rouse his eloquence. + + OLNEY. + I wish I could be there. + + + BELCOUR. + What should hinder? + 'Twould but detain you for an hour or two. + + + OLNEY. + My pupils stand between. Yet Isabelle + Might hear the recitations; she does this + Often, when I am ill. A dear, good child: + She thinks her learning of no more account, + Save as the means to help me in my tasks, + Than though she only could her sampler sew + Yet she reads Latin like a master, and + In Greek bids fair to be a Lizzy Carter. + If she but knew I was detained-- + + + BELCOUR. + A note + Would tell her this. Write one, and I will send it. + Here's paper, pencil-- + [_Taking them from his pocket, OLNEY writes._ + + OLNEY. + I shall trouble you. + + + BELCOUR. + No trouble in the least. Now, hurry on. + The court-room will be filled. I'll send the note-- + _[Exit OLNEY._ + + Or bear it, rather. She shall see me, too + Before she has the letter from my hand. + A proud, ungrateful girl:--reject my love! + [_Turns to go out_. + + _Enter_ CAPTAIN PAWLETT + + PAWLETT + How, Belcour--what's the matter? You go wrong. + 'Tis to the court-house all the world is going. + + BELCOUR (_impetuously_). + Let the world go its way, and me go mine + We've parted company, the world and I. + When Fortune frowns, the wretch is left alone + + PAWLETT. + Ah! true--I've heard of some embarrassments-- + + BELCOUR. + Embarrassments!--A puling, milliner phrase! + One of those tender terms we coin to throw + A sentimental interest round the bankrupt;-- + As though he may recover if he choose. + Why, Pawlett, man, I'm ruined, if the plan + I've formed to-day should fail. It shall not fail. + I will succeed. And Isabelle once mine, + With cash to bear us to a foreign land, + I care not for the rest, though death and hell + Should stand at the goal to seize me. + [_Exit violently_. + + PAWLETT (_looking after him_). + The fool! + He's in a furious mood--and let him rave-- + He'll never win his way with Isabelle. + My chances there are better, but not good. + Young Bolton's in my way. He loves her well; + And she, I fear, loves him. But then his father + Is proud as Lucifer, and selfish too. + Ambition makes the generous nature selfish. + He'll ne'er consent his only son should wed + The portionless daughter of a pedagogue. + No, no. I'll tot these bitter waters out. + I'll give the judge an inkling of the matter. + I'll write a note--he'll think it comes from Belcour. + If I can drive young Bolton from the field, + Then Isabelle is mine.--I'll do it. + + (_As_ PAWLETT _is going out, Enter_ DR. MARGRAVE + _and_ REV. PAUL GODFREY.) + + GODFREY. + You say Judge Bolton lives in princely style. + Is he a married man? + + MARGRAVE. + He has been married;-- + Most happily married, too. His wife was one + Of those pure beings, gentle, wise, and firm. + That mould our sex to highest hopes and aims. + He loved her as the devotee his saint: + And from the day he wed he trod life's path + As one who came to conquer. + + GODFREY. + I see it now. + The motive to excel was all he needed. + He had a vigorous mind, a generous heart, + An innate love of goodness and of truth. + But he was wayward, and he hated tasks. + Such men must have an aim beyond themselves, + Or oft they prove but dreamers. And with such, + Woman's companionship, dependence, love, + Are like the air to fire:--the smouldering flame + Of genius, once aroused, sweeps doubts away, + And brightens hope, till victory is won. + + MARGRAVE. + 'Twas thus with Bolton. To his keeping given + The weal of one so dear--then he bore on, + Gathering from disappointments fruitful strength, + As winter's snows prepare the earth for harvest. + And when his angel wife was taken from him, + She left him pledges of her love and trust, + A son of noble promise, and a daughter + To nestle, dove-like, in her father's heart, + And keep her place for ever. She is blind! + + GODFREY. + I marvel not that Bolton has excelled, + And won a station of the highest trust, + If his warm heart enlisted in the work: + But the small cares, the constant calculations + Required to make, at least to keep, a fortune-- + I never should have looked to him for these. + + MARGRAVE. + 'Twas luck that favored him; or Providence, + As you would say. A friend of his and ours. + De Vere, the young West Indian in our class-- + You must remember him--he left to Bolton + All his estate. A hundred thousand pounds + 'Twas said he would inherit. + + GODFREY. + How happened this? + De Vere returned to Cuba, there to marry? + + MARGRAVE. + He did, and had a family. But all + His children died save one, and then his wife. + And so he hither came to change the scene. + Bolton, just widowed then, received his friend + With more than brother's kindness, for their griefs + Bound them, like ties of soul, in sympathy. + De Vere was ill, and, with his motherless babe, + He found in Bolton's home the rest he sought. + And there he died, and left his little daughter + To his friend's guardian care; and to his will + A codicil annexed, unknown to Bolton, + That gave him all if Isabelle should die + Before she reached the age of twenty-one, + And die unmarried. + + GODFREY. + She is dead, then? + + MARGRAVE. + She is. Her life was like the early rose, + That bears th' frost in its heart. The bud is fair; + The strength to bloom is wanting; so it dies + But come, we shall be late. + + GODFREY. + What crowds are going! + And Irishmen!--Are these so fond of Justice? + + MARGRAVE. + Ay; where they feel she holds an even scale, + And is the friend alike of rich and poor, + They yield a prompt obedience, and become + Americans. Our motto is--"The law." + [_Exeunt._ + + * * * * + +SCENE III.--_The Court-room. A crowd of people._ PRISONER _in the dock. His +Wife, an infant in her arms, and his Sister, both in deep mourning, near +him_. LANGDON, _counsel for the prisoner;_ SHERIFF; CLERK _of the Court_; +CRIER _of the Court;_ CONSTABLES. _Enter_ JUDGE BOLTON, _followed by two +other_ JUDGES. _All take their places on the bench. Then enter_ DENNIS +_and_ MICHAEL. + + DENNIS (_staring at the_ JUDGE). + I' faith, 'tis a _purty_ thing to be a judge, + And sit so high and cool above the crowd. + And your good master well becomes his seat. + He looks, for all the world, like Dan O'Connell. + + MICHAEL. + He looks like a better man, and that's himself. + I wish he was judge of Ireland. + + DENNIS. + So do I; + And my good _masther_ was her doctor too. + They'd set the _ould_ country on her legs right soon. + He's coming now. + _Pointing to_ DR. MARGRAVE, _who is entering, + followed by_ REV. PAUL GODFREY. + + MICHAEL. + Who's with your master? + He looks as he had mettle in his arm. + + DENNIS. + He is my master's friend--a sort o' priest. + + MICHAEL. + And sure can battle with the fiend himself. + He looks as strong as Samson. + + DENNIS. + Well for him + Living away in the West, 'mong savages, + And bears, and wolves, and-- + + CRIER OF THE COURT. + Silence! + + MARGRAVE (_turning to_ GODFREY, _who is gazing_ + _at_ JUDGE BOLTON). + You seem surprised. Has he outlived the likeness + Kept in your mind? Seems he another man? + + GODFREY. + He is another man. The soul has wrought + Its work, as 'twere, with fire, and purified + The dross of selfish passion from his aims. + I read the victory on his open brow, + And in the deep repose of his calm eye. + + MARGRAVE. + His was a noble nature from the first. + + GODFREY. + He had a searching mind, a strong, warm heart, + And impulses of nobleness and truth. + But Nature sets her favorite sons a task: + We are not good by chance. Bolton had pride-- + An overweening pride in his own powers. + This pride obeys the will; and when the brain + Is mean and narrow, like a low-roofed dungeon, + And only keeps one image there confined-- + The image of self--the heart soon yields its truth, + And makes this self its idol, aim, and end. + Such is the Haman pride that mars the man, + And makes the wise contemn and hate him too-- + Hate and contemn the more, the more he prospers. + + MARGRAVE. + This is not Bolton's picture? + + GODFREY. + No. His pride, + Now his strong lion will has curbed the jackals-- + Those appetites and vanities of self + That mark the coxcomb rare wherever seen-- + Is all made up of generous sentiments, + The father's, citizen's, and patriot's pride. + + MARGRAVE. + You read him like a book. + + GODFREY. + An art we learn + Of reading men when we have few books to read. + + CRIER OF THE COURT. + Silence! + +_Enter two_ OFFICERS OF THE COURT, _attending the twelve_ JURYMEN, _who +take their seats. A crowd follows._ PROFESSOR OLNEY _trying to press +through the crowd: young_ HENRY BOLTON _makes room for him_. + + YOUNG BOLTON. + Stand here, Professor Olney--take this place; + Here you will not be crowded. Ah! your cough + Is troublesome to-day. Pray, take this seat; + You'll see as well, and be much more at ease. + + PROFESSOR OLNEY (_taking the seat_). + Thank you! thank you! This is kind, indeed. + I am not well to-day, but could not lose + This chance of listening to your father's voice. + His eloquence is classic in its style; + Not brilliant with explosive coruscations + Of heterogeneous thoughts at random caught, + And scattered like a shower of shooting stars + That end in darkness--no; Judge Bolton's mind + Is clear, and full, and stately, and serene. + His earnest and undazzled eye he keeps + Fixed on the sun of Truth, and breathes his speech + As easy as an eagle cleaves the air, + And never pauses till the height is won. + And all who listen follow where he leads. + + YOUNG BOLTON. + I hope you will be gratified. Are all-- + All well at home? + + + PROFESSOR OLNEY _(smiling)_. + I should not else be out. + And Isabelle will hear the recitations. + + YOUNG BOLTON _(aside)_. + I'll go, and see, and help her. Not to conquer + As Cæsar boasted--she has conquered me. + I'll go and yield myself her captive. + [_Exit_ YOUNG BOLTON. + + CRIER OF THE COURT. + Silence! + + CLERK OF THE COURT. + Gentlemen of the jury, are you ready + To give the verdict now? + + FOREMAN. + We are ready. + + CLERK OF THE COURT. + Prisoner, stand up and look upon the jury. + Jury, if and up and look upon the prisoner. + The man you now behold has had his trial + Before you for a crime. What is the verdict? + Is he, the prisoner, guilty or not guilty? + + FOREMAN _(reading the verdict)._ + Guilty of murder in the second degree. + +[_A deep silence, broken only by the sobs of prisoner's wife and sister. +Prisoner sinks down on his seat_. CLERK OF THE COURT _records the +sentence_. + + CLERK OF THE COURT. + Gentlemen of the jury, listen to + The verdict as recorded by the court + The prisoner at the bar is therein found + For crime committed--and that has been proven-- + Guilty of murder in the second degree. + So say you, Mister Foreman? So say all? + + FOREMAN AND JURY. + All (_bowing_). + + + JUDGE BOLTON. + A righteous verdict this, and yet a sad one + A fellow-being banished from our midst, + To pass his days in utter loneliness + Prisoner you've heard the verdict. Have you aught + To say why sentence should not now be passed? + Speak; you may have the opportunity. + + LANGDON _counsel for the prisoner, confers + with him then addresses the_ JUDGE. + + LANGDON + He cannot speak; his heart o'erpowers his tongue; + The tide of grief seeps all his strength away, + As rising waters drown the sinking boat. + And he entreats that I would say for him, + The court permitting me, a few last words. + + + JUDGE BOLTON + Go on. You are permitted. + + + LANGDON. + May it please + The court, the jury, and all these good people, + The prisoner prays that I would beg for him, + As on his soul's behalf, your prayers and pardon: + That is, while he in penitence will yield + To the just punishment the law awards, + You'll think of him as one misled--not cruel. + The murderous deed his hand did was not done + With heart consent--he knew it not. The fiend + That _rum_ evokes had entered him, and changed + His nature. So he prays you will never brand + His innocent boy with this his father's guilt; + Nor on his broken-hearted wife look cold, + As though his leprous sin defiled these poor + And helpless sufferers. Then he prays that all + Would lend their aid to root intemperance out, + And crush the horrid haunts of sin and ruin, + Where liquid poison for the soul is sold! + And while the victims of this deadly traffic + Must bear the penalty of crimes committed, + Even when the light of reason has been quenched, + That you would frame a law to reach the tempter, + Nor let those go unscathed who cause the crime. + And then he prays, most fervently, that all + Who may, like him, be tempted by the bowl, + Would lake a warning from his fearful fate, + And "touch not, taste not" make their solemn pledge, + And so he parts with all in charity. + + [_A pause--the sobs of the prisoner's wife and + sister are heard._ + + CRIER OF THE COURT. + Silence! + + + CLERK OF THE COURT. + Prisoner, stand up and listen to the sentence. + + + JUDGE BOLTON (_solemnly_). + Laws hitherto are framed to punish crime + All legislators have been slow to deal + With vice in its first elements; and here + Lie the pernicious root and seeds of sin. + That children are permitted to grow up + From infancy to youth without instruction, + Is a grave wrong, and ne'er to be redeemed + By penal statutes and the prisoner's cell. + We leave the mind unfortified by Truth, + And wonder it should fill with wayward Error. + There's no blank ignorance, as many dream; + Each soul will have its growth and garnering. + As the uncultured prairie bears a harvest + Heavy and rank, yet worthless to the world, + So mind and heart uncultured run to waste; + The noblest natures serving but to show + A denser growth of passion's deadly fruit. + Another error of our social state-- + We charter sin when chartering temptation. + We see the ensnarer, like a spider, sit + Weaving his web; and we permit the work. + How many souls Intemperance has destroyed, + Lured to his den by opportunities + The law allows! The prisoner at the bar + Is one of these unhappy instances. + The testimony offered here has shown + He bore a character unstained by crime. + Nay, more--an active, honest, prudent man, + Prisoner, you have appeared, since you came here + Five years ago. You came with us to share, + In this free land, the blessings we enjoy; + Blessings by law secured, by law sustained; + The impartial law that, like the glorious sun, + Sends from its central light a beam to all, + And binds in magnet interest all as one. + And you had married here, and were a father + And prospered in your plans, and all was well. + Nay, more--'tis proved you had a generous heart, + And had been kind to your poor countrymen, + The homeless emigrants who gather here, + Like men escaped from sore calamities, + Where only life is saved from out the wreck. + And one of these, an early friend, who died + Beneath the kindly shelter of your roof, + Left to your care his precious orphan child-- + His only child, his motherless, his daughter. + And you received the gift, and vowed to be + A father to the little lonely one. + Where is that orphan now?--Must I go on? + 'Tis not to harrow up your trembling soul. + I would not lay a feather on the weight + Stern memory brings to crash the guilty down. + But I would stir your feelings to their depths. + And bring, like conscience in your dying hour, + The sense of your great crime, that so you may + Repent, and Heaven will pardon. Here on earth, + Man has no power t' absolve such guilty deed. + Prisoner, one month ago, and you were safe-- + A man among your neighbors well beloved, + And in your home the one preferred to all. + No monarch could have driven you from the throne + You held in th' loving hearts of wife and child. + Your coming was their festival; your step, + As eve drew on, was music to their ears. + The little girl, the adopted of your vow, + Was always at the door to claim the kiss + That you, with father's tenderness, bestowed. + Alas! for her--for you--the last return! + One fatal night you yielded to the tempter, + And drained the drunkard's cup till reason fled, + And then went reeling home, your brain on fire, + And, raging like a tiger in the toils, + You fancied every human form a foe. + And when that little girl, like playful fawn, + Unconscious of your state, came bounding forth + To clasp your knee and welcome "father home"-- + You, with a madman's fury, struck her dead! + [_A shriek is heard from prisoner's wife._ + Prisoner, for this offence you have been tried, + And every scope allowed that law could grant + To mitigate the awful punishment. + No one believes that malice moved your mind; + But murdering maniacs may not live with men; + And therefore, prisoner, you are doomed for life + To solitary toil. Alone! alone! alone! + Love's music voice will never greet your ear; + Affection's eye will never meet your gaze; + Nor heart-warm hand of friend return your grasp; + But morn, and noon, and night, days, months, and years, + Will all be told in this one word--alone! + Prisoner, the world will leave you as the dead + Within your closing cell--your living tomb. + But One there is who pardons and protects, + And never leaves the penitent alone. + Oh, turn to Him, the Saviour! so your cell, + That opens when you die, may lead to heaven:-- + And God have mercy on your penitence! + [_Prisoner sinks down, as the curtain + slowly falls_.] + +END OF ACT I. + + * * * * * + +SABBATH LYRICS. + +BY W. GILMORE SIMMS. + +GOD THE GUARDIAN.--PSALM XI. + + How say ye to my soul, + As a mountain bird depart? + For the wicked bend the bow, + With the aim upon the heart. + In the Lord I put my trust-- + The Great Giver of my breath-- + He is mighty as he's just, + He wilt guard my soul from death. + + On his holy throne he sits, + With his eye o'er all the earth; + But his shaft, that slays the vile, + Never harms the breast of worth. + The man of wrath he dooms + To the terror and the blight; + But his love the soul sustains + That walks humbly in his sight. + + * * * * * + +LET WELL ENOUGH ALONE. + +BY MRS. EMMA BALL. + +"A word spoken in due season, how good is it!" and how often is its +influence more lasting and more beneficial than at the time of its +utterance either speaker or hearer dreams of. + +To illustrate. When about seventeen, I was, at my earnest solicitation, +placed in a seminary, with the understanding that for one year I should +devote myself to study, and thus become better fitted for future usefulness +as a teacher. How I had wished for such an opportunity! How often had my +wish been disappointed! and how narrowly I had escaped disappointment even +then! But I was there at last, and everything seemed to be just as I would +have it. Thus far I had studied unaided, and amid incessant interruptions. +Now I could obtain assistance, and command the necessary leisure. The last +four years I had passed in a crowded city. Now I breathed the purest +atmosphere, and the scenery around me was of surpassing beauty. My window +commanded the prettiest view; and, better still, I had no room-mate to +disturb me with unwelcome chit-chat. Who could be happier than I? There was +but one inconvenience, one drawback to the feeling of entire satisfaction +with which, day after day, I looked around "my charming little room;" and +that was the position of my bedstead. I did not like that; for the head was +so near the door as to leave no room for my table; and consequently, as I +could not place my lamp in perfect safety near my bed, I was compelled +either to waste the precious hour before broad daylight, or to rise and +study in a freezing room. "If I could only turn this bedstead round," +thought I, "so that the head would be near the table, how many hours I +might save!" and I resolved that, on the coming Saturday, I would make the +desirable change. On the afternoon of that day, I was engaged to ride home +with one of the teachers, and the morning I had intended to devote to +sewing and study: "but no matter," thought I; "by a little extra effort I +can accomplish all." Accordingly, when Saturday came I commenced +operations; but, after removing the bed and mattress I discovered, to my +great concern, that, although the bedstead would stand as I wished, yet I +could not turn it thither without first taking it apart; and for this a +bed-key was necessary. "Well," thought I, "it is worth the trouble;" so I +procured a bed-key; and at length--at length--two of the screws yielded to +my efforts. The others, however, _would not_ yield. I tried and tried, but +without avail; and, wearied and disappointed, I stood wondering what I +should do. Just then, the door opened; and "Aunty," an old lady whose +kindness and sound sense had already won my regard, stepped in. "What is +the matter?" she exclaimed--"why, what has the child been about?" "I was +trying to turn my bedstead so," said I, ruefully pointing towards the +table; and I went on to explain why I had done so. "I dare say thou wouldst +find it more convenient so," answered Aunty; "but it is quite beyond thy +strength." "I see it is," sighed I. "I would have it turned for thee" she +said; "but that is the most troublesome bedstead in the house: no one can +do anything with it except John Lawton, and he won't be home till Monday." +"What shall I do?" asked I. "I'll get Mary to come up and help thee fix it +as it was before," answered Aunty. I drew a long breath. "Oh, never mind," +said she, soothingly; "it is not quite so convenient this way, to be sure, +but--" "I'm not thinking of the inconvenience now," interrupted I, "but of +the time I've wasted. Why, I've spent nearly four hours over that foolish +old bedstead. I was to have taken tea with Miss Mansell this afternoon, and +I had expected to learn a good French lesson besides: but now the morning +is gone, and a profitable time I've made of it!" "I should not wonder if it +prove one of the most profitable mornings of thy life." rejoined the old +lady, "and teach thee a lesson more valuable than thy French or thy music +either." "What is that?" inquired I. "To let well enough alone." answered +Aunty--and she smiled and nodded slowly as she spoke. "I'll let well enough +alone after this, I promise you," said I. "People of thy ardent temperament +seldom learn to do it in one lesson," replied she; "but the sooner thou +dost learn it, the better it will be for thy happiness. However, I'll go +now and send Mary to help thee." Mary came: but it was nearly two hours +before my room resumed its usual neat appearance. + +Some three months after, I learned that a young lady whom I had unwillingly +offended, by declining to receive her as a room-mate, had spoken of me +disparagingly, and greatly misrepresented various little incidents of our +every-day intercourse. Surprised and indignant, I at once resolved to "have +a talk with her;" but first I made known my disquietude to Aunt Rachel. +"What shall I do?" asked I, in conclusion. "Not much," she answered. "Take +no notice of it. I see she has been talking ill of thee; but she can do +thee little or no real injury. Those who know thee won't believe her," "But +those who don't know me--" interrupted I. "Won't trouble themselves much +about it," she replied; "and if ever they become acquainted with thee, +they'll only have the better means of judging thee truly." "If I say +nothing about it, though," urged I, "she'll feel encouraged to talk on, and +worse." "If thou dost find she is really doing thee an injury," returned +Aunty, "I'll not dissuade thee from taking it in hand; but, as it now +stands, it is not worth disturbing thyself about." "I could make her feel +so ashamed," persisted I. "I don't doubt thee," replied she, laughing; "I +don't doubt thee in the least: but in doing so, won't thou get excited? +Won't thou sleep better, and study better, and waste less time, if thou +just 'let well enough alone?'" "That seems a favorite maxim with you," +observed I. "I have found it a very useful one," she answered; "and, had I +known its value earlier in life, I might have escaped a good deal of +suffering. Ten years ago, I had a kind husband, and a promising son, and +slowly, yet surely, they were gathering a pretty competence. We thought we +could gather faster by going south; but the location proved unhealthy, and +in one season I lost them both by a bilious fever." Sympathy kept me +silent. "You would not discourage all attempts to better one's condition?" +I at length inquired. "By no means," answered Aunt Rachel; "for that were +to check energy and retard improvement. I would only advise +people--impulsive people especially--to think _before_ they act: for it is +always easier to avoid an evil than to remedy it. Thou art fond of +History," she continued, "and that, both sacred and profane, abounds with +examples of those who, in the day of adversity or retribution, have wished, +oh how earnestly, that they had let well enough alone. Jacob, an exile from +his father's house: Shimei, witnessing the return of David: Zenobia, +high-spirited and accustomed to homage, gracing Aurelian's triumph, and +living a captive in Rome: Christina, after she had relinquished the crown +of Sweden; and, in our own days, Great Britain, involved in a long and +losing war with her American colonies. Every-day life, too, is full of such +examples." I asked her to mention some. "Thou canst see one," she answered, +"in the speculator, whose anxiety for sudden wealth has reduced his family +to indigence; and in the girl who leaves her plain country home, and +sacrifices her health, and perhaps her virtue, in a city workshop. +Disputatious people, passionate people, those who indulge in personalities, +and those who meddle with what don't concern them, are very apt to wish +they had let well enough alone. People who are forever changing their +residence or their store, their clerks, or their domestics, frequently find +reason for such a wish. Even in household affairs, my maxim saves me many +an hour of unnecessary labor. Dost thou remember the bedstead?" she added, +with a smile. "Yes, indeed," I answered; "I shall never forget that. The +other day I was going to alter my pink dress into a wrapper, like Miss +Mansell's; but the thought of that old bedstead stopped me; and I'm glad of +it; for, now that I look again, I don't think it would pay me for the +trouble." "Well, think again before thou dost notice Jane Ansley's talk," +said Aunty. I followed her advice; and I have never regretted that I did +so. + +Dear old lady! I left her when that pleasant year was ended, and never saw +her again. She has long since entered into her rest: but I often think of +her maxim, and in many cases have proved its value. + +I think of it when I see a man spending time and money, and enduring all +the wretchedness of long suspense or excitement, in a lawsuit which he +might have avoided; and which, whether lost or gained, will prove to him a +source of continual self-reproach. When I see a business man who, by an +overbearing demeanor and oppressive attempts to make too much of a good +bargain, has converted a conscientious and peace-loving partner into an +unyielding opponent: or, when I hear of a farmer who has provoked a +well-disposed neighbor by killing his fowls and throwing them over the +fence, instead of trying some neighborly way of preventing their +depredations on his grain. When I have seen a teacher exciting the +emulation of a jealous-minded child; or by threats, or even by ill-timed +reasoning(?), converting a momentary pettishness into a fit of obstinacy--I +have felt as if I wanted to whisper in her ear, "Do not seem to notice +them; let well enough alone." When I see an envious mother depreciating and +finding fault with a judicious and conscientious teacher till she has +discouraged or provoked her, I think it likely that the day will come when +both mother and children will wish that she had "let well enough alone." +So, too, when I observe a mother forcing upon her daughters an +accomplishment for which they have no taste: a father compelling his son to +study law or physic, while the bent of his genius leads to machinery or +farming: or a widow with a little property placing her children under the +doubtful protection of a young stepfather. Vanitia is intelligent and well +read, and appears to advantage in general society; but her love of +admiration, her wish to be thought _superior_, is so inordinate, that she +cannot bear to appear ignorant of any subject; hence she often tries to +seem conversant with matters of which she knows nothing, and perceives not +that she thereby sinks in the estimation of those whose homage she covets. +Affectua is pretty and accomplished, and, two years ago, awakened goodwill +in all who saw her. Latterly, however, she has exchanged her simple and +natural manners for those which are plainly artificial and affected. What a +pity these ladies cannot "let well enough alone!" + +But I must stop, or my reader may exclaim: Enough--practice thy own +precept--and let well enough alone. + + * * * * * + +SUSAN CLIFTON; OR, THE CITY AND THE COUNTRY. + +BY PROFESSOR ALDEN. + +CHAPTER I. + +On a pleasant afternoon in August, two gentlemen were sitting in the shade +of a large walnut tree which stood in front of an ancient, yet neat and +comfortable farmhouse. Perhaps it would be more in accordance with modern +usage to say that a gentleman and a man were sitting there; for the one was +clothed in the finest broadcloth, the other in ordinary homespun. They had +just returned from a walk over the farm, which had been the scene of their +early amusements and labors. + +"I don't know," said he of the broadcloth coat, "but that you made the +better choice, after all. You have time to be happy; you have a quiet that +I know nothing about--in truth, I should not know how to enjoy it if I had +it." + +"The lack of it, then," replied his brother, "can be no hardship. I have +often regretted that I did not secure the advantages of a liberal education +when they were within my reach." + +"That is an unwise as well as a useless regret. If you had gone to college, +you would, as a matter of course, have chosen one of the learned +professions. Your talents and industry would, doubtless, have secured to +you a good measure of success; but you would often have sighed for the +peace and rest of the old farmhouse. Remember, too, that it and these lands +would have passed into the hands of strangers." + +"Perhaps you are right. Still, as I am now situated, I should be very glad +to have the advantages and influence which a liberal education would +bestow." + +"I think you overrate those advantages. You are substantially a well +educated man; and you can now command leisure to add to your information. +If you should be in want of any books which it may not be convenient for +you to purchase, it will give me great pleasure to procure them for you. I +can do so without the slightest inconvenience." + +"I am greatly obliged to you; and, if it should be necessary, I will, +without hesitation, avail myself of your kind offer. I feel the deficiency +of my education most sensibly in respect to my daughter. I find myself +incompetent to take the direction of her opening mind." + +"That is the very point I wish to speak upon. You must, my good brother +allow me to take charge of her education. I owe it to you for keeping the +old homestead in the family. It will give me great pleasure to afford her +the very best advantages. Let me take her to the city with me on my +return." + +"We may, perhaps, differ in our estimate of advantages. I can conceive of +none at present sufficiently great to compensate for the loss of her +mother's society and example." + +"No doubt these are very valuable; but girls must go away from home to +complete their education, especially if they live in the country. Even in +the city, a great many parents place their daughters in boarding-schools, +and that, too, when the school is not half a mile distant from their +residence." + +"A great many parents, both in the city and country, do many things which I +would not do." + +"You are willing to do what is for the best interests of your child." + +"Certainly." + +"If you will allow Susan to go with me to New York, I will place her at the +first school in the city. She shall have a home at my house; and my wife +will, for the time being, supply the place of her mother." + +"I fully appreciate your kind intentions; but I could almost as soon think +of parting with the sunlight as with Susan." + +"You forget the advantages she would enjoy. You are not wont to allow your +feelings to interfere with the interests of those you love. I am sure you +will not in this case. Think the matter over, and talk with your wife about +it. She has an undoubted right to be consulted. I must go and prepare some +letters for the evening mail." So saying, he arose and went to his room. + +The two brothers, Richard and Henry Clifton, had been separated for many +years. When Richard was seventeen years of age, his father indulged him in +his earnest desire to become a merchant. At a great pecuniary sacrifice, he +was placed in the employment of an intelligent and prosperous merchant in +New York; and when, at the age of twenty-one, he was admitted as a member +of the firm, his patrimony was given him to be invested in the concern. + +To his remaining son, Henry, Mr. Clifton offered a collegiate education. +This offer was declined by Henry, not through lack of a desire for +knowledge, but in consequence of a too humble estimate of his mental +powers. When he became of age, a deed of the homestead was given him. Not +long afterwards, his father was carried to his long home. + +The business of the firm to which Richard Clifton belonged rendered it +necessary for him to repair to a foreign city, where he resided for fifteen +years. He was now on his first visit to his native place, subsequent to his +return to the commercial emporium. + +Susan, the only child of Henry and Mary Clifton, was just sixteen years of +age. Her light form, transparent countenance, brilliant eye, and graceful +movements, were not in keeping with the theory that rusticity must be the +necessary result of living in a farmhouse, especially when the labors +thereof are not performed by hireling hands. + +From the first day of his visit, the heart of the merchant warmed towards +the child of his only brother. Her delicate and affectionate attentions +increased the interest he felt in her. That interest was not at all +lessened by a distinct perception of the fact that she was fitted to adorn +the magnificent parlors of his city residence. It was, therefore, his fixed +purpose to take her with him on his return. Some objections, he doubted +not, would be raised by his sober brother; but he placed his reliance for +success upon the mother's influence. No mother, he was sure, could reject +so brilliant an offer for her darling child. + +The time spent by the merchant in writing letters, affecting operations in +the four quarters of the globe, was passed by the farmer in thoughtful +silence, though in the presence of his wife and daughter. He withdrew as he +heard his brother coming from his room. + +"Uncle," said Susan, "do you wish to have those letters taken to the +post-office?" + +"Yes, dear." + +"Let me take them for you." + +She received the letters from his willing hand, and left him alone with her +mother. + +"Your husband," said he to Mrs. Clifton, "has spoken to you of the +proposition I made to him respecting my niece?" + +"He has not," said Mrs. Clifton. + +"I requested him to consult you. I proposed to take her home with me, and +give her the very first advantages for education that the city can afford." + +"You are very generous. But what did Henry say to it?" + +"He does not like the idea of parting with her; but, as I understand it, he +holds the matter under advisement till he has consulted you. I hope you +will not hesitate to give your consent, and to use your influence with my +brother, in case it should be necessary." + +"I should be sorry to withhold my consent from anything which may be for +the good of my child. So generous an offer should not be declined without +due consideration. At the same time, I must frankly say that I do not think +it at all probable that I can bring myself to consent to your proposal." + +"What objection can be urged against it?" + +"I doubt very much whether it will be for the best." + +"Why not for the best? What can be better than a first rate education?" + +"Nothing; certainly, taking that term in its true sense. A first rate +education for a young lady is one adapted to prepare her for the sphere in +which she is to act. If Susan were to go with you, she would doubtless +learn many things of which she would otherwise be ignorant; but it may be a +question whether she would be thereby fitted for the station she is to +occupy in life. That, in all probability, will be a humble one." + +"She has talents fitted to adorn any station, only let them receive +suitable cultivation. She shall never be in a position which shall render +useless the education I will give her. I have the means of keeping my +promise." + +"I doubt it not. But ought a mother to consent that one so young and +inexperienced should be removed from home and its influences, and be +exposed to the temptations of the great world in which you live? It is a +very different one from that to which she has been accustomed." + +"As to removing her from home, my house shall be her home, and my wife +shall supply the place of her mother." + +"I will give to your kind proposal the consideration which it deserves; but +I must say, again, that it is very doubtful whether I can bring myself to +consent to it." + +"I can't say that I have any doubt about the matter," said her husband, who +entered the room as she uttered the last remark. "To be plain, my dear +brother, if there were no other reasons against the plan, I should not dare +to place her in a family where the voice of prayer is not heard, especially +as her character is now in process of formation." + +Richard was silent. At first, he felt an emotion of anger; but he +remembered that they were in the room in which their excellent father was +accustomed to assemble his family each morning and evening for social +worship. On no occasion was that worship neglected, even for a single day. +After a long silence, he remarked, "You may think better of it, my +brother," and retired to his room. + + * * * * + +CHAPTER II. + +For some time after Richard Clifton had exchanged the quiet of agriculture +for the bustle of commercial life, he read his Bible daily, and retained +the habit of secret prayer which had been so carefully taught him in +childhood. But, at length, the Bible began to be neglected, and the altar +of mammon was substituted for the altar of God. In his business +transactions, the laws of integrity were never disregarded, nor was his +respect and reverence for religion laid aside, but he had no time to be +religious. When he became the head of a family, the Word of God lay +unopened on his parlor table, and family worship was a thing unknown. +Though God had guarded him at home and abroad, on the sea and on the land, +and had made him rich even to the extent of his most sanguine expectations, +yet he had forgotten the source of his prosperity, and had never bowed his +knee in thanksgiving. The education of his wife, a daughter of one of the +"merchant princes," had been such that she found nothing to surprise or +shock her in the practical atheism of her husband's course. + +On the morning after the occurrence of the events recorded in the chapter +above, as Susan returned from the village post-office, she handed her uncle +a letter. Having perused it, he remarked-- + +"I must return to the city tomorrow. Will you go with me, Susan?" + +"I should be delighted to do so, if father and mother could go with me." + +"I should be happy to have them go. But suppose they do not? You cannot +expect to have them always with you." + +"Must you go so soon?" said Henry. "You make a very short visit after so +long a separation." + +"I must return to the city to-morrow; but my presence will be needed there +only for a day or two. If Susan will go with me, I will return here next +week and spend a few days more with you." + +The matter was referred to Susan for decision. Her desire to see the +wonders of the great city, as well as to gratify her uncle, overcame the +reluctance which she felt to be separated, even for so brief a period, from +her happy home. + +The preparations for her sudden journey required the assistance of several +neighbors; and thus the news of her intended visit to the city spread +quickly through the village. There was, of course, much speculation +concerning it. Some said it was merely a passing visit. Others said she had +been adopted by her wealthy uncle, and was thenceforth to be a member of +his family. Some regarded the supposed adoption as fortunate, and rejoiced +in it for Susan's sake. Others were envious, and were ingenious and +eloquent in setting forth the evils which might ensue. Some were sorry to +see one so young and innocent exposed to the temptations of a city life. A +few were surprised that her parents should consent to have her leave them, +even though it were to become the heiress of almost boundless wealth. + +In the course of the evening, a number of Susan's friends called to bid her +good-by. As each new visitor came, an observant eye might have seen that +she was disappointed. Her manner indicated that she expected one who did +not come. The evening wore away, the social prayer was offered, and they +were about to separate for the night. + +"Susan, dear," said her uncle, "I will thank you for a glass of water." + +Susan took a pitcher and repaired to the spring, which gushed out of a bank +a few yards from the house. She had filled her pitcher, when a well-known +voice pronounced her name. + +"Is it you, Horace?" said she. "I am away to-morrow." + +"So I have heard. Are you going to live with your uncle?" + +"Oh no. I am coming home in less than a week." + +"I am sorry you are going." + +"Are you?" + +"I am afraid you will not want to come home." + +"Why Horace!" + +"Come back as soon as you can." + +"I will." + +"Good-by!" He extended his trembling hand, and received one still more +trembling. It was carried to his lips. Another good-by was uttered, and he +was gone. + +It was well for Susan that her uncle was not sitting in his own brilliantly +lighted parlor when, with blushing cheek and trembling hand, she handed him +the glass of water. In the dim light of a single candle, her agitation +passed unnoticed. + +In the morning, after oil-repeated farewells, and amid tears not wholly +divorced from smiles, Susan set out on her journey, and, on the following +day, arrived at the busy mart where souls are exchanged for gold, and +hearts are regarded as less valuable than stocks. She entered the mansion +of her uncle, and was introduced to his polished and stately wife. + + * * * * + +CHAPTER III. + +No pains were spared by her uncle to amuse Susan and to gratify her +curiosity. Mrs. Clifton, also, to her husband's great delight, put forth +very unusual exertions tending to the same end. Still, Susan was far from +being perfectly happy. She wanted a place like home to which she couid +retire when weary with sight-seeing and excitement. In her uncle's house, +notwithstanding his manifest affection and the perfect politeness of his +wife, she did not feel at ease--she felt as if she were in public. And then +to sit down at the table and partake of God's bounties, when his blessing +had not been asked upon them, and to retire for the night when his +protection had not been invoked, detracted greatly from the enjoyment which +her visit was in other respects adapted to afford. The week during which +she was to remain had not elapsed ere she desired to return home. Of this +desire she gave no voluntary indication, but exerted herself to appear (as +she really was) thankful for the efforts designed to contribute to her +happiness. + +"What do you think of our niece?" said Mr. Clifton to his wife one morning, +when Susan was not present. + +"I think she will make a fine girl--that is, with due attention," said his +wife. She would have expressed her meaning more accurately if she had said, +"I think she will make a fine impression--will attract admiration, if her +manners are only cultivated." + +"Would you like to have her remain with us permanently?" + +"I rather think I should. I like her very well." This was uttered in a very +calm tone. + +"What school would you send her to if she should remain?" + +"I would not send her to any school. She is old enough to go into society; +and all that she needs is a little attention to her manners." + +"She is only sixteen years old." + +"She is quite tall, and will pass for eighteen at least. If we make a +school-girl of her, she can't go into society for a year or more to come." + +"It was a part of my plan to give her a thorough education." + +"It is a part of my plan to have some one to go into society with me." + +"I do not believe her parents will consent to part with her, except on +condition that she shall spend several years in one of our best schools." + +"Then let them keep her and make a milkmaid of her. If I take a girl and +fit her for society, and introduce her into the circle in which I move, I +wish to be understood as conferring a favor, not as receiving one." + +"My dear, you know that the ideas of those who have always lived in the +country must, of necessity, be somewhat contracted. We must not judge them +by the standard to which we are accustomed." + +"We ought not to make the girl suffer for the follies of her parent, to be +sure. You can say what you please to them about it, and then the matter can +be left with her. She will be glad to escape the drudgery of school, I dare +say." + +"I think not. She has an ardent desire for knowledge; and the strongest +inducement I can set before her to come to the city is the means it +furnishes for gratifying that desire." + +"There are other gratifications furnished by the city which she will soon +learn to prize more highly. Let her once be at home here, and be introduced +to society, and her desire for book-knowledge will not trouble her much. I +know more about women than you do, perhaps." + +Mr. Clifton was silent. The last remark of his wife made a deep impression +upon his mind. Certain it was that his knowledge of woman was rather more +extensive and of a different character from that which he had expected to +acquire, when he lived amid the green fields of the country, ere the stain +of worldliness was upon his soul. + +"I like Susan," said Mrs. Clifton. "I think she will prove quite +attractive. I have never seen a girl from the country who appeared so well. +She has a quick sense of propriety, and will give me very little trouble to +fit her for society." + +"I am glad you like her," said. Mr. Clifton. "Her residence with us will +make our home more cheerful; and, with your example before her, her manners +will soon become those of a finished lady." + +Mr. Clifton went to his counting-room, and his wife was left alone. The +compliment her husband had just paid her inclined her to dwell with +complacency upon the plan of adopting Susan. She liked her for her fair +countenance and her faultless form, and her quick observation and ready +adoption of conventional proprieties. Her presence, moreover, would attract +visitors, who were now less numerous than when Mrs. Clifton was young. Her +name, too, favored the idea of adoption. The difference between a real and +an adopted child would not readily be known. She made up her mind to adopt +her, and would have made known her determination to Susan at once, had not +an engagement compelled her to go out. + + * * * * + +CHAPTER IV. + +While Susan was thus left alone for a little season, she employed herself +in writing the following letter to her mother-- + +"My Dear Mother: I have been so long without any one to speak to (you know +what I mean), that I must write you, though I hope to reach home almost as +soon as this letter. I am treated in the kindest manner possible. My uncle, +I think, really loves me, and I certainly love him very much. His wife is a +splendid woman. She was once, I doubt not, very beautiful, and she looks +exceedingly well now when she is dressed. She is very polite to me. I am, I +believe, a welcome visitor; and she desires me to stay longer than I +engaged to when I left home. I have not been out much, except with my uncle +to see the curiosities with which the city abounds. I have seen but few of +my aunt's friends. In truth, I suppose I have pleased her not a little by +not wishing to be seen. I am from the country, you know; though she thinks +I am making rapid progress in civilization. I judge so from the +commendation she bestows upon my attempts to avoid singularity. I remember +you used to commend me when I made successful efforts to govern my temper: +aunt commends me for the manner in which I govern my limbs, or rather when +they happen to move to please her without being governed. Last evening (I +had not seen uncle since the day before at dinner), I was glad to find him +in the parlor as I entered it. Aunt said to me, 'If you could enter the +parlor in that way when company is present, you would make quite a +sensation.' I can hardly help laughing to think what a matter of importance +so simple a thing as putting one foot before the other becomes in the city. +I suppose, if I were to live here, I should learn to sleep, and even to +breathe, by rule. I was going to say to think by rule; but thinking is not +in fashion. So far as I can learn, the thinking done here is confined to +thinking of what others think about them. Aunt was originally taught to do +everything by rule. Custom has become with her a second nature. Her manners +are called fascinating; but to me they are formal and chilling. I suppose +they are perfectly well suited to those who desire only the fascinating. +You have taught me to desire something more. + +"I find myself deficient in the easy command of language which seems so +natural here. I have been astonished to find what an easy flow of polished +and tolerably correct language is possessed by some with whom language +might rather be regarded as the substitute for, than the instrument of, +thought. It must be owing to practice; though it is a mystery, to me how +persons can talk so smoothly, and even so beautifully, without ideas. + +"I have seen a great many new things. I will tell you all about them when I +get home. I long for that time to come, though it be only two days off. +Every one has so much to do here, or rather in in such a hurry, that, were +it not for my uncle's mercantile habit of keeping his word, I should not +expect to see home at the appointed time. + +"I am glad I came, for many reasons. I did not know so well before how +little the external has to do with happiness. As persons pass by and look +through the plate glass upon the silk damask curtains, they doubtless think +the owner of that mansion must be very happy. Now I believe my dear father +is far more happy than my uncle. I do not believe that my uncle's +magnificent parlors (I use strong language; but I believe they are regarded +as magnificent by those who are accustomed to frequent the most richly +furnished houses) have ever been the scene of so much happiness as our own +plain _keeping-room_ has. I would not exchange our straight-backed chairs, +which have been so long in the _home-service_, for the costly and luxurious +ones before me, if the _adjuncts_ were to be exchanged also. I long to sit +down in the old room and read or converse with my parents, by the light of +a single candle. I prefer that homely light to the cut-glass chandelier +which illuminates the parlors here. I love to see beautiful things, and +should have no objection to possessing them, provided the things necessary +to happiness could be added to them. Of themselves, they are insufficient +to meet the wants of the heart. Instead of being discontented with my plain +home, I shall prize it the more highly in consequence of my visit to this +great Babel. Do not think I am ungrateful to my dear uncle and to his wife +for their efforts to amuse me and make me happy. I should not be your +daughter if I were. + +"Aunt has just come in, and has sent for me to her room. Kiss my dear +father for me, and pray for me that I may be restored to you in safety. + +"Your affectionate daughter, + +"SUSAN." + +(To be continued.) + + * * * * * + +SING ME THAT SONG AGAIN! + +BY MISS E. BOGART. + + Sing me that song again! + A voice unheard by thee repeats the strain; + And as its echoes on my fancy break, + _Heart-strings_ and _harp-chords_ wake. + + Sing to my viewless lyre! + Each note holds mem'ries as the flint holds fire; + And while my heart-strings in sweet concert play, + Thought travels far away. + + And back, on laden wings, + The music of my better life it brings; + For years of happiness, departed long, + Are shrined in that old song. + + Its cadence on my ear + Falls as the night falls in the moonlight clear-- + The darkness lost in Luna's glittering beams, + As I am lost in dreams. + + Sing on, nor yet unbind + The chain that weaves itself about my mind-- + A chain of images which seem to rise + To life before my eyes. + + The veil which hangs around + The past is lifted by the breath of sound, + As strong winds lift the dying leaves, and show + The hidden things below. + + I listen to thy voice, + Impelled beyond the power of will or choice, + And to those simple notes' mysterious chime, + My rushing thoughts keep time + + The key of harmony + Has turned the rusted lock of memory, + And opened all its secret stores to light, + As by some wizard sprite. + + But now the charm is past, + My heart-strings are too deeply wrung at last, + And harp-chords, stretched too far, refuse to play + Longer an answering lay. + + The music-spell is o'er! + And that old song, oh, sing it nevermore + It is so old, 'tis time that it should die! + Forget it--so will I. + + Let it in silence rest; + Guarded by thoughts which may not be expressed + There was a love which clung to it of old-- + _That_ love has long been cold. + + Then sing it not again! + The voice that seemed to echo back the strain + Has filled succeeding years with discords strange + And won my heart to change + + And thou mayst surely cull + Songs new and sweet, and still more beautiful: + Sing _new_ ones, then, to which no memories cling-- + _Most_ memories have their sting. + + * * * * * + +COSTUMES OF ALL NATIONS.--SECOND SERIES. + +THE TOILETTE IN ENGLAND. + +CHAPTER I + +Ancient authors disagree in the accounts they give of the dress of the +first inhabitants of Britain. Some assert that, previously to the first +descent of the Romans, the people wore no clothing at all: other writers, +however (and, probably, with more truth), state that they clothed +themselves with the skins of wild animals; and as their mode of life +required activity and freedom of limb, loose skins over their bodies, +fastened, probably, with a thorn, would give them the needful warmth, +without in any degree restraining the liberty of action so necessary to the +hardy mountaineer. + +Probably the dress of the women of those days did not differ much from that +of the men: but, after the second descent of the Romans, both sexes are +supposed to have followed the Roman costume: indeed, Tacitus expressly +asserts that they did adopt this change; though we may safely believe that +thousands of the natives spurned the Roman fashion in attire, not from any +dislike of its form or shape, but from the detestation they bore towards +their conquerors. + +The beautiful and intrepid Queen Boadicea is the first British female whose +dress is recorded. Dio mentions that, when she led her army to the field of +battle, she wore "a various-colored tunic, flowing in long loose folds, and +over it a mantle, while her long hair floated over her neck and shoulders." +This warlike queen, therefore, notwithstanding her abhorrence of the +Romans, could not resist the graceful elegance of their costume, so +different from the rude clumsiness of the dress of her wild subjects; and, +though fighting valiantly against the invaders of her country, she +succumbed to the laws which Fashion had issued!--a forcible example of the +unlimited sway exercised by the flower-crowned goddess over the female +mind. + +With the Saxon invasion came war and desolation, and the elegancies of life +were necessarily neglected. The invaders clothed themselves in a rude and +fantastic manner. It is not unlikely that the Britons may have adopted some +of their costume. From the Saxon females, we are told, came the invention +of dividing, curling, and turning the hair over the back of the head. +Ancient writers also add that their garments were long and flowing. + +The Anglo-Saxon ladies seldom, if ever, went with their heads bare; +sometimes the veil, or _head-rail_, was replaced by a golden head-band, or +it was worn over the veil. Half circles of gold, necklaces, bracelets, +ear-rings, and crosses, were the numerous ornaments worn at that period by +the women. It is supposed that mufflers (a sort of bag with a thumb) were +also sometimes used. + +Great uncertainty exists respecting the true character of a garment much +used by the Anglo-Saxon ladies, called a _kirtle_. Some writers suppose it +to have meant the petticoat; others, that it was an under robe. But, though +frequently mentioned by old authors, nothing can be correctly determined +respecting it. + +Little appears to be known concerning the costume in Britain under the +Danes; but we are told that the latter "were effeminately gay in their +dress, combed their hair once a day, bathed once a week, and often changed +their attire." + +[Illustration] + +The ladies' dress continued much the same till the reign of Henry the +First, when the sleeves and veils were worn so immensely long, that they +were tied up in bows and festoons, and _la grande mode_ then appears to +have been to have the skirts of the gowns also of so ridiculous a length, +that they lay trailing upon the ground. Laced bodies were also sometimes +seen, and tight sleeves with pendent cuffs, like those mentioned in the +reign of Louis the Seventh of France. A second, or upper tunic, much +shorter than the under robe, was also the fashion; and, perhaps, it may be +considered as the _surcoat_ generally worn by the Normans. The hair was +often wrapped in silk or ribbon, and allowed to hang down the back; and +mufflers were in common use. The dresses were very splendid, with +embroidery and gold borders. + +[Illustration] + +About the beginning of the thirteenth century, the ladies found their long +narrow cuffs, hanging to the ground, very uncomfortable; they therefore +adopted tight sleeves. Pelisses, trimmed with fur, and loose surcoats, were +also worn, as well as _wimples_, an article of attire worn round the neck +under the veil. Embroidered boots and shoes formed, also, part of their +wardrobe. + +The ladies' costume, during the reigns of Henry and Edward, was very +splendid. The veils and wimples were richly embroidered, and worked in +gold; the surcoat and mantle were worn of the richest materials; and the +hair was turned up under a gold caul. + +[Illustration] + +Towards the year 1300, the ladies' dress fell under the animadversion of +the malevolent writers of that day. The robe is represented as having had +tight sleeves and a train, over which was worn a surcoat and mantle, with +cords and tassels. "The ladies," says a poet of the thirteenth century, +"were like peacocks and magpies; for the pies bear feathers of various +colors, which Nature gives them; so the ladies love strange habits, and a +variety of ornaments. The pies have long tails, that trail in the mud; so +the ladies make their tails a thousand times longer than those of peacocks +and pies." + +The pictures of the ladies of that time certainly present us with no very +elegant specimens of their fashions. Their gowns or tunics are so immensely +long, that the fair dames are obliged to hold them up, to enable them to +move; whilst a sweeping train trails after them; and over the head and +round the neck is a variety of, or substitute for, the wimple, which is +termed a _gorget_. It enclosed the cheeks and chin, and fell upon the +bosom, giving the wearer very much the appearance of suffering from +sore-throat or toothache. + +When this head-dress was not worn, a caul of net-work, called a _crespine_, +often replaced it, and for many years it continued to be a favorite +coiffure. + +The writers of this time speak of tight lacing, and of ladies with small +waists. + +In the next reign, an apron is first met with, tied behind with a ribbon. +The sleeves of the robe, and the petticoat, are trimmed with a border of +embroidery; rich bracelets are also frequently seen; but, notwithstanding +all the splendor of the costume, the gorget still envelops the neck. + + * * * * * + +SONNET.--WINTER. + +BY LEWIS GRAHAM, M.D. + + Stern Winter comes with frowns and frosty smiles, + The angry clouds in stormy squadrons fly, + While winds, in raging tones, to winds reply; + Old Boreas reigns, and like a wizard, piles, + Where'er he pleases, with his gusty breath, + The heaps of snow on mountain, hill, or heath, + In strangest shapes, with curious sport and wild; + But soon the sun will come with gentle rays, + To kiss him while with fiercest storms he plays, + And make him mild and quiet as a child. + Though now the bleak wind-king so boisterous seems, + And drives the tempest madly o'er the plain, + He smiles in Spring-time soft as April rain, + In Summer sleeps on flowers in zephyr-dreams. + + * * * * * + +BUBBLES. + +BY JOHN NEAL. + +"Hurrah for bubbles! I go for bubbles, my dear," stopping for a moment on +his way through the large drawing-rooms, and looking at his wife and the +baby very much as a painter might do while in labor with a new picture. +"Bubbles are the only things worth living for." + +"Bubbles, Peter!--be quiet, baby!--hush, my love, hush! Papa can't take you +now." + +Baby jumps at the table. + +"Confound the imp! There goes the inkstand!" + +"Yes, my dear; and the spectacles, and the lamp, and all your papers. And +what, else could you expect, pray? Here he's been trying to make you stop +and speak to him, every time you have gone by the table, for the last half +hour, and holding out his little arms to you; while you have been walking +to and fro as if you were walking for a wager, with your eyes rolled up in +your head, muttering to yourself--mutter, mutter, mutter--and taking no +more notice of him, poor little fellow, than if he was a rag-baby, or +belonged to somebody else!" + +"Oh, don't bother! _Little arms_, indeed!--about the size of my leg! I do +wish he'd be quiet. I'm working out a problem." + +"A problem! fiddle-de-dee--hush, baby! A magazine article, more +like--_will_ you hush?" + +Papa turns away in despair, muttering, with a voice that grows louder and +louder as he warms up-- + +"Wisdom and wit are bubbles! Atoms and systems into ruin, hurled! And now a +_bubble_ burst! And now a WORLD! I have it, hurrah! _Can't_ you keep that +child still?" + +"Man alive, I wish you'd try yourself!" + +"Humph! What the plague is he up for at this time o' night, hey?" + +"At this time o' night! Why what on earth are you thinking of? It is only a +little after five, my dear." + +"Well, and what if it is? Ought to have been a-bed and asleep two hours +ago." + +"And so he was, my love; but you can't expect him to sleep _all_ the +time--there! there!"--trotting baby with all her might--"Hush-a-bye-baby on +the tree top--there! there!--papa's gone a-huntin'--" + +"My dear!" + +"My love!" + +"Look at me, will you? How on earth is a fellow to marshal his +thoughts--will you be quiet, sir?--to marshal his thoughts 'the way they +should go'--Mercy on us, he'll split his throat!" + +"Or train up a child the way he should go, hey?" + +"Thunder and lightning, he'll drive me distracted! I wonder if there is +such a thing as a ditch or a horsepond anywhere in the neighborhood." + +"Oh! that reminds me of something, my love. I ought to have mentioned it +before. The cistern's out." + +"The cistern's out, hey? Well, what if it is? Are we to have this kicking +and squalling till the cistern's full again, hey?" + +"Why what possesses you?" + +"Couldn't see the connection, that's all. I ask for a horsepond or a ditch, +and you tell me the cistern's out. If it were full, there might be some +hope for me," looking savagely at the baby, "I suppose it's deep enough." + +"For shame!--do hush, baby, will ye? Tuddy, tuddy, how he bawls!" + +"Couldn't you tighten the cap-strings a little, my dear?" + +"Monster! get away, will you?' + +"Or cram your handkerchief down his throat, or your knitting-work, or the +lamp-rug?" + +"Ah, well thought of, my dear. Have you seen Mr. Smith?" + +"What Smith?" + +"George, I believe. The man you buy your oil of, and your groceries.--Hush, +baby! He's been here two or three times after you this week." + +"Hang Mr. Smith!" + +"With all my heart, my love. But, if the quarter's rent is not paid, you +know, and the grocer's bill, and the baker's, and the butcher's, and if you +don't manage to get the bottling-house fixed up, and some other little +matters attended to, I don't exactly see how the hanging of poor Mr. Smith +would help us." + +"Oh hush, will you?" + +The young wife turned and kissed the baby, with her large indolent eyes +fixed upon the door somewhat nervously. She had touched the bell more than +once without being seen by her husband. + +"Wisdom and wit," continued papa, with a voice like that of a man who has +overslept himself and hopes to make up for lost time by walking very fast, +and talking very little to the purpose--"Wisdom and wit are bubbles"-- + +The young wife nodded with a sort of a smile, and the baby, rolling over in +her lap, let fly both heels? at the nurse, who had crept in slyly, as if +intent to lug him off to bed without his knowledge. But he was not in a +humor to be trifled with; and so he flopped over on the other side, and, +tumbling head over heels upon the floor, very much at large, lay there +kicking and screaming till he grew black in the face. But the girl +persisted, nevertheless, in lifting him up and lugging him off to the door, +notwithstanding his outcries and the expostulatory looks of both papa and +mamma--her wages were evidently in arrears, a whole quarter, perhaps. + +"Wisdom and wit are bubbles," continued papa; "dominion and power, and +beauty and strength"-- + +"And gingerbread and cheese," added mamma, in reply to something said by +the girl in a sort of stage-whisper. + +Whereupon papa, stopping short, and looking at mamma for a few moments, +puzzled and well nigh speechless, gasped out-- + +"And _gingerbread and cheese!_ Why, what the plague do you mean, Sarah?" + +"Nothing else for tea, my love, so Bridget says. Not a pound o' flour in +the house; not so much as a loaf, nor a roll, nor a muffin to be had for +love or money--so Bridget says." + +"Nothin' to be had without _money_, ma'am; that's what I said." + +"Bridget!" + +"_Sir!_" + +That "_sir!_"--it was an admission of two quarters in arrear at least. + +"Take that child to bed this moment! Begone! I'll bear this no longer." + +The girl stared, muttered, grabbed the baby, and flung away with such an +air--three quarters due, if there was a single day!--banged the door to +after her, and bundled off up the front stairs at a hand-gallop, her tread +growing heavier, and her voice louder and louder with every plunge. + +"_Sarah!_" + +"_Peter!_" + +"I wonder you can put up with such insolence. That girl is getting +insufferable." + +The poor wife looked up in amazement, but opened not her mouth; and the +husband continued walking the floor with a tread that shook the whole +house, and stopping occasionally, as if to watch the effect, or to see how +much further he might go without injury to his own health. + +"How often have I told you, my dear, that if a woman would be respected by +her own servants, she must respect herself, and never allow a word nor a +look of impertinence--_never! never!_--not even a look! Why, Sarah, life +itself would be a burthen to me. Upon my word," growing more and more in +earnest every moment--"Upon my word, I believe I should hang myself! And +how _you_ can bear it--you, with a nature so gentle and so affectionate, +and so--I declare to you"-- + +"Pray don't speak so loud, my love. The people that are going by the window +stop and look up towards the house. And what will the Peabodys think?" + +"What do I care! Let them think what they please. Am I to regulate the +affairs of my household by what a neighbor may happen to think, hey? The +fact is, my dear Sarah--you must excuse me, I don't want to hurt your +feelings--but, the fact is, you ought to have had the child put to bed +three hours ago." + +"_Three_ hours ago!" + +"Yes, _three_ hours ago; and that would have prevented all this trouble." + +Not a word from the young, patient wife; but she turned away hurriedly, and +there was a twinkle, as of a rain-drop, falling through the lamplight. + +A dead silence followed. After a few more turns, the husband stopped, and, +with something of self-reproach in his tone, said-- + +"I take it for granted there is nothing the matter with the boy?" + +No answer. + +"Have you any idea what made him cry so terribly? Teething, perhaps." + +No answer. + +"Or the colic. You do not answer me, Sarah. It cannot be that you have +allowed that girl to put him to bed, if there is anything the matter with +him, poor little fellow!" + +The young wife looked up, sorrowing and frightened. + +"The measles are about, you know, and the scarlet fever, and the +hooping-cough, and the mumps; but, surely, a mother who is with her child +all night long and all day long ought to be able to see the symptoms of any +and every ailment before they would be suspected by another. And if it +should so happen"-- + +The poor wife could be silent no longer. + +"The child is well enough," said she, somewhat stoutly. "He was never +better in his life. But he wanted his papa to take him, and he wouldn't; +and reaching after him he tipped over the lamp, and then--and then"--and +here she jumped up to leave the room; but her husband was too quick for +her. + +"That child's temper will be ruined," said papa. + +"To be sure it will," said mamma; "and I've always said so." + +She couldn't help it; but she was very sorry, and not a little flurried +when her husband, turning short upon her, said-- + +"I understand you, Sarah. Perhaps he wanted me to take him up to bed?" + +No answer. + +"I wonder if he expects me to do that for him till he is married? _Little +arms_, indeed!" + +No answer. + +"Or till he is wanted to do as much for me?" + +No answer; not even a smile. + +And now the unhappy father, by no means ready to give up, though not at all +satisfied with himself, begins walking the floor anew and muttering to +himself, and looking sideways at his dear patient wife, who has gone back +to the table, and is employed in getting up another large basket of +baby-things, with trembling lips and eyes running over in bashful +thankfulness and silence. + +"Well, well, there is no help for it, I dare say. As we brew we must bake. +It would be not merely unreasonable, but silly--foolish--absolutely +foolish--whew!--to ask of a woman, however admirable her disposition may +be, for a--for a straightforward--Why what the plague are you laughing at, +Sarah? What have you got there?" + +Without saying a word, mamma pushed over towards him a new French +caricature, just out, representing a man well wrapped up in a great coat +with large capes, and long boots, and carrying an umbrella over his own +head, from which is pouring a puddle of water down the back of a delicate +fashionable woman--his wife, anybody might know--wearing thin slippers and +a very thin muslin dress, and making her way through the gutters on +tip-toe, with the legend, "You are never satisfied!" "_Tu n'est jamais +contente!_" + +Instead of gulping down the joke, and laughing heartily--or making believe +laugh, which is the next best thing, in all such cases--papa stood upon his +dignity, and, after an awful pause, went on talking to himself pretty much +as follows:-- + +"According to Shakspeare--and what higher authority can we +have?--reputation itself is but a _bubble_, blown by the cannon's mouth: +and therefore do I say, and stick to it--hurrah for bubbles!" + +The young wife smiled; but her eyes were fixed upon a very small cap, with +a mournful and touching expression, and her delicate fingers were busy upon +its border with that regular, steady, incessant motion which, beginning +soon after marriage, ends only with sickness or death. + +"_And_," continued papa--"_and_, if Moore is to be believed, the great +world itself, with all its wonders and its glories--the past, the present, +and the future, is but a '_fleeting show_.'" + +The young wife nodded, and fell to dancing the baby's cap on the tips of +her fingers. + +"And what are _bubbles_," continued papa, "what are _bubbles_ but a +'fleeting show?'" + +The little cap canted over o' one side, and there was a sort of a giggle, +just the least bit in the world, it was _so_ cunning, as papa added, in +unspeakable solemnity-- + +"And so, too, everything we covet, everything we love, and everything we +revere on earth, are but emptiness and vanity." + +Here a nod from the little cap, mounted on the mother's fingers, brought +papa to a full stop--a change of look followed--a downright smile--and then +a much pleasanter sort of speech--and then, as you live, a kiss! + +"And what are _bubbles_, I should be glad to know, but emptiness and +vanity?" continues papa. + +"By all this, I am to understand that a wife is a bubble--hey?" + +"To be sure." + +"And the baby?" + +"Another." + +"And what are husbands?" + +"Bubbles of a large growth." + +"Agreed!--I have nothing more to say." + +"Look about you. Watch the busiest man you know--the wisest, the greatest, +among the renowned, the ambitious, and the mighty of earth, and tell me if +you can see one who does not spend his life blowing bubbles in the +sunshine--through the stump of a tobacco pipe. What living creature did you +ever know--" + +"Did you speak to me, my dear?" + +"No. Sarah, I was speaking to posterity." + +Another nod from the little cap, and papa grows human. + +"Yes!--what living creature did you ever know who was not more of a +bubble-hunter than he was anything else? We are all schemers--even the +wisest and the best--all visionaries, my dear." + +By this time, papa had got mamma upon his knee, and the rest of the +conversation was at least an octave lower. + +"Even so, my love. And what, after all, is the looming at sea; the Fata +Morgana in the Straits of Messina, near Reggio; or the Mirage of the +Desert, in Egypt and Persia, but a sample of those glittering +phantasmagoria, which are called _chateaux en Espagne_, or castles in the +air, by the wondrous men who spend their lives in piling them up, story +upon story, turrets, towers, and steeples--domes, and roofs, and pinnacles? +and _therefore_ do I say again, hurrah for bubbles!" + +"What say you to the South Sea bubble, my dear?" + +"What say I!--just what I say of the Tulip bubble, of the Mississippi +Scheme, of the Merino Sheep enterprise, of the Down-East Timber lands, of +the Morus Multicaulis, of the California fever, and the Cuba hallucination. +They are periodical outbreaks of commercial enterprise, unavoidable in the +very nature of things, and never long, nor safely postponed; growing out of +a plethora--never out of a scarcity--a plethora of wealth and population, +and corresponding, in the regularity of their returns, with the plague and +the cholera." + +"And these are what you have called _bubbles_?" + +"Precisely." + +"And yet, if I understood you aright, when you said, 'I go for +bubbles--hurrah for bubbles'--you meant to speak well of them?" + +"To be sure I did--certainly--yes--no--so far as a magazine article goes, I +did." + +"But a magazine article, my love--bear with me, I pray you--ought to be +something better than a brilliant paradox, hey?" + +"Go on--I like this." + +"If you will promise not to be angry." + +"I do." + +"Well, then--however _telling_ it may be to hurrah for bubbles, and to call +your wife a bubble, and your child another; because the world is all a +'fleeting show,' and bubbles are a 'fleeting show;' or because the +Scriptures tell us that everything here is emptiness and vanity--and +bubbles are emptiness and vanity; I have the whole of your argument, I +believe?--is hardly worthy of a man, who, in writing, would wish to make +his fellow-man better or wiser--" + +"Well done the bubble!--I never heard _you_ reason before: keep it up, my +dear." + +"You never gave me a chance; and, by the way, there is one bubble you have +entirely overlooked." + +"And what is that--marriage?" + +"No." + +"The buried treasures, and the cross of pure gold, a foot and a half long, +you were talking with that worthy man about, last winter, when I came upon +you by surprise, and found you both sitting together in the dark--and +whispering _so_ mysteriously?" + +"Captain Watts, you mean, the lighthouse keeper?" + +"Yes. Upon my word, Peter, I began to think you were _up_ for California. I +never knew you so absent in all your life as you were, day after day, for a +long while after that conversation." + +"The very thing, my dear!--and as I happen to know most of the parties, and +was in communication for three whole years with the leader of the +enterprise, I do think it would be one of the very best illustrations to be +found, in our day, of that strange, steadfast, unquenchable faith, which +upholds the bubble-hunter through all the sorrows and all the +discouragements of life, happen what may: and you shall have the credit of +suggesting that story. But then, look you, my dear--if I content myself +with telling the simple truth, nobody will believe me." + +"Try it." + +"I will!--Good night, my dear." + +"Don't make a long story of it, I beseech you.--Good night!" + +"Hadn't you better leave the little cap with me? It may keep you awake, my +dear." + +"Nonsense. Good night!" and papa drops into a chair, makes a pen, and goes +to work as follows:-- + +Now for it: here goes! In the year 1841, there was a man living at +Portland, Maine, whose life, were it faithfully written out, would be one +of the most amusing, perhaps one of the most instructive, books of our day. +Energetic, hopeful, credulous to a proverb, and yet sagacious enough to +astonish everybody when he prospered, and to set everybody laughing at him +when he did not, he had gone into all sorts of speculation, head over +heels, in the course of a few years, and failed in everything he undertook. +At one time, he was a retail dry-goods dealer, and failed: then a +manufacturer by water power of cheap household furniture, and failed again: +then a large hay-dealer: then a holder of nobody knows how many shares in +the Marr Estate, whereby he managed to feather his nest very handsomely, +they say; then he went into the land business, and bought and sold township +after township, till he was believed to be worth half a million, and used +to give away a tithe of his profits to poor widows, at the rate of ten +thousand dollars a year; offering the cash, but always giving on +interest--simple interest--which was never paid--failed: tried his hand at +working Jewell's Island, in Casco Bay, at one time, for copperas; and at +another, for treasures buried there by Captain Kyd. Let us call him Colonel +Jones, for our present purpose; that being a name he went by, at a pinch, +for a short period. + +Well, one day he called upon me--it was in the year 1842, I should +say--and, shutting the door softly, and looking about, as if to make sure +that no listeners were nigh, and speaking in a low voice, he asked if I had +a few minutes to spare. + +I bowed. + +He then drew his chair up close to mine, so near as to touch, and, looking +me straight in the eyes, asked if I was a believer in animal magnetism; +waiting, open-mouthed, for my answer. + +"Certainly," said I. + +Whereupon he drew a long breath, and fell to rubbing his hands with great +cheerfulness and pertinacity. + +"In clairvoyance, too--_perhaps_?" + +"Most assuredly--up to a certain point." + +"I knew it! I knew it!" jumping up and preparing to go. "Just what I +wanted--that's enough--I'm satisfied--good-by!" + +"Stop a moment, my good fellow. The questions you put are so general that +my answers may mislead you." + +He began to grow restless and fidgety. + +"Although I am a believer in what _I_ call animal magnetism and +clairvoyance, I would not have you understand that I am a believer in a +hundredth part of the stories told of others. What I see with my own eyes, +and have had a fair opportunity of investigating and verifying, that I +believe. What others tell me, I neither believe nor disbelieve. I wait for +the proof. Suppose you state the case fairly." + +"Do you believe that a clairvoyant can see hidden treasure in the earth, +and that it would be safe to rely upon the assurances of such a person made +in the magnetic sleep?" + +"No." + +"But suppose you had tried her?" + +"_Her!_ In what way?" + +"By hiding a watch, for example, or a bit of gold, or a silver spoon, where +nobody knew of it but yourself?" + +"No; not even then." + +"_No!_ And why not, pray?" + +"Simply because, judging by the experiments I have been able to make, I do +not see any good reason for believing that, because a subject may tell us +of what we ourselves know, or have heretofore known, which I admit very +common, therefore she can tell me what I do not know and never did know. My +notion is--but I maybe mistaken--that she sees with my eyes, hears with my +ears, and remembers with my memory; and that she can do nothing more than +reflect my mind while we are in communication." + +"May be so; but the woman we are dealing with has actually pointed out the +direction, and, at last, by a process of lining peculiar to herself, the +actual position of what I had buried in the earth at a considerable +distance, and without the knowledge or help of any living creature." + +"Could she do this _always_ and with _certainty_, and so that a third +person might go to the treasure without help, on hearing her directions?" + +"Why no, perhaps not; for that some few mistakes may have occurred, in the +progress of our investigations, I am not disposed to deny." + +"Probably. But, after all, were the directions given by her at any time, +under any circumstances, definite and clear enough to justify a man of +plain common sense in risking his reputation or money upon a third party's +finding, without help, what you had concealed?" + +Instead of answering my question, the poor fellow grew uneasy, and pale, +and anxious; and, after considering awhile, and getting up and sitting down +perhaps half a dozen times before he could make up his mind what to say, he +told me a story--one of the most improbable I ever heard in my life--the +leading features of which, nevertheless, I know to be true, and will vouch +for as matters of fact. + +There had been here, in Portland, for about six months, it appeared, a +strange-looking, mysterious man--I give the facts, without pretending to +give the words--who went by the name of Greenleaf. He was a sailor, and +boarded with a man who kept a sailor boarding-house, and who, I am told, is +still living here, by the name of Mellon. People had taken it into their +heads that the stranger had something upon his mind, as he avoided +conversation, took long walks by himself, and muttered all night long in +his sleep. After a while, it began to be whispered about among the +seafaring people that he was a pirate; and Mellon, his landlord, went so +far as to acknowledge that he had his reasons for thinking so; although +Greenleaf, on finding himself treated, and watched, and questioned more +narrowly than he liked, managed to drop something about having sailed under +the Brazilian flag. And, on being plied with liquor one day, with listeners +about him, he went into some fuller particulars, which set them all agog. +These, reaching the ears of Colonel Jones, led to an interview, from which +he gathered that Greenleaf was one of a large crew commissioned by the +Brazils in 1826; that, after cruising a long while in a latitude swarming +with Spanish vessels of war, they got reduced to twenty-five men, all told. +That one day they fell in with a large, heavily-laden ship, from which they +took about three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, in gold and silver, +and a massive gold cross, nearly two feet long, and weighing from fifteen +to twenty pounds, belonging to a Spanish priest; but what they did with the +crew and the passengers, or with the ship and the priest, did not appear. +That, soon after getting their treasure aboard, they saw a large sail to +windward, which they took to be a Spanish frigate; and, being satisfied +with their booty, they altered their course, and steered for a desolate +island near Guadaloupe, where, after taking out three hundred doubloons +apiece, they landed, with the rest of the treasure packed in gun-cases, and +hooped with iron; dug a hole in the earth and buried it; carefully removing +the turf and replacing it, and carrying off all the dirt, and scattering it +along the shore. That they took the bearings of certain natural objects, +and marked the trees, and agreed among themselves, under oath, not to +disturb the treasure till fifteen years had gone by, when it was to belong +to the survivors. That, having done this, they steered for the Havana, and, +after altering their craft to a fore-and-aft schooner, sold her, and shared +the money. Being flush, and riotous, and quarrelsome, they soon got +a-fighting among themselves; and, within a few months, by the help of the +yellow fever, not less than twenty-three out of the whole twenty-five were +buried, leaving only this Greenleaf and an old man, who went by the name of +Thomas Taylor, and who had not been heard of for many years, and was now +believed to be dead. + +A fortune-teller was consulted, and put into a magnetic sleep, and, if the +description they had painted of the man they were after could be depended +on by her, they would find him, under another name, in a national ship on +the East India station. + +Here the Colonel began rubbing his hands again. + +It appeared, moreover, that Taylor and Greenleaf had met more than once, +and consulted together, and made two or three attempts to charter a vessel; +but, being poor and among strangers, and afraid of trusting to other +people--no matter why--they finally agreed to lie by till they were better +off, and not be seen together till they should be able to undertake the +enterprise without help from anybody. + +"But," said Greenleaf. "I am tired of waiting. He may be dead for all I +know He was an old man. At any rate, he is beyond my reach, out of hail; +and so, d'ye see, if you'll rig us out a small schooner, of not more than +seventy-five or eighty tons, I will go with you, and ask for no wages; and +here's the landlord'll go, too, on the same lay; and, if you'll give me a +third of what we find, I'll answer for Taylor, dead or alive, and you shall +be welcome to the rest, and may do what you like with it." + +"Would they consent to go _unarmed_?" + +"Yes." + +And all these facts being communicated to some of our people, and agreed +to, a small schooner was chartered--the Napoleon, of ninety tons; Captain +John Sawyer was put in master, and Watts, who had followed the sea forty +years, and is now the keeper of Portland light, supercargo. + +Not less than five, and it may be six, different voyages followed, one +after the other, as fast as a vessel could be engaged and a crew got +together; and, though nothing was "_realized_" but vexation, +disappointment, and self-reproach, till the parties who had ventured upon +the undertaking were almost ashamed to show their faces, there is not one +of the whole to this hour, I verily believe, who does not stick to the +faith and swear _it_ was no _bubble_; and they are men of character and +experience--men of business habits, cool and cautious in their +calculations, and by no means given to chasing will-o'-the-wisps anywhere. + +And now let me give the particulars that have since come to my knowledge, +on the authority of those who were actually parties in the strange +enterprise from first to last. + +Before they sailed on their first voyage, they consulted a fortune teller +by the name of Tarbox, who, without knowing their purpose, and while in a +magnetic sleep, described the place, and the marks, and the treasure, even +to the cross of gold, just as they had been described by Greenleaf himself. +But she chilled their very blood at the time by whispering that, within two +or three weeks at furthest, there would be a death among their number. +Greenleaf made very light of the prediction at first, but grew serious, +and, after a few days, gloomy, and refused to go. At last, however, he +consented, and they had a very pleasant run to the edge of the Gulf Stream, +latitude 38° and longitude 67°, when--but I must give this part of the +story in the very language of Watts himself, a man still living, and worthy +of entire confidence. + +"We had been talking together pleasantly enough, and he seemed rather +_chippur_. Only the night before, he had given me all the marks and +bearings, and everything but the _distance_. He had never trusted anybody +else in the same way, he said, but had rather taken a liking to me, and he +kept back that one thing only that he might be safe, happen what must on +the voyage. Well, we had been talking pleasantly together--it was about +nine A.M., and the sea was running pretty high, and I had just turned to go +aft, when something made me look round again, and I saw the poor fellow +pitching head foremost over the side. He touched the water eight or ten +feet from the vessel, but came up handsomely and struck out. He was a +capital swimmer, and not at all frightened, so far as I could judge; for, +if you'll believe me, squire, he never opened his mouth, but swum head and +shoulders out of the water. At first, I thought he had jumped overboard; +but afterwards, I made up my mind that he was knocked over by the leach of +the foresail. I got hold of the gaff-topsail yard and run it under his +arms, and threw a rope over him, and sung out 'Hold on, Greenleaf! hold on, +and we'll save you yet.' But he took no notice of me, and steered right +away from the vessel. I then called to Captain Sawyer that we would lower +the boat, and asked him to jump in with me. There was a heavy sea on, and +we let go the boat, and she filled; she _riz_ once or twice, and then the +stem and stern were ripped out, and the body went adrift; and when I looked +again, there was nothing to be seen of poor Greenleaf. We ran for +Guadaloupe and sold our cargo, and then for St. Thuras's, and then for the +island where the money was buried. I offered to go ashore with Mellon, the +Dutchman, though Captain Sawyer tried to discourage me." + +"Well, you went ashore?" + +"I did." + +"And satisfied yourself?" + +"I did." + +"But how?" + +"I found the marks and the trees, and a well sunk in the sand with a barrel +in it; and I came to a place where the turf had settled, and a--and a--and, +from what I saw, I believe the money was there just as much as I believe +that I am talking with you now." + +"You do!--then why the plague didn't you bring it home with you?" + +"I'll tell you, squire. Fact is, we all agreed to go shears when the voyage +was made up. Greenleaf was to have a third, the Dutchman a third, and +Williams and M'Lellan a third, to be divided between Mr. C--Colonel Jones, +I should say--Captain Sawyer, and myself. But, the moment Greenleaf was out +of the way, the Dutchman grew sulky, and insisted on having his +part--making two-thirds; and finally swore he would have it, or _die_. This +we thought rather unreasonable; and, as I had the chart with me, and all +the marks, while the Dutchman had nothing to help him in the search, I +determined to lose myself on the island, feel round the shore a little, for +my own satisfaction, and then steal off quietly, and try another voyage, +with fewer partners. You understand, hey?" + +"Well, my good friend, I don't ask you _how_ you satisfied yourself; but I +may as well acknowledge that I have understood from another owner--Colonel +Jones himself--that you carried probes and other mining tools with you, +such as you had been using on Jewell's Island for a long while; and that in +pricking, where you found the turf a little sunk, you touched something +about the size of a small tea-chest, and square, three feet below the +surface?" + +To this Watts made no answer. + +"And here ended the first voyage, hey?" + +"Yes." + +"How many were made in all?" + +"I made three trips, and Captain M'Lellan two--and it runs in my head there +was another, but I am not sure. I returned from my third voyage on the 18th +day of July, 1842, in the Grampus, a little schooner of about seventy-five +tons." + +"Perhaps you would have no objection to tell me something about the other +voyages?" + +"Well, squire, to tell you the truth, we didn't land at all on the second +voyage. July 14th, we'd fell to leeward, and was beating up. I had been all +night on the look-out--I was master that trip--and we had got far enough to +bear up and run down under the lee of the island. We saw huts there, and +twenty or thirty people, and we didn't much like their behavior. When they +saw us, they ran down to the landing and took two boats and launched 'em. I +offered to go ashore, if anybody would go with me. John Mac, he first +agreed to it, but all the others refused; and then he said he would go if +the others would. And then we steered for Portland Harbor." + +"Well, and the third voyage?" + +"That we made in the Grampus. Captain Josh Safford and Captain Bill +Drinkwater went with us. We found two Spaniards upon the island. Their +boats had gone to Porto Rico after provisions, they said. So Captain +Safford, he gave them two muskets, with powder and ball, and they went off +hunting goats. After this, I didn't consider myself justified in going +ashore; and Captain Drinkwater complained a good deal of the liberty +Safford took in supplying strangers with firearms. They might pop a fellow +off at any time, you know, and nobody thereabouts would a ben the wiser." + +"And here endeth the third voyage, hey?" + +"Jess so." + +"Do you happen to know anything about the other two?" + +"Yes--for though I didn't go in the vessel, I knew pretty much all that +happened. You see, Colonel Jones he went to work with the fortin-teller +again; and he jest puts her to sleep, and tries her out and out, on +Jewell's Island, where she found a skeleton fixed between two trees, and +the walls of a hut, all grown over with large trees, and all the things +he'd buried there; and then too, while we was at sea, she told him what we +were doing, day by day, and they logged it all down: and when we got back +and compared notes, we found it all true. Ah! he was a sharp one, I tell +you! At last, he got her upon the track of Taylor. She found him in the +East Indies, under another name, and shipped aboard one of our national +ships. And so, what does he do but go to work and petition the Navy +Department for Taylor's discharge, upon the ground that a grand estate had +been left him--or, that he had large expectations, I forget which. He was +very shy at first, and wouldn't acknowledge that he had ever gone by the +name of Thomas Taylor. I dare say he had his reasons. But, after hunting +him through hospitals, and navy yards, and sailor boarding-houses, and from +ship to ship, the colonel he cornered him, and got him to say he would go +with them. He told exactly the same story that Greenleaf did: I was taken +sick, and couldn't go, and---stop--I'm before my story, I believe--they +made their voyage without him. They landed, dug trenches, and blistered +their hands, and spent over two days in the search, while the schooner lay +off and on, waiting for them: but they found nothing. After they got back, +however, the colonel he had a meeting with the owners, and satisfied them +all, in some way--I never knew how--that they had just reversed the +bearings, and hadn't been near the place. How he knew, I can't say, for he +had never been there, to my knowledge, and I happen to know that they must +have been pretty near the spot, for they found a sort of a hillock that I +remembered, and they told me all about the bearings, and they agreed with +my chart." + +"Well!--" + +"Well, the next time they went, they took Taylor with them, and everything +went on smoothly enough till one day, when the voyage was almost up, Taylor +he said to Pearce--'Pearce,' said he, 'to-morrow, at this time, I shall be +a rich man; and now,' says he, 'Mr. Pearce,' says he, 'I must have my +letters.' Upon this, up steps John Mac, and says he, 'Taylor,' says he, +'when you want any letters, you'll have to come to me for them; and I shall +have to put you upon allowance.' And then Taylor--he was an old +man-o'-warsman, you see, and he couldn't get along without his grog--he +jest ups and says--'that's enough, capt'n. You may haul aft the sheet, tack +ship, and go home. I shall tell you nothing more. As soon as the money is +safe--I see how 'tis--old Taylor'll have to go overboard.' And he stuck to +what he said, though he went ashore with them, just to show them that he +knew every point of the compass--for he told them where they would find a +couple of holes in the ledge--and they found them there, just as he said; +and the first thing they saw, there was Taylor away up on the top of a high +mountain, smoking a pipe. He had always told them he knew how to get up +there; but they never believed him, because they had all tried and couldn't +fetch it." + +"And he stuck to it, hey, and never told them anything more?" + +"Jess so." + +"And what became of Taylor? Is he living?" + +"No; he died in the hospital at Bath not more than five years ago." + +"And you still think the money was there?" + +"Think!--I am sure of it." + +"Do you believe it is there now?" + +"Do I!--Certainly I do!" + +Whereupon, all I have to say is--_Hurrah for bubbles!_ + + * * * * * + +SONNET.--QUEEN OF SCOTS. + +BY WM. ALEXANDER. + + Within a castle's battlemented walls, + In crimsoned dungeon lay fair Scotia's queen: + Like drooping sorrow seemed she oft to lean + Her weary head. Pale, weeping memory recalls + The beaming joys of her life's early day, + Forever fled. Her spirit, palled with gloom, + Anticipates sweet rest but in the tomb-- + White wingéd Faith, her guardian one, alway + There hovering nigh. 'Tis morn; dreams she no more; + On Fotheringay's black scaffold now she stands, + Clasping her cherished croslet in her hands, + Anon to die. Her fate the loves deplore; + The angel-loves, eke, waft her soul to heaven; + Her faults, her follies, to her faith forgiven. + + * * * * * + +THE PIONEER MOTHERS OF THE WEST. + +BY MRS. E. F. ELLET. + +MARY BLEDSOE. + +The history of the early settlers of the West, a large portion of which has +never been recorded in any published work, is full of personal adventure. +No power of imagination could create materials more replete with romantic +interest than their simple experience afforded. The early training of those +hardy pioneers in their frontier life; the daring with Which they +penetrated the wilderness, plunging into trackless forests, and +encountering the savage tribes whose hunting-grounds they had invaded; and +the sturdy perseverance with which they overcame all difficulties, compel +our wondering admiration. But far less attention has been given to their +exploits and sufferings than they deserve, because the accounts we have +received are too vague and general; the picture is not brought near us, nor +exhibited With life-like proportions and coloring; and our sympathy is +denied to what we are unable to appreciate. It will, I am sure, be +rendering a service to those interested in our American story to collect +such traditionary information as can be fully relied upon, and thus show +something of the daily life of those heroic adventurers. + +The kindness of a descendant of one of those noble patriots who, after +having won distinction in the struggle for Independence, sought new homes +in the free and growing West,[1] enables me to present some brief notice of +one family associated with the early history of Tennessee. The name of +Bledsoe is distinguished among the pioneers of the Cumberland Valley. The +brothers of this name--Englishmen by birth--were living in 1769 upon the +extreme border of civilization, near Fort Chipel, a military post in Wyth +County, Virginia. It was not long before they removed further into the +wild, being probably the earliest pioneers in the valley of the Holston, in +what is now called Sullivan County, Tennessee, a portion of country at that +time supposed to be within the limits of Virginia. The Bledsoes, with the +Shelbys, settled themselves about twelve miles above the Island Flats. The +beauty of that mountainous region attracted others, who impelled by the +same spirit of adventure, and pride in being the first to explore the +wilderness, came to join them in establishing the colony. They cheerfully +ventured their property and lives, enduring the severest privations in +taking possession of their new homes, influenced by the love of +independence, equality, and religious freedom. The most dearly-prized +rights of man had been threatened in the oppressive system adopted by Great +Britain towards her colonies; her agents and the colonial magistrates +manifested all the insolence of authority; and individuals who had suffered +from their aggressions bethought themselves of a country beyond the +mountains, in the midst of primeval forests, where no laws existed save the +law of Nature--no magistrate except those selected by themselves; where +full liberty of conscience, of speech, and of action prevailed. Yet, almost +in the first year of their settlement, they formed a written code of +regulations by which they agreed to be governed; each man signing his name +thereto. The pioneer settlements of the Holston and Watanga, formed by +parties of emigrants from neighboring provinces, traveling together through +the wilderness, were not, in their constitution, unlike those of New Haven +and Hartford; but among them was no godly Hooker, no learned and +heavenly-minded Haynes. As from the first, however, they were exposed to +the continual depredations and assaults of their savage neighbors, who +looked with jealous eyes upon the approach of the white men, and waged a +war of extermination against them, it was perhaps well that there were +among them few men of letters. The rifle and the axe, their only weapons of +civilization, suited better the perils they encountered from the fierce and +marauding Shawnees, Chickamangas, Creeks, and Cherokees, than would the +brotherly address of William Penn, or the pious discourses of Roger +Williams. + +During the first year, not more than fifty families had crossed the +mountains; but others came with each revolving season to reinforce the +little settlement, until its population swelled to hundreds; increasing to +thousands within ten or fifteen years, notwithstanding the frequent and +terrible inroads upon their numbers of the Indian rifle and tomahawk. The +dwelling-houses were forts, picketed, and flanked by block-houses, and the +inhabitants, for mutual aid and protection, took up their residence in +groups around different stations, within a short distance of one another. + +Not long after the Bledsoes established themselves upon the banks of the +Holston, Colonel Anthony Bledsoe, who was an excellent surveyor, was +appointed clerk to the commissioners who ran the line dividing Virginia and +North Carolina. Bledsoe had, before this, ascertained that Sullivan County +was comprised within the boundaries of the latter province. In June, 1776, +he was chosen by the inhabitants of the county to the command of the +militia. The office imposed on him the dangerous duty of repelling the +savages and defending the frontier. He had often to call out the militia +and lead them to meet their Indian assailants, whom they would pursue to +their villages through the recesses of the forest. The battle of Long +Island, fought a few miles below his station, near the Island Flats, was +one of the earliest and hardest fought battles known in the traditionary +history of Tennessee. In June, 1776, more than seven hundred Indian +warriors advanced upon the settlements on the Holston, with the avowed +object of exterminating the white race through all their borders. Colonel +Bledsoe, at the head of the militia, marched to meet them, and in the +conflict which ensued was completely victorious; the Indians being routed, +and leaving forty dead upon the field. This disastrous defeat for a time +held them in check: but the spirit of savage hostility was invincible, and +in the years following there was a constant succession of Indian troubles, +in which Colonel Bledsoe was conspicuous for his bravery and services. + +In 1779, Sullivan County having been recognized as a part of North +Carolina, Governor Caswell appointed Anthony Bledsoe colonel, and Isaac +Shelby lieutenant-colonel, of its military company. About the beginning of +July of the following year, General Charles McDowell, who commanded a +district east of the mountains, sent to Bledsoe a dispatch, giving him an +account of the condition of the country. The surrender of Charleston had +brought the State of South Carolina under British power; the people had +been summoned to return to their allegiance, and resistance was ventured +only by a few resolute spirits, determined to brave death rather than +submit to the invader. The Whigs had fled into North Carolina, whence they +returned as soon as they were able to oppose the enemy. Colonels Tarleton +and Ferguson had advanced towards North Carolina at the head of their +soldiery; and McDowell ordered Colonel Bledsoe to rally the militia of his +county, and come forward in readiness to assist in repelling the invader's +approach. Similar dispatches were sent to Colonel Sevier and to other +officers, and the patriots were not slow in obeying the summons. + +While the British Colonel Ferguson, under the orders of Cornwallis, was +sweeping the country near the frontier, gathering the loyalists under his +standard and driving back the Whigs, against whom fortune seemed to have +decided, a resolute band was assembled for their succor far up among the +mountains. From a population of five or six thousand, not more than twelve +hundred of them fighting men, a body of near five hundred mountaineers, +armed with rifles and clad in leathern hunting-shirts, was gathered. The +anger of these sons of liberty had been stirred up by an insolent message +received from Colonel Ferguson, that, "if they did not instantly lay down +their arms, he would come over the mountains and whip their republicanism +out of them;" and they were eager for an opportunity of showing what regard +they paid to his threats. + +At this juncture, Colonel Isaac Shelby returned from Kentucky, where he had +been surveying land for the great company of land speculators headed by +Henderson, Hart, and others. The young officer was betrothed to Miss Susan +Hart, a belle celebrated among the western settlements at that period, and +it was shrewdly suspected that his sudden return from the wilds of Kentucky +was to be attributed to the attractions of that young lady; notwithstanding +that due credit is given to the patriot, in recent biographical sketches, +for an ardent wish to aid his countrymen in their struggle for liberty by +his active services at the scene of conflict. On his arrival at Bledsoe's, +it was a matter of choice with the colonel whether he should himself go +forth and march at the head of the advancing army of volunteers, or yield +the command to Shelby. It was necessary for one to remain behind, for the +danger to the defenceless inhabitants of the country was even greater from +the Indians than the British; and it was obvious that the ruthless savage +would take immediate advantage of the departure of a large body of fighting +men, to fall upon the enfeebled frontier. Shelby, on his part, insisted +that it was the duty of Colonel Bledsoe, whose family, relatives, and +defenceless neighbors looked to him for protection, to stay with the troops +at home for the purpose of repelling the expected Indian assault. For +himself, he urged, he had no family to guard, or who might mourn his loss, +and it was better that he should advance with the troops to join McDowell. +No one could tell where might be the post of danger and honor, at home or +on the other side of the mountain. The arguments he used no doubt +corresponded with his friend's own convictions, his sense of duty to his +family, and of true regard to the welfare of his country; and the +deliberation resulted in his relinquishment of the command to his junior +officer. It was thus that the conscientious, though not ambitious, patriot +lost the honor of commanding in one of the most distinguished actions of +the Revolutionary War. + +Colonel Shelby took the command of those gallant mountaineers who +encountered the forces of Ferguson at King's Mountain on the 7th October, +1780. Three days after that splendid victory, Colonel Bledsoe received from +him an official dispatch giving an account of the battle. The daughter of +Colonel Bledsoe well remembers having heard this dispatch read by her +father, though it has probably long since shared the fate of other valuable +family papers. + +When the hero of King's Mountain, wearing the victor's wreath, returned to +his friends, he found that his betrothed had departed with her father for +Kentucky, leaving for him no request to follow. Sarah, the above-mentioned +daughter of Colonel Bledsoe, often rallied the young officer, who spent +considerable time at her father's, upon this cruel desertion. He would +reply by expressing much indignation at the treatment he had received at +the hands of the fair coquette, and protesting that he would not follow her +to Kentucky, nor ask her of her father; he would wait for little Sarah +Bledsoe, a far prettier bird, he would aver, than the one that had flown +away. The maiden, then some twelve or thirteen years of age, would +laughingly return his bantering by saying he "had better wait, indeed, and +see if he could win Miss Bledsoe who could not win Miss Hart." The arch +damsel was not wholly in jest, for a youthful kinsman of the colonel--David +Shelby, a lad of seventeen or eighteen, who had fought by his side at +King's Mountain--had already gained her youthful affections. She remained +true to this early love, though her lover was only a private soldier. And +it may be well to record that, the gallant colonel who thus threatened +infidelity to his, did actually, notwithstanding his protestations, go to +Kentucky the following year, and was married to Miss Susan Hart, who made +him a faithful and excellent wife. + +During the whole of the trying period that intervened between the first +settlement of east Tennessee and the close of the Revolutionary struggle, +Colonel Bledsoe, with his brother and kinsmen, was almost incessantly +engaged in the strife with their Indian foes, as well as in the laborious +enterprise of subduing the forest, and converting the tangled wilds into +the husbandman's fields of plenty. In these varied scenes of trouble and +trial, of toil and danger, the men were aided and encouraged by the women. +Mary Bledsoe, the colonel's wife, was a woman of remarkable energy, and +noted for her independence both of thought and action. She never hesitated +to expose herself to danger whenever she thought it her duty to brave it; +and when Indian hostilities were most fierce, when their homes were +frequently invaded by the murderous savage, and females struck down by the +tomahawk or carried into captivity, she was foremost in urging her husband +and friends to go forth and meet the foe, instead of striving to detain +them for the protection of her own household. During this time of peril and +watchfulness little attention could have been given to books, even had the +pioneers possessed them; but the Bible, the Confession of Faith, and a few +such works as Baxter's Call, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, etc., were +generally to be found in the library of every resident on the frontier. + +About the close of the year 1779, Colonel Bledsoe and his brothers, with a +few friends, crossed the Cumberland Mountains, descended into the valley of +Cumberland River, and explored the beautiful region on its banks. Delighted +with its shady woods, its herds of buffaloes, its rich and genial soil, and +its salubrious climate, their report on their return induced many of the +inhabitants of East Tennessee to resolve on seeking a new home in the +Cumberland Valley. The Bledsoes did not remove their families thither until +three years afterwards; but the idea of settling the valley originated with +them; they were the first to explore it, and it was in consequence of their +report and advice that the expedition was fitted out, under the direction +of Captain (afterwards General) Robertson and Colonel John Donaldson, to +establish the earliest colony in that part of the country. The account of +this expedition, and the planting of the settlement, is contained in the +memoir of "Sarah Buchanan," vol. iii. of "Women of the American +Revolution." + +The daughter of Colonel Bledsoe, from whose recollection Mr. Haynes has +obtained most of the incidents recorded in these sketches, has in her +possession letters that passed between her father and General Robertson, in +which repeated allusions are made to the fact that to his suggestions and +counsel was owing the first thought of emigration to the Cumberland Valley. +In 1784, Anthony Bledsoe removed with his family to the new settlement of +which he had thus been one of the founders. His brother, Colonel Isaac +Bledsoe, had gone the year before. They took up their residence in what is +now Sumner County, and established a fort or station at "Bledsoe's +Lick"--now known as the Castalian Springs. The families being thus united, +and the eldest daughter of Anthony married to David Shelby, the station +became a rallying-point for an extensive district surrounding it. The +Bledsoes were used to fighting with the Indians; they were men of +well-known energy and courage, and their fort was the place to which the +settlers looked for protection--the colonels being the acknowledged leaders +of the pioneers in their neighborhood, and the terror, far and near, of the +savage marauders. Anthony was also a member of the North Carolina +Legislature from Sumner County. + +From 1780 to 1794, or 1795, a continual warfare was kept up by the Creeks +and Cherokees against the inhabitants of the valley. The history of this +time would be a fearful record of scenes of bloody strife and atrocious +barbarity. Several hundred persons fell victims to the ruthless foe, who +spared neither age nor sex, and many women and children were carried far +from their friends into hopeless captivity. The settlers were frequently +robbed and their negro slaves taken away; in the course of a few years two +thousand horses were stolen; their cattle and hogs were destroyed, their +houses and barns burned, and their plantations laid waste. In consequence +of these incursions, many of the inhabitants gathered together at the +stations on the frontier, and established themselves under military rule +for the protection of the interior settlements. During this desperate +period, the pursuits of the farmer could not be abandoned; lands were to be +surveyed and marked, and fields cleared and cultivated, by men who could +not venture beyond their own doors without arms in their hands. The labors +of those active and vigilant leaders, the Bledsoes, in supporting and +defending the colony, were indefatigable. Nor was the heroic matron--the +subject of this notice--less active in her appropriate sphere of action. +Her family consisted of seven daughters and five sons, the eldest of whom, +Sarah Shelby, was not more than eighteen when she came to Sumner. Mrs. +Bledsoe was almost the only instructor of these children, the family being +left to her sole charge while her husband was engaged in his toilsome +duties, or harassed with the cares incident to an uninterrupted border +warfare. + +Too soon was this devoted wife and mother called upon to suffer a far +deeper calamity than any she had yet experienced. On the night of the 20th +July, 1788, the family were alarmed by hearing the horses and cattle +running tumultuously around the station, as if suddenly frightened. Colonel +Anthony Bledsoe, who was then at home, rose and went to the gate of the +fort. As he opened it, he was shot down; the same ball killing an Irish +servant, named Campbell, who had been long devotedly attached to him. The +colonel did not expire immediately, but was carried back into the station, +while preparations were made for defence. Aware of the near approach of +death, Bledsoe's anxiety was to provide for the comfort of his family. He +had surveyed large tracts of land, and had secured grants for several +thousand acres, which constituted nearly his whole property. The law of +North Carolina at that time gave all the lands to the sons, to the +exclusion of the daughters. In consequence, should the colonel die without +a will, his seven young daughters would be left destitute. In this hour of +bitter trial, Mrs. Bledsoe's thoughts were not alone of her own sufferings, +and the deadly peril that hung over them, but of the provision necessary +for the helpless ones dependent on her care. She suggested to her wounded +husband that a will should be immediately drawn up. It was done; and a +portion of land was assigned to each of the seven daughters, who thus in +after life had reason to remember with gratitude the presence of mind and +affectionate care of their mother. + +Her sufferings from Indian hostility were not terminated by this +overwhelming stroke. A brief list of those who fell victims, among her +family and kinsmen, may afford some idea of the trials she endured, and of +the strength of character which enabled her to bear up, and to support +others, under such terrible experiences. In January, 1793, her son Anthony, +then seventeen years of age, while passing near the present site of +Nashville, was shot through the body, and severely wounded, by a party of +Indians in ambush. He was pursued to the gates of a neighboring fort. Not a +month afterwards, her eldest son, Thomas, was also desperately wounded by +the savages, and escaped with difficulty from their hands. Early in the +following April, he was shot dead near his mother's house, and scalped by +the murderous Indians. On the same day, Colonel Isaac Bledsoe was killed +and scalped by a party of about twenty Creek Indians, who beset him in the +field, and cut off his retreat to his station, near at hand. + +In April, 1794, Anthony, the son of Mrs. Bledsoe, and his cousin of the +same name, were shot by a party of Indians, near the house of General +Smith, on Drake Creek, ten miles from Gallatin. The lads were going to +school, and were then on their way to visit Mrs. Sarah Shelby, the sister +of Anthony, who lived on Station Camp Creek. + +Some time afterwards, Mrs. Bledsoe herself was on the road from Bledsoe's +Lick to the above-mentioned station, where the court of Sumner county was +at that time held. Her object was to attend to some business connected with +the estate of her late husband. She was escorted on her way by the +celebrated Thomas S. Spencer, and Robert Jones. The party were waylaid and +fired upon by a large body of Indians. Jones was severely wounded, and +turning, rode rapidly back for about two miles; after which, he fell dead +from his horse. The savages advanced boldly upon the others, intending to +take them prisoners. + +It was not consistent with Spencer's chivalrous character to attempt to +save himself by leaving his companion to the mercy of the foe. Bidding her +retreat as fast as possible, and encouraging her to keep her seat firmly, +he protected her by following more slowly in her rear, with his trusty +rifle in his hand. When the Indians in pursuit came too near, he would +raise his weapon, as if to fire; and, as he was known to be an excellent +marksman, the savages were not willing to encounter him, but hastened to +the shelter of trees, while he continued his retreat. In this manner he +kept them at bay for some miles, not firing a single shot--for he knew that +his threatening had more effect--until Mrs. Bledsoe reached a station. Her +life and his own were, on this occasion, saved by his prudence and presence +of mind; for both would have been lost had he yielded to the temptation to +fire. + +This Spencer--for his gallantry and reckless daring, named "the Chevalier +Bayard of Cumberland Valley"--was famed for his encounters with the +Indians, by whom he had often been shot at, and wounded on more than one +occasion. His proportions and strength were those of a giant, and the +wonder-loving people were accustomed to tell marvelous stories concerning +him. It was said that, at one time, being unarmed when attacked by the +Indians, he reached into a tree, and, wrenching off a huge bough by main +force, drove back his assailants with it. He lived for some years alone in +Cumberland Valley--it is said, from 1776 to 1779--before a single white man +had taken up his abode there; his dwelling being a large hollow tree, the +roots of which still remain near Bledsoe's Lick. For one year--the +tradition is--a man by the name of Holiday shared his retreat; but the +hollow being not sufficiently spacious to accommodate two lodgers, they +were under the necessity of separating, and Holiday departed to seek a home +in the valley of the Kentucky River. But one difficulty arose; those +dwellers in the primeval forest had but one knife between them! What, was +to be done? for a knife was an article of indispensable necessity: it +belonged to Spencer, and it would have been madness in the owner of such an +article to part with it. He resolved to accompany Holiday part of the way +on his journey, and went as far as Big Barren River. When about to turn +back, Spencer's heart relented: he broke the blade of his knife in two, +gave half to his friend, and with a light heart returned to his hollow +tree. Not long after his gallant rescue of Mrs. Bledsoe, he was killed by a +party of Indians, on the road from Nashville to Knoxville. For nearly +twenty years he had been exposed to every variety of danger, and escaped +them all; but his hour came at last; and the dust of the hermit and +renowned warrior of Cumberland Valley now reposes on "Spencer's Hill," near +the Crab Orchard, on the road between Nashville and Knoxville. + +Bereaved of her husband, sons, and brother-in-law by the murderous savages, +Mrs. Bledsoe was obliged alone to undertake, not only the charge of her +husband's estate, but the care of the children, and their education and +settlement in life. These duties were discharged with unwavering energy and +Christian patience. Her religion had taught her fortitude under her +unexampled distresses; and through all this trying period of her life, she +exhibited a decision and firmness of character which bespoke no ordinary +powers of intellect. Her mind, indeed, was of masculine strength, and she +was remarkable for independence of thought and opinion. In person, she was +attractive, being neither tall nor large, until advanced in life. Her hair +was brown, her eyes gray and her complexion fair. Her useful life was +closed in the autumn of 1808. The record of her worth, and of what she did +and suffered, is an humble one, and may win little attention from the +careless many, who regard not the memory of our "pilgrim mothers:" but the +recollection of her gentle virtues has not yet faded from the hearts of her +descendants; and those to whom they tell the story of her life will +acknowledge her the worthy companion of those noble men to whom belongs the +praise of having originated a new colony and built up a goodly state in the +bosom of the forest. Their patriotic labors, their struggles with the +surrounding savages, their efforts in the maintenance of the community they +had founded--sealed, as they finally were, with their own blood, and the +blood of their sons and relatives--will never be forgotten while the +apprehension of what is noble, generous, and good survives in the hearts of +their countrymen. + +[1] Milton A. Haynes, Esq., of Tennessee, has furnished me with this and +other accounts. + + * * * * * + +MORE GOSSIP ABOUT CHILDREN, + +IN A FAMILIAR EPISTLE TO THE EDITOR. + +BY LOUIS GAYLORD CLARK. + +MY DEAR GODEY:-- + +I have not finished my gossip about children. I have a good deal yet to say +touching their sensibilities, their nice discriminating sense, and the +treatment which they too frequently receive from those who, although older +than themselves, are in very many things not half so wise. + +If you will take up Southey's Autobiography, written by himself (and his +son), and recently published by my friends, the brothers Harper, you will +find in the portion of Southey's early history, as recorded by himself, +many striking examples of the keen susceptibility of childhood to outward +and inward impressions, and of the deep feeling which underlies the +apparently unthoughtful career of a young boy. It is a delightful opening +of his whole heart to his reader. One sees with him the smallest object of +nature about the home of his childhood; and it is impossible not to enter +into all his feelings of little joys and poignant sorrows. I am not without +the hope, therefore, that, in the few records which I am about to give you; +partly of personal experience and partly of personal observation, I shall +be able to enlist the attention of your readers; for, after all, each one +of us, friend Godey, in our own more mature joys and sorrows, is but an +epitome, so to speak, the great mass, who alike rejoice and grieve us. + +I do not wish to exhibit anything like a spirit of egotism, and I assure +you that I write with a gratified feeling that is a very wide remove from +that selfish sentiment, when I tell you that I have received from very many +parents, in different parts of the country, letters containing their "warm +and grateful thanks" for the endeavor which I made, in a recent number of +your magazine, to _create more confidence in childhood and youth_; to +awaken, along with a "sense of _duty_"--that too frequent excuse for +domestic tyranny--a feeling of generous forbearance for the trivial, venial +faults of those whose hearts are just and tender, and whom "kindness wins +when cruelty would repel." You must let me go on in my own way, and I will +try to illustrate the truth and justice of my position. + +I must go back to my very earliest schooldays. I doubt if I was more than +five years old, a little boy in the country, when I was sent, with my +twin-brother, to a summer "district school." It was kept by a +"school-ma'am," a pleasant young woman of some twenty years of age. She was +positively my _first love_. I am afraid I was an awkward scholar at first; +but the enticing manner in which Mary ---- (I grieve that only the faint +_sound_ of her unsyllabled name comes to me now from "the dark backward and +abysm of Time") coaxed me through the alphabet and the words of one +syllable; encouraged me to encounter those of two (the first of which I +remember to this day, whenever the baker's bill for my children's daily +bread is presented for audit); stimulated me to attack those of three; +until, at the last, I was enabled to surmount that tallest of orthoëpical +combinations, "_Mi-chi-li-mack-i-nack_", without a particle of fear; the +enticing manner, I say, in which Mary ---- accomplished all this, won my +heart. She would stoop over and kiss me, on my low seat, when I was +successful, and very pleasant were her "good words" to my ear. Bless your +heart! I remember at this moment the feeling of her soft brown curls upon +my cheek; and I would give almost anything now to see the first +"certificate" of good conduct which I brought home, in her handwriting, to +my mother, and which was kept for years among fans, bits of dried +orange-peel, and sprigs of withered "caraway," in a corner of the +bureau-"draw." All this came very vividly to me some time ago, when my own +little boy brought home _his_ first "school-ticket." He is not called, +however--and I rejoice that he is not--to remember dear companions, who +"bewept to the grave did go, with true-love showers." + + "Oh, my mother! oh, my childhood! + Oh, my brother, now no more! + Oh, the years that push me onward, + Farther from that distant shore!" + +But I am led away. I wanted merely to say that this "school-ma'am," from +the simple _love_ of her children, her little scholars, knew how to teach +and how to _rule_ them. I hope that not a few "school-ma'ams" will peruse +this hastily-prepared gossip; and if they do, I trust they will remember, +in the treatment of their little charges, that "the heart _must_ leap +kindly back to kindness." Why, my dear sir, I used to wait, in the summer +afternoons, until all the little pupils had gone on before, so that I could +place in the soft white hand of my school-mistress as confiding a little +hand as any in which she may afterwards have placed her own, "in the full +trust of love." I hope she found a husband good and true, and that she was +blessed with what she loved, "wisely" and _not_ "too well," children. + +Now that I am on the subject of children at school, I wish to pursue the +theme at a little greater length, and give you an incident or two in my +farther experience. + +It was not long after finishing our summer course with "school-ma'am" Mary +----, that we were transferred to a "man-school," kept in the district. And +here I must go back, for just one moment, to say that, among the +pleasantest things that I remember of that period, was the calling upon us +in the morning, by the neighbors' children--and especially two little +girls, new-comers from the "Black River country," then a vague terra +incognita to us, yet only some thirty miles away--to accompany us to the +school through the winter snow. How well I remember their knitted +red-and-white woolen hoods, and the red-and-white complexions beaming with +youth and high health beneath them! I think of Motherwell's going to school +with his "dear Jenny Morrison," so touchingly described in his beautiful +poem of that name, every time these scenes arise before me. + +Well, at this "man-school" I first learned the lesson which I am about to +illustrate. It is a lesson for parents, a lesson for instructors, and, I +think, a lesson for children also. I remember names _here_, for one was +almost burned into my brain for years afterwards. + +There was something very imposing about "opening the school" on the first +day of the winter session. The trustees of the same were present; a +hard-headed old farmer, who sent long piles of "cord wood," beach, maple, +bass-wood, and birch, out of his "own _pocket_," he used to say--and he +might, with equal propriety, have said, "out of his own _head_," for surely +_there_ was no lack of "timber;" Deacon C----, an educated Puritan, who +could spell, read, write, "punctify," and--"knew grammar," as he himself +expressed it; a thin-faced doctor, whose horse was snorting at the door, +and who sat, on that occasion, with his saddle-bags crossed on his knee, +being in something of a hurry, expecting, I believe, an "addition" in the +neighborhood, to the subject of my present gossip--at all events, I well +remember peeping under the wrinkled leather-flaps of the "bags" and seeing +a wooden cartridge-box, with holes for the death-dealing vials; and last, +but not least, the town blacksmith, who was, in fact, worth all the other +trustees put together, being a man of sound common sense, with something +more than a sprinkling of useful education. Under the auspices of these +trustees, this "man-school" was thus opened for the winter. "Now look you +what befell." + +For the first four or five days, our schoolmaster was quite amiable--or so +at least he seemed. His "rules," and they were arbitrary enough, were given +out on the second day; five scholars were "admonished" on the third; on the +fourth, about a dozen were "warned," as the pedagogue termed it; and on the +fifth, there was set up in the corner of an open closet, in plain sight of +all the school, a bundle containing about a dozen birch switches, each some +six feet long, and rendered lithe and tough by being tempered in the hot +embers of the fire. These were to be the "ministers of justice;" and the +portents of this "dreadful note of preparation" were amply fulfilled. + +I had just begun to learn to write. My copy-book had four pages of +"straight marks," so called, I suppose, because they are always crooked. I +had also gone through "the hooks," up and down; but my hand was cramped; +and I fear that my first "word-copy" was not as good as it ought to have +been; but I "run out my tongue and tried" hard; and it makes me laugh, even +now, to remember how I used to look along the line of "writing-scholars" on +my bench, and see the rows of lolling tongues and moving heads over the +long desk, mastering the first difficulties of chirography; some licking +off "blots" of ink from their copy-books, others drawing in or dropping +slowly out of the mouth, at each upward or downward "stroke" of the pen. + +One morning, "the master" came behind me and overlooked my writing-- + +"Louis," said he, "if I see any more such writing as that, you'll repent +it! I've _talked_ to you long enough." + +I replied that he had never, to my recollection, blamed me for writing +badly but once; nor _had_ he. + +"Don't dare to contradict _me_, sir, but remember!" was his only reply. + +From this moment, I could scarcely hold my pen aright, much less "write +right." The master had a cat-like, stealthy tread, and I seemed all the +while to feel him behind me; and while I was fearing this, and had reached +the end of a line, there fell across my right hand a diagonal blow, from +the fierce whip which was the tyrant's constant companion, that in a moment +rose to a red and blue welt as large as my little finger, entirely across +my hand. The pain was excruciating. I can recall the feeling as vividly, +while I am tracing these lines, as I did the moment after the cruel blow +was inflicted. + +From that time forward I could not write at all; nor should I have pursued +that branch of school-education at all that winter but that "the master's" +cruelty soon led to his dismissal in deep disgrace. His floggings were +almost incessant. His system was the "reign of terror," instead of that +which "works by _love_ and purifies the heart." His crowning act was +feruling a little boy, as ingenuous and innocent-hearted a child as ever +breathed, on the tops of his finger-nails--a refinement of cruelty beyond +all previous example. The little fellow's nails turned black and soon came +off, and the "master" was turned away. I am not sorry to add that he was +subsequently cowhided, while lying in a snow-bank, into which he had been +"knocked" by an elder brother of the lad whom he had so cruelly treated, +until he cried lustily for quarter, which was not _too_ speedily granted. + +But I come now to my illustration of the "law of kindness," in its effect +upon myself. The successor to the pedagogue whom we have dismissed was a +native of Connecticut. He was well educated, had a pleasant manner, and a +smile of remarkable sweetness. I never saw him angry for a moment. On the +first day he opened, he said to the assembled school that he wanted each +scholar to consider him as _a friend_; that he desired nothing but their +good; and that it was for the interest of _each one_ of them that _all_ +should be careful to observe the few and simple rules which he should lay +down for the government of the school. These he proclaimed; and, with one +or two trivial exceptions, there was no infraction of them during the three +winters in which he taught in our district. + +Under his instruction, I was induced to resume my "experiences" in writing. +I remember his coming to look over my shoulder to examine the first page of +my copy-book: "Very well written," said he; "only _keep on_ in that way, +and you cannot fail to succeed." These encouraging words went straight to +my heart. They were words of kindness, and their fruition was +instantaneous. When the next two pages of my copy-book were accomplished, +he came again to report upon my progress: "That is _well_ done, Louis, +quite _well_. You will soon require very little instruction from _me_. I am +afraid you'll soon become to excel your teacher." + +Gentle-hearted, sympathetic O---- M----! would that your "law of kindness" +could be written upon the heart of every parent, and every guardian and +instructor of the young throughout our great and happy country! + +I have often wondered why it is that parents and guardians do not more +frequently and more cordially _reciprocate the confidence of children_. How +hard it is to convince a child that his father or mother can do wrong! Our +little people are always our sturdiest defenders. They are loyal to the +maxim that "the king can do no wrong;" and all the monarchs they know are +their parents. I heard the other day, from the lips of a distinguished +physician, formerly of New York, but now living in elegant retirement in a +beautiful country town of Long Island, a touching illustration of the truth +of this, with which I shall close this already too protracted article. + +"I have had," said the doctor, "a good deal of experience, in the long +practice of my profession in the city, that is more remarkable than +anything recorded in the 'Diary of a London Physician.' It would be +impossible for me to detail to you the hundredth part of the interesting +and exciting things which I saw and heard. That which affected me most, of +late years, was the case of a boy, not, I think, over twelve years of age. +I first saw him in the hospital, whither, being poor and without parents, +he had been brought to die. + +"He was the most beautiful boy I ever beheld. He had that peculiar cast of +countenance and complexion which we notice in those who are afflicted with +frequent hemorrhage of the lungs. He was _very_ beautiful! His brow was +broad, fair, and intellectual; his eyes had the deep _interior_ blue of the +sky itself; his complexion was like the lily, tinted, just below the +cheek-bone, with a hectic flush-- + + 'As on consumption's waning cheek, + Mid ruin blooms the rose;' + +and his hair, which was soft as floss silk, hung in luxuriant curls about +his face. But oh, what an expression of deep melancholy his countenance +wore! so remarkable that I felt certain that the fear of death had nothing +to do with it. And I was right. Young as he was, he did not wish to live. +He repeatedly said that death was what he most desired; and it was truly +dreadful to hear one so young and so beautiful talk like this. 'Oh!' he +would say, 'let me die! let me die! Don't _try_ to save me; I _want_ to +die!' Nevertheless, he was most affectionate, and was extremely grateful +for everything that I could do for his relief. I soon won his heart; but +perceived, with pain, that his disease of body was nothing to his 'sickness +of the soul,' which I could not heal. He leaned upon my bosom and wept, +while at the same time he prayed for death. I have never seen one of his +years who courted it so sincerely. I tried in every way to elicit from him +what it was that rendered him so unhappy; but his lips were sealed, and he +was like one who tried to turn his face from something which oppressed his +spirit. + +"It subsequently appeared that the father of this child was hanged for +murder in B---- County, about two years before. It was the most +cold-blooded homicide that had ever been known in that section of the +country. The excitement raged high; and I recollect that the stake and the +gallows vied with each other for the victim. The mob labored hard to get +the man out of the jail, that they might wreak summary vengeance upon him +by hanging him to the nearest tree. Nevertheless, law triumphed, and he was +hanged. Justice held up her equal scales with satisfaction, and there was +much trumpeting forth of this consummation, in which even the women, +merciful, tender-hearted women, seemed to take delight. + +"Perceiving the boy's life to be waning, I endeavored one day to turn his +mind to religious subjects, apprehending no difficulty in one so young; but +he always evaded the topic. I asked him if he had said his prayers. He +replied-- + +"'_Once_, always--_now_, never.' + +"This answer surprised me very much; and I endeavored gently to impress him +with the fact that a more devout frame of mind would be becoming in him, +and with the great necessity of his being prepared to die; but he remained +silent. + +"A few days afterwards, I asked him whether he would not permit me to send +for the Rev. Dr. B----, a most kind man in sickness, who would be of the +utmost service to him in his present situation. He declined firmly and +positively. _Then_ I determined to solve this mystery, and to understand +this strange phase of character in a mere child. 'My dear boy,' said I, 'I +implore you not to act in this manner. What can so have disturbed your +young mind? You certainly believe there is a God, to whom you owe a debt of +gratitude?' + +"His eye kindled, and to my surprise, I might almost say horror, I heard +from his young lips-- + +"'No, I don't _believe_ that there is a God!' + +"Yes, that little boy, young as he was, was an atheist; and he even +reasoned in a logical manner for a mere child like him. + +"'I cannot believe there is a God,' said he; 'for if there were a God, he +must be merciful and just; and he never, _never_, NEVER could have +permitted _my father_, who was innocent, to be hanged! Oh, my father! my +father!' he exclaimed, passionately, burying his face in the pillow, and +sobbing as if his heart would break. + +"I was overcome by my own emotion; but all that I could say would not +change his determination; he would have no minister of God beside him--no +prayers by his bedside. I was unable, with all my endeavors, to apply any +balm to his wounded heart. + +"A few days after this, I called, as usual, in the morning, and at once saw +very clearly that the little boy must soon depart. + +"'Willie,' said I, 'I have got good news for you to-day. Do you think that +you can bear to hear it?' for I really was at a loss how to break to him +what I had to communicate. + +"He assented, and listened with the deepest attention. I then informed him, +as I best could, that, from circumstances which had recently come to light, +it had been rendered certain that his father was entirely innocent of the +crime for which he had suffered an ignominious death. + +"I never shall forget the frenzy of emotion which he exhibited at this +announcement. He uttered one scream--the blood rushed from his mouth--he +leaned forward upon my bosom--and died!" + + * * * * + +I leave this, friend Godey, with your readers. I had much more to say; and, +perhaps, should it be desirable, I may hereafter give you one more chapter +upon children. + + * * * * * + +SONG OF THE STARS. + +E PLURIBUS UNUM--"_Many in One_." + +A NATIONAL SONG. + +BY THOMAS S. DONOHO. + + "E PLURIBUS UNUM!" The world, with delight, + Looks up to the starry blue banner of night, + In its many-blent glory rejoicing to see + AMERICA'S motto--the pride of the Free! + + "E PLURIBUS UNUM!" Our standard for ever! + Woe, woe to the heart that would dare to dissever! + Shine, Liberty's Stars! your dominion increase-- + A guide in the battle, a blessing in peace! + + "E PLURIBUS UNUM!" And thus be, at last, + From land unto land our broad banner cast, + Till its Stars, like the stars of the sky, be unfurled, + In beauty and glory, embracing the world! + + * * * * * + +DEVELOUR. + +A SEQUEL TO "THE NIEBELUNGEN." + +BY PROFESSOR CHARLES E. BLUMENTHAL. + +CHAPTER I. + +The twenty-second of February, 1848, found Paris in a condition which only +a Napoleon or a Washington could have controlled. The people felt and acted +like a lion conscious that his fetters are corroded, yet still some what +awed by the remembrance of the power which they once exercised over him. + +Poverty and want, licentious habits and irreligious feeling, had +contributed to bring about a ferocious discontent, which needed only the +insidious and inflammatory articles spread broadcast over the land by +designing men to fan into an insurrection. + +Louis Philippe and his advisers exemplified the proverb _Quem Deus vuls +perdere, prius dementas_, determined upon closing one of the best +safety-valves of public discontent. The Reform Banquet had been prohibited, +and _apparently_ well-planned military preparations had been made to meet +any possible hostile demonstrations, and to quench them at the outset. +Troops paraded through the city in every direction, and every prominent +place was occupied by squadrons of cavalry or squads of infantry. +Nevertheless, soon after breakfast the people collected at various points, +at first in small numbers; but gradually these swelled in size in +proportion as they advanced to what appeared the centre to which all were +attracted, the _Place de la Concorde_. Shouts, laughter, and merriment were +heard from all quarters of the crowd, and the moving masses appeared more +like a body of people going to some holiday amusement, than conspirators +bent upon the overthrow of a government. + +Just as a detached body of these was passing through the Rue de Burgoigne, +a gentleman stepped out of one of the houses in that narrow street, and, +partly led by curiosity and partly by his zeal for the popular cause, +joined their ranks and advanced with them as far as the _Palais du Corps +Legislatif_, where they were met by a troop of dragoons, who endeavored to +disperse the crowd. Angry words were exchanged, and a few sabre blows fell +among the crowd. One of the troopers, who seemed determined to check the +advancing column, rode up to one who appeared to be a leader, and, raising +his sword, exclaimed, "Back, or I'll cleave your skull!" But the youthful +and athletic champion folded his arms, and, without the slightest +discomposure, replied, "Coward! strike an unarmed man;--prove your +courage!" The dragoon, without a reply, wheeled his horse, and rode to +another part of the square. Just at that moment, another insolent trooper +pressed his horse against the gentleman who had joined the crowd in the Rue +de Burgoigne. The latter lifted his cane, and was about to chastise the +soldier's insolence, when a man in a blouse and a slouched hat resembling +the Mexican _sombrero_, arrested his arm, and whispered to him, "Do not +strike! you are not in America: France is not as yet the place to resent +the insolence of a soldier." Irritated at this unexpected interference, the +gentleman endeavored to free his arm from the vice-like grasp of the +new-comer, while he exclaimed, "Unhand me, sir! A free American is +everywhere a freeman; and these soldiers shall not prevent me from +proceeding and aiding the cause of an oppressed people." "Say rather a +hungry people," replied the other; and then added with a smile, and in good +English, "Has the quiet student of the Juniata been so soon transformed +into a fierce revolutionary partisan? What would Captain Sanker say if he +could see you thus turned into a hot-headed insurgent?" + +"I have heard that voice before," replied the stranger. "Who are you, that +you are so familiar with me and my friends?" + +"One who will guide and advise you in the storm that is now brewing, which +will soon overwhelm this goodly Nineveh, and in its course shake a throne +to its foundation. But this is no place for explanations. Come--and on our +way I will tell you who I am, and why I have mingled with this people, that +know hardly, as yet, what they are about to do." + +While saying this, he drew his companion into the Rue St. Dominique, and +disentangled him thus from the crowd, which, now no longer opposed by the +dragoons, moved onward towards the _Pont de la Concorde_. After they had +crossed the Rue de Bac, they found the streets almost deserted, and then +the man with the slouched hat turned to his companion and said-- + +"Has Mr. Filmot already forgotten the pic-nic on the banks of the Juniata, +and the stranger guest whom he was good enough to invite to his house?" + +Mr. Filmot, for it was he whom we found just now about to take an active +part in the insurrection of the Parisian people, examined the features of +his interlocutor closely and rather distrustfully, and finally +exclaimed--"It cannot be that I see M. Develour in Paris and in this +strange disguise? for only yesterday I received a letter from Mr. Karsh, in +which he informs me that his friend is even now a sojourner at the court of +the Emperor of Austria." + +"That letter was dated more than a month ago," replied Mr. Develour. "I +left the Prater city in the beginning of last month, and, it appears, have +arrived just in time to prevent Mr. Filmot from committing a very imprudent +act, which, by the way, you will recollect, was predicted to you in the +magic mirror. Had you asked my advice before you left your native land to +pursue your studies in the modern Nineveh, I would have counseled you to +wait for a more propitious season. But, as soon as I heard of your presence +in the city, I determined to watch over you and to warn you, if your +enthusiasm should lead you to take too active a part in the deadly strife +that awaits us here." + +"You certainly do not think that a revolution is contemplated?" inquired +Mr. Filmot. + +"Come and see," replied Develour, while he continued his walk down the Rue +St. Dominique. They then passed through the Rue St. Marguerite, and entered +the Rue de Boucheries. About half way down the street they stopped before a +mean-looking house. Develour rapped twice in quick succession at the door, +and then, after a short interval, once more, and louder than before, +immediately after the third rap, the door was partially and cautiously +opened, and some one asked, in an under tone, "What do you want?" + +"To see the man of the red mountain," replied Develour, in the same tone. + +"What is your business?" + +"To guide the boat." + +"Where do you come from?" + +"From the rough sea." + +"And where do you wish to go to now?" + +"To the still waters." + +After this strange examination, the door was fully opened, and the +doorkeeper said, "You may enter." But when he saw Filmot about to accompany +Develour, he stopped him, and inquired by what right he expected to gain +admission. + +"By my invitation and introduction," said Develour, before Filmot had time +to speak. + +"That may not be," replied the doorkeeper. "No one has a right to introduce +another, except those who have the word of the day." + +"I have the word," said Develour; and then he whispered to him, "Not +Martin, but Albert." After that he continued aloud, "Now go and announce +me; we will wait here in the vestibule." + +As soon as the doorkeeper, after carefully locking the door, had withdrawn +into the interior of the house, Develour turned to his companion and asked +him, "Have you ever come across an account of the Red Man, whom many +believe to have exercised a great influence over the mind of Napoleon?" + +"I have read some curious statements concerning an individual designated by +that name; but have always considered them the inventions of an exuberant +imagination," replied Filmot. + +"You will soon have an opportunity to form a more correct opinion. I hope +to have the pleasure, in a few minutes, to introduce you to him. As for his +claims to--" + +Before Develour had time to finish the sentence, a side door opened close +by him, and a black boy, dressed in oriental costume, entered and bowed, +with his hands crossed over his breast, and then said to Develour, in +broken French, "The master told me to bid you welcome, and to conduct you +into the parlor, where he will join you in a few minutes." + + * * * * + +CHAPTER II. + +Develour and Filmot followed their guide into a room fitted up in Eastern +style. Divans made of cushions piled one upon another were placed all +around the room, with small carpets spread before them. Light stands of +beautiful arabesque work were tastefully distributed in various places, and +in the centre played a small fountain fed by aromatic water. The lower part +of the room contained a recess, the interior of which was concealed by a +semi-transparent screen, which permitted the visitors to see that it was +lit up by a flame proceeding from an urn. Heavy rich silk curtains, hung +before the windows, excluded the glare of the sun, and were so arranged +that the light in the room resembled that given by the moon when at its +full. The atmosphere of the apartment was heavy with the perfumes of exotic +plants and costly essences. The Moor requested them to be seated, and, +again crossing his arms over his breast, he bowed and left the room. + +As soon as the door had closed behind him, Develour said to Filmot: "It is +reported that the Red Man appeared four times to Napoleon, and each time, +in order to expostulate with him about the course he was pursuing; that, +during each visit, he advised him what to do, and accompanied his advice +with the promise of success, in case he would follow his counsel; and a +threat of defeat if he persisted in disregarding it. The last visit which +he paid to the Emperor was shortly before the battle of Waterloo. Montholon +was in the antechamber, when the man with the red cloak entered his +master's apartment. After renewed expostulations, he urged the Emperor to +make an overture to the allied powers, and to promise that he would confine +his claims to France, and pledge himself not to attempt conquest beyond the +Rhine. When Napoleon, though half awed, rejected this advice with some +irritation, his visitor rose, and solemnly predicted to him a signal defeat +in the next great battle he would be compelled to fight; and, after that, +an expulsion from his empire; and then left the room as abruptly as he had +entered it. + +"As soon as Napoleon had recovered from his surprise at the bold language +and the sudden departure of his strange monitor, he hastened into the +antechamber to call him back. But no one but Montholon was in the room, +who, when questioned by the Emperor concerning the man who just left the +cabinet, replied that, during the last half hour, no human being had passed +through the antechamber, to seek ingress or egress. The sentinels on the +staircases and at the gates were then examined, but they all declared that +they had not seen any stranger pass their respective posts. Perplexed at +this fruitless endeavor to recall the Red Man, Napoleon returned to his +cabinet mystified and gloomy, disturbed by his self appointed monitor, and +his predictions. Shortly afterwards, he fought the battle of Waterloo, and +saw the prophecy fulfilled. He could never afterwards wholly divest himself +of the belief that the Man in Red, as he was called by the officers, was an +incarnation of his evil genius." + +Before Develour had ceased speaking, a door opened in the the lower part of +the room, and an old man advanced, with a slow but firm step, towards the +two friends. The new-comer appeared to be a man of more than threescore +years and ten, though not a falter in his step, not the slightest curvature +of his lofty figure, evinced the approach of old age. He was a little above +the middle height, lofty in his carriage, and dignified in all his +movements. A high forehead gave an intellectual cast to a countenance +habitually calm and commanding, and to which long flowing silver locks +imparted the look of a patriarch ruler. He was dressed in a velvet +morning-gown, which was confined around his waist by a broad belt of satin, +upon which several formulas in Arabic were worked with silver thread; and +on his feet he had slippers covered with letters similar to those on his +belt. As soon as Develour became aware of his presence, he advanced to meet +him, and said a few words in Arabic; then, introducing his friend, he +continued, in English--"M. Delevert, permit me to make you acquainted with +Mr. Filmot. Nothing but a desire to afford him the pleasure of knowing you, +the friend and admirer of his countrymen and their institutions, could have +induced me to absent myself from my post this morning." + +"You are welcome, Mr. Filmot," said M. Delevour, "even at a time when our +good city affords us little opportunity to make it a welcome place to a +stranger." + +"On the contrary," replied Filmot, "to an American and a true lover of +liberty, it seems to hold out a very interesting spectacle, if what I have +seen and heard to-day is a fair indication of what is to come." + +"Ah," said M. Delevert, with a sad smile, "I fear that the philanthropic +part of your expectations will be doomed to disappointment. But a fearful +lesson will again be read to the oppressors of the people; a lesson which +would have been more effectual if taught a year hence, but which +circumstances prevent us to delay longer. In a few minutes, messengers will +arrive from all parts of the city to report progress and the probable +result. You will thus have an opportunity, if not otherwise engaged, to +gain correct information of the insurrection in all quarters." + +"Will you be displeased with me, my friend," said Develour, "if I tell you +that not only of M. Delevert, but also of the Red Man have I spoken to Mr. +Filmot; and I have even promised him that he shall hear from that +mysterious being a detail of one of his visits to the emperors?" + +"And can M. Develour think still of these things?" replied the old man, +smiling good-humoredly. "How can they interest your friend Mr. Filmot--a +citizen of a country where everything is worked for in a plain +matter-of-fact way? What interest can _he_ feel in the various means that +were employed in an endeavor to make the military genius of the great +warrior an instrument to bring about a permanent amelioration in the +condition of the people?" + +"The very mystery in which the whole seems enveloped," said Filmot, "would, +in itself, be enough to interest me in it; particularly so now, when I have +reason to believe myself in the presence of the chief actor--of him whom +hitherto I have always regarded as the creation of an excited imagination." + +"And why a creature of the imagination?" inquired M. Delevert. "Is it +because I had it in my power to appear before the Emperor and to leave him +unseen by other eyes? Or is it because of the truth of my predictions? +Neither was impossible; neither required means beyond those which the +scientific student of the book of nature, when properly instructed, can +obtain. I resorted once even to a use of the utmost powers of nature, as +far as they are known to me, in order to entice him, by a palpable proof of +my ability to aid him, to promise that he would become an instrument in the +hands of those who sought to usher in the dawn of a happier age, the age of +true liberty, true equality; an age in which every man and _woman_ would be +able to feel, through the advantages of education and equal political and +moral rights, unhampered by false prejudices, that all human beings were +created free and equal. It was on the night before the battle of +Austerlitz, when he, as was his frequent custom, visited the outpost, +wrapped in his plain gray coat. At the hour of midnight, I presented myself +before him, and offered to show him the plans of the enemy for the +following day, on condition that he would not endeavor to meddle with +anything he should see, except so far as necessary to obtain the promised +information. He knew something of my ability to fulfil what I promised, and +therefore did not doubt me, but gave his imperial word to fulfil his part +of the compact. I then led him a few paces beyond the camp, and bade him be +seated on a large stone, a fragment of an old heathen altar-stone. He had +hardly taken his seat before a phantom-like being, in the garb of an +officer in the Austrian army, was seen kneeling before him with a portfolio +in his hand. Napoleon opened it, and found there all the information he +desired. He complied strictly with his promise, and returned the portfolio +as soon as he had taken his notes, and the officer disappeared like a vapor +of the night. I then turned to the surprised monarch, and offered to repeat +this specimen of my skill before every subsequent battle, if he would +moderate his ambition and be content to be the first among his equals, the +father of a wide-spread patriarchal family. But he angrily refused to +listen to such a proposal, and, having somewhat recovered from his +surprise, called for his guards to seize me. Fool! He stood upon a spot +where I could have killed him without the danger of its ever becoming known +to any one. While he turned to look for his myrmidons, the ground opened +beneath my feet, and I disappeared before he had time to see by what means +I escaped. + +"Twice have I thus visited Alexander of Russia, but with like results. Fate +has decreed it otherwise. Freedom cannot come to mankind from a throne. +But, from what my friend Develour has told you already, you may be +astonished that we should have engaged, and still engage, in fruitless +efforts, when we have gained from nature powers by which the sage is able +to glance at the decrees. Alas! this earthly frame loads us with physical +clogs that weigh us down, and throw frequently a film before the eyes which +make even the clearest dim and short-sighted."' + +Here they were interrupted by a few raps at the inner door, which M. +Delevert seemed to count with great attention; and then rising from his +seat, he continued, without any change in the tone of his voice-- + +"The reporters are coming in. If you will accompany me to my +reception-room, you will have an opportunity, shared by no other foreigner, +to become acquainted with the mainsprings of this revolution; for such I am +determined it shall become. Alas! would that it were of a nature to be the +last one! But their haste prevents that altogether. Come, they are waiting +for me." + +(To be continued.) + + * * * * * + +THE MOURNER'S LAMENT. + +BY PARK BENJAMIN. + + The night-breeze fans my faded cheek, + And lifts my damp and flowing hair-- + And lo! methinks sweet voices speak, + Like harp-strings to the viewless air; + While in the sky's unmeasured scroll, + The burning stars forever roll, + Changeless as heaven, and deeply bright-- + Fair emblems of a world of light! + + Oh, bathe my temples with thy dew, + Sweet Evening, dearest parent mild, + And from thy curtained home of blue, + Bend calmly o'er thy tearful child: + For, when I feel, so soft and bland, + The pressure of thy tender hand, + I dream I rest in peace the while, + Cradled beneath my mother's smile. + + That mother sleeps! the snow-white shroud + Enfolds her stainless bosom now, + And, like bright hues on some pale cloud, + Rose-leaves were woven round her brow. + I wreathed them that to heaven's pure bowers, + Surrounded with the breath of flowers, + Her soul might soar through mists divine, + Like incense from a holy shrine. + + How changed my being! moments sweep + Down, down the eternal gulf of Time; + And we, like gilded bubbles, keep + Our course amid their waves sublime, + Till, mingled with the foam and spray, + We flash our lives of joy away; + Or, drifting on through Sorrow's shades, + Sink as a gleam of starlight fades. + + Alone! alone! I'm left alone-- + A creature born to grieve and die; + But, while upon Night's sapphire throne, + In yonder broad and glorious sky, + I gaze in sadness--lo! I feel + A vision of the future steal + Across my sight, like some faint ray + That glimmers from the fount of day. + + * * * * * + +OTHELLO TO IAGO. + +BY R.T. CONRAD. + + Accursed be thy life! Darkness thy day! + Time, a slow agony; a poison, love; + Wild fears about thee, wan despair above! + Crush'd hopes, like withered leaves, bestrew thy way! + Nothing that lives lov'st thou; nothing that lives + Loves thee. The drops that fall from Hecla's snow + 'Neath the slant sun, are warmer than the flow + Of thy chill'd heart. Thine be the bolt that rives! + Be there no heaven to thee; the sky a pall; + The earth a rack; the air consuming fire; + The sleep of death and dust thy sole desire-- + Life's throb a torture, and life's thought a thrall: + And at the judgment may thy false soul be, + And, 'neath the blasting blaze of light, _meet me!_ + + * * * * * + +PERSONS AND PICTURES FROM THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND. + +BY HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT. + +NO. I.--SIR WALTER RALEIGH AND HIS WIFE. + +It is commonly said, and appears generally to be believed by superficial +students of history, that with the reigns of the Plantagenets, with the +Edwards and the Henrys of the fifteenth century, the age of chivalry was +ended, the spirit of romance became extinct. To those, however, who have +looked carefully into the annals of the long and glorious reign of the +great Elizabeth, it becomes evident that, so far from having passed away +with the tilt and tournament, with the complete suits of knightly armor, +and the perilous feats of knight-errantry, the fire of chivalrous courtesy +and chivalrous adventure never blazed more brightly, than at the very +moment when it was about to expire amid the pedantry and cowardice, the low +gluttony and shameless drunkenness, which disgraced the accession of the +first James to the throne of England. Nor will the brightest and most +glorious names of fabulous or historic chivalry, the Tancreds and Godfreys +of the crusades, the Oliviers and Rolands of the court of Charlemagne, the +Old Campeador of old Castile, or the _preux_ Bayard of France, that +_chevalier sans peur et sans reproche_, exceed the lustre which encircles, +to this day, the characters of Essex, Howard, Philip Sidney, Drake, +Hawkins, Frobisher, and Walter Raleigh. + +It was full time that, at this period, maritime adventure had superseded +the career of the barded war-horse, and the brunt of the leveled spear; and +that to foray on the Spanish colonies, beyond the line, where, it was said, +truce or peace never came; to tempt the perils of the tropical seas in +search of the Eldorado, or the Fountain of Health and Youth, in the fabled +and magical realms of central Florida; and to colonize the forest shores of +the virgin wildernesses of the west, was now paramount in the ardent minds +of England's martial youth, to the desire of obtaining distinction in the +bloody battle-fields of the Low Countries, or in the fierce religious wars +of Hungary and Bohemia. And of these hot spirits, the most ardent, the most +adventurous, the foremost in everything that savored of romance or +gallantry, was the world-renowned Sir Walter Raleigh. + +Born of an honorable and ancient family in Devonshire, he early came to +London, in order to push his fortunes, as was the custom in those days with +the cadets of illustrious families whose worldly wealth was unequal to +their birth and station, by the chances of court favor, or the readier +advancement of the sword. At this period, Elizabeth was desirous of lending +assistance to the French Huguenots, who had been recently defeated in the +bloody battle of Jarnac, and who seemed to be in considerable peril of +being utterly overpowered by their cruel and relentless enemies the Guises; +while she was at the same time wholly disinclined to involve England in +actual strife, by regular and declared hostilities. + +She gave permission, therefore, to Henry Champernon to raise a regiment of +gentlemen volunteers, and to transport them into France. In the number of +these, young Walter Raleigh enrolled, and thenceforth his career may be +said to have commenced; for from that time scarce a desperate or glorious +adventure was essayed, either by sea or land, in which he was not a +participator. In this, his first great school of military valor and +distinction, he served with so much spirit, and such display of gallantry +and aptitude for arms, that he immediately attracted attention, and, on his +return to England in 1570, after the pacification, and renewal of the +edicts for liberty of conscience, found himself at once a marked man. + +It seems that, about this time, in connection with Nicholas Blount and +others, who afterward attained to both rank and eminence, Raleigh attached +himself to the Earl of Essex, who at that time disputed with Leicester the +favors, if not the affection, of Elizabeth; and, while in his suite, had +the fortune to attract the notice of that princess by the handsomeness of +his figure and the gallantry of his attire; she, like her father, Henry, +being quick to observe and apt to admire those who were eminently gifted +with the thews and sinews of a man. + +A strangely romantic incident was connected with his first rise in the +favor of the Virgin Queen, which is so vigorously and brilliantly described +by another and even more renowned Sir Walter in his splendid romance of +Kenilworth, that it shames us to attempt it with our far inferior pen; but +it is so characteristic of the man and of the times that it may not be +passed over in silence. + +Being sent once on a mission--so runs the tale--by his lord to the queen, +at Greenwich, he arrived just as she was issuing in state from the palace +to take her barge, which lay manned and ready at the stairs. Repulsed by +the gentlemen pensioners, and refused access to her majesty until after her +return from the excursion, the young esquire stood aloof, to observe the +passing of the pageant; and, seeing the queen pause and hesitate on the +brink of a pool of rain-water which intersected her path, no convenience +being at hand wherewith to bridge it, took off his crimson cloak, +handsomely laid down with gold lace, his only courtlike garment, fell on +one knee, and with doffed cap and downcast eyes threw it over the puddle, +so that the queen passed across dry shod, and swore by God's life, her +favorite oath, that there was chivalry and manhood still in England. + +Immediately thereafter, he was summoned to be a member of the royal +household, and was retained about the person of the queen, who condescended +to acts of much familiarity, jesting, capping verses, and playing at the +court games of the day with him, not a little, it is believed, to the +chagrin of the haughty and unworthy favorite, Dudley, Earl of Leicester. + +It does not appear, however, that, although she might coquet with Raleigh, +to gratify her own love of admiration, and to enjoy the charms of his rich +and fiery eloquence and versatile wit, though she might advance him in his +career of arms, and even stimulate his vaulting ambition to deeds of yet +wilder emprise, she ever esteemed Raleigh as he deserved to be esteemed, or +penetrated the depths of his imaginative and creative genius, much less +beloved him personally, as she did the vain and petty ambitious Leicester, +or the high-spirited, the valorous, the hapless Essex. + +Another anecdote is related of this period, which will serve in no small +degree to illustrate this trait of Elizabeth's strangely-mingled nature. +Watching with the ladies of her court, in the gardens of one of her royal +residences, as was her jealous and suspicious usage, the movements of her +young courtier, when he either believed, or affected to believe himself +unobserved, she saw him write a line on a pane of glass in a garden +pavilion with a diamond ring, which, on inspecting it subsequently to his +departure, she found to read in this wise:-- + + "Fain would I climb, but that I fear to fall--" + +the sentence, or the distich rather, being thus left unfinished, when, with +her royal hand, she added the second line--no slight encouragement to so +keen and fiery a temperament as that of him for whom she wrote, when given +him from such a source-- + + "If thy heart fail thee, do not climb at all." + +But his heart never failed him--not in the desperate strife with the +Invincible Armada--not when he discovered and won for the English crown the +wild shores of the tropical Guiana--not when he sailed the first far up the +mighty Orinoco--not when, in after days, he stormed Cadiz, outdoing even +the daring deeds of emulous and glorious--not when the favor of Elizabeth +was forfeited--not in the long years of irksome, solitary, heart-breaking +imprisonment, endured at the hands of that base, soulless despot, the first +James of England--not at his parting from his beloved and lovely wife--not +on the scaffold, where he died as he had lived, a dauntless, chivalrous, +high-minded English gentleman. + +The greatest error of his life was his pertinacious hostility to Essex, +originating in the jealousy of that brave, but rash and headstrong leader, +who disgraced and suspended him after the taking of Fayal, a circumstance +which he never forgave or forgot--an error which ultimately cost him his +own life, since it alienated from him the affections of the English people, +and rendered them pitiless to him in his own extremity. + +But his greatest crime, in the eyes of Elizabeth, the crime which lost him +her good graces for ever, and neutralized all his services on the flood and +in the field, rendering ineffective even the strange letter which he +addressed to his friend, Sir Robert Cecil, and which was doubtless shown to +the queen, although it failed to move her implacable and iron heart, was +his marriage, early in life, to the beautiful and charming Elizabeth +Throgmorton. The letter to which I have alluded is so curious that I cannot +refrain from quoting it entire, as a most singular illustration of the +habits of that age of chivalry, and of the character of that strange +compound, Elizabeth, who, to the "heart of a man, and that man a king of +England," to quote her own eloquent and noble diction, added the vanity and +conceit of the weakest and most frivolous of womankind, and who, at the age +of sixty years, chose to be addressed as a Diana and a Venus, a nymph, a +goddess, and an angel. + + "My heart," he wrote, "was never till this day, that I hear the queen + goes away so far off, whom I have followed so many years, with so great + love and desire, in so many journeys, and am now left behind here, in a + dark prison all alone. While she was yet near at hand, that I might + hear of her once in two or three days, my sorrows were the less; but + even now my heart is cast into the depth of all misery. I, that was + wont to behold her riding like Alexander, hunting like Diana, walking + like Venus, the gentle wind blowing her fair hair about her pure cheeks + like a nymph, sometimes sitting in the shade like a goddess, sometimes + singing like an angel, sometimes playing like Orpheus. Behold the + sorrow of this world! Once a miss has bereaved me of all. Oh! glory, + that only shineth in misfortune, what is become of thy assurance? All + wounds have scars but that of fantasy: all affections their relentings + but that of womankind. Who is the judge of friendship but adversity? or + when is grace witnessed but in offences? There was no divinity but by + reason of compassion; for revenges are brutish and mortal. All those + times past, the loves, the sighs, the sorrows, the desires, cannot they + weigh down one frail misfortune? Cannot one drop of gall be his in so + great heaps of sweetness? I may then conclude, '_spes et fortuna + valete;_' she is gone in whom I trusted, and of me hath not one thought + of mercy, nor any respect of that which was. Do with me now, therefore, + what you list. I am more weary of life than they are desirous that I + should perish; which, if it had been for her, as it is by her, I had + been too happily born." + +It is singular enough that such a letter should have been written, under +any circumstances, by a middle-aged courtier to an aged queen; but it +becomes far more remarkable and extraordinary when we know that the life of +Raleigh was not so much as threatened at the time when he wrote; and, so +far had either of the parties ever been from entertaining any such +affection the one for the other as could alone, according to modern ideas, +justify such fervor of language, that Elizabeth was at that time pining +with frustrated affection and vain remorse for the death of her beloved +Essex; a remorse which, in the end, broke a heart which had defied all +machinations of murdereous conspiracies, all menaces, all overtures of the +most powerful and martial princes to sway it from its stately and +impressive magnanimity; while Raleigh was possessed by the most perfect and +enduring affection to the almost perfect woman whom he held it his proudest +trophy to have wedded, and who justified his entire devotion by her love +unmoved through good or ill report, and proved to the utmost in the dungeon +and on the scaffold--the love of a pure, high-minded, trusting woman, +confident, and fearless, and faithful to the end. + +It does not appear that Raleigh suspected the true cause of Elizabeth's +alienation from so good and great a servant: perhaps no one man of the many +whom for the like cause she neglected, disgraced, persecuted, knew that the +cause existed in the fact of their having taken to themselves partners of +life and happiness--a solace which she sacrificed to the sterile honors of +an undivided crown--of their enjoying the bliss and perfect contentment of +a happy wedded life, while she, who would fain have enjoyed the like, could +she have done so without the loan of some portion of her independent and +undivided authority, was compelled, by her own jealousy of power and +obstinacy of will, to pine in lonely and unloved virginity. + +Yet such was doubtless the cause of his decline in the royal favor, which +he never, in after days, regained; for, after Essex was dead by her award +and deed, Elizabeth, in her furious and lion-like remorse, visited his +death upon the heads of all those who had been his enemies in life, or +counseled her against him, even when he was in arms against her crown; nor +forgave them any more than she forgave herself, who died literally +broken-hearted, the most lamentable and disastrous of women, if the +proudest and most fortunate queens, in the heyday of her fortunes, when she +had raised her England to that proud and pre-eminent station above rather +than among the states of Europe, from which she never declined, save for a +brief space under her successors, those weakest and wickedest of English +kings, the ominous and ill-starred Stuarts, and which she still maintains +in her hale and superb old age, savoring, after nearly nine centuries of +increasing might and scarcely interrupted rule, in no respect of +decrepitude or decay. + +Her greatest crime was the death of Mary Stuart; her greatest misfortune, +the death of Essex; her greatest shame, the disgrace of Walter Raleigh. But +with all her crimes, all her misfortunes, all her shame, she was a great +woman, and a glorious queen, and in both qualities peculiarly and +distinctively English. The stay and bulwark of her country's freedom and +religion, she lived and died possessed of that rarest and most divine gift +to princes, her people's unmixed love and veneration. + +She died in an ill day, and was succeeded by one in all respects her +opposite: a coward, a pedant, a knave, a tyrant, a mean, base, beastly +sensualist--a bad man, devoid even of a bad man's one redeeming virtue, +physical courage--a bad weak man with the heart of a worse and weaker +woman--a man with all the vices of the brute creation, without one of their +virtues. His instincts and impulses were all vile and low, crafty and +cruel; his principles, if his rules of action, which were all founded on +cheatery and subtle craft, can be called principles, were yet baser than +his instinctive impulses. + +He is the only man I know, recorded in history, who is solely odious, +contemptible, and bestial, without one redeeming trait, one feature of mind +or body that can preserve him from utter and absolute detestation and +damnation of all honorable and manly minds. + +He is the only king of whom, from his cradle to his grave, no one good +deed, no generous, or bold, or holy, or ambitious, much less patriotic or +aspiring, thought or action is related. + +His soul was akin to the mud, of which his body was framed--to the slime of +loathsome and beastly debauchery, in which he wallowed habitually with his +court and the ladies of his court, and his queen at their head, and could +no more have soared heavenward than the garbage-battened vulture could have +soared to the noble falcon's pitch and pride of place. + +This beast,[1] for I cannot bring myself to write him man or king, with the +usual hatred and jealousy of low foul minds towards everything noble and +superior, early conceived a hatred for the gallant and great Sir Walter +Raleigh, whose enterprise and adventure he had just intellect enough to +comprehend so far as to fear them, but of whose patriotism, chivalry, +innate nobility of soul, romantic daring, splendid imagination, and vast +literary conceptions--being utterly unconscious himself of such +emotions--he was no more capable of forming a conception, than is the +burrowing mole of appreciating the flight of the soaring eagle. + +So early as the second year of his reign, he contrived to have this great +discoverer and gallant soldier--to whom Virginia is indebted for the honor +of being the first English colony, Jamestown having been settled in 1606, +whereas the Puritans landed on the rock of Plymouth no earlier than 1620, +and to whom North Carolina has done honor creditable to herself in naming +her capital after him, the first English colonist--arraigned on a false +charge of conspiracy in the case of Arabella Stuart, a young lady as +virtuous and more unfortunate than sweet Jane Grey, whose treatment by +James would alone have been enough to stamp him with eternal infamy, and +for whose history we refer our readers to the fine novel by Mr. James on +this subject. + +At this time, Raleigh was unpopular in England, on account of his supposed +complicity in the death of Essex; and, on the strength of this +unpopularity, he was arraigned, on the single _written_ testimony of one +Cobham, a pardoned convict of the same conspiracy, which testimony he +afterwards retracted, and then again retracted the retractation, and +without one concurring circumstance, without being confronted with the +prisoner, after shameless persecution from Sir Edward Coke, the great +lawyer, then attorney-general, was found guilty by the jury, and sentenced, +contrary to all equity and justice, to the capital penalties of high +treason. + +From this year, 1604, until 1618, a period of nearly fourteen years, not +daring to put him at that time to death, he caused him to be confined +strictly in the Tower, a cruel punishment for so quick and active a spirit, +which he probably expected would speedily release him by a natural death +from one whom he regarded as a dangerous and resolute foe, whom he dared +neither openly to dispatch nor honorably to release from unmerited and +arbitrary confinement. + +But his cruel anticipations were signally frustrated by the noble +constancy, and calm, self-sustained intrepidity of the noble prisoner, who, +to borrow the words of his detractor, Hume, "being educated amid naval and +military enterprises, had surpassed, in the pursuits of literature, even +those of the most recluse and sedentary lives." + +Supported and consoled by his exemplary and excellent wife, he was enabled +to entertain the irksome days and nights of his solitary imprisonment by +the composition of a work, which, if deficient in the points which are now, +in the advanced state of human sciences, considered essential to a great +literary creation, is, as regarded under the circumstances of its +conception and execution, one of the greatest exploits of human ingenuity +and human industry--"The History of the World, by Sir Walter Raleigh." + +It was during his imprisonment also that he projected the colonization of +Jamestown, which was carried out in 1606, at his instigation, by the +Bristol Company, of which he was a member. This colony, though it was twice +deserted, was in the end successful, and in it was born the first child, +Virginia Dare by name, of that Anglo-Saxon race which has since conquered a +continent, and surpassed, in the nonage of its republican sway, the +maturity of mighty nations. + +In 1618, induced by the promises of Raleigh to put the English crown in +possession of a gold mine which he asserted, and probably believed he had +discovered in Guiana, James, whose avidity always conquered his +resentments, and who, like Faustus, would have sold his soul--had he had +one to sell--for gold, released him, and, granting him, as he asserted, an +unconditional pardon--but, as James and his counselors maintain, one +conditional on fresh discoveries, sent him out at the head of twelve armed +vessels. + +What follows is obscure; but it appears that Raleigh, failing to discover +the mines, attacked and plundered the little town of St. Thomas, which the +Spaniards had built on the territories of Guiana, which Raleigh had +acquired three-and-twenty years before for the English crown, and which +James, with his wonted pusillanimity, had allowed the Spaniards to occupy, +without so much as a remonstrance. + +This conduct of Raleigh must be admitted unjustifiable, as Spain and +England were then in a state of profound peace; and the plea that truce or +peace with Spain never crossed the line, though popular in England in those +days of Spanish aggression and Romish intolerance, cannot for a moment +stand the test either of reason or of law. + +Falling into suspicion with his comrades, Sir Walter was brought home in +irons, and delivered into the hands of the pitiless and rancorous king, who +resolved to destroy him--yet, dreading to awaken popular indignation by +delivering him up to Spain, caused to revive the ancient sentence, which +had never been set aside by a formal pardon, and cruelly and unjustly +executed him on that spot, so consecrated by the blood of noble patriots +and holy martyrs, the dark and gory scaffold of Tower Hill. + +And here, in conclusion, I can do no better than to quote from an anonymous +writer in a recent English magazine, the following brief tribute to his +high qualities, and sad doom, accompanied by his last exquisite letter to +his wife. + +"His mind was indeed of no common order. With him, the wonders of earth and +the dispensations of heaven were alike welcome; his discoveries at sea, his +adventures abroad, his attacks on the colonies of Spain, were all arenas of +glory to him--but he was infinitely happier by his own fireside, in +recalling the spirits of the great in the history of his country--nay, was +even more contented in the gloom of his ill-deserved prison, with the +volume of genius or the book of life before him, than in the most animating +successes of the battle-field. + +"The event which clouded his prosperity and destroyed his influence with +the queen--his marriage with Elizabeth Throgmorton--was the one upon which +he most prided himself; and justly, too--for, if ever woman was created the +companion, the solace of man--if ever wife was deemed the dearest thing of +earth to which earth clings, that woman was his wife. Not merely in the +smiles of the court did her smiles make a world of sunshine to her Raleigh; +not merely when the destruction of the Armada made her husband's name +glorious; not merely when his successes and his discoveries on the ocean +made his presence longed for at the palace, did she interweave her best +affections with the lord of her heart. It was in the hour of adversity she +became his dearest companion, his 'ministering angel;' and when the gloomy +walls of the accursed Tower held all her empire of love, how proudly she +owned her sovereignty! Not even before the feet of her haughty mistress, in +her prayerful entreaties for her dear Walter's life, did she so eminently +shine forth in all the majesty of feminine excellence as when she guided +his counsels in the dungeon, and nerved his mind to the trials of the +scaffold, where, in his manly fortitude, his noble self-reliance, the +people, who mingled their tears with his triumph, saw how much the patriot +was indebted to the woman. + +"Were there no other language but that of simple, honest affection, what a +world of poetry would remain to us in the universe of love! You may be +excited to sorrow for his fate by recalling the varied incidents of his +attractive life: you may mourn over the ruins of his chapel at his native +village: you may weep over the fatal result of his ill-starred patriotism: +you may glow over his successes in the field or on the wave: your lip may +curl with scorn at the miserable jealousy of Elizabeth: your eye may kindle +with wrath at the pitiful tyranny of James--but how will your sympathies be +so awakened as by reading his last, simple, touching letter to his wife. + + "'You receive, my dear wife, my last words, in these my last lines. My + love, I send you that you may keep it when I am dead; and my counsel, + that you may remember it when I am no more. I would not with my will + present you with sorrows, dear Bess--let them go to the grave with me + and be buried in the dust--and, seeing that it is not the will of God + that I should see you any more, bear my destruction patiently, and with + a heart like yourself. + + "'First--I send you all the thanks which my heart can conceive, or my + words express, for your many travels and cares for me, which, though + they have not taken effect as you wished, yet my debt to you is not the + less; but pay it I never shall in this world. + + "'Secondly--I beseech you, for the love you bear me living, that you do + not hide yourself many days, but by your travels seek to help my + miserable fortunes and the right of your poor child--your mourning + cannot avail me that am dust--for I am no more yours, nor you + mine--death hath cut us asunder, and God hath divided me from the + world, and you from me. + + "'I cannot write much. God knows how hardly I steal this time when all + sleep. Beg my dead body, which, when living, was denied you, and lay it + by our father and mother--I can say no more--time and death call me + away;--the everlasting God--the powerful, infinite, and inscrutable + God, who is goodness itself, the true light and life, keep you and + yours, and have mercy upon me, and forgive my persecutors and false + accusers, and send us to meet in his glorious kingdom. + + "My dear wife--farewell! Bless my boy--pray for me, and let the true + God hold you both in his arms. + + "'Yours, that was; but now, not mine own, + + "'WALTER RALEIGH.'" + +"Thus a few fond words convey more poetry to the heart than a whole world +of verse. + +"We know not any man's history more romantic in its commencement, or more +touching in its close, than that of Raleigh--from the first dawn of his +fortunes, when he threw his cloak before the foot of royalty, throughout +his brilliant rise and long imprisonment, to the hour when royalty rejoiced +in his merciless martyrdom. + +"Whether the recital of his eloquent speeches, the perusal of his vigorous +and original poetry, or the narration of his quaint, yet profound 'History +of the World,' engage our attention, all will equally impress us with +admiration of his talent, with wonder at his achievements, with sympathy in +his misfortunes, and with pity at his fall." + +When he was brought upon the scaffold, he felt the edge of the axe with +which he was to be beheaded, and observed, "'Tis a sharp remedy, but a sure +one for all ills," harangued the people calmly, eloquently, and +conclusively, in defence of his character, laid his head on the block with +indifference, and died as he had lived, undaunted, one of the greatest +benefactors of both England and America, judicially murdered by the pitiful +spite of the basest and worst of England's monarchs. James could slay his +body, but his fame shall live forever. + +[1] I would here caution my readers from placing the slightest confidence +in anything stated in Hume's History (_fable?_) of the Stuarts, and +especially of this, the worst of a bad breed. + + * * * * * + +HOPE ON, HOPE EVER. + +BY ROBERT G. ALLISON. + + If sorrow's clouds around thee lower, + E'en in affliction's gloomiest hour, + Hope on firmly, hope thou ever; + Let nothing thee from Hope dissever. + What though storms life's sky o'ercast + Time's sorrows will not always last, + This vale of tears will soon be past. + Hope darts a ray to light death's gloom, + And smooths the passage to the tomb; + + Hope is to weary mortals given, + To lead them to the joys of heaven + Then, when earth's scenes, however dear, + From thy dim sight shall disappear-- + When sinks the pulse, and fails the eye, + Then on Hope's pinions shall thy spirit fly + To fairer worlds above the sky. + Then hope thou on, and hope thou ever; + Let nothing thee from Hope dissever. + + * * * * * + +THE DRESSING ROOM. + +[Illustration] + +Full bodies not gathered in at the top, but left either quite loose, or so +as to form an open fluting, are becoming very fashionable; but they require +to be very carefully made, and to have a tight body under them, as +otherwise they look untidy--particularly as the age of stiff stays has +departed, we trust never to return, and the modern elegants wear stays with +very little whalebone in them, if they wear any at all. + +In our figures, the one holding the fan has the body of her dress, which is +of spotted net, fluted at the top; the skirt is made open at the side, and +fastened with a bouquet of roses. The petticoat, which is of pink satin, +has a large bow of ribbon with a rose in the centre, just below the rose +which fastens the dress. The sleeves are also trimmed with bunches of +roses; and the gloves are of a very delicate pale pink. + +The other dress is of white net or tarlatan, made with three skirts, and a +loose body and sleeves. The upper skirts are both looped up with flowers on +the side, and large bows of very pale-yellow ribbon. Ribbon of the same +color is worn in the hair, and the gloves are of a delicately tinted +yellowish white. + +[Illustration] + +The dress of the standing figure is of rich yellow brocaded silk, trimmed +with three flounces of white lace, carried up to the waist, so as to appear +like three over skirts, open in front. The body is trimmed with a double +berthe of Vandyked lace, which is also carried round the sleeves. The +gloves are rather long, and of a delicate cream-color. The hair is dressed +somewhat in the Grecian style so as to form a rouleau round the face--the +front hair being combed back over a narrow roll of brown silk stuffed with +wool, which is fastened round the head like a wreath. A golden bandeau is +placed above the rouleau. + +The sitting figure shows another mode of arranging the hair. The back hair +is curiously twisted, and mixed with narrow rolls of scarlet and white; and +the front hair is dressed in waved bandeaux, or it may be curled in what +the French call English ringlets. Plain smooth bandeaux have almost +entirely disappeared; but bandeaux, with the hair waved, or projecting from +the face, are common. + + * * * * * + +KNITTED FLOWERS. + +AMERICAN MARYGOLD. + +The prettiest are in _shaded orange_-colored wool (of four threads), which +must be split in two, as the Berlin wool. Begin with the darkest shade. + +Cast on eight stitches, work them in ribs, four in each row, knitting two +stitches; and purling two; both sides must be alike. Continue this till you +come to the beginning of the lightest shade; then begin to decrease one +stitch at the beginning of every row, till only one stitch remains in the +middle; fasten this off, break the wool, and begin the next petal with the +darkest shade. Eight petals will be required for each flower. Every petal +must be edged with wire; and, in order to do this neatly, you must cover a +piece of wire with wool--the middle of the wire with one thread only of +brown split wool--and the sides with a lighter shade, to correspond with +the color of the petal; sew this round with the same shades of wool. + +To make up the flower, it will be necessary to form a tuft of the same +shaded wool, _not_ split. This is done by cutting five or six bits of wool +about an inch long, and placing them across a bit of double wire; twist the +wire very tight, and cut the ends of the wool quite even; fasten the eight +petals round this, near the top, which can be done either by twisting the +wires together or by sewing them round with a rug needle. + +CALYX.--The calyx will require four needles. + +Cast on twelve stitches, four on each of three needles. Knit in plain +rounds till you have about half an inch in length; then knit two stitches +in one, break the wool some distance from the work, thread it with a rug +needle, and pass the wool behind the little scallop, so as to bring to the +next two stitches; work these and the remainder of the stitches in the same +manner. Cover a bit of wire with a thread of brown wool, sew it with wool +of the same color round the top of the calyx, following carefully the form +of the scallops; turn the ends of the wire inside the calyx, and place the +flower within it. Tie the calyx under the scallops with a bit of green +silk, gather the stitches of the lower part of the calyx with a rug needle +and a bit of wool, and cover the stem with split green wool. + +Another way of making this flower is by knitting the petals in brioche +stitch; but if done thus, nine stitches must be cast on the needle at +first, instead of eight, and the flower finished exactly as directed. + +BUDS.--The buds are made just in the same manner as the tuft which forms +the heart of the flower, only that they must be formed of lighter shades of +wool, mixed with a little pale-green wool. The wool must be tightly fixed +on the wire by twisting, and then cut very smooth and even. It must be +inserted in a small calyx, made as before. + +LEAVES.--Each leaf, or small branch, is composed of seven leaflets, of the +same size--one at the top, and three on each side; they must be placed in +pairs, at a distance of about an inch between each pair. + +_First leaflet._--Cast on one stitch in a bright, but rather deep shade of +yellowish-green wool. Knit and purl alternate rows, increasing one stitch +at the beginning of every row till you have seven stitches on the needle; +then knit and purl six rows without increase; decrease one stitch at the +beginning of the two following rows, and cast off the five remaining +stitches. Repeat the same for the six other leaflets. Each leaf must have a +fine wire sewn round it, and the stems covered with wool. + + * * * * * + +CHENILLE WORK + +[Illustration: No. 1.--The pattern, full size.] + +No. 1.--_A new style of Head-Dress. Worked in the second size crimson +chenille, with No. 4 gold thread._ + +Take a card-board of three inches deep and fifteen inches long, and fasten +to the edge of it eleven strands of chenille and gold thread placed +together; leave a space of one inch between each strand; the length of the +gold and chenille thread must be twenty-four inches. Take the first two +threads from the left-hand side, pass the two next under them; tie them in +a knot, the two outer over the two centre threads (chenille or gold thread, +as may be), and then pass them through the loop formed on the left, and so +on till the last row. The shape is an uneven triangle, nine inches from the +top corner to the centre, and seven inches from the middle of the front to +the centre. When finished, cut off the board, and sew round two sides of +the work a fringe of gold thread, which is to fall over the neck. + +[Illustration: No. 2.--A portion, full size, with fringe.] + +No. 2.--_Another style of Head-Dress. With white and pink second size +chenille._ + +This is made nearly in the same manner as No. 1, with chenille, one yard +long; but, after having made the first knot, pass a pearl bead on each +side, and then make the second knot--the measurement of the meshes to be +three-quarters of an inch. When the work is finished, the whole will be +twelve inches square. Pass round it an India-rubber cord, which will form +the fastening. The ends left from the work to be separately knotted +together with silver thread, to hang down, forming a very large and rich +tassel. + +[Illustration: No. 3.--A portion of the pattern, full size.] + +No. 3.--_Head-Dress of blue and silver. In chain crochet, silver cord No. +5, with second size of crochet chenille, light blue_. + +Eight chain stitches, the last of which is plain crochet, and so on +continued. In the two middle stitches of the chenille take up the silver, +and in the middle stitches of the silver take up the chenille, each going +in a slanting way, once over and once under each other, as the drawing (No. +3) will show. The chenille is worked one way, and the silver goes the other +way, contrary to regular crochet work. The whole is worked square, eighteen +inches in square; and, when finished, every loop is taken up with fine +India-rubber cord, to form the shape. Put round it a silver fringe one inch +and a half deep. + + * * * * * + +CHEMISETTES AND UNDERSLEEVES. + +[Illustration: Fig. 1.] + +[Illustration: Fig. 2.] + +All fashionable promenade and evening dresses being cut with an open +corsage and loose sleeves, the chemisettes and wristbands become of the +greatest importance. There is something very neat in the close coat dress, +buttoned up to the throat, and finished only by a cuff at the wrist; but it +is never so elegant, after all, as the style now so much in vogue. This +season, the V shape from the breast has given place to the square front, +introduced from the peasant costumes of France and Italy. It will be seen +in fig. 1, which is intended to be worn with that style of corsage, and +corresponds to it exactly. The chemisette is composed of alternate rows of +narrow plaits and insertion, and is edged with muslin embroidery to +correspond. It is decidedly the prettiest and neatest one of the season, +and will be found inexpensive. + +[Illustration: Fig. 3.] + +[Illustration: Fig. 4.] + +Fig. 2 has two bands of insertion, surrounded by embroidered muslin frills; +the small collar is also edged in the same way. This may be worn with the +ordinary V front, or with the square front boddice we have alluded to. + +Figs. 3 and 4 are some of the new fashionable undersleeves. It will be +noticed that they are very full, and edged with double frills. For further +description, see Chit-Chat in December number. + + * * * * * + +ON A CHILD ASLEEP. + +BY JOHN A. CHAPMAN. + + See, in that ray of light that child reposes, + Calmly as he a little angel were; + And now and then his eyes he half uncloses, + To see if his bright visions real are. + + But what his visions are God only knoweth, + For that sweet child forgets them day by day; + Like breeze of Eden, that so gently bloweth, + They leave no trace when they've passed away. + + 'Tis thus that innocent childhood ever sleepeth. + With half closed eyes and smiles around its mouth, + At sight of which man's sunken heart upleapeth, + Like chilléd flowers when fanned by the sweet south. + + Sleep on, sweet child, smile, as thou sleepest, brightly, + For thou art blest in this thy morning hour; + And, when thou wakest, thou shalt walk more lightly + Than crownéd king, or monarch throned in power. + + * * * * * + +EDITORS' TABLE. + +One perplexing question is settled, viz., that ninety-nine does not make a +hundred. Those transcendentally erudite men who contended that the +nineteenth century commenced on the 1st of January, 1800, have at last +learned to count correctly. So we may venture to affirm, with fear of +raising an argument, that this New-Year's Day, 1851, begins the last half +of this present century. + +Here, then, we stand on the dividing ridge of Time, the topmost pinnacle of +humanity; and, looking backward over the vast ocean of life, we can discern +amidst the rolling, heaving, struggling surges, which have engulfed so many +grand hopes, and towering aims, and strong endeavors during the world's +voyage of half a century, that important victories have been won, wonderful +things discovered, and great truths brought out of the turmoil in which +power, pride, and prejudice were contending fifty years ago. At the +beginning of the century, the stirring themes were deeds of war. Now, the +palm is won by works of peace. In 1801, the Old World was a battle-field, +the centre and moving power of destruction being placed in London. Now, +1851 finds "the whole world kin," as it were, busy in preparing for such an +Industrial Convention as was never held since time began: and this, too, +centres in London. What trophies of mind and might will be there exhibited! +Not victories won by force or fraud, with their advantages appropriated to +exalt a few individuals; but real advances made in those arts which give +the means of improvement to nations, and add to the knowledge, freedom, and +happiness of the people! + +We are not intending to enlarge on this theme, which will be better done by +abler pens. We only allude to it here, in order to draw the attention of +our readers to one curious fact, which those who are aiming to place women +in the workshop, to compete with men, should consider: namely, that none, +or very few specimens of female ingenuity or industry will be found in the +world's great show-shop. The female mind has as yet manifested very little +of the kind of genius termed mechanical, or inventive. Nor is it the lack +of learning which has caused this uniform lack of constructive talent. Many +ignorant men have studied out and made curious inventions of mechanical +skill; women never. We are constrained to say we do not believe woman would +ever have invented the compass, the printing-press, the steam-engine, or +even a loom. The difference between the mental power of the two sexes, as +it is distinctly traced in Holy Writ and human history, we have described +and illustrated in a work[1] soon to be published. We trust this will prove +of importance in settling the question of what woman's province really is, +and where her station should be in the onward march of civilization. It is +not mechanical, but moral power which is now needed. That woman was endowed +with moral goodness superior to that possessed by man is the doctrine of +the Bible; and this moral power she must be trained to use for the +promotion of goodness, and purity, and holiness in men. There is no need +that she should help him in his task of subduing the world. He has the +strong arm and the ingenious mind to understand and grapple with things of +earth; but he needs her aid in subduing himself, his own selfish passions, +and animal propensities. + +To sum up the matter, the special gifts of God to men are mechanical +ingenuity and physical strength. To women He has given moral insight or +instinct, and the patience that endures physical suffering. Both sexes +equally need enlightenment of mind or reason by education, in order to make +their peculiar gifts of the greatest advantage to themselves, to each +other, to the happiness and improvement of society, and to the glory of +God. + +Such are the principles which we have been striving to disseminate for the +last twenty years; and we rejoice, on this jubilee day of the century, that +our work has been crowned with good success, and that the prospect before +us is bright and cheering. The wise king of Israel asserted the power and +predicted the future of woman in these remarkable words, "Strength and +honor are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come." And so it +will be. But the elevation of the sex will not consist in becoming like +man, in doing man's work, or striving for the dominion of the world. The +true woman cannot work with materials of earth, build up cities, mould +marble forms, or discover new mechanical inventions to aid physical +improvement. She has a higher and holier vocation. She works in the +elements of human nature; her orders of architecture are formed in the +soul. Obedience, temperance, truth, love, piety, these she must build up in +the character of her children. Often, too, she is called to repair the +ravages and beautify the waste places which sin, care, and the desolating +storms of life leave in the mind and heart of the husband she reverences +and obeys. This task she should perform faithfully, but with humility, +remembering that it was for woman's sake Eden was forfeited, because Adam +loved his wife more than his Creator, and that man's nature has to contend +with a degree of depravity, or temptation to sin, which the female, by the +grace of God, has never experienced. Yes, the wife is dependent on her +husband for the position she holds in society; she must rely on him for +protection and support; she should look up to him with reverence as her +earthly guardian, the "saviour of the body," as St. Paul says, and be +obedient. Does any wife say her husband is not worthy of this honor? Then +render it to the office with which God has invested him as head of the +family; but use your privilege of motherhood so to train your son that he +may be worthy of this reverence and obedience from his wife. Thus through +your sufferings the world may be made better; every faithful performance of +private duty adds to the stock of public virtues. + +We trust, before the sands of this century are run out, that these Bible +truths will be the rule of faith and of conduct with every American wife +and mother, and that the moral influence of American women will be felt and +blessed as the saving power not only of our nation, but of the world. Our +hopes are high, not only because we believe our principles are true, but +because we expect to be sustained and helped by all who are true and +right-minded. And this recalls to our thoughts the constant and cheering +kindness which has been extended to our periodical during the long period +it has been attaining its present wide popularity. We must thank these +friends. + +[1] "Woman's Record; or Biographical Sketches of all Distinguished Women, +from the Creation to the Present Time. Arranged in Four Eras. With +Selections from the Female Writers of each Era." The work is now in the +press of the Harpers, New York. + + * * * * + +TO THE CONDUCTORS OF THE PUBLIC PRESS. + +Our Friends Editorial, who, for the last twenty years, have manifested +uniform kindness, and always been ready with their generous support, to +you, on this jubilee day, we tender our grateful acknowledgments. We have +never sought your assistance to us as individuals. Your office should have +a higher aim, a worthier estimation. You are guardians of the public +welfare, improvement, and progress. Not to favor the success of private +speculation, but to promote the dissemination of truths and principles +which shall benefit the whole community, makes your glory. We thank you +that such has been your course hitherto in regard to the "Lady's Book." The +public confidence, which your judicious notices of our work have greatly +tended to strengthen, is with us. The chivalry of the American press will +ever sustain a periodical devoted to woman; and the warm, earnest, +intelligent manner in which you have done this deserves our praise. Like +noble and true knights, you have upheld our cause, and we thank you in the +name of the thousands of fair and gentle readers of our "Book," to whom we +frankly acknowledge that your steady approval has incited our efforts to +excel. We invoke your powerful aid to sustain us through the coming years, +while we will endeavor to merit your commendations. None know so well as +you, our editorial friends, what ceaseless exertions are required to keep +the high position we have won. But the new year finds us prepared for a new +trial with all literary competitors; and, with the inspiring voice of the +public press to cheer us on, we are sure of winning the goal. In the +anticipation of this happy result, we wish to all our kind friends--what we +enjoy--health, hope, and a HAPPY NEW YEAR. + + * * * * + +To CORRESPONDENTS.--The following articles are accepted: "A Dream of the +Past," "Sonnet--The God of Day," &c., "My Childhood's Home," "Town and +Country Contrasted," "The Artist's Dream," "The Tiny Glove," "The Sisters," +and "The Lord's Prayer." + +Ellen Moinna's story came too late for the purpose designed. We do not need +it. + + * * * * + +MANUSCRIPT MUSIC ACCEPTED: "All Around and All Above Thee;" "Oh, Sing that +Song again To-Night!" (excellent); "Hope on, Hope Ever;" "The Musing Hour;" +"La Gita in Gondola;" "To Mary," by Professor Kehr. + +Our friends who send us music must wait patiently for its appearance, _if +accepted_. Months must sometimes elapse, as our large edition renders it +necessary to print it in advance. Those who wish special answers from our +musical editor will please mention the fact in their communications. + + * * * * * + +EDITORS' BOOK TABLE. + +From GEORGE S. APPLETON, corner of Chestnut and Seventh Street, +Philadelphia:-- + +THE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN MILTON. Edited by Sir Egerton Brydges, Bart. +Illustrated with engravings, designed by John Martin and J.W.M. Turner, +R.A. We noticed an edition of "Paradise Lost" in our November number. Here, +however, we have a complete edition of the modern Homer's works, including +"Paradise Regained," and all his minor poems, sonnets, &c. These editions +are pleasing testimonials of the renewed interest which the public are +beginning to manifest for the writings of standard English authors, in +preference to the light and ephemeral productions of those of the present +day, who have too long held the classical taste and refinement in obedience +to their influences. The illustrations of this edition are very beautiful. + +THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS; _containing his Poems, Songs, and +Correspondence, with a New Life of the Poet, and Notices, Critical and +Biographical_. By Allen Cunningham. This edition of the works of the great +Scottish poet cannot fail to attract the attention of all who admire the +genius and independence of his mind, and of all who wish a full and correct +copy of his productions, compiled under the supervision of a man who was +himself an excellent poet, and capable of fairly distinguishing the +beauties and powers of a poetical mind. + +EVERYBODY'S ALMANAC AND DIARY FOR 1851; _containing a List of Government +Officers. Commerce and Resources of the Union, Exports of Cotton, and +General Information for the Merchant, Tradesman, and Mechanic, together +with a Complete Memorandum for every day in the year_. A neat and valuable +work. + +We have received from the same publisher the following works, compiled for +the special benefit of little children and of juvenile learners and +readers, all of which are appropriately illustrated:-- + +LITTLE ANNE'S ABC BOOK. LITTLE ANNE'S SPELLER. MOTHER GOOSE. By Dame +Goslin. THE ROSE-BUD. _A Juvenile Keepsake._ By Susan W. Jewett. GREAT +PANORAMA OF PHILADELPHIA. By Van Daube. With twenty-three illustrations. + + * * * * + +From HENRY C. BAIRD (successor to E.L. Carey); Philadelphia:-- + +THE POETICAL WORKS OF THOMAS GRAY. With illustrations by C.W. Radclyffe. +Edited, with a memoir, by Henry Reed, Professor of English Literature in +the University of Pennsylvania. Great pains have evidently been taken by +the editor and the publisher to render this not only the most complete and +accurate edition of the works of Gray that has ever been presented to the +American public, but also one of the most superbly embellished and +beautifully printed volumes of the season, which has called forth so many +works intended for presentation. + +THE BUILDER'S POCKET COMPANION. This volume contains the elements of +building, surveying, and architecture, with practical rules and +instructions connected with the subjects, by A.C. Smeaton, Civil Engineer, +&c. The inexperienced builder, whether engaged practically, or in the +investment of capital in building improvements, will find this to be a very +valuable assistant. + +THE CABINET-MAKER'S AND UPHOLSTERER'S COMPANION. This work contains much +valuable information on the subjects of which it treats, and also a number +of useful receipts and explanations of great use to the workmen in those +branches. The author, L. Stokes, has evidently taken great pains in the +arrangement and compilation of his work. + +HOUSEHOLD SURGERY; _or, Hints on Emergencies_. By John F. South, one of the +Surgeons to St. Thomas's Hospital. The first American, from the second +London edition. A highly valuable book for the family, which does not +pretend, however, to supersede the advice and experience of a physician, +but merely to have in preparation, and to recommend such remedies as may be +necessary until such advice can be obtained. There are many illustrations +in the work which will greatly facilitate its practical usefulness. + + * * * * + +From LEA & BLANCHARD, Philadelphia:-- + +THE RACES OF MEN. _A Fragment._ By Robert Knox, M.D., Lecturer on Anatomy, +and Corresponding Member of the National Academy of Science in France. The +character and tendency of this "fragment," or "outlines of lectures," to +use the author's own terms, are such as cannot be suddenly determined upon +or understood. This will appear the more evident to the reader from the +assurance which he also gives, that his work runs counter to nearly all the +chronicles of events called histories; that it shocks the theories of +statesmen, theologians, and philanthropists of all shades. He maintains +that the human character, individual and national, is traceable solely to +the nature of that race to which the individual or nation belongs, which he +affirms to be simply a fact, the most remarkable, the most comprehensive +which philosophy has announced. + + * * * * + +From T. B. PETERSON, 98 Chestnut Street. Philadelphia:-- + +HORACE TEMPLETON. By Charles Lever. The publisher of this work deserves the +thanks of the reading public for presenting it with a cheap edition of so +interesting a publication. It has already passed the ordeal of the press, +and has been received, both in Europe and in America, as one of the most +entertaining productions that has appeared for many years, not excepting +"Charles O'Malley," and the other mirth-inspiring volumesof the inimitable +Lever. + +THE VALLEY FARM; _or, the Autobiography of an Orphan_. Edited by Charles J. +Peterson, author of "Cruising in the Last War," &c. A work sound in morals +and abounding in natural incident. + +RESEARCHES ON THE MOTION OF THE JUICES IN THE ANIMAL BODY, AND THE EFFECTS +OF EVAPORATIONS IN PLANTS; _together with an Account of the Origin of the +Potatoe Disease, with full and Ingenious Directions for the Protection and +Entire Prevention of the Potatoe Plant against all Diseases_. By Justus +Liebig, M.D., Professor of Chemistry in the University of Giessen; and +edited from the manuscript of the author, by William Gregory, M.D., of the +University of Edinburgh. A valuable treatise, as its title sufficiently +indicates. + + * * * * + +From PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & Co., Boston, through T.B. PETERSON, +Philadelphia:-- + +A PEEP AT THE PILGRIMS IN SIXTEEN HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIX. _A Tale of Olden +Times._ By Mrs. H.V. Cheney. Those who feel an interest in the records and +monuments of the past, and who desire to study the characteristics of the +Pilgrim Fathers, and Pilgrim Mothers and Daughters, will not fail to avail +themselves of the graphic delineations presented to them in this +entertaining volume. + +SHAKSPEARE'S DRAMATIC WORKS. No. 25. Containing "Troilus and Cressida," +with a very fine engraving. + + * * * * + +From JOHN S. TAYLOR, New York, through T.B. PETERSON, Philadelphia:-- + +LETTERS FROM THE BACKWOODS AND THE ADIRONDAC. By the Rev. J.T. Headley. +Also, + +THE POWER OF BEAUTY. By the same author. Illustrated editions. + + * * * * + +From LINDSAY & BLAKISTON, Philadelphia:-- + +MOSAIQUE FRANCAISE: _ou Choix De Sujets Anecdotiques, Historiques, +Littéraires et Scientifiques, tirés pour La Plupart D'Auteurs Modernes_. +Par F. Séron, Homme de lettres, l'un des rédacteurs du Journal Française; +Les Monde des enfans, Revue Encyclopédique de la jeunesse de 1844 à 1848, +etc.; Professeur de Langue et de Littérature Française à Philadelphie. + +This work appears to have been compiled with great care, from works by the +best French authors. Every subject has been carefully excluded that could +in any manner wound or bias the preconceived opinions of the American +reader in relation to religious or political freedom. + + * * * * + +From HARPER & BROTHERS, New York, through LINDSAY & BLAKISTON, +Philadelphia:-- + +MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF THOMAS CHALMERS, D.D., LL.D. By his +son-in-law, the Rev. Wm. Hanna, LL.D. The appearance of the second volume +of these memoirs will be hailed with pleasure by the admirers of Dr. +Chalmers, whose reputation as a Christian minister, and as a writer of +extraordinary beauty and power, has long preceded these volumes. + +GENEVIEVE; _or, the History of a Servant Girl_. Translated from the French +of Alphonse de Lamartine. By A.A. Seoble. + +ADDITIONAL MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE. By A. De Lamartine. + +THE PICTORIAL FIELD BOOK OF THE REVOLUTION. No. 8. This excellent and +patriotic work fully sustains the spirit and interest that marked its +commencement. + + * * * * + +From the PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, New York, through A. +HART, Philadelphia:-- + +THE OLD MAN'S HOME. By the Rev. William Adams, M.A., author of the "Shadow +of the Cross," &c. With engravings, from designs by Weir. Sixth American +edition. An affecting tale, written in a familiar style, and peculiarly +calculated to impress upon the youthful mind the importance of those moral +and religious truths which it is the aim of the author to inculcate. + + * * * * + +From GOULD, KENDALL & LINCOLN, Boston, through DANIELS & SMITH, +Philadelphia:-- + +THE PRE-ADAMITE EARTH: _Contributions to Theological Science_. By John +Harris, D.D., author of "The Great Teacher," &c. The present volume is the +"third thousand," which we presume to mean the "third edition," revised and +corrected, of this work, which may be considered a successful effort to +reconcile the dogmas of theology with the progress of philosophy and +science. The style of the author is argumentative and eloquent, evincing +great knowledge and zeal in the development of the interesting subjects +connected with his treatise. + +RELIGIOUS PROGRESS: _Discourses on the Development of the Christian +Character_. By William R. Williams. Comprising five lectures originally +prepared for the pulpit, and delivered by their author to the people under +his charge. These lectures are chaste and graceful in style, and sound and +vigorous in argument. + + * * * * + +From TICKNOR, REED & FIELDS, Boston. + +BIOGRAPHICAL ESSAYS. By Thomas De Quincey, author of "Confessions of an +English Opium Eater," etc. This is the second volume of Mr. De Quincey's +writings, now in course of publication. It contains biographical sketches +of Shakspeare, Pope, Charles Lamb, Goethe, and Schiller, accompanied by +numerous notes, which, with the author's acknowledged taste, will give a +new interest to these almost familiar subjects. + +ASTRÆA. _The Balance of Illusions._ A poem delivered before the Phi Beta +Kappa Society of Yale College, August 14, 1850, by Oliver Wendell Holmes. +This poem contains many beautiful gems, interspersed with some satirical +descriptions of men and manners, which prove Mr. Holmes to be a caustic as +well as an amusing writer. + + * * * * + +NEW MUSIC. + +We have received from Mr. Oliver Diston, No. 115 Washington Street, Boston, +a collection of beautiful music, got up in his usual taste. + +_The Prima Donna Polka._ By Edward L. White. + +_The German Schottisch._ By T.S. Lloyd. And + +_The Starlight Polka._ Three excellent polkas, with music enough in them to +draw the proper steps from every heel and toe in the land. + +_Oh, Come to the Ingleside!_ A sweet ballad by Eliza Cook, the music by +W.H. Aldridge. + +_A Mother's Prayer._. By J.E. Gould. + +_The Araby Maid._ By J.T. Surenne. + +_Old Ironsides at Anchor lay._ One of Dodge's favorite songs, the words by +Morris, the music by B. Covert. + +_A Little Word._ By Niciola Olivieri (!). + +_The Parting Look._ Words by Henry Sinclair, music by Alex. Wilson. +Embellished by a fine lithograph. + +_The Dying Boy._ Another of Dodge's favorite songs. The words are by Mrs. +Larned, and the music by Lyman Heath. This song has also a fine engraving. + +Mr. Diston has also commenced the publication of Beethoven's Sonatas for +the piano forte, from the newly revised edition, published by subscription +in Germany. + + * * * * + +MESSRS. LEE & WALKER, No. 162 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, are now +publishing "_Lindiana_," a choice selection of Jenny Lind's songs, with +brilliant variations by the untiring Chas. Grobe. The first is the "Dream." +In the hands of Professor Grobe, we cannot doubt the entire success of the +enterprise. The series is dedicated to "our musical editor," who fully +appreciates the compliment and returns his sincere thanks. + + * * * * + +Our old friend Mr. James Conenhoven, associated with Mr. Duffy, has opened +a new music store at No. 120 Walnut Street, Philadelphia. From Mr. C.'s +known taste and knowledge of the business, we anticipate his entire +success, and cheerfully recommend our friends to make his early +acquaintance in his new career. They have sent us the _Silver Bell Waltz_, +by Mr. Conenhoven himself, and _Solitude_, a beautiful song by Kirk White, +the music by John Daniel. Both are very handsomely got up, and are valuable +accessions to a musical portfolio. + + * * * * + +OUR TITLE-PAGE.--Those who are fond of Fashions other than colored will be +gratified with our title-page, which contains at least fifty figures. + + * * * * + +PRINTING IN COLORS.--We give another specimen in this number, of printing +in colors from a STEEL plate. We believe that we have the only artisans in +this country that can do this kind of fancy work. The present specimen, +which we are willing to contrast with any other plate in any magazine for +this month, is entirely of American manufacture. + + * * * * + +We will send a copy of the November and December numbers of the Lady's +Book, containing the Lord's Prayer and the Creed, gratis, to any religious +publication with which we do not exchange, if it will signify a wish to +have them. + + * * * * + +NEW-YEAR'S DAY IN FRANCE.--All who have visited this gay country at the +season of the holidays, will be struck with the graphic power displayed by +our artist in the plate that graces the present number. + + * * * * + +ORIGINAL DESIGNS.--The four principal plates in this number, viz., The +Constant, The Four Eras of Life, The Four Seasons, and The Double Fashion +Plate, as well as several of the wood engravings, are from original +designs. This originality has never before been attempted in any magazine +of any country. We do not remember an instance of the kind in any of the +English annuals. It is our intention to be ever progressive. Our original +designs last year were numerous: among them the never-to-be-forgotten +Lord's Prayer and Creed. "The Coquette," the match plate to "The Constant," +will appear in the March number. It will be seen by this number that we are +able to transcend anything we have yet presented. Our Book, this year, +shall be one continuous triumph. As we have only ourselves for a rival, our +effort will be to excel even the well-known versatility and beauty which +our Book has always exhibited. + + * * * * + +PROFESSOR BLUMENTHAL.--We omitted to include among our list of contributors +this gentleman's name. It was an oversight; but the professor shows, by his +article in this number, that he has not forgotten us. + + * * * * + +ARTHUR'S STORY.--With but one exception, Mr. Arthur writes for his own +paper alone. The story in this number will amply repay a careful perusal. +It will be completed in the March number. + + * * * * + +T. S. ARTHUR'S HOME GAZETTE.--In our acquaintance with newspaperdom, as +Willis would say, which extends over a period of twenty-two years, the +history of this paper is the most singular of any in our recollection. +Ample capital was provided to meet any exigency that might arise; but, +strange to say, not a penny of it has been used. But we were too hasty; +for, when we consider who is its editor, it must be confessed it is _not_ +strange. The paper has paid for itself from the start. Perhaps another +instance of the kind lives not in the memory of that well-known person, +"the oldest inhabitant." Mr. Arthur now counts his subscribers by +thousands, nearly by tens of thousands. The rush for it has been +unexampled--so much so as to make it necessary to reprint early numbers, +and even to telegraph for extra supplies of paper, so rapidly has it been +exhausted. Mr. Arthur has struck a vein that will render a voyage to +California entirely useless to him. His advertisement will be found in this +number. + + * * * * + +We will mention one fact, and our subscribers will see the remon of it. We +give no preference as regards the first impressions from the plates. If a +plate wears in the printing, we have it retouched, so that all may have +impressions alike. With our immense edition, the greatest ever known, this +we find sometimes necessary. + + * * * * + +On reference to our advertisement in this number, it will be seen what is +in store for the subscribers to Godey. When we announce the fact that the +plates are engraved in the same style as those they have seen, "The Lord's +Prayer," "The Evening Star," "The Creed," "We Praise Thee, O God," and +those contained in the present number, they will conclude that a rich treat +is to be obtained for the trifling outlay of $3. Would it not be a +convenient method, where it is difficult to obtain a club of five +subscribers, to remit us $10 for a club of five years? Any person remitting +$10 in advance, will be entitled to the Lady's Book five years. We cannot +forbear inserting the following notices:-- + +"The Lady's Book is the best, most sociable, and decidedly the richest +magazine for truth, virtue, and literary worth now published in this +country."--_Indiana Gazette._ + +"In matter of sentiment, and light literature, and elegant embellishments +of useful and ornamental art, Godey's Lady's Book takes the lead of all +works of its class. We have seen nothing in it offensive to the most +fastidious taste."--_Church Quarterly Review and Ecclesiastical Reporter_. + +"We find it difficult, without resorting to what would be thought downright +hyperbole, to express adequately the admiration excited by the appearance +of this last miracle of literary and artistic achievement."--_Maine Gospel +Banner_. + +The above are unsolicited opinions from grave authorities. + + * * * * + +NEW MATTER FOR THE WORK TABLE.--The ladies will perceive that they have +been well cared for in this number. We again give, for their benefit, two +new styles of work, "The Chenille Work," and "Knitted Flowers". + +THE HAIR WORK will be continued in our next number. + + * * * * * + +BLITZ HAS ARRIVED.--What joy this will carry into the minds of the young! +Blitz, the conjurer, the kind-hearted Blitz, who dispenses his sugar things +amongst his young friends with such a smile--and they are real sugar +things, too; they don't slip through your fingers, except in the direction +of your mouth, like many of the things he gives the young folks to hold--is +at his old quarters, the Lecture-room at the Museum. + + * * * * + +A.B. WARDEN, at his jewelry and silver ware establishment, S.E. corner of +Fifth and Chestnut streets, has an immense variety of beautiful and +valuable presents for the season. He is the sole agent for a new style of +watch lately introduced into this country, approved by the Chronometer +Board at the Admiralty, in London, which is warranted. Orders by mail, +including a description of the desired article, will be attended to. + + * * * * + +The Weber Minstrels is the title assumed by some gentlemen of this city, +who intend to give concerts here and elsewhere. We commend them to our +friends of the press in the various places they may visit. We can speak +confidently of their singing; and we arc sure that, wherever they go, their +manners as gentlemen and their talent as singers will commend them to +public favor. + + * * * * + +FROM OUR MUSICAL EDITOR. + +BERKSHIRE HOTEL, _Pittsfield, Mass._, _Sept. 22, 1850._ + +MY DEAR GODEY.--You know I do not often _brag_ of _Hotels_, and it is +perhaps out of the line of the "Book." But, in this particular instance, I +know you will excuse me, when I write of a spot in which you would delight. +I wish, in the first place, to introduce you to MR. W.B. COOLEY, the +perfect pink of landlords, wearing a polka cravat and a buff vest, +externally; but he has a heart in his bosom as big as one of the Berkshire +cattle. If you ever come here--and by _you_, I mean the 100,000 subscribers +to the Lady's Book, don't go anywhere else, for _here_ you will find a +home--a regular New England _home_. His table is magnificent--his beds and +rooms all that any one could ask; and his friendly nature will make you +perfectly _at home_. Indeed, it is the only hotel I have been at, on my +protracted tour, where I have felt perfectly _at home_. + +How I wish you, and your wife and daughters, and lots of our mutual +friends, were here with me. We would have glorious times--music, dancing, +singing, sight-seeing, conversation, &c. &c. I cannot write much; but I +wish you to understand that this is the _ne plus ultra_ of hotels. Don't +fail to patronize it. Lebanon Springs and the Shaker settlement are within +a short ride. + + Yours ever, + J.C. + + * * * * + +VARIOUS USEFUL RECEIPTS, &c., OF OUR OWN GATHERING. + +Rice for curry should never be immersed in water, except that which has +been used for cleaning the grain previous to use. It should be placed in a +sieve and heated by the steam arising from boiling water; the sieve so +placed in the saucepan as to be two or three inches above the fluid. In +stirring the rice a light hand should be used, or you are apt to amalgamate +the grains; the criterion of well-dressed rice being to have the grains +separate. + + * * * * + +ARROW-ROOT FOR INVALIDS.--The practice of boiling arrow-root in milk is at +once wasteful and unsatisfactory; the best mode of preparing enough for an +invalid's supper is as follows: Put a dessertspoonful of powder, two lumps +of sugar, into a chocolate cup, with a few drops of Malaga, or any other +sweet wine; mix these well together, and add, in small quantities, more +wine, until a smooth thick paste is formed. Pour boiling water, by slow +degrees, stirring all the while, close to the fire, until the mixture +becomes perfectly transparent. + + * * * * + +CUSTARD OR SPONGE-CAKE PUDDING, WITH FRUIT SAUCE.--Break separately and +clear in the usual way[1] four large or five small fresh eggs, whisk them +until they are light, then throw in a very small pinch of salt, and two +tablespoonfuls of pounded sugar; then whisk them anew until it is +dissolved: add to them a pint of new milk and a slight flavoring of lemon, +orange-flower water, or aught else that may be preferred. Pour the mixture +into a plain well buttered mould or basin, and tie securely over it a +buttered paper and a small square of cloth or muslin rather thickly +floured. Set it into a saucepan or stewpan containing about two inches in +depth of boiling water, and boil the pudding very gently for half an hour +and five minutes at the utmost. It must be taken out directly it is done, +but should remain several minutes before it is dished, and will retain its +heat sufficiently if not turned out for ten minutes or more. Great care +must always be taken to prevent either the writing paper or the cloth tied +over the pudding from touching the water when it is steamed in the manner +directed above, a method which is preferable to boiling, if the preceding +directions be attended to, particularly for puddings of this class. The +corners of the cloth or muslin should be gathered up and fastened over the +pudding; but neither a large nor a heavy cloth should be used for the +purpose at any time. Three or four sponge biscuits may be broken into the +basin before the custard is put in; it must then stand for twenty minutes +or half an hour, to soak them, previously to being placed in a saucepan. +The same ingredients will make an excellent pudding, _if very slowly baked_ +for about three quarters of an hour. Four eggs will then be quite +sufficient for it. + +[1] That is to say, remove the specks with the point of a fork from each +egg while it is in the cup; but if this cannot be adroitly done, so as to +clear them off perfectly, whisk up the eggs until they are as liquid as +they will become, and then pass them through a hair sieve: after this is +done, whisk them afresh, and add the sugar to them. + + * * * * + +By particular request we again publish the following receipt:-- + +NEW RECEIPT FOR A WASHING MIXTURE. + +BY MISS LESLIE. + +Take two pounds of the best brown soap; cut it up and put it in a clean +pot, adding one quart of clean soft water. Set it over the fire and melt it +thoroughly, occasionally stirring it up from the bottom. Then take it off +the fire, and stir in one tablespoonful of _real_ white wine vinegar; two +large tablespoonfuls of hartshorn spirits; and seven large tablespoonfuls +of spirits of turpentine. Having stirred the ingredients well together, put +up the mixture _immediately_ into a stone jar, and cover it immediately, +lest the hartshorn should evaporate. Keep it always carefully closely +covered. When going to wash, nearly fill a six or eight gallon tub with +soft water, as hot as you can bear your hand in it, and stir in two large +tablespoonfuls of the above mixture. Put in as many white clothes as the +water will cover. Let them soak about an hour, moving them about in the +water occasionally. It will only be necessary to rub with your hands such +parts as are very dirty; for instance, the inside of shirt collars and +wristbands, &c. The common dirt will soak out by means of the mixture. +Wring the clothes out of the suds, and rinse them well through _two_ cold +waters. + +Next put into a wash kettle sufficient water to boil the clothes (it must +be cold at first), and add to it two more tablespoonfuls of the mixture. +Put in the clothes after the mixture is well stirred into the water, and +boil them _half an hour_ at the utmost, not more. Then take them out and +throw them into a tub of cold water. Rinse them well through this; and +lastly, put them into a second tub of rinsing water, slightly blued with +the indigo bag. + +Be very careful to rinse them in _two_ cold waters out of the first suds, +and after the boiling; then wring them and hang them out. + +This way of washing with the soap mixture saves much labor in rubbing; +expedites the business, and renders the clothes very white, without +injuring them in the least. Try it. + + * * * * + +DESCRIPTION OF STEEL FASHION PLATE. + +We challenge comparison in the design and execution, to say nothing of the +accuracy, of our fashion plate. The first is as pretty a home scene as one +could wish, and the costumes are brought in naturally. For instance, the +promenade dress of the visitor, _Fig. 1st_. A plain stone-colored merino, +with green turc satin, a coat or martle made to fit close to the figure, +with sleeves demi-width. The trimming is not a simple quilting, like that +worn the past season, as it would at first appear, but an entirely new +style of silk braid put on in basket-work. Drawn bonnet of apple-green +satin, lined with pink, and, with a small muff, the dress is complete. + +_Fig. 2d_ is a morning-dress, that would be very pretty to copy for a +bridal wardrobe. In the engraving, it is represented of pink silk, with an +open corsage, and sleeves demi-long. The chemisette is of lace, to match +that upon the skirt, and is fastened at the throat by a simple knot of pink +ribbon. The trimming of the dress is quilled ribbon, and the cap has a band +and knot of the same color. + +_Fig. 3d_ is a mourning costume of silk, with four rows of heavily-knotted +fringe upon the skirt, and the sleeves trimmed to correspond. The figures +of the children are simple and easily understood. The pelisse of the little +girl has an edge to correspond with the muff. + +In the second and out-door scene, the artist has very happily given us a +glimpse of sleigh-riding in the city. The pedestrians are tastefully +dressed, the first figure having one of the most graceful cloaks of the +season; it is of stone-colored Thibet cloth, and is trimmed with a fold of +the same corded with satin. The sleeves are peculiar, and deserve +particular attention. The bonnet is of uncut velvet, with satin bands. + +The dress of the second figure will be found very comfortable. It is of +thick Mantua silk; trimmed heavily down the entire front breadth. The +sacque, of the same, is lined with quilted white satin, as are the loose +open sleeves. The sleeves of the dress open in a point at the wrist, to +display the undersleeves. The bonnet is a pink casing, with bouquet of +roses. + + * * * * + +CHIT-CHAT UPON PHILADELPHIA FASHIONS FOR JANUARY. + +EVENING DRESS.--Of all the uncomfortable sensations one can experience in +society, that of being over or _under_-dressed is the most uncomfortable. +It fetters your movements, it distracts your thoughts, and makes +conversation next to impossible, unless you have an extraordinary degree of +moral courage. We can speak from experience, and so can any of our lady +readers, we venture to say. + +"Come early; there won't be more than half a dozen people," says your +friend, as she flies out of your room at the hotel, after having given you +notice that a few of her intimates are to meet you that evening at her +house. Take her at her word, of course. Go at half past seven, and ten to +one the gas will not be turned on, and your hostess is still at her toilet. +Presently, in she sails, making a thousand apologies at having been +detained, and is so glad that you have kept your promise and come early. +You look at her elaborate toilet, and think your old friend has become +extravagantly fond of dress if this is her reception of half a dozen +people. An hour, almost an hour by the marble time-piece, drags on. Not a +visitor appears. At length, you are refreshed by a faint tinkle of the door +bell. A lady shortly enters, saying, "Don't think me a Goth for coming so +early." After she is introduced to you, a stolen glance at the clock. +Early! It is half-past eight. What time do they intend to come? But now +they arrive faster and faster, and each more elaborately dressed than the +last, it seems to your startled eyes. A triple lace skirt glides in. You +look at your dark green cashmere in dismay. Low neck and short sleeves! +Yours is up to the throat. But you mentally thank your mantua-maker for +inserting undersleeves; they are quite consoling. Dozens of white kid +gloves! You have not even mitts, and your hand is fairly red with the same +blush that suffuses your face. In fine, it is an actual party, dancing, +supper, and all, given to you; and yet there you sit, among entire +strangers dumb from annoyance, and awkward for the first time in many +years, perhaps. + +But you will not be caught so again. You are wiser from fearful experience. +A similar invitation is met with an appeal to your very best party dress, +and you go armed _cap-à-pie_, even to white satin slippers. The clock +strikes nine as you enter the room, and there is your truth-loving hostess, +with her half dozen plain guests, who had given you up, and are sorry you +cannot stay long, "as they see you are dressed for a party." Capital +suggestion! Make the most of it, and retire as soon as possible under that +plea. + +We appeal to you, ladies, whether this is a fancy sketch; and yet sometimes +it is not the fault of the hostess--you really do not know how you are +expected to arrange your toilet. It is to obviate this evil that we propose +giving a few plain hints on evening dress. + +We once knew a very nice lady, who had come to town for the purpose of +taking music lessons. She was entirely unfamiliar with the etiquette of the +toilet, and living at a boarding house, there was no one she felt at entire +liberty to consult. A gentleman invited her to the opera. She was wild with +delight. It was a cold winter's night, and she dressed accordingly. She +wore a dark merino dress and cloak, a heavy velvet bonnet and plumes, and +thick knit gloves, dark also. The gentleman looked astonished, but said +nothing; and imagine her consternation, when she found herself in the +centre of the dress circle, in the midst of unveiled necks and arms, thin +white dresses, and white kid gloves. At once the oddity of her mistake +flashed across her; but she bore it with unparalleled firmness, and enjoyed +the music notwithstanding. The lorgnettes attracted by her costume, found a +very sweet face to repay them, and her naive and enthusiastic criticism +interested her companion so much that he forgot all else. + +And how should she have dressed? Cloaks--and what is an opera toilet +without a cloak?--are nothing more than sacques of bright cashmere or +velvet, lined with quilted silk or satin, with loose flowing sleeves. A +shawl is, of course, thrown over this out of doors. One of the prettiest +cloaks of this season was made by Miss Wharton, of black satin, with a hood +lined with Pompadour pink. But cashmere is less expensive, and may be +trimmed with pointed silk or satin, and lined with the same colored silk. +Your dress is not of so much consequence, if it is light, for the cloak +conceals it. But the undersleeves should be very nice, and white kid gloves +are indispensable. A scarf or hood may be worn to the door of the box, and +then thrown over the arm. The hair is dressed with very little ornament +this winter; but, whatever the head-dress adopted, the two chief points are +simplicity and _becomingness_. Dress hats are allowed; but, as they +obstruct the view of others, are not desirable. + +Nearly the same dress is proper for a subscription concert, where you are +sure of a large audience; of course, where Jenny Lind is the attraction, +the same thing is certain. All her concerts are _dress_ concerts. But, for +a ballad _soirée_, or the first appearance of any new star, a pretty hat, +with an opera cloak or light shawl, is quite sufficient. For panoramas, +negro minstrels, or evening lectures, an ordinary walking costume is +sufficient, and it would be very bad taste to go with the head uncovered. + +A party dress should be regulated by the invitation, in a measure. In +"sociables," the most sensible of all parties, a light silk, mousseline, or +cashmere, is sufficient, with short sleeves and a pretty collar. Gloves are +by no means indispensable, and many prefer black silk mitts. If the number +of invitations exceeds twenty-five, a regular evening dress is expected, as +well as at weddings, receptions, or a dancing party. A full evening costume +we have often described, and shall give some new styles next month. + +Of course, we have spoken only of young ladies, a more matronly style being +expected from their chaperons. For instance, caps at the opera or concerts, +a charming variety of which were seen at Miss Wilson's November opening. +Turc satins, velvets, and brocades are to those in place of white tulle or +embroidered crepes. And again, our hints of course are intended for the +city alone, and for the guidance of those who are making that perilous +venture, a "first winter in society." + +FASHION. + + * * * * * + +THE BOOK OF THE NATION. + +GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK FOR 1851, + +LITERARY AND PICTORIAL, + +DEVOTED TO AMERICAN ENTERPRISE, AMERICAN WRITERS, AND AMERICAN ARTISTS. + + * * * * + +The publisher of the Lady's Book having the ability, as well as the +inclination, to make the best monthly literary, and pictorial periodical in +this country, is determined to show the patrons of magazines to what +perfection this branch of literature can be brought. He has now been +publishing the Lady's Book for twenty-six years and he appeals to his +subscribers and the public whether the "Book" has not improved every year, +and he now pledges his well-earned reputation that, in the MORALITY and +SUPERIORITY of his literature, and in the PURITY and BEAUTY of his +engravings, + +THE LADY'S BOOK FOR 1851 SHALL EXCEED EVERY OTHER MAGAZINE. + +The literary department will still be conducted by + +MRS. SARAH J. HALE, + +whose name is now recognized throughout our country as the able champion of +her sex in all that pertains to the proper rights of woman. Arrangements +have been made with other than our well known contributors, and we shall +have the pleasure of adding to the following some writers of great +celebrity, whose names have not yet appeared in the "Book." + + Mrs. J.C. Neal, + Mrs. E.F. Ellet, + Enna Duval, + Mrs. E. Oakes Smith, + Mrs. A.F. Law, + The Author of Miss Bremer's Visit to Cooper's Landing, + Mrs. L.G. Abell, + Mrs. O.M.P. Lord, + Kate Berry, + Mrs. S.J. Hale, + F.E.F., + Mary Spenser Pease, + The Author of "Aunt Magwire," + Mrs. C.F. Orne, + Mrs. J.H. Campbell, + W. Gilmore Simms, + H.T. Tuckerman, + Park Benjamin, + Hon. R.T. Conrad, + John Neal, + Tom Owen (the Bee Hunter), + Alfred B. Street, + George P. Morris, + Rev. H.H. Weld, + H. Wm. Herbert, + Professor Wm. Alexander, + Professor Alden, + Professor John Frost, + T.S. Arthur, + Richard Coe, + Herman Melville, + Nathl. Hawthorn, + +and a host of other names, which our space will not permit us to mention. +In short, no efforts will be wanting to retain for Godey's Lady's Book the +proud title of + +THE LEADING PERIODICAL IN AMERICA. + +It will be seen that we have commenced furnishing original designs for our + +MODEL COTTAGE + +department, than which no set of illustrations have ever given more +satisfaction. + +THE LADIES' DEPARTMENT + +is one that we particularly pride ourselves upon. We have been the first to +give everything new in this line--Crochet Work, Knitting, Netting, Patch +Work, Crochet Flower Work, Leather Work, Hair Braiding, Ribbon Work, +Chenille Work, Lace Collar Work, D'Oyley Watch Safes, Children's and +Infants' Clothes, Caps, Capes, Chemisettes, and, in fact, everything that +we thought would please our readers. In addition, we have also commenced +the publication of + +UNDOUBTED RECEIPTS + +for Cooking, Removing Stains, and every matter that can interest the head +of a family. + +GODEY'S RELIABLE FASHION PLATES. + +This department will be under the sole superintendence of a lady--one of +our first modistes--who receives proof sheets of the fashions direct from +Paris, and is intimately connected with the publishers in that city. This +favor is granted to her exclusively. They are arranged, under her +direction, to suit the more subdued taste of American ladies. There is no +other magazine in America that can be equally favored. We have so long led +in this department that the fact would hardly be worth mentioning, +excepting that others claim the merit that has so long been conceded to the +"Book." They will be got up, as usual, in our superior style to the French. + +NEW MUSIC, PRINTED SEPARATE + +on tinted paper. This is another advantage that Godey possesses over all +others. A gentleman is engaged expressly to attend to this department, and +no music is inserted in the "Book" that has not undergone his strict +supervision. + +ILLUSTRATIONS. + +In artistic merit, the "Book" will still retain its pre-eminence, and, in +order to show the public wherein our superiority will consist, we give the +titles of some of the plates that we have now on hand ready for use, all of +which will be given in succession. It will be observed that we have, in a +measure, quit the beaten track of copying from engravings, as most of our +plates are from original designs, prepared expressly for the "Book," by + +CROOME, ROTHERMEL, TUCKER, PEASE, DALLAS, PETERS, & GILBERT. + +Those that are not from original designs, prepared expressly for us, are +from the original painting. Furthermore, the publisher of the "Book" would +state that they are ALL STEEL PLATES, and that there is not a WOOD-CUT +amongst them. We will not deceive by publishing a list of plates without, +at the same time stating whether they are engraved on wood or steel. + +It may as well be also stated that Mr. Tucker, our own artist, than whom no +one stands higher in America, has been in London for more than a year, and +all his plates are now finished. One series of our plates in line engraving +will be + +CONSTANCY AND COQUETRY, + +done in a style to defy any imitation in mezzotint, + +GOOD COUNSEL AND EVIL COUNSEL, + +DRESS THE MAKER AND DRESS THE WEARER + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + +THE VALENTINES. + + The fires of February lit the hearth, + And shone with welcome lustre on the brows + Of two most lovely maidens, as they sat + Expecting, in their heart of hearts, the notes + Called "_Valentines_," that February brings + Upon its fourteenth day, to tell, in rhyme, + All fair and gentle ladies whether they + Have made new conquests, or have kept the old + As fresh as new-blown roses in the hearts + Of their admiring slaves. One of the girls + (Laughing and lovely was she), ever won + High hearts to do her bidding, dreaming it + No sin that _all_ should yield her love and homage, + Yet was no trifling, passionless coquette. + Her winning beauty was the standing toast + Of the wide neighborhood, and serenades + From many a gallant woke the sleeping echoes + Beneath her window, and her name was like + The silvery pealing of a tinkling bell; + (Perhaps 'tis yours, fair reader,) "Clairinelle." + + May sat beside her with a graver air, + Something more matronly controlled her mien; + Yet was she not a sighing "sentimentalist," + But, like her cousin Cary, could be gay: + Two Valentines had come for these fair girls, + Which made the dimpled smiles show teeth like pearls + Pray, read those tender missives--here they are-- + +CLAIRINELLE'S VALENTINE. + + The maiden I love is the fairest on earth, + Her laugh is the clear, joyous music of mirth; + I think of the angels whenever she sings-- + She's a seraph from Heaven, but folding her wings. + The least little act that she doeth is kind; + Her goodness all springs from a beautiful mind. + I love her much more than I know how to tell; + Let her do what she will, it is always done well: + Her voice is the murmur the mild zephyr makes + As it steals through the forest and ruffles the lakes: + Her eyes are so gentle, so calm, and so blue, + That I'm sure that she's constant, and trusting, and true: + Her features are delicate, classic, and pure: + Her hair is light chestnut, and I'm almost sure + That the sunbeams that bathe it can't set themselves free: + Her teeth are like pearls from the depths of the sea. + A bee in a frolic once stung her red lip, + And left there the honey he hastened to sip: + Let her go where she will, she is always the belle, + And her name, her sweet name, is the fair Clairinelle. + +MAY'S VALENTINE. + + MY UNSENTIMENTAL COUSIN:-- + The moon was half bewildered by the vexing clouds + That did beset her in her path serene, + Veiling her beauty with their envious shrouds, + Hiding her glorious, most majestic mien. + There was a depth of silence in the night-- + A mist of melancholy in the air-- + And the capricious beams of Dian's light + Gave something mystic to the scene most fair. + I gave my cousin Dante's divine "Inferno," + _Imploring_ her to read _il primo canto_. + "Lo giorno s'andava," she drawled; but, tired of plodding, + Directly fell asleep, and pretty soon--_was nodding_!! + "Cousin, sweet cousin," cried I out, "awake! + I long for sympathy--compassion on me take: + They say yon stars are worlds--dost think 'tis so?" + "Really, my--dear (_a yawn_), I--don't exactly know." + "Cousin," said I, "upon a night like this, + Back to the heart steal distant memories + From out the vista of the waning past"-- + "Harry, I've caught the horrid fly at last!" + Shades of the angry Muses! worse and worse! + She disappears!--is gone!--_to knit a crochet purse_!! + "Cousin, come back again!" in vain I cried; + Echo (the mocking-bird!) _alone_ replied. + + CARA. + + * * * * * + +CORNERS FOR POCKET HANDKERCHIEFS. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +BIRTHDAY OF THE YEAR + +[Illustration] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Godey's Lady's Book, Vol. 42, January, +1851, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK *** + +***** This file should be named 15080-8.txt or 15080-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/0/8/15080/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Keith Edkins and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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