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diff --git a/15860-h/15860-h.htm b/15860-h/15860-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..53844c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/15860-h/15860-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9119 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 13, No. 79, May, 1864. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 13, No. 79, May, +1864, 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: The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 13, No. 79, May, 1864 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: May 18, 2005 [EBook #15860] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY, VOL. *** + + + + +Produced by Cornell University, Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527"></a></p> +<h1>THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.</h1> + +<h2>A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.</h2> + +<h3>VOL. XIII.—MAY, 1864.—NO. LXXIX.</h3> + +<p>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by TICKNOR AND +FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of +Massachusetts.</p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#A_CRUISE_ON_LAKE_LADOGA"><b>A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#WET-WEATHER_WORK"><b>WET-WEATHER WORK.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_REAPERS_DREAM"><b>THE REAPER'S DREAM.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_NEW-ENGLAND_REVOLUTION_OF_THE_SEVENTEENTH_CENTURY"><b>THE NEW-ENGLAND REVOLUTION OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#SOME_ACCOUNT_OF_THE_EARLY_LIFE_OF_AN_OLD_BACHELOR"><b>SOME ACCOUNT OF THE EARLY LIFE OF AN OLD BACHELOR.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_SNOW-MAN"><b>THE SNOW-MAN.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_GOLD-FIELDS_OF_NOVA_SCOTIA"><b>THE GOLD-FIELDS OF NOVA SCOTIA.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#LIFE_ON_THE_SEA_ISLANDS"><b>LIFE ON THE SEA ISLANDS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#GOLD_HAIR"><b>GOLD HAIR.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CALIFORNIA_AS_A_VINELAND"><b>CALIFORNIA AS A VINELAND.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#TO_A_YOUNG_GIRL_DYING"><b>TO A YOUNG GIRL DYING:</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_RIM"><b>THE RIM.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#TYPES"><b>TYPES.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#HOUSE_AND_HOME_PAPERS"><b>HOUSE AND HOME PAPERS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#REENLISTED"><b>REENLISTED.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_PRESIDENTIAL_ELECTION"><b>THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#REVIEWS_AND_LITERARY_NOTICES"><b>REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.</b></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_CRUISE_ON_LAKE_LADOGA" id="A_CRUISE_ON_LAKE_LADOGA"></a>A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA.</h2> + + +<p>"Dear Q.,—The steamboat Valamo is advertised to leave on Tuesday, the +26th, (July 8th, New Style,) for Serdopol, at the very head of Lake +Ladoga, stopping on the way at Schlüsselburg, Konewitz Island, Kexholm, +and the island and monastery of Valaam. The anniversary of Saints +Sergius and Herrmann, miracle-workers, will be celebrated at the +last-named place on Thursday, and the festival of the Apostles Peter and +Paul on Friday. If the weather is fine, the boat will take passengers to +the Holy Island. The fare is nine rubles for the trip. You can be back +again in St. Petersburg by six o'clock on Saturday evening. Provisions +can be had on board, but (probably) not beds; so, if you are luxurious +in this particular, take along your own sheets, pillow-cases, and +blankets. I intend going, and depend upon your company. Make up your +mind by ten o'clock, when I will call for your decision.</p> + +<p>"Yours,</p> + +<p>"P."</p> + +<p>I laid down the note, looked at my watch, and found that I had an hour +for deliberation before P.'s arrival. "Lake Ladoga?" said I to myself; +"it is the largest lake in Europe,—I learned that at school. It is full +of fish; it is stormy; and the Neva is its outlet. What else?" I took +down a geographical dictionary, and obtained the following additional +particulars: The name <i>Lad'oga</i> (not <i>Lado'ga,</i> as it is pronounced in +America) is Finnish, and means "new." The lake lies between 60° and 61° +45' north latitude, is 175 versts—about 117 miles—in length, from +north to south, and 100 versts in breadth; receives the great river +Volkhoff on the south, the Svir, which pours into it the waters of Lake +Onega, on the east, and the overflow of nearly half the lakes of +Finland, on the west; and is, in some parts, fourteen hundred feet deep.</p> + +<p>Vainly, however, did I ransack my memory for the narrative of any +traveller who had beheld and described this lake. The red hand-book, +beloved of tourists, did not even deign to notice its existence. The +more I meditated on the subject, the more I became convinced that here<a name="Page_528" id="Page_528"></a> +was an untrodden corner of the world, lying within easy reach of a great +capital, yet unknown to the eyes of conventional sight-seers. The name +of Valaam suggested that of Barlaam, in Thessaly, likewise a Greek +monastery; and though I had never heard of Sergius and Herrmann, the +fact of their choosing such a spot was the beginning of a curious +interest in their history. The very act of poring over a map excites the +imagination: I fell into conjectures about the scenery, vegetation, and +inhabitants, and thus, by the time P. arrived, was conscious of a +violent desire to make the cruise with him. To our care was confided an +American youth, whom I shall call R.,—we three being, as we afterwards +discovered, the first of our countrymen to visit the northern portion of +the lake.</p> + +<p>The next morning, although it was cloudy and raw, R. and I rose betimes, +and were jolted on a <i>droshky</i> through the long streets to the Valamo's +landing-place. We found a handsome English-built steamer, with tonnage +and power enough for the heaviest squalls, and an after-cabin so +comfortable that all our anticipations of the primitive modes of travel +were banished at once. As men not ashamed of our health, we had decided +to omit the sheets and pillow-cases, and let the tooth-brush answer as +an evidence of our high civilization; but the broad divans and velvet +cushions of the cabin brought us back to luxury in spite of ourselves. +The captain, smoothly shaven and robust, as befitted his +station,—English in all but his eyes, which were thoroughly +Russian,—gave us a cordial welcome in passable French. P. drove up +presently, and the crowd on the floating pier rapidly increased, as the +moment of departure approached. Our fellow-pilgrims were mostly peasants +and deck—passengers: two or three officers, and a score of the +bourgeois, were divided, according to their means, between the first and +second cabins. There were symptoms of crowding, and we hastened to put +in preëmption-claims for the bench on the port—side, distributing our +travelling sacks and pouches along it, as a guard against squatters. The +magic promise of <i>na chaï</i> (something to buy tea with) further inspired +the waiters with a peculiar regard for our interest, so that, leaving +our important possessions in their care, we went on deck to witness the +departure.</p> + +<p>By this time the Finnish sailors were hauling in the slack hawsers, and +the bearded stevedores on the floating quay tugged at the gangway. Many +of our presumed passengers had only come to say good-bye, which they +were now waving and shouting from the shore. The rain fell dismally, and +a black, hopeless sky settled down upon the Neva. But the Northern +summer, we knew, is as fickle as the Southern April, and we trusted that +Sergius and Herrmann, the saints of Valaam, would smooth for us the +rugged waters of Ladoga. At last the barking little bell ceased to snarl +at the tardy pilgrims. The swift current swung our bow into the stream, +and, as we moved away, the crowd on deck uncovered their heads, not to +the bowing friends on the quay, but to the spire of a church which rose +to view behind the houses fronting the Neva. Devoutly crossing +themselves with the joined three fingers, symbolical of the Trinity, +they doubtless murmured a prayer for the propitious completion of the +pilgrimage, to which, I am sure, we could have readily echoed the amen.</p> + +<p>The Valamo was particularly distinguished, on this occasion, by a flag +at the fore, carrying the white Greek cross on a red field. This +proclaimed her mission as she passed along, and the bells of many a +little church pealed God-speed to her and her passengers. The latter, in +spite of the rain, thronged the deck, and continually repeated their +devotions to the shrines on either bank. On the right, the starry domes +of the Smolnoi, rising from the lap of a linden—grove, flashed upon us; +then, beyond the long front of the college of <i>demoiselles nobles</i> and +the military storehouses, we hailed <a name="Page_529" id="Page_529"></a>the silver hemispheres which canopy +the tomb and shrine of St. Alexander of the Neva. On the left, huge +brick factories pushed back the gleaming groves of birch, which flowed +around and between them, to dip their hanging boughs in the river; but +here and there peeped out the bright green cupolas of some little +church, none of which, I was glad to see, slipped out of the panorama +without its share of reverence.</p> + +<p>For some miles we sailed between a double row of contiguous villages,—a +long suburb of the capital, which stretched on and on, until the slight +undulations of the shore showed that we had left behind us the dead +level of the Ingrian marshes. It is surprising what an interest one +takes in the slightest mole-hill, after living for a short time on a +plain. You are charmed with an elevation which enables you to look over +your neighbor's hedge. I once heard a clergyman, in his sermon, assert +that "the world was perfectly smooth before the fall of Adam, and the +present inequalities in its surface were the evidences of human sin." I +was a boy at the time, and I thought to myself, "How fortunate it is +that we are sinners!" Peter the Great, however, had no choice left him. +The piles he drove in these marshes were the surest foundation of his +empire.</p> + +<p>The Neva, in its sudden and continual windings, in its clear, cold, +sweet water, and its fringing groves of birch, maple, and alder, +compensates, in a great measure, for the flatness of its shores. It has +not the slow magnificence of the Hudson or the rush of the Rhine, but +carries with it a sense of power, of steady, straightforward force, like +that of the ancient warriors who disdained all clothing except their +swords. Its naked river-god is not even crowned with reeds, but the full +flow of his urn rolls forth undiminished by summer and unchecked beneath +its wintry lid. Outlets of large lakes frequently exhibit this +characteristic, and the impression they make upon the mind does not +depend on the scenery through which they flow. Nevertheless, we +discovered many points the beauty of which was not blotted out by rain +and cloud, and would have shone freshly and winningly under the touch of +the sun. On the north bank there is a palace of Potemkin, (or +Potchómkin, as his name is pronounced in Russian,) charmingly placed at +a bend, whence it looks both up and down the river. The gay color of the +building, as of most of the <i>datchas</i>, or country-villas, in Russia, +makes a curious impression upon the stranger. Until he has learned to +accept it as a portion of the landscape, the effect is that of a scenic +design on the part of the builder. These dwellings, these villages and +churches, he thinks, are scarcely intended to be permanent: they were +erected as part of some great dramatic spectacle, which has been, or is +to be, enacted under the open sky. Contrasted with the sober, +matter-of-fact aspect of dwellings in other countries, they have the +effect of temporary decorations. But when one has entered within these +walls of green and blue and red arabesques, inspected their thickness, +viewed the ponderous porcelain stores, tasted, perhaps, the bountiful +cheer of the owner, he realizes their palpable comforts, and begins to +suspect that all the external adornment is merely an attempt to restore +to Nature that coloring of which she is stripped by the cold sky of the +North.</p> + +<p>A little farther on, there is a summer villa of the Empress +Catharine,—a small, modest building, crowning a slope of green turf. +Beyond this, the banks are draped with foliage, and the thinly clad +birches, with their silver stems, shiver above the rush of the waters. +We, also, began to shiver under the steadily falling rain, and retreated +to the cabin on the steward's first hint of dinner. A <i>table d'hôte</i> of +four courses was promised us, including the preliminary <i>zakouski</i> and +the supplementary coffee,—all for sixty <i>copéks</i>, which is about +forty-five cents. The <i>zakouski</i> is an arrangement peculiar to Northern +countries, and readily adopted by foreigners. In Sweden it is called the +<i>smörgås</i>, or<a name="Page_530" id="Page_530"></a> "butter-goose" but the American term (if we had the +custom) would be "the whetter." On a side-table there are various plates +of anchovies, cheese, chopped onions, raw salt herring, and bread, all +in diminutive slices, while glasses of corresponding size surround a +bottle of <i>kümmel</i>, or cordial of caraway-seed. This, at least, was the +<i>zakouski</i> on board the Valamo, and to which our valiant captain +addressed himself, after first bowing and crossing himself towards the +Byzantine Christ and Virgin in either corner of the cabin. We, of +course, followed his example, finding our appetites, if not improved, +certainly not at all injured thereby. The dinner which followed far +surpassed our expectations. The national <i>shchee</i>, or cabbage-soup, is +better than the sound of its name; the fish, fresh from the cold Neva, +is sure to be well cooked where it forms an important article of diet; +and the partridges were accompanied by those plump little Russian +cucumbers, which are so tender and flavorous that they deserve to be +called fruit rather than vegetables.</p> + +<p>When we went on deck to light our Riga cigars, the boat was approaching +Schlüsselburg, at the outlet of the lake. Here the Neva, just born, +sweeps in two broad arms around the island which bears the +Key-Fortress,—the key by which Peter opened this river-door to the Gulf +of Finland. The pretty town of the same name is on the south bank, and +in the centre of its front yawn the granite gates of the canal which, +for a hundred versts, skirts the southern shore of the lake, forming, +with the Volkhoff River and another canal beyond, a summer communication +with the vast regions watered by the Volga and its affluents. The Ladoga +Canal, by which the heavy barges laden with hemp from Mid-Russia, and +wool from the Ural, and wood from the Valdaï Hills, avoid the sudden +storms of the lake, was also the work of Peter the Great. I should have +gone on shore to inspect the locks, but for the discouraging persistence +of the rain. Huddled against the smoke-stack, we could do nothing but +look on the draggled soldiers and <i>mujiks</i> splashing through the mud, +the low yellow fortress, which has long outlived its importance, and the +dark-gray waste of lake which loomed in front, suggestive of rough water +and kindred abominations.</p> + +<p>There it was, at last,—Lake Ladoga,—and now our prow turns to unknown +regions. We steamed past the fort, past a fleet of brigs, schooners, and +brigantines, with huge, rounded stems and sterns, laden with wood from +the Wolkonskoi forests, and boldly entered the gray void of fog and +rain. The surface of the lake was but slightly agitated, as the wind +gradually fell and a thick mist settled on the water. Hour after hour +passed away, as we rushed onward through the blank, and we naturally +turned to our fellow-passengers in search of some interest or diversion +to beguile the time. The heavy-bearded, peasants and their +weather-beaten wives were scattered around the deck in various +attitudes, some of the former asleep on their backs, with open mouths, +beside the smoke-stack. There were many picturesque figures among them, +and, if I possessed the quick pencil of Kaulbach, I might have filled a +dozen leaver of my sketch-book. The <i>bourgeoisie</i> were huddled on the +quarter-deck benches, silent, and fearful of sea-sickness. But a very +bright, intelligent young officer turned up, who had crossed the Ural, +and was able to entertain us with an account of the splendid +sword-blades of Zlatáoust. He was now on his way to the copper mines of +Pitkaranda, on the northeastern shore of the lake.</p> + +<p>About nine o'clock in the evening, although still before sunset, the fog +began to darken, and I was apprehensive that we should have some +difficulty in finding the island of Konewitz, which was to be our +stopping-place for the night. The captain ordered the engine to be +slowed, and brought forward a brass half-pounder, about a foot long, +which was charged and fired. In less than a minute after the report, the +sound of a deep, solemn bell boomed in the mist, dead ahead.<a name="Page_531" id="Page_531"></a> Instantly +every head was uncovered, and the rustle of whispered prayers fluttered +over the deck, as the pilgrims bowed and crossed themselves. Nothing was +to be seen; but, stroke after stroke, the hollow sounds, muffled and +blurred in the opaque atmosphere, were pealed out by the guiding bell. +Presently a chime of smaller bells joined in a rapid accompaniment, +growing louder and clearer as we advanced. The effect was startling. +After voyaging for hours over the blank water, this sudden and solemn +welcome, sounded from some invisible tower, assumed a mystic and +marvellous character. Was it not rather the bells of a city ages ago +submerged, and now sending its ghostly summons up to the pilgrims +passing over its crystal grave?</p> + +<p>Finally a tall mast, its height immensely magnified by the fog, could be +distinguished; then the dark hulk of a steamer, a white gleam of sand +through the fog, indistinct outlines of trees, a fisherman's hut, and a +landing-place. The bells still rang out from some high station near at +hand, but unseen. We landed as soon as the steamer had made fast, and +followed the direction of the sound. A few paces from the beach stood a +little chapel, open, and with a lamp burning before its brown Virgin and +Child. Here our passengers stopped, and made a brief prayer before going +on. Two or three beggars, whose tattered dresses of tow suggested the +idea of their having clothed themselves with the sails of shipwrecked +vessels, bowed before us so profoundly and reverently that we at first +feared they had mistaken us for the shrines. Following an avenue of +trees, up a gentle eminence, the tall white towers and green domes of a +stately church gradually detached themselves from the mist, and we found +ourselves at the portal of the monastery. A group of monks, in the usual +black robes, and high, cylindrical caps of crape, the covering of which +overlapped and fell upon their shoulders, were waiting, apparently to +receive visitors. Recognizing us as foreigners, they greeted us with +great cordiality, and invited us to take up our quarters for the night +in the house appropriated to guests. We desired, however, to see the +church before the combined fog and twilight should make it too dark; so +a benevolent old monk led the way, hand in hand with P., across the +court-yard.</p> + +<p>The churches of the Greek faith present a general resemblance in their +internal decorations. There is a glitter of gold, silver, and flaring +colors in the poorest. Statues are not permitted, but the pictures of +dark Saviours and Saints are generally covered with a drapery of silver, +with openings for the head and hands. Konewitz, however, boasts of a +special sanctity, in possessing the body of Saint Arsenius, the founder +of the monastery. His remains are inclosed in a large coffin of silver, +elaborately chased. It was surrounded, as we entered, by a crowd of +kneeling pilgrims; the tapers burned beside it, and at the various +altars; the air was thick with incense, and the great bell still boomed +from the misty tower. Behind us came a throng of our own +deck-passengers, who seemed to recognize the proper shrines by a sort of +devotional instinct, and were soon wholly absorbed in their prayers and +prostrations. It is very evident to me that the Russian race requires +the formulas of the Eastern Church; a fondness for symbolic ceremonies +and observances is far more natural to its character than to the nations +of Latin or Saxon blood. In Southern Europe the peasant will exchange +merry salutations while dipping his fingers in the holy water, or turn +in the midst of his devotions to inspect a stranger; but the Russian, at +such times, appears lost to the world. With his serious eyes fixed on +the shrine or picture, or, maybe, the spire of a distant church, his +face suddenly becomes rapt and solemn, and no lurking interest in +neighboring things interferes with its expression.</p> + +<p>One of the monks, who spoke a little French, took us into his cell. He +was a tall, frail man of thirty-five, with a wasted face, and brown hair +flowing over his <a name="Page_532" id="Page_532"></a>shoulders, like most of his brethren of the same age. +In those sharp, earnest features, one could see that the battle was not +yet over. The tendency to corpulence does not appear until after the +rebellious passions have been either subdued, or pacified by compromise. +The cell was small, but neat and cheerful, on the ground-floor, with a +window opening on the court, and a hard, narrow pallet against the wall. +There was also a little table, with books, sacred pictures, and a bunch +of lilacs in water. The walls were whitewashed, and the floor cleanly +swept. The chamber was austere, certainly, but in no wise repulsive.</p> + +<p>It was now growing late, and only the faint edges of the twilight +glimmered overhead, through the fog. It was not night, but a sort of +eclipsed day, not much darker than our winter days under an overcast +sky. We returned to the tower, where an old monk took us in charge. +Beside the monastery is a special building for guests, a room in which +was offered to us. It was so clean and pleasant, and the three broad +sofa-couches with leather cushions looked so inviting, that we decided +to sleep there, in preference to the crowded cabin. Our supply of +shawls, moreover, enabled us to enjoy the luxury of undressing. Before +saying good-night, the old monk placed his hand upon R.'s head. "We have +matins at three o'clock," said he; "when you hear the bell, get up, and +come to the church: it will bring blessing to you." We were soon buried +in a slumber which lacked darkness to make it profound. At two o'clock, +the sky was so bright that I thought it six, and fell asleep again, +determined to make three hours before I stopped. But presently the big +bell began to swing: stroke after stroke, it first aroused, but was fast +lulling me, when the chimes struck in and sang all manner of incoherent +and undevout lines. The brain at last grew weary of this, when, close to +our door, a little, petulant, impatient bell commenced barking for dear +life. R. muttered and twisted in his sleep, and brushed away the sound +several times from his upper ear, while I covered mine,—but to no +purpose. The sharp, fretful jangle went through shawls and cushions, and +the fear of hearing it more distinctly prevented me from rising for +matins. Our youth, also, missed his promised blessing, and so we slept +until the sun was near five hours high,—that is, seven o'clock.</p> + +<p>The captain promised to leave for Kexholm at eight, which left us only +an hour for a visit to the <i>Konkamen</i>, or Horse-Rock, distant a mile, in +the woods. P. engaged as guide a long-haired acolyte, who informed us +that he had formerly been a lithographer in St. Petersburg. We did not +ascertain the cause of his retirement from the world: his features were +too commonplace to suggest a romance. Through the mist, which still hung +heavy on the lake, we plunged into the fir-wood, and hurried on over its +uneven carpet of moss and dwarf whortleberries. Small gray boulders then +began to crop out, and gradually became so thick that the trees thrust +them aside as they grew. All at once the wood opened on a rye-field +belonging to the monks, and a short turn to the right brought us to a +huge rock, of irregular shape, about forty feet in diameter by twenty in +height. The crest overhung the base on all sides except one, up which a +wooden staircase led to a small square chapel perched upon the summit.</p> + +<p>The legends attached to this rock are various, but the most authentic +seems to be, that in the ages when the Carelians were still heathen, +they were accustomed to place their cattle upon this island in summer, +as a protection against the wolves, first sacrificing a horse upon the +rock. Whether their deity was the Perun of the ancient Russians or the +Jumala of the Finns is not stated; the inhabitants at the present day +say, of course, the Devil. The name of the rock may also be translated +"Petrified Horse," and some have endeavored to make out a resemblance to +that animal, in its form. Our acolyte, for instance, insisted thereupon, +and argued very logically—"Why, if you omit <a name="Page_533" id="Page_533"></a>the head and legs, you +must see that it is exactly like a horse." The peasants say that the +Devil had his residence in the stone, and point to a hole which he made, +on being forced by the exorcisms of Saint Arsenius to take his +departure. A reference to the legend is also indicated in the name of +the island, Konewitz,—which our friend, the officer, gave to me in +French as <i>Chevalisé</i>, or, in literal English, <i>The Horsefied</i>.</p> + +<p>The stones and bushes were dripping from the visitation of the mist, and +the mosquitoes were busy with my face and hands while I made a rapid +drawing of the place. The quick chimes of the monastery, through which +we fancied we could hear the warning boat-bell, suddenly pierced through +the forest, recalling us. The Valamo had her steam up, when we arrived, +and was only waiting for her rival, the Letuchie (Flyer), to get out of +our way. As we moved from the shore, a puff of wind blew away the fog, +and the stately white monastery, crowned with its bunch of green domes, +stood for a moment clear and bright in the morning sun. Our pilgrims +bent, bareheaded, in devotional farewell; the golden crosses sparkled an +answer, and, the fog rushed down again like a falling curtain.</p> + +<p>We steered nearly due north, making for Kexholm, formerly a frontier +Swedish town, at the mouth of the River Wuoxen. For four hours it was a +tantalizing struggle between mist and sunshine,—a fair blue sky +overhead, and a dense cloud sticking to the surface of the lake. The +western shore, though near at hand, was not visible; but our captain, +with his usual skill, came within a quarter of a mile of the channel +leading to the landing-place. The fog seemed to consolidate into the +outline of trees; hard land was gradually formed, as we approached; and +as the two river-shores finally inclosed us, the air cleared, and long, +wooded hills arose in the distance. Before us lay a single wharf, with +three wooden buildings leaning against a hill of sand.</p> + +<p>"But where is Kexholm?"</p> + +<p>"A verst inland," says the captain; "and I will give you just half an +hour to see it."</p> + +<p>There were a score of peasants, with clumsy two-wheeled carts and shaggy +ponies at the landing. Into one of these we clambered, gave the word of +command, and were whirled off at a gallop. There may have been some +elasticity in the horse, but there certainly was none in the cart. It +was a perfect conductor, and the shock with which it passed over stones +and leaped ruts was instantly communicated to the <i>os sacrum</i>, passing +thence along the vertebræ, to discharge itself in the teeth. Our driver +was a sunburnt Finn, who was bent upon performing his share of the +contract, in order that he might afterwards with a better face demand a +ruble. On receiving just the half, however, he put it into his pocket, +without a word of remonstrance.</p> + +<p>"<i>Suomi?</i>" I asked, calling up a Finnish word with an effort.</p> + +<p>"<i>Suomi-laïnen</i>" he answered, proudly enough, though the exact meaning +is, "I am a Swamplander."</p> + +<p>Kexholm, which was founded in 1295, has attained since then a population +of several hundreds. Grass grows between the cobble-stones of its broad +streets, but the houses are altogether so bright, so clean, so +substantially comfortable, and the geraniums and roses peeping out +between snowy curtains in almost every window suggested such cozy +interiors, that I found myself quite attracted towards the plain little +town. "Here," said I to P., "is a nook which is really out of the world. +No need of a monastery, where you have such perfect seclusion, and the +indispensable solace of natural society to make it endurable." Pleasant +faces occasionally looked out, curiously, at the impetuous strangers: +had they known our nationality, I fancy the whole population would have +run together. Reaching the last house, nestled among twinkling +birch-trees on a bend of the river beyond, we turned about, and made for +the fortress,—another conquest of the Great Peter. Its low ramparts +<a name="Page_534" id="Page_534"></a>had a shabby, neglected look; an old drawbridge spanned the moat, and +there was no sentinel to challenge us as we galloped across. In and out +again, and down the long, quiet street, and over the jolting level to +the top of the sandhill,—we had seen Kexholm in half an hour.</p> + +<p>At the mouth of the river still lay the fog, waiting for us, now and +then stretching a ghostly arm over the woods and then withdrawing it, +like a spirit of the lake, longing and yet timid to embrace the land. +With the Wuoxen come down the waters of the Saïma, that great, irregular +lake, which, with its innumerable arms, extends for a hundred and fifty +miles into the heart of Finland, clasping the forests and mountains of +Savolax, where the altar-stones of Jumala still stand in the shade of +sacred oaks, and the song of the Kalewala is sung by the descendants of +Waïnamöinen. I registered a vow to visit those Finnish solitudes, as we +shot out upon the muffled lake, heading for the holy isles of Valaam. +This was the great point of interest in our cruise, the shrine of our +pilgrim-passengers. We had heard so little of these islands before +leaving St. Petersburg, and so much since, that our curiosity was keenly +excited; and thus, though too well seasoned by experience to worry +unnecessarily, the continuance of the fog began to disgust us. We shall +creep along as yesterday, said we, and have nothing of Valaam but the +sound of its bells. The air was intensely raw; the sun had disappeared, +and the bearded peasants again slept, with open mouths, on the deck.</p> + +<p>Saints Sergius and Herrmann, however, were not indifferent either to +them or to us. About the middle of the afternoon we suddenly and +unexpectedly sailed out of the fog, passing, in the distance of a ship's +length, in to a clear atmosphere, with a far, sharp horizon! The +nuisance of the lake lay behind us, a steep, opaque, white wall. Before +us, rising in bold cliffs from the water and dark with pines, were the +islands of Valaam. Off went hats and caps, and the crowd on deck bent +reverently towards the consecrated shores. As we drew near, the granite +fronts of the separate isles detached themselves from the plane in which +they were blended, and thrust boldly out between the dividing inlets of +blue water; the lighter green of birches and maples mingled with the +sombre woods of coniferæ; but the picture, with all its varied features, +was silent and lonely. No sail shone over the lake, no boat was hauled +up between the tumbled masses of rock, no fisher's hut sat in the +sheltered coves,—only, at the highest point of the cliff, a huge wooden +cross gleamed white against the trees.</p> + +<p>As we drew around to the northern shore, point came out behind point, +all equally bold with rock, dark with pines, and destitute of any sign +of habitation. We were looking forward, over the nearest headland, when, +all at once, a sharp glitter, through the tops of the pines, struck our +eyes. A few more turns of the paddles, and a bulging dome of gold +flashed splendidly in the sun! Our voyage, thus far, had been one of +surprises, and this was not the least. Crowning a slender, pointed roof, +its connection with the latter was not immediately visible: it seemed to +spring into the air and hang there, like a marvellous meteor shot from +the sun. Presently, however, the whole building appeared,—an hexagonal +church, of pale-red brick, the architecture of which was an admirable +reproduction of the older Byzantine forms. It stood upon a rocky islet, +on either side of which a narrow channel communicated with a deep cove, +cleft between walls of rock.</p> + +<p>Turning in towards the first of these channels, we presently saw the +inlet of darkest-blue water, pushing its way into the heart of the +island. Crowning its eastern bank, and about half a mile distant, stood +an immense mass of buildings, from the centre of which tall white towers +and green cupolas shot up against the sky. This was the monastery of +Valaam. Here, in the midst of this lonely lake, on the borders of the +Arctic Zone, in the <a name="Page_535" id="Page_535"></a>solitude of unhewn forests, was one of those +palaces which Religion is so fond of rearing, to show her humility. In +the warm afternoon sunshine, and the singular luxuriance of vegetation +which clothed the terraces of rock on either hand, we forgot the high +latitude, and, but for the pines in the rear, could have fancied +ourselves approaching some cove of Athos or Eubœa. The steamer ran so +near the rocky walls that the trailing branches of the birch almost +swept her deck; every ledge traversing their gray, even masonry, was +crowded with wild red pinks, geranium, saxifrage, and golden-flowered +purslane; and the air, wonderfully pure and sweet in itself, was +flavored with delicate woodland odors. On the other side, under the +monastery, was an orchard of large apple-trees in full bloom, on a shelf +near the water; above them grew huge oaks and maples, heavy with their +wealth of foliage; and over the tops of these the level coping of the +precipice, with a balustrade, upon which hundreds of pilgrims, who had +arrived before us, were leaning and looking down.</p> + +<p>Beyond this point, the inlet widened into a basin where the steamer had +room to turn around. Here we found some forty or fifty boats moored to +the bank, while the passengers they had brought (principally from the +eastern shore of the lake, and the district lying between it and Onega) +were scattered over the heights. The captain pointed out to us a +stately, two-story brick edifice, some three hundred feet long, flanking +the monastery, as the house for guests. Another of less dimensions, on +the hill in front of the landing-place, appeared to be appropriated +especially to the use of the peasants. A rich succession of musical +chimes pealed down to us from the belfry, as if in welcome, and our +deck-load of pilgrims crossed themselves in reverent congratulation as +they stepped upon the sacred soil.</p> + +<p>We had determined to go on with our boat to Serdopol, at the head of the +lake, returning the next morning in season for the solemnities of the +anniversary. Postponing, therefore, a visit to the church and monastery, +we climbed to the summit of the bluff, and beheld the inlet in all its +length and depth, from the open, sunny expanse of the lake to the dark +strait below us, where the overhanging trees of the opposite cliffs +almost touched above the water. The honeyed bitter of lilac and apple +blossoms in the garden below steeped the air; and as I inhaled the +scent, and beheld the rich green crowns of the oaks which grew at the +base of the rocks, I appreciated the wisdom of Sergius and Herrmann that +led them to pick out this bit of privileged summer, which seems to have +wandered into the North from a region ten degrees nearer the sun. It is +not strange if the people attribute miraculous powers to them; naturally +mistaking the cause of their settlement on Valaam for its effect.</p> + +<p>The deck was comparatively deserted, as we once more entered the lake. +There were two or three new passengers, however, one of whom inspired me +with a mild interest. He was a St. Petersburger, who, according to his +own account, had devoted himself to Art, and, probably for that reason, +felt constrained to speak in the language of sentiment. "I enjoy above +all things," said he to me, "communion with Nature. My soul is uplifted, +when I find myself removed from the haunts of men. I live an ideal life, +and the world grows more beautiful to me every year." Now there was +nothing objectionable in this, except his saying it. Those are only +shallow emotions which one imparts to every stranger at the slightest +provocation. Your true lover of Nature is as careful of betraying his +passion as the young man who carries a first love in his heart. But my +companion evidently delighted in talking of his feelings on this point. +His voice was soft and silvery, his eyes gentle, and his air +languishing; so that, in spite of a heavy beard, the impression he made +was remarkably smooth and unmasculine. I involuntarily turned to one of +the young Finnish sailors, with his handsome, tanned face, <a name="Page_536" id="Page_536"></a>quick, +decided movements, and clean, elastic limbs, and felt, instinctively, +that what we most value in every man, above even culture or genius, is +the stamp of sex,—the asserting, self-reliant, conquering air which +marks the male animal. Wide-awake men (and women, too) who know what +this element is, and means, will agree with me, and prefer the sharp +twang of true fibre to the most exquisite softness and sweetness that +were ever produced by sham refinement.</p> + +<p>After some fifteen or twenty miles from the island, we approached the +rocky archipelago in which the lake terminates at its northern end,—a +gradual transition from water to land. Masses of gray granite, wooded +wherever the hardy Northern firs could strike root, rose on all sides, +divided by deep and narrow channels. "This is the <i>scheer</i>," said our +captain, using a word which recalled to my mind, at once, the Swedish +<i>skär</i>, and the English <i>skerry</i>, used alike to denote a coast-group of +rocky islets. The rock encroached more and more as we advanced; and +finally, as if sure of its victory over the lake, gave place, here and +there, to levels of turf, gardens, and cottages. Then followed a calm, +land-locked basin, surrounded with harvest-fields, and the spire of +Serdopol arose before us.</p> + +<p>Of this town I may report that it is called, in Finnish, <i>Sordovala</i>, +and was founded about the year 1640. Its history has no doubt been very +important to its inhabitants, but I do not presume that it would be +interesting to the world, and therefore spare myself a great deal of +laborious research. Small as it is, and so secluded that Ladoga seems a +world's highway in comparison with its quiet harbor, it nevertheless +holds three races and three languages in its modest bounds. The +government and Its tongue are Russian; the people are mostly Finnish, +with a very thin upper-crust of Swedish tradition, whence the latter +language is cultivated as a sign of aristocracy.</p> + +<p>We landed on a broad wooden pier, and entered the town through a crowd +which was composed of all these elements. There was to be a fair on the +morrow, and from the northern shore of the lake, as well as the wild +inland region towards the Saïma, the people had collected for trade, +gossip, and festivity. Children in ragged garments of hemp, bleached +upon their bodies, impudently begged for pocket-money; women in scarlet +kerchiefs curiously scrutinized us; peasants carried bundles of freshly +mown grass to the horses which were exposed for sale; ladies with +Hungarian hats crushed their crinolines into queer old cabriolets; +gentlemen with business-faces and an aspect of wealth smoked paper +cigars; and numbers of hucksters offered baskets of biscuit and cakes, +of a disagreeable yellow color and great apparent toughness. It was a +repetition, with slight variations, of a village-fair anywhere else, or +an election-day in America.</p> + +<p>Passing through the roughly paved and somewhat dirty streets, past shops +full of primitive hardware, groceries which emitted powerful whiffs of +salt fish or new leather, bakeries with crisp padlocks of bread in the +windows, drinking-houses plentifully supplied with <i>qvass</i> and <i>vodki</i>, +and, finally, the one watch-maker, and the vender of paper, pens, and +Finnish almanacs, we reached a broad suburban street, whose substantial +houses, with their courts and gardens, hinted at the aristocracy of +Serdopol. The inn, with its Swedish sign, was large and comfortable, and +a peep into the open windows disclosed as pleasant quarters as a +traveller could wish. A little farther the town ceased, and we found +ourselves upon a rough, sloping common, at the top of which stood the +church with its neighboring belfry. It was unmistakably Lutheran in +appearance,—very plain and massive and sober in color, with a steep +roof for shedding snow. The only attempt at ornament was a fanciful +shingle-mosaic, but in pattern only, not in color. Across the common ran +a double row of small booths, which had just been erected for the coming +fair; and sturdy young fellows from the country, with their rough carts +and shaggy ponies, were gathering along the <a name="Page_537" id="Page_537"></a>highway, to skirmish a +little in advance of their bargains.</p> + +<p>The road enticed us onward, into the country. On our left, a long slope +descended to an upper arm of the harbor, the head of which we saw to be +near at hand. The opposite shore was fairly laid out in grain-fields, +through which cropped out, here and there, long walls of granite, rising +higher and higher towards the west, until they culminated in the round, +hard forehead of a lofty hill. There was no other point within easy +reach which promised much of a view; so, rounding the head of the bay, +we addressed ourselves to climbing the rocks, somewhat to the surprise +of the herd-boys, as they drove their cows into the town to be milked.</p> + +<p>Once off the cultivated land, we found the hill a very garden of wild +blooms. Every step and shelf of the rocks was cushioned with tricolored +violets, white anemones, and a succulent, moss-like plant with a golden +flower. Higher up there were sheets of fire-red pinks, and on the summit +an unbroken carpet of the dwarf whortleberry, with its waxen bells. +Light exhalations seemed to rise from the damp hollows, and drift +towards us; but they resolved themselves into swarms of mosquitoes, and +would have made the hill-top untenable, had they not been dispersed by a +sudden breeze. We sat down upon a rock and contemplated the widespread +panorama. It was nine o'clock, and the sun, near his setting, cast long +gleams of pale light through the clouds, softening the green of the +fields and forests where they fell, and turning the moist evening haze +into lustrous pearl. Inlets of the lake here and there crept in between +the rocky hills; broad stretches of gently undulating grain-land were +dotted with the houses, barns, and clustered stables of the Finnish +farmers; in the distance arose the smokes of two villages; and beyond +all, as we looked inland, ran the sombre ridges of the fir-clad hills. +Below us, on the right, the yellow houses of the town shone in the +subdued light,—the only bright spot in the landscape, which elsewhere +seemed to be overlaid with a tint of dark, transparent gray. It was +wonderfully silent. Not a bird twittered; no bleat of sheep or low of +cattle was heard from the grassy fields; no shout of children, or +evening hail from the returning boats of the fishers. Over all the land +brooded an atmosphere of sleep, of serene, perpetual peace. To sit and +look upon it was in itself a refreshment like that of healthy slumber. +The restless devil which lurks in the human brain was quieted for the +time, and we dreamed—knowing all the while the vanity of the dream—of +a pastoral life in some such spot, among as ignorant and simple-hearted +a people, ourselves as untroubled by the agitations of the world.</p> + +<p>We had scarce inhaled—or, rather, <i>insuded</i>, to coin a paradoxical word +for a sensation which seems to enter at every pore—the profound quiet +and its suggestive fancies for the space of half an hour, when the wind +fell at the going down of the sun, and the humming mist of mosquitoes +arose again. Returning to the town, we halted at the top of the common +to watch the farmers of the neighborhood at their horse-dealing. Very +hard, keen, weather-browned faces had they, eyes tight-set for the main +chance, mouths worn thin by biting farthings, and hands whose hard +fingers crooked with holding fast what they had earned. Faces almost of +the Yankee type, many of them, but relieved by the twinkling of a +humorous faculty or the wild gleam of imagination. The shaggy little +horses, of a dun or dull tan-color, seemed to understand that their best +performance was required, and rushed up and down the road with an +amazing exhibition of mettle. I could understand nothing of the Finnish +tongue except its music; but it was easy to perceive that the remarks of +the crowd were shrewd, intelligent, and racy. One young fellow, less +observant, accosted us in the hope that we might be purchasers. The +boys, suspecting that we were as green as we were evidently foreign, +held out their hands for alms, <a name="Page_538" id="Page_538"></a>with a very unsuccessful air of +distress, but readily succumbed to the Russian interjection "<i>proch"</i> +(be off!) the repetition of which, they understood, was a reproach.</p> + +<p>That night we slept on the velvet couches of the cabin, having the +spacious apartment to ourselves. The bright young officer had left for +the copper mines, the pilgrims were at Valaam, and our stout, benignant +captain looked upon us as his only faithful passengers. The stewards, +indeed, carried their kindness beyond reasonable anticipations. They +brought us real pillows and other conveniences, bolted the doors against +nightly intruders, and in the morning conducted us into the pantry, to +wash our faces in the basin sacred to dishes. After I had completed my +ablutions, I turned dumbly, with dripping face and extended hands, for a +towel. My steward understood the silent appeal, and, taking a napkin +from a plate of bread, presented it with alacrity. I made use of it, I +confess, but hastened out of the pantry, lest I should happen to see it +restored to its former place. <i>How not to observe</i> is a faculty as +necessary to the traveller as its reverse. I was reminded of this truth +at dinner, when I saw the same steward take a napkin (probably my +towel!) from under his arm, to wipe both his face and a plate which he +carried. To speak mildly, these people on Lake Ladoga are not sensitive +in regard to the contact of individualities. But the main point is to +avoid seeing what you don't like.</p> + +<p>We got off at an early hour, and hastened back to Valaam over glassy +water and under a superb sky. This time the lake was not so deserted, +for the white wings of pilgrim-boats drew in towards the dark island, +making for the golden sparkle of the chapel-dome, which shone afar like +a light-house of the daytime. As we rounded to in the land-locked inlet, +we saw that the crowds on the hills had doubled since yesterday, and, +although the chimes were pealing for some religious service, it seemed +prudent first to make sure of our quarters for the night. Accordingly we +set out for the imposing house of guests beside the monastery, arriving +in company with the visitors we had brought with us from Serdopol. The +entrance-hall led into a long, stone-paved corridor, in which a monk, +bewildered by many applications, appeared to be seeking relief by +promises of speedy hospitality. We put in our plea, and also received a +promise. On either side of the corridor were numbered rooms, already +occupied, the fortunate guests passing in and out with a provoking air +of comfort and unconcern. We ascended to the second story, which was +similarly arranged, and caught hold of another benevolent monk, willing, +but evidently powerless to help us. Dinner was just about to be served; +the brother in authority was not there; we must be good enough to wait a +little while;—would we not visit the shrines, in the mean time?</p> + +<p>The advice was sensible, as well as friendly, and we followed it. +Entering the great quadrangle of the monastery, we found it divided, +gridiron-fashion, into long, narrow court-yards by inner lines of +buildings. The central court, however, was broad and spacious, the +church occupying a rise of ground on the eastern side. Hundreds of men +and women—Carelian peasants—thronged around the entrance, crossing +themselves in unison with the congregation. The church, we found, was +packed, and the most zealous wedging among the blue <i>caftans</i> and +shining flaxen heads brought us no farther than the inner door. Thence +we looked over a tufted level of heads that seemed to +touch,—intermingled tints of gold, tawny, <i>silver</i>-blond, and the +various shades of brown, touched with dim glosses through the +incense-smoke, and occasionally bending in concert with an undulating +movement, like grain before the wind. Over these heads rose the vaulted +nave, dazzling with gold and colors, and blocked up, beyond the +intersection of the transept, by the <i>ikonostast</i>, or screen before the +Holy of Holies, gorgeous with pictures of saints overlaid with silver. +In front of <a name="Page_539" id="Page_539"></a>the screen the tapers burned, the incense rose thick and +strong, and the chant of the monks gave a peculiar solemnity to their +old Sclavonic litany. The only portion of it which I could understand +was the recurring response, as in the English Church, of, "Lord, have +mercy upon us!"</p> + +<p>Extricating ourselves with some difficulty, we entered a chapel-crypt, +which contains the bodies of Sergius and Herrmann. They lie together, in +a huge coffin of silver, covered with cloth-of-gold. Tapers of immense +size burned at the head and foot, and the pilgrims knelt around, bending +their foreheads to the pavement at the close of their prayers. Among +others, a man had brought his insane daughter, and it was touching to +see the tender care with which he led her to the coffin and directed her +devotions. So much of habit still remained, that it seemed, for the time +being, to restore her reason. The quietness and regularity with which +she went through the forms of prayer brought a light of hope to the +father's face. The other peasants looked on with an expression of pity +and sympathy. The girl, we learned, had but recently lost her reason, +and without any apparent cause. She was betrothed to a young man who was +sincerely attached to her, and the pilgrimage was undertaken in the hope +that a miracle might be wrought in her favor. The presence of the +shrine, indeed, struck its accustomed awe through her wandering senses, +but the effect was only momentary.</p> + +<p>I approached the coffin, and deposited a piece of money on the +offering-plate, for the purpose of getting a glimpse of the pictured +faces of the saints, in their silver setting. Their features were hard +and regular, flatly painted, as if by some forerunner of Cimabue, but +sufficiently modern to make the likeness doubtful. I have not been able +to obtain the exact date of their settlement on the island, but I +believe it is referred to the early part of the fifteenth century. The +common people believe that the island was first visited by Andrew, the +Apostle of Christ, who, according to the Russian patriarch Nestor, made +his way to Kiev and Novgorod. The latter place is known to have been an +important commercial city as early as the fourth century, and had a +regular intercourse with Asia. The name of Valaam does not come from +Balaam, as one might suppose, but seems to be derived from the Finnish +<i>varamo</i>, which signifies "herring-ground." The more I attempted to +unravel the history of the island, the more it became involved in +obscurity, and this fact, I must confess, only heightened my interest in +it. I found myself ready to accept the tradition of Andrew's visit, and +I accepted without a doubt the grave of King Magnus of Sweden.</p> + +<p>On issuing from the crypt, we encountered a young monk who had evidently +been sent in search of us. The mass was over, and the court-yard was +nearly emptied of its crowd. In the farther court, however, we found the +people more dense than ever, pressing forward towards a small door. The +monk made way for us with some difficulty,—for, though the poor fellows +did their best to fall back, the pressure from the outside was +tremendous. Having at last run the gantlet, we found ourselves in the +refectory of the monastery, inhaling a thick steam of fish and cabbage. +Three long tables were filled with monks and pilgrims, while the +attendants brought in the fish on large wooden trenchers. The plates +were of common white ware, but the spoons were of wood. Officers in gay +uniforms were scattered among the dark anchorites, who occupied one end +of the table, while the <i>bourgeoisie</i>, with here and there a +blue-caftaned peasant wedged among them, filled the other end. They were +eating with great zeal, while an old priest, standing, read from a +Sclavonic Bible. All eyes were turned upon us as we entered, and there +was not a vacant chair in which we could hide our intrusion. It was +rather embarrassing, especially as the young monk insisted that we +should remain, and the curious <a name="Page_540" id="Page_540"></a>eyes of the eaters as constantly asked, +"Who are these, and what do they want?" We preferred returning through +the hungry crowd, and made our way to the guests' house.</p> + +<p>Here a similar process was going on. The corridors were thronged with +peasants of all ages and both sexes, and the good fathers, more than +ever distracted, were incapable of helping us. Seeing a great crowd +piled up against a rear basement-door, we descended the stairs, and +groped our way through manifold steams and noises to a huge succession +of kitchens, where caldrons of cabbage were bubbling, and shoals of fish +went in raw and came out cooked. In another room some hundreds of +peasants were eating with all the energy of a primitive appetite. Soup +leaked out of the bowls as if they had been sieves; fishes gave a whisk +of the tail and vanished; great round boulders of bread went off, layer +after layer, and still the empty plates were held up for more. It was +<i>grand</i> eating,—pure appetite, craving only food in a general sense: no +picking out of tidbits, no spying here and there for a favorite dish, +but, like a huge fire, devouring everything that came in its way. The +stomach was here a patient, unquestioning serf, not a master full of +whims, requiring to be petted and conciliated. So, I thought, people +must have eaten in the Golden Age: so Adam and Eve must have dined, +before the Fall made them epicurean and dyspeptic.</p> + +<p>We—degenerate through culture—found the steams of the strong, coarse +dishes rather unpleasant, and retreated by a back-way, which brought us +to a spiral staircase. We ascended for a long time, and finally emerged +into the garret of the building, hot, close, and strawy as a barn-loft. +It was divided into rooms, in which, on the floors covered deep with +straw, the happy pilgrims who had finished their dinner were lying on +their bellies, lazily talking themselves to sleep. The grassy slope in +front of the house, and all the neighboring heights, were soon covered +in like manner. Men, women, and children threw themselves down, drawing +off their heavy boots, and dipping their legs, knee-deep, into the sun +and air. An atmosphere of utter peace and satisfaction settled over +them.</p> + +<p>Being the only foreign and heterodox persons present, we began to feel +ourselves deserted, when the favor of Sergius and Herrmann was again +manifested. P. was suddenly greeted by an acquaintance, an officer +connected with the Imperial Court, who had come to Valaam for a week of +devotion. He immediately interested himself in our behalf, procured us a +room with a lovely prospect, transferred his bouquet of lilacs and +peonies to our table, and produced his bottle of lemon-syrup to flavor +our tea. The rules of the monastery are very strict, and no visitor is +exempt from their observance. Not a fish can be caught, not a bird or +beast shot, no wine or liquor of any kind, nor tobacco in any form, used +on the island. Rigid as the organization seems, it bears equally on +every member of the brotherhood: the equality upon which such +associations were originally based is here preserved. The monks are only +in an ecclesiastical sense subordinate to the abbot. Otherwise, the +fraternity seems to be about as complete as in the early days of +Christianity.</p> + +<p>The Valamo, and her rival, the Letuchie, had advertised a trip to the +Holy Island, the easternmost of the Valaam group, some six miles from +the monastery, and the weather was so fair that both boats were crowded, +many of the monks accompanying us. Our new-found friend was also of the +party, and I made the acquaintance of a Finnish student from the Lyceum +at Kuopio, who gave me descriptions of the Saïma Lake and the wilds of +Savolax. Running eastward along the headlands, we passed Chernoi Noss, +(Black-Nose,) the name of which again recalled a term common in the +Orkneys and Shetlands,—<i>noss</i>, there, signifying a headland. The Holy +Island rose before us,—a circular pile of rock, crowned with wood, like +a huge, unfinished tower of Cyclopean masonry, built <a name="Page_541" id="Page_541"></a>up out of the deep +water. Far beyond it, over the rim of the lake, glimmered the blue +eastern shore. As we drew near, we found that the tumbled fragments of +rock had been arranged, with great labor, to form a capacious foot-path +around the base of the island. The steamers drew up against this narrow +quay, upon which we landed, under a granite wall which rose +perpendicularly to the height of seventy or eighty feet. The firs on the +summit grew out to the very edge and stretched their dark arms over us. +Every cranny of the rock was filled with tufts of white and pink +flowers, and the moisture, trickling from above, betrayed itself in long +lines of moss and fern.</p> + +<p>I followed the pilgrims around to the sunny side of the island, and +found a wooden staircase at a point where the wall was somewhat broken +away. Reaching the top of the first ascent, the sweet breath of a spring +woodland breathed around me. I looked under the broken roofage of the +boughs upon a blossoming jungle of shrubs and plants which seemed to +have been called into life by a more potent sun. The lily of the valley, +in thick beds, poured out the delicious sweetness of its little cups; +spikes of a pale-green orchis emitted a rich cinnamon odor; anemones, +geraniums, sigillarias, and a feathery flower, white, freckled with +purple, grew in profusion. The top of the island, five or six acres in +extent, was a slanting plane, looking to the south, whence it received +the direct rays of the sun. It was an enchanting picture of woodland +bloom, lighted with sprinkled sunshine, in the cold blue setting of the +lake, which was visible on all sides, between the boles of the trees. I +hailed it as an idyl of the North,—a poetic secret, which the Earth, +even where she is most cruelly material and cold, still tenderly hides +and cherishes.</p> + +<p>A peasant, whose scarlet shirt flashed through the bushes like a sudden +fire, seeing me looking at the flowers, gathered a handful of lilies, +which he offered to me, saying, "<i>Prekrasnie</i>" (Beautiful). Without +waiting for thanks, he climbed a second flight of steps and suddenly +disappeared from view. I followed, and found myself in front of a narrow +aperture in a rude wall, which had been built up under an overhanging +mass of rocks. A lamp was twinkling within, and presently several +persons crawled out, crossing themselves and muttering prayers.</p> + +<p>"What is this?" asked a person who had just arrived.</p> + +<p>"The cave of Alexander Svirski," was the answer.</p> + +<p>Alexander of the Svir—a river flowing from the Onega Lake into +Ladoga—was a hermit who lived for twenty years on the Holy Island, +inhabiting the hole before us through the long, dark, terrible winters, +in a solitude broken only when the monks of Valaam came over the ice to +replenish his stock of provisions. Verily, the hermits of the Thebaïd +were Sybarites, compared to this man! There are still two or three +hermits who have charge of outlying chapels on the islands, and live +wholly secluded from their brethren. They wear dresses covered with +crosses and other symbols, and are considered as dead to the world. The +ceremony which consecrates them for this service is that for the burial +of the dead.</p> + +<p>I managed, with some difficulty, to creep into Alexander Svirski's den. +I saw nothing, however, but the old, smoky, and sacred picture before +which the lamp burned. The rocky roof was so low that I could not stand +upright, and all the walls I could find were the bodies of pilgrims who +had squeezed in before me. A confused whisper surrounded me in the +darkness, and the air was intolerably close. I therefore made my escape +and mounted to the chapel, on the highest part of the island. A little +below it, an open pavilion, with seats, has been built over the sacred +spring from which the hermit drank, and thither the pilgrims thronged. +The water was served in a large wooden bowl, and each one made the sign +of the cross before drinking. By waiting for my turn I ascertained that +the spring was icy-cold, and very pure and sweet.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_542" id="Page_542"></a>I found myself lured to the highest cliff, whence I could look out, +through the trees, on the far, smooth disk of the lake. Smooth and fair +as the Ægean it lay before me, and the trees were silent as olives at +noonday on the shores of Cos. But how different in color, in sentiment! +Here, perfect sunshine can never dust the water with the purple bloom of +the South, can never mellow its hard, cold tint of greenish-blue. The +distant hills, whether dark or light, are equally cold, and are seen too +nakedly through the crystal air to admit of any illusion. Bracing as is +this atmosphere, the gods could never breathe it. It would revenge on +the ivory limbs of Apollo his treatment of Marsyas. No foam-born +Aphrodite could rise warm from yonder wave; not even the cold, sleek +Nereïds could breast its keen edge. We could only imagine it disturbed, +temporarily, by the bath-plunge of hardy Vikings, whom we can see, red +and tingling from head to heel, as they emerge.</p> + +<p>"Come!" cried P., "the steamer is about to leave!"</p> + +<p>We all wandered down the steps, I with my lilies in my hand. Even the +rough peasants seemed reluctant to leave the spot, and not wholly for +the sake of Alexander Svirski. We were all safely embarked and carried +back to Valaam, leaving the island to its solitude. Alexis (as I shall +call our Russian friend) put us in charge of a native artist who knew +every hidden beauty of Valaam, and suggested an exploration of the +inlet, while he went back to his devotions. We borrowed a boat from the +monks, and impressed a hardy fisherman into our service. I supposed we +had already seen the extent of the inlet, but on reaching its head a +narrow side-channel disclosed itself, passing away under a quaint bridge +and opening upon an inner lake of astonishing beauty. The rocks were +disposed in every variety of grouping,—sometimes rising in even +terraces, step above step, sometimes thrusting out a sheer wall from the +summit, or lying slant-wise in masses split off by the wedges of the +ice. The fairy birches, in their thin foliage, stood on the edge of the +water like Dryads undressing for a bath, while the shaggy male firs +elbowed each other on the heights for a look at them. Other channels +opened in the distance, with glimpses of other and as beautiful harbors +in the heart of the islands. "You may sail for seventy-five versts," +said the painter, "without seeing them all."</p> + +<p>The fearlessness of all wild creatures showed that the rules of the good +monks had been carefully obeyed. The wild ducks swam around our boat, or +brooded, in conscious security, on their nests along the shore. Three +great herons, fishing in a shallow, rose slowly into the air and flew +across the water, breaking the silence with their hoarse trumpet-note. +Farther in the woods there are herds of wild reindeer, which are said to +have become gradually tame. This familiarity of the animals took away +from the islands all that was repellent in their solitude. It half +restored the broken link between man and the subject-forms of life.</p> + +<p>The sunset-light was on the trees when we started, but here in the North +it is no fleeting glow. It lingers for hours even, fading so +imperceptibly that you scarcely know when it has ceased. Thus, when we +returned after a long pull, craving the Lenten fare of the monastery, +the same soft gold tinted its clustering domes. We were not called upon +to visit the refectory, but a table was prepared in our room. The first +dish had the appearance of a salad, with the accompaniment of black +bread. On carefully tasting, I discovered the ingredients to be raw salt +fish chopped fine, cucumbers, and—beer. The taste of the first spoonful +was peculiar, of the second tolerable, of the third decidedly palatable. +Beyond this I did not go, for we had fresh fish, boiled in enough water +to make a soup. Then the same, fried in its own fat, and, as salt and +pepper were allowed, we did not scorn our supper. P. and R. afterwards +walked over to the Skit, a small church <a name="Page_543" id="Page_543"></a>and branch of the monastery, +more than a mile distant; while I tried, but all in vain, to reproduce +the Holy Island in verses. The impression was too recent.</p> + +<p>The next day was the festival of Peter and Paul, and Alexis had advised +us to make an excursion to a place called Jelesniki. In the morning, +however, we learned that the monastery and its grounds were to be +consecrated in solemn procession. The chimes pealed out quick and +joyously, and soon a burst of banners and a cloud of incense issued from +the great gate. All the pilgrims—nearly two thousand in +number—thronged around the double line of chanting monks, and it was +found necessary to inclose the latter in a hollow square, formed by a +linked chain of hands. As the morning sun shone on the bare-headed +multitude, the beauty of their unshorn hair struck me like a new +revelation. Some of the heads, of lustrous, flossy gold, actually shone +by their own light. It was marvellous that skin so hard and coarse in +texture should produce such beautiful hair. The beards of the men, also, +were strikingly soft and rich. They never shave, and thus avoid +bristles, the down of adolescence thickening into a natural beard.</p> + +<p>As the procession approached, Alexis, who was walking behind the monks, +inside the protecting guard, beckoned to us to join him. The peasants +respectfully made way, two hands unlinked to admit us, and we became, +unexpectedly, participants in the ceremonies. From the south side the +procession moved around to the east, where a litany was again chanted. +The fine voices of the monks lost but little of their volume in the open +air; there was no wind, and the tapers burned and the incense diffused +itself, as in the church. A sacred picture, which two monks carried on a +sort of litter, was regarded with particular reverence by the pilgrims, +numbers of whom crept under the line of guards to snatch a moment's +devotion before it. At every pause in the proceedings there was a rush +from all sides, and the poor fellows who formed the lines held each +other's hands with all their strength. Yet, flushed, sweating, and +exhausted as they were, the responsibility of their position made them +perfectly proud and happy. They were the guardians of cross and shrine, +of the holy books, the monks, and the abbot himself.</p> + +<p>From the east side we proceeded to the north, where the dead monks sleep +in their cemetery, high over the watery gorge. In one corner of this +inclosure, under a group of giant maples, is the grave of King Magnus of +Sweden, who is said to have perished by shipwreck on the island. Here, +in the deep shade, a solemn mass for the dead was chanted. Nothing could +have added to the impressiveness of the scene. The tapers burning under +the thick-leaved boughs, the light smoke curling up in the shade, the +grave voices of the monks, the bending heads of the beautiful-haired +crowd, and the dashes of white, pink, scarlet, blue, and gold in their +dresses, made a picture the solemnity of which was only heightened by +its pomp of color. I can do no more than give the features; the reader +must recombine them in his own mind.</p> + +<p>The painter accompanied us to the place called Jelesniki, which, after a +walk of four miles through the forests, we found to be a deserted +village, with a chapel on a rocky headland. There was a fine bridge +across the dividing strait, and the place may have been as picturesque +as it was represented. On that side of the islands, however, there was a +dense fog, and we could get no view beyond a hundred yards. We had hoped +to see reindeer in the woods, and an eagle's nest, and various other +curiosities; but where there was no fog there were mosquitoes, and the +search became discouraging.</p> + +<p>On returning to the monastery, a register was brought to us, in which, +on looking back for several years, we could find but one foreign +visitor,—a Frenchman. We judged, therefore, that the abbot would +possibly expect us to call upon him, and, indeed, the hospitality we had +received exacted it. We found him receiving visitors in a plain, but +comfortable <a name="Page_544" id="Page_544"></a>room, in a distant part of the building. He was a man of +fifty-five, frank and self-possessed in his manners, and of an evident +force and individuality of character. His reception of the visitors, +among whom was a lady, was at once courteous and kindly. A younger monk +brought us glasses of tea. Incidentally learning that I had visited the +Holy Places in Syria, the abbot sent for some pictures of the monastery +and its chosen saints, which he asked me to keep as a souvenir of +Valaam. He also presented each of us with a cake of unleavened bread, +stamped with the cross, and with a triangular piece cut out of the top, +to indicate the Trinity. On parting, he gave his hand, which the +orthodox visitors devoutly kissed. Before the steamer sailed, we +received fresh evidence of his kindness, in the present of three large +loaves of consecrated bread, and a bunch of lilacs from the garden of +the monastery.</p> + +<p>Through some misunderstanding, we failed to dine in the refectory, as +the monks desired, and their hospitable regret on this account was the +only shade on our enjoyment of the visit. Alexis remained, in order to +complete his devotions by partaking the Communion on the following +Sabbath; but as the anniversary solemnities closed at noon, the crowd of +pilgrims prepared to return home. The Valamo, too, sounded her warning +bell, so we left the monastery as friends where we had arrived as +strangers, and went on board. Boat after boat, gunwale-deep with the gay +Carelians, rowed down the inlet, and in the space of half an hour but a +few stragglers were left of all the multitude. Some of the monks came +down to say another good-bye, and the under-abbot, blessing R., made the +sign of the cross upon his brow and breast.</p> + +<p>When we reached the golden dome of St. Nicholas, at the outlet of the +harbor, the boats had set their sails, and the lake was no longer +lonely. Scores of white wings gleamed in the sun, as they scattered away +in radii from the central and sacred point, some north, some east, and +some veering south around Holy Island. Sergius and Herrmann gave them +smooth seas, and light, favorable airs; for the least roughness would +have carried them, overladen as they were, to the bottom. Once more the +bells of Valaam chimed farewell, and we turned the point to the +westward, steering back to Kexholm.</p> + +<p>Late that night we reached our old moorage at Konewitz, and on Saturday, +at the appointed hour, landed in St. Petersburg. We carried the white +cross at the fore as we descended the Neva, and the bells of the +churches along the banks welcomed our return. And now, as I recall those +five days among the islands of the Northern Lake, I see that it is good +to go on a pilgrimage, even if one is not a pilgrim.</p><p><a name="Page_545" id="Page_545"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WET-WEATHER_WORK" id="WET-WEATHER_WORK"></a>WET-WEATHER WORK.</h2> + +<p>BY A FARMER.</p> + +<p>VI.</p> + + +<p>I begin my day with a canny Scot, who was born in Edinburgh in 1726, +near which city his father conducted a large market-garden. As a youth, +aged nineteen, John Abercrombie (for it is of him I make companion this +wet morning) saw the Battle of Preston Pans, at which the Highlanders +pushed the King's-men in defeat to the very foot of his father's +garden-wall. Whether he shouldered a matchlock for the Castle-people and +Sir John Hope, or merely looked over from the kale-beds at the +victorious fighters for Prince Charley, I cannot learn; it is certain +only that before Culloden, and the final discomfiture of the Pretender, +he avowed himself a good King's-man, and in many an after-year, over his +pipe and his ale, told the story of the battle which surged wrathfully +around his father's kale-garden by Preston Pans.</p> + +<p>But he did not stay long in Scotland; he became gardener for Sir James +Douglas, into whose family (below-stairs) he eventually married; +afterwards he had experience in the royal gardens at Kew, and in +Leicester Fields. Finally he became proprietor of a patch of ground in +the neighborhood of London; and his success here, added to his success +in other service, gave him such reputation that he was one day waited +upon (about the year 1770) by Mr. Davis, a London bookseller, who +invited him to dine at an inn in Hackney; and at the dinner he was +introduced to a certain Oliver Goldsmith, an awkward man, who had +published four years before a book called "The Vicar of Wakefield." Mr. +Davis thought John Abercrombie was competent to write a good practical +work on gardening, and the Hackney dinner was intended to warm the way +toward such a book. Dinners are sometimes given with such ends even now. +The shrewd Mr. Davis was a little doubtful of Abercrombie's style, but +not at all doubtful of the style of the author of "The Traveller." Dr. +Goldsmith was not a man averse to a good meal, where he was to meet a +straightforward, out-spoken Scotch gardener; and Mr. Davis, at a mellow +stage of the dinner, brought forward his little plan, which was that +Abercrombie should prepare a treatise upon gardening, to be revised and +put in shape by the author of "The Deserted Village." The dinner at +Hackney was, I dare say, a good one; the scheme looked promising to a +man whose vegetable-carts streamed every morning into London, and to the +Doctor, mindful of his farm-retirement at the six-mile stone on the +Edgeware Road; so it was all arranged between them.</p> + +<p>But, like many a publisher's scheme, it miscarried. The Doctor perhaps +saw a better bargain in the Lives of Bolingbroke and Parnell;<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> or +perhaps his appointment as Professor of History to the Royal Society put +him too much upon his dignity. At any rate, the world has to regret a +gardening-book in which the shrewd practical knowledge of Abercrombie +would have been refined by the grace and the always alluring limpidity +of the style of Goldsmith.</p> + +<p>I know that the cultivators pretend to spurn graces of manner, and +affect only a clumsy burden of language, under which, I am sorry to say, +the best agriculturists have most commonly labored; but if the +transparent simplicity of Goldsmith had once been thoroughly infused +with the practical knowledge of Abercrombie, what a book on gardening we +should have had! What a lush verdure of vegetables would have tempted +us! What a wealth of perfume would have exuded from the flowers!</p> + +<p>But the scheme proved abortive. Goldsmith <a name="Page_546" id="Page_546"></a>said, "I think our friend +Abercrombie can write better about plants than I can." And so doubtless +he could, so far as knowledge of their habits went. Eight years after, +Abercrombie prepared a book called "Every Man his own Gardener"; but so +doubtful was he of his own reputation, that he paid twenty pounds to Mr. +Thomas Mawe, the fashionable gardener of the Duke of Leeds, to allow him +to place his name upon the title-page. I am sorry to record such a +scurvy bit of hypocrisy in so competent a man. The book sold, however, +and sold so well, that, a few years after, the elegant Mr. Mawe begged a +visit from the nurseryman of Tottenham Court, whom he had never seen; so +Abercrombie goes down to the seat of the Duke of Leeds, and finds his +gardener so bedizened with powder, and wearing such a grand air, that he +mistakes him for his Lordship; but it is a mistake, we may readily +believe, which the elegant Mr. Mawe forgives, and the two gardeners +become capital friends.</p> + +<p>Abercrombie afterward published many works under his own name;<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> among +these was "The Gardener's Pocket Journal," which maintained an +unflagging popularity as a standard book for a period of half a century. +This hardy Scotchman lived to be eighty; and when he could work no +longer, he was constantly afoot among the botanical gardens about +London. At the last it was a fall "down-stairs in the dark" that was the +cause of death; and fifteen days after, as his quaint biographers tell +us, "he expired, just as the clock upon St. Paul's struck +twelve,—between April and May": as if the ripe old gardener could not +tell which of these twin garden-months he loved the best; and so, with a +foot planted in each, he made the leap into the realm of eternal spring.</p> + +<p>A noticeable fact in regard to this out-of-door old gentleman is, that +he never took "doctors'-stuff" in his life, until the time of that fatal +fall in the dark. He was, however, an inveterate tea-drinker; and there +was another aromatic herb (I write this with my pipe in my mouth) of +which he was, up to the very last, a most ardent consumer.</p> + +<p>In the year 1766 was published for the first time a posthumous work by +John Locke, the great philosopher and the good Christian, entitled, +"Observations upon the Growth and Culture of Vines and +Olives,"—written, very likely, after his return from France, down in +his pleasant Essex home, at the seat of Sir Francis Masham. I should +love to give the reader a sample of the way in which the author of "An +Essay concerning Human Understanding" wrote regarding horticultural +matters. But, after some persistent search and inquiry, I have not been +able to see or even to hear of a copy of the book.<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> No one can doubt +but there is wisdom in it. "I believe you think me," he writes in a +private letter to a friend, "too proud to undertake anything wherein I +should acquit myself but unworthily." This is a sort of pride—not very +common in our day—which does <i>not</i> go before a fall.</p> + +<p>I name a poet next,—not because a great poet, for he was not, nor yet +because he wrote "The English Garden,"<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> for there is sweeter +garden-perfume in many another poem of the day that does not pique our +curiosity by its title. But the Reverend William Mason, if not among the +foremost of poets, was a man of most kindly and liberal sympathies. He +was a devoted Whig, at a time when Whiggism meant friendship for the +American Colonists; and the open expression of this friendship cost him +his place as a Royal Chaplain. I will remember this longer than I +remember his "English Garden,"—longer than I remember his best couplet +of verse:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"While through the west, where sinks the crimson day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meek twilight slowly sails, and waves her banners gray."<br /></span> +</div></div><p><a name="Page_547" id="Page_547"></a></p> + +<p>It was alleged, indeed, by those who loved to say ill-natured things, +(Horace Walpole among them,) that in the later years of his life he +forgot his first love of Liberalism and became politically conservative. +But it must be remembered that the good poet lived into the time when +the glut and gore of the French Revolution made people hold their +breath, and when every man who lifted a humane plaint against the +incessant creak and crash of the guillotine was reckoned by all mad +reformers a conservative. I think, if I had lived in that day, I should +have been a conservative, too,—however much the pretty and bloody +Desmoulins might have made faces at me in the newspapers.</p> + +<p>I can find nothing in Mason's didactic poem to quote. There are tasteful +suggestions scattered through it,—better every way than his poetry. The +grounds of his vicarage at Aston must have offered charming +loitering-places. I will leave him idling there,—perhaps conning over +some letter of his friend the poet Gray; perhaps lounging in the very +alcove where he had inscribed this verse of the "Elegy,"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here scattered oft, the loveliest of the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By hands unseen, are showers of violets found;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The redbreast loves to build and warble here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And little footsteps lightly print the ground."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>If, indeed, he had known how to strew such gems through his "English +Garden," we should have had a poem that would have out-shone "The +Seasons."</p> + +<p>And this mention reminds me, that, although I have slipped past his +period, I have said no word as yet of the Roxburgh poet; but he shall be +neglected no longer. (The big book, my boy, upon the third shelf, with a +worn back, labelled THOMSON.)</p> + +<p>This poet is not upon the gardeners' or the agricultural lists. One can +find no farm-method in him,—indeed, little method of any sort; there is +no description of a garden carrying half the details that belong to +Tasso's garden of Armida, or Rousseau's in the letter of St. Preux.<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> +And yet, as we read, how the country, with its woods, its valleys, its +hillsides, its swains, its toiling cattle, comes swooping to our vision! +The leaves rustle, the birds warble, the rivers roar a song. The sun +beats on the plain; the winds carry waves into the grain; the clouds +plant shadows on the mountains. The minuteness and the accuracy of his +observation are something wonderful; if farmers should not study him, +our young poets may. <i>He</i> never puts a song in the throat of a jay or a +wood-dove; <i>he</i> never makes a mother-bird break out in bravuras; <i>he</i> +never puts a sickle into green grain, or a trout in a slimy brook; <i>he</i> +could picture no orchis growing on a hillside, or columbine nodding in a +meadow. If the leaves shimmer, you may be sure the sun is shining; if a +primrose lightens on the view, you may be sure there is some covert +which the primroses love; and never by any license does a white flower +come blushing into his poem.</p> + +<p>I will not quote, where so much depends upon the atmosphere which the +poet himself creates, as he waves his enchanter's wand. Over all the +type his sweet power compels a rural heaven to lie reflected; I go from +budding spring to blazing summer at the turning of a page; on all the +meadows below me (though it is March) I see ripe autumn brooding with +golden wings; and winter howls and screams in gusts, and tosses tempests +of snow into my eyes—out of the book my boy has just now brought me.</p> + +<p>One verse, at least, I will cite,—so full it is of all pastoral +feeling, so brimming over with the poet's passion for the country: it is +from "The Castle of Indolence":—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I care not, Fortune, what you me deny:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot shut the windows of the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through which Aurora shows her brightening face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot bar my constant feet to trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woods and lawns, by living stream at eve:<br /></span><p><a name="Page_548" id="Page_548"></a></p> +<span class="i0">Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I their toys to the great children leave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Another Scotchman, Lord Kames, (Henry Home by name,) who was Senior Lord +of Sessions in Scotland about the year 1760, was best known in his own +day for his discussion of "The Principles of Equity"; he is known to the +literary world as the author of an elegant treatise upon the "Elements +of Criticism"; I beg leave to introduce him to my readers to-day as a +sturdy, practical farmer. The book, indeed, which serves for his card of +introduction, is called "The Gentleman Farmer";<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a> but we must not judge +it by our experience of the class who wear that title nowadays. Lord +Kames recommends no waste of money, no extravagant architecture, no mere +prettinesses. He talks of the plough in a way that assures us he has +held it some day with his own hands. People are taught, he says, more by +the eye than the ear; <i>show</i> them good culture, and they will follow it.</p> + +<p>As for what were called the principles of agriculture, he found them +involved in obscurity; he went to the book of Nature for instruction, +and commenced, like Descartes, with doubting everything. He condemns the +Roman husbandry as fettered by superstitions, and gives a piquant sneer +at the absurd rhetoric and verbosity of Varro.<a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a> Nor is he any more +tolerant of Scotch superstitions. He declares against wasteful and +careless farming in a way that reminds us of our good friend Judge ——, +at the last county-show.</p> + +<p>He urges good ploughing as a primal necessity, and insists upon the use +of the roller for rendering the surface of wheatlands compact, and so +retaining the moisture; nor does he attempt to reconcile this +declaration with the Tull theory of constant trituration. A great many +excellent Scotch farmers still hold to the views of his Lordship, and +believe in "keeping the sap" in fresh-tilled land by heavy rolling; and +so far as regards a wheat or rye crop upon <i>light</i> lands, I think the +weight of opinion, as well as of the rollers, is with them.</p> + +<p>Lord Kames, writing before the time of draining-tile, dislikes open +ditches, by reason of their interference with tillage, and does not +trust the durability of brush or stone underdrains. He relies upon +ridging, and the proper disposition of open furrows, in the old Greek +way. Turnips he commends without stint, and the Tull system of their +culture. Of clover he thinks as highly as the great English farmer, but +does not believe in his notion of economizing seed: "Idealists," he +says, "talk of four pounds to the acre; but when sown for cutting green, +I would advise twenty-four pounds." This amount will seem a little +startling, I fancy, even to farmers of our day.</p> + +<p>He advises strongly the use of oxen in place of horses for all +farm-labor; they cost less, keep for less, and sell for more; and he +enters into arithmetical calculations to establish his propositions. He +instances Mr. Burke, who ploughs with four oxen at Beaconsfield. How +drolly it sounds to hear the author of "Letters on a Regicide Peace" +cited as an authority in practical farming! He still further urges his +ox-working scheme, on grounds of public economy: it will cheapen food, +forbid importation of oats, and reduce wages. Again, he recommends +soiling,<a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a> by all the arguments which are used, and vainly used, with +us. He shows the worthlessness of manure dropped upon a parched field, +compared with the same duly cared for in court or stable; he proposes +movable sheds for feeding, and enters into a computation of the weight +of green clover which will be consumed in a day by horses, cows, or +oxen: "a horse, ten Dutch stone daily; an ox or cow, eight stone; ten +horses, ten oxen, and six cows, two hundred and twenty-eight <a name="Page_549" id="Page_549"></a>stone per +day,"—involving constant cartage: still he is convinced of the profit +of the method.</p> + +<p>His views on feeding ordinary store cattle, or accustoming them to +change of food, are eminently practical. After speaking of the +desirableness of providing a good stock of vegetables, he +continues,—"And yet, after all, how many indolent farmers remain, who +for want of spring food are forced to turn their cattle out to grass +before it is ready for pasture! which not only starves the cattle, but +lays the grass-roots open to be parched by sun and wind."</p> + +<p>Does not this sound as if I had clipped it from the "Country Gentleman" +of last week? And yet it was written ninety-seven years ago, by one of +the most accomplished Scotch judges, and in his eightieth year,—another +Varro, packing his luggage for his last voyage.</p> + +<p>One great value of Lord Kames's talk lies in the particularity of his +directions: he does not despise mention of those minutiæ a neglect of +which makes so many books of agricultural instruction utterly useless. +Thus, in so small a matter as the sowing of clover-seed, he tells how +the thumb and finger should be held, for its proper distribution; in +stacking, he directs how to bind the thatch; he tells how mown grass +should be raked, and how many hours spread;<a name="FNanchor_I_9" id="FNanchor_I_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_I_9" class="fnanchor">[I]</a> and his directions for +the making of clover-hay could not be improved upon this very summer. +"Stir it not the day it is cut. Turn it in the swath the forenoon of the +next day; and in the afternoon put it up in small cocks. The third day +put two cocks into one, enlarging every day the cocks till they are +ready for the tramp rick [temporary field-stack]."</p> + +<p>A small portion of his book is given up to the discussion of the theory +of agriculture; but he fairly warns his readers that he is wandering in +the dark. If all theorists were as honest! He deplores the ignorance of +Tull in asserting that plants feed on earth; air and water alone, in his +opinion, furnish the supply of plant-food. All plants feed alike, and on +the same material. Degeneracy appearing only in those which are not +native: white clover never deteriorates in England, nor bull-dogs.</p> + +<p>But I will not linger on his theories. He is represented to have been a +kind and humane man; but this did not forbid a hearty relish (appearing +often in his book) for any scheme which promised to cheapen labor. "The +people on landed estates," he says, "are trusted by Providence to the +owner's care, and the proprietor is accountable for the management of +them to the Great God, who is the Creator of both." It does not seem to +have occurred to the old gentleman that some day people might decline to +be "managed."</p> + +<p>He gave the best proof of his practical tact, in the conduct of his +estate of Blair-Drummond,—uniting there all the graces of the best +landscape-gardening with profitable returns.</p> + +<p>I take leave of him with a single excerpt from his admirable chapter of +Gardening in the "Elements of Criticism":—"Other fine arts may be +perverted to excite irregular, and even vicious emotions; but gardening, +which inspires the purest and most refined pleasures, cannot fail to +promote every good affection. The gayety and harmony of mind it +produceth inclineth the spectator to communicate his satisfaction to +others, and to make them happy as he is himself, and tends naturally to +establish in him a habit of humanity and benevolence."</p> + +<p>It is humiliating to reflect, that a thievish orator at one of our +Agricultural Fairs might appropriate page after page out of the +"Gentleman Farmer" of Lord Kames, written in the middle of the last +century, and the county-paper, and the aged directors, in clean +shirt-collars and dress-coats, would be full of praises "of the +enlightened views of our esteemed fellow-citizen." And yet at the very +time when the critical Scotch judge was meditating his book, there was +erected a land light-house, called Dunston Column, <a name="Page_550" id="Page_550"></a>upon Lincoln Heath, +to guide night travellers over a great waste of land that lay a +half-day's ride south of Lincoln. And when Lady Robert Manners, who had +a seat at Bloxholme, wished to visit Lincoln, a groom or two were sent +out the morning before to explore a good path, and families were not +unfrequently lost for days<a name="FNanchor_J_10" id="FNanchor_J_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_J_10" class="fnanchor">[J]</a> together in crossing the heath. And this +same heath, made up of a light fawn-colored sand, lying on "dry, thirsty +stone," was, twenty years since at least, blooming all over with rank, +dark lines of turnips; trim, low hedges skirted the level highways; neat +farm-cottages were flanked with great saddle-backed ricks; thousands +upon thousands of long-woolled sheep cropped the luxuriant pasturage, +and the Dunston column was down.</p> + +<p>About the time of Lord Kames's establishment at Blair-Drummond, or +perhaps a little earlier, a certain Master Claridge published "The +Country Calendar; or, The Shepherd of Banbury's Rules to know of the +Change of the Weather." It professed to be based upon forty years' +experience, and is said to have met with great favor. I name it only +because it embodies these old couplets, which still lead a vagabond life +up and down the pages of country-almanacs:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If the grass grows in Janiveer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It grows the worst for't all the year."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The Welshman had rather see his dam on the bier.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than to see a fair Februeer."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When April blows his horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's good both for hay and corn."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A cold May and a windy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes a full barn and a findy."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A swarm of bees in May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is worth a load of hay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a swarm in July<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not worth a fly."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Will any couplets of Tennyson reap as large a fame?</p> + +<p>About the same period, John Mills, a Fellow of the Royal Society, +published a work of a totally different character,—being very methodic, +very full, very clear. It was distributed through five volumes. He +enforces the teachings of Evelyn and Duhamel, and is commendatory of the +views of Tull. The Rotherham plough is figured in his work, as well as +thirteen of the natural grasses. He speaks of potatoes and turnips as +established crops, and enlarges upon their importance. He clings to the +Virgilian theory of small farms, and to the better theory of thorough +tillage.</p> + +<p>In 1759 was issued the seventh edition of Miller's "Gardener's +Dictionary,"<a name="FNanchor_K_11" id="FNanchor_K_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_K_11" class="fnanchor">[K]</a> in which was for the first time adopted (in English) the +classical system of Linnæus. If I have not before alluded to Philip +Miller, it is not because he is undeserving. He was a correspondent of +the chiefs in science over the Continent of Europe, and united to his +knowledge a rare practical skill. He was superintendent of the famous +Chelsea Gardens of the Apothecaries Company, He lies buried in the +Chelsea Church-yard, where the Fellows of the Linnæan and Horticultural +Societies of London have erected a monument to his memory. Has the +reader ever sailed up the Thames, beyond Westminster? And does he +remember a little spot of garden-ground, walled in by dingy houses, that +lies upon the right bank of the river near to Chelsea Hospital? If he +can recall two gaunt, flat-topped cedars which sentinel the walk leading +to the river-gate, he will have the spot in his mind, where, nearly two +hundred years ago, and a full century before the Kew parterres were laid +down, the Chelsea Garden of the Apothecaries Company was established. It +was in the open country then; and even Philip Miller, in 1722, walked to +his work between hedge-rows, where sparrows chirped in spring, and in +winter the fieldfare chattered: but the town has swallowed it; the +city-smoke has starved it; even the marble image of Sir Hans Sloane in +its centre is but the mummy <a name="Page_551" id="Page_551"></a>of a statue. Yet in the Physic Garden there +are trees struggling still which Philip Miller planted; and I can +readily believe, that, when the old man, at seventy-eight, (through some +quarrel with the Apothecaries,) took his last walk to the river-bank, he +did it with a sinking at the heart which kept by him till he died.</p> + +<p>I come now to speak of Thomas Whately, to whom I have already alluded, +and of whom, from the scantiness of all record of his life, it is +possible to say only very little. He lived at Nonsuch Park, in Surrey, +not many miles from London, on the road to Epsom. He was engaged in +public affairs, being at one time secretary to the Earl of Suffolk, and +also a member of Parliament. But I enroll him in my wet-day service +simply as the author of the most appreciative and most tasteful treatise +upon landscape-gardening which has ever been written,—not excepting +either Price or Repton. It is entitled, "Observations on Modern +Gardening," and was first published in 1770. It was the same year +translated into French by Latapie, and was to the Continental gardeners +the first revelation of the graces which belonged to English cultivated +landscape. In the course of the book he gives vivid descriptions of +Blenheim, Hagley, Leasowes, Claremont, and several other well-known +British places. He treats separately of Parks, Water, Farms, Gardens, +Ridings, etc., illustrating each with delicate and tender transcripts of +natural scenes. Now he takes us to the cliffs of Matlock, and again to +the farm-flats of Woburn. His criticisms upon the places reviewed are +piquant, full of rare apprehension of the most delicate natural +beauties, and based on principles which every man of taste must accept +at sight. As you read him, he does not seem so much a theorizer or +expounder as he does the simple interpreter of graces which had escaped +your notice. His suggestions come upon you with such a momentum of +truthfulness, that you cannot stay to challenge them.</p> + +<p>There is no argumentation, and no occasion for it. On such a bluff he +tells us wood should be planted, and we wonder that a hundred people had +not said the same thing before; on such a river-meadow the grassy level +should lie open to the sun, and we wonder who could ever have doubted +it. Nor is it in matters of taste alone, I think, that the best things +we hear seem always to have a smack of oldness in them,—as if we +<i>remembered</i> their virtue. "Capital!" we say; "but hasn't it been said +before?" or, "Precisely! I wonder I didn't do or say the same thing +myself." Whenever you hear such criticisms upon any performance, you may +be sure that it has been directed by a sound instinct. It is not a sort +of criticism any one is apt to make upon flashy rhetoric, or upon flash +gardening.</p> + +<p>Whately alludes to the analogy between landscape-painting and +landscape-gardening: the true artists in either pursuit aim at the +production of rich pictorial effects, but their means are different. +Does the painter seek to give steepness to a declivity?—then he may add +to his shading a figure or two toiling up. The gardener, indeed, cannot +plant a man there; but a copse upon the summit will add to the apparent +height, and he may indicate the difficulty of ascent by a hand-rail +running along the path. The painter will extend his distance by the +<i>diminuendo</i> of his mountains, or of trees stretching toward the +horizon: the gardener has, indeed, no handling of successive mountains, +but he may increase apparent distance by leafy avenues leading toward +the limit of vision; he may even exaggerate the effect still further by +so graduating the size of his trees as to make a counterfeit +perspective.</p> + +<p>When I read such a book as this of Whately's,—so informed and leavened +as it is by an elegant taste,—I am most painfully impressed by the +shortcomings of very much which is called good landscape-gardening with +us. As if serpentine walks, and glimpses of elaborated <a name="Page_552" id="Page_552"></a>turf-ground, and +dots of exotic evergreens in little circlets of spaded earth, compassed +at all those broad effects which a good designer should keep in mind! We +are gorged with <i>petit-maître-</i>ism, and pretty littlenesses of all +kinds. We have the daintiest of walks, and the rarest of shrubs, and the +best of drainage; but of those grand, bold effects which at once seize +upon the imagination, and inspire it with new worship of Nature, we have +great lack. In private grounds we cannot of course command the +opportunity which the long tenure under British privilege gives; but the +conservators of public parks have scope and verge; let them look to it, +that their resources be not wasted in the niceties of mere gardening, or +in elaborate architectural devices. Banks of blossoming shrubs and +tangled wild vines and labyrinthine walks will count for nothing in +park-effect, when, fifty years hence, the scheme shall have ripened, and +hoary pines pile along the ridges, and gaunt single trees spot here and +there the glades, to invite the noontide wayfarer. A true artist should +keep these ultimate effects always in his eye,—effects that may be +greatly impaired, if not utterly sacrificed, by an injudicious +multiplication of small and meretricious beauties, which in no way +conspire to the grand and final poise of the scene.</p> + +<p>But I must not dwell upon so enticing a topic, or my wet day will run +over into sunshine. One word more, however, I have to say of the +personality of the author who has suggested it. The reader of Sparks's +Works and Life of Franklin may remember, that, in the fourth volume, +under the head of "Hutchinson's Letters," the Doctor details +difficulties which he fell into in connection with "certain papers" he +obtained indirectly from one of His Majesty's officials, and +communicated to Thomas Gushing, Speaker of the House of Representatives +of Massachusetts Bay. The difficulty involved others besides the Doctor, +and a duel came of it between a certain William Whately and Mr. Temple. +This William Whately was the brother of Thomas Whately,—the author in +question,—and secretary to Lord Grenville,<a name="FNanchor_L_12" id="FNanchor_L_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_L_12" class="fnanchor">[L]</a> in which capacity he died +in 1772.<a name="FNanchor_M_13" id="FNanchor_M_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_M_13" class="fnanchor">[M]</a> The "papers" alluded to were letters from Governor +Hutchinson and others, expressing sympathy with the British Ministry in +their efforts to enforce a grievous Colonial taxation. It was currently +supposed that Mr. Secretary Whately was the recipient of these letters; +and upon their being made public after his death, Mr. Whately, his +brother and executor, conceived that Mr. Temple was the instrument of +their transfer. Hence the duel. Dr. Franklin, however, by public letter, +declared that this allegation was ill-founded, but would never reveal +the name of the party to whom he was indebted. The Doctor lost his place +of Postmaster-General for the Colonies, and was egregiously insulted by +Wedderburn in open Council; but he could console himself with the +friendship of such men as Lawyer Dunning, (one of the suspected authors +of "Junius,") and with the eulogium of Lord Chatham.</p> + +<p>There are three more names belonging to this period which I shall bring +under review, to finish up my day. These are Horace Walpole, (Lord +Orford,) Edmund Burke, and Oliver Goldsmith. Walpole was the proprietor +of Strawberry Hill, and wrote upon gardening: Burke was the owner of a +noble farm at Beaconsfield, which he managed with rare sagacity: +Goldsmith could never claim land enough to dig a grave upon, until the +day he was buried; but he wrote the story of "The Vicar of Wakefield," +and the sweet poem of "The Deserted Village."</p> + +<p>I take a huge pleasure in dipping from time to time, into the books of +Horace Walpole, and an almost equal pleasure in cherishing a hearty +contempt for the man. With a certain native cleverness, and the tact of +a showman, he paraded <a name="Page_553" id="Page_553"></a>his resources, whether of garden, or villa, or +memory, or ingenuity, so as to carry a reputation for ability that he +never has deserved. His money, and the distinction of his father, gave +him an association with cultivated people,—artists, politicians, +poets,—which the metal of his own mind would never have found by reason +of its own gravitating power. He courted notoriety in a way that would +have made him, if a poorer man, the toadying Boswell of some other +Johnson giant, and, if very poor, the welcome buffoon of some gossiping +journal, who would never weary of contortions, and who would brutify +himself at the death, to kindle an admiring smile.</p> + +<p>He writes pleasantly about painters, and condescendingly of gardeners +and gardening. Of the special beauties of Strawberry Hill he is himself +historiographer; elaborate copper plates, elegant paper, and a +particularity that is ludicrous, set forth the charms of a villa which +never supplied a single incentive to correct taste, or a single scene +that has the embalmment of genius. He tells us grandly how this room was +hung with crimson, and that other with gold; how "the tearoom was +adorned with green paper and prints, ...on the hearth, a large green +vase of German ware, with a spread eagle, and lizards for +handles,"—which vase (if the observation be not counted disloyal by +sensitive gentlemen) must have been a very absurd bit of pottery. "On a +shelf and brackets are two <i>potpourris</i> of Hankin china; two pierced +blue and white basons of old Delft; and two sceaus [<i>sic</i>] of coloured +Seve; a blue and white vase and cover; and two old Fayence bottles."</p> + +<p>When a man writes about his own furniture in this style for large type +and quarto, we pity him more than if he had kept to such fantastic +nightmares as the "Castle of Otranto." The Earl of Orford speaks in high +terms of the literary abilities of the Earl of Bath: have any of my +readers ever chanced to see any literary work of the Earl of Bath? If +not, I will supply the omission, in the shape of a ballad, "to the tune +of a former song by George Bubb Doddington." It is entitled, "Strawberry +Hill."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Some cry up Gunnersbury,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">For Sion some declare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some say that with Chiswick House<br /></span> +<span class="i3">No villa can compare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ask the beaux of Middlesex,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Who know the country well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Strawb'ry Hill, if Strawb'ry Hill<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Don't bear away the bell?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Since Denham sung of Cooper's,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">There's scarce a hill around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what in song or ditty<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Is turned to fairy ground.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, peace be with their memories!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">I wish them wondrous well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Strawb'ry Hill, but Strawb'ry Hill<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Must bear away the bell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It is no way surprising that a noble poet capable of writing such a +ballad should have admired the villa of Horace Walpole: it is no way +surprising that a proprietor capable of admiring such a ballad should +have printed his own glorification of Strawberry Hill.</p> + +<p>I am not insensible to the easy grace and the piquancy of his letters; +no man could ever pour more delightful twaddle into the ear of a great +friend; no man could more delight in doing it, if only the friend were +really great. I am aware that he was highly cultivated,—that he had +observed widely at home and abroad,—that he was a welcome guest in +distinguished circles; but he never made or had a real friend; and the +news of the old man's death made no severer shock than if one of his +Fayence pipkins had broken.</p> + +<p>But what most irks me is the absurd dilettanteism and presumption of the +man. He writes a tale as if he were giving dignity to romance; he +applauds an artist as Dives might have thrown crumbs to Lazarus; vain to +the last degree of all that he wrote or said, he was yet too fine a +gentleman to be called author; if there had been a way of printing +books, without recourse to the vulgar <i>media</i> of type and paper,—a way +of which titled gentlemen could command the monopoly,—I <a name="Page_554" id="Page_554"></a>think he would +have written more. As I turn over the velvety pages of his works, and +look at his catalogues, his <i>bon-mots</i>, his drawings, his affectations +of magnificence, I seem to see the fastidious old man shuffling with +gouty step up and down, from drawing-room to library,—stopping here and +there to admire some newly arrived bit of pottery,—pulling out his +golden snuff-box, and whisking a delicate pinch into his old +nostrils,—then dusting his affluent shirt—frill with the tips of his +dainty fingers, with an air of gratitude to Providence for having +created so fine a gentleman as Horace Walpole, and of gratitude to +Horace Walpole for having created so fine a place as Strawberry Hill.</p> + +<p>I turn from this ancient specimen of titled elegance to a consideration +of Mr. Burke, with much the same relief with which I would go out from a +perfumed drawing-room into the breezy air of a June morning. Lord Kames +has told us that Mr. Burke preferred oxen to horses for field-labor; and +we have Burke's letters to his bailiff, showing a nice attention to the +economies of farming, and a complete mastery of its working details. But +more than anywhere else does his agricultural sagacity declare itself in +his "Thoughts and Details on Scarcity."<a name="FNanchor_N_14" id="FNanchor_N_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_N_14" class="fnanchor">[N]</a></p> + +<p>Will the reader pardon me the transcript of a passage or two? "It is a +perilous thing to try experiments on the farmer. The farmer's capital +(except in a few persons, and in a very few places) is far more feeble +than is commonly imagined. The trade is a very poor trade; it is subject +to great risks and losses. The capital, such as it is, is turned but +once in the year; in some branches it requires three years before the +money is paid; I believe never less than three in the turnip and +grass-land course ...It is very rare that the most prosperous farmer, +counting the value of his quick and dead stock, the interest of the +money he turns, together with his own wages as a bailiff or overseer, +ever does make twelve or fifteen <i>per centum</i> by the year on his +capital. In most parts of England which have fallen within my +observation, I have rarely known a farmer who to his own trade has not +added some other employment traffic, that, after a course of the most +remitting parsimony and labor, and persevering in his business for a +long course of years, died worth more than paid his debts, leaving his +posterity to continue in nearly the same equal conflict between industry +and want in which the last predecessor, and a long line of predecessors +before him, lived and died."</p> + +<p>In confirmation of this last statement, I may mention that Samuel +Ireland, writing in 1792, ("Picturesque Views on the River Thames,") +speaks of a farmer named Wapshote, near Chertsey, whose ancestors had +resided on the place ever since the time of Alfred the Great; and amid +all the chances and changes of centuries, not one of the descendants had +either bettered or marred his fortunes. The truthfulness of the story is +confirmed in a number of the "Monthly Review" for the same year.</p> + +<p>Mr. Burke commends the excellent and most useful works of his "friend +Arthur Young," (of whom I shall have somewhat to say another time,) but +regrets that he should intimate the largeness of a farmer's profits. He +discusses the drill-culture, (for wheat,) which, he says, is well, +provided "the soil is not excessively heavy, or encumbered with large, +loose stones, and provided the most vigilant superintendence, the most +prompt activity, <i>which has no such day as to-morrow in its +calendar</i>,<a name="FNanchor_O_15" id="FNanchor_O_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_O_15" class="fnanchor">[O]</a> combine to speed the plough; in this case I admit," he +says, "its superiority over the old and general methods." And again he +says,—"It requires ten times more of labor, of vigilance, of attention, +of skill, and, let me add, of good fortune also, to carry on the +business of a farmer with success, than what belongs to any other +trade."</p> + +<p>May not "A Farmer" take a little pride in such testimony as this?</p><p><a name="Page_555" id="Page_555"></a></p> + +<p>One of his biographers tells us, that, in his later years, the neighbors +saw him on one occasion, at his home of Beaconsfield, leaning upon the +shoulder of a favorite old horse, (which had the privilege of the lawn,) +and sobbing. Whereupon the gossiping villagers reported the great man +crazed. Ay, crazed,—broken by the memory of his only and lost son +Richard, with whom this aged saddle-horse had been a special +favorite,—crazed, no doubt, at thought of the strong young hand whose +touch the old beast waited for in vain,—crazed and broken,—an oak, +ruined and blasted by storms. The great mind in this man was married to +a great heart.</p> + +<p>It is almost with a feeling of awe that I enter upon my wet-day studies +the name of Oliver Goldsmith: I love so much his tender story of the +good Vicar; I love so much his poems. The world is accustomed to regard +that little novel, which Dr. Johnson bargained away for sixty guineas, +as a rural tale: it is so quiet; it is so simple; its atmosphere is +altogether so redolent of the country. And yet all, save some few +critical readers, will be surprised to learn that there is not a picture +of natural scenery in the book of any length; and wherever an allusion +of the kind appears, it does not bear the impress of a mind familiar +with the country, and practically at home there. The Doctor used to go +out upon the Edgeware road,—not for his love of trees, but to escape +noise and duns. Yet we overlook literalness, charmed as we are by the +development of his characters and by the sweet burden of his story. The +statement may seem extraordinary, but I could transcribe every rural, +out-of-door scene in the "Vicar of Wakefield" upon a single half-page of +foolscap. Of the first home of the Vicar we have only this account:—"We +had an elegant house, situated in a fine country and a good +neighborhood." Of his second home there is this more full +description:—"Our little habitation was situated at the foot of a +sloping hill, sheltered with a beautiful underwood behind, and a +prattling river before: on one side a meadow, on the other a green. My +farm consisted of about twenty acres of excellent land, having given a +hundred pounds for my predecessor's good-will. Nothing could exceed the +neatness of my little inclosures: the elms and hedge-rows appearing with +inexpressible beauty. My house consisted of but one story, and was +covered with thatch, which gave it an air of great snugness." It is +quite certain that an author familiar with the country, and with a +memory stocked with a multitude of kindred scenes, would have given a +more determinate outline to this picture. But whether he would have +given to his definite outline the fascination that belongs to the +vagueness of Goldsmith, is wholly another question.</p> + +<p>Again, in the sixth chapter, Mr. Burchell is called upon to assist the +Vicar and his family in "saving an after-growth of hay." "Our labors," +he says, "went on lightly; we turned the swath to the wind." It is plain +that Goldsmith never saved much hay; turning a swath to the wind may be +a good way of making it, but it is a slow way of gathering it. In the +eighth chapter of this charming story, the Doctor says,—"Our family +dined in the field, and we sat, or rather reclined, round a temperate +repast, <i>our cloth spread upon the hay</i>. To heighten our satisfaction, +the blackbirds answered each other from opposite hedges, the familiar +redbreast came and pecked the crumbs from our hands, and every sound +seemed but the echo of tranquillity." This is very fascinating; but it +is the veriest romanticism of country-life. Such sensible girls as +Olivia and Sophia would, I am quite sure, never have spread the +dinner-cloth upon hay, which would most surely have set all the gravy +aflow, if the platters had not been fairly overturned; and as for the +redbreasts, (with that rollicking boy Moses in my mind,) I think they +must have been terribly tame birds.</p> + +<p>But this is only a farmer's criticism,—a Crispin feeling the bunions on +some Phidian statue. And do I think the less of Goldsmith, because he +wantoned with the literalism of the country, and laid on his <a name="Page_556" id="Page_556"></a>prismatic +colors of romance where only white light lay? Not one whit. It only +shows how Genius may discard utter faithfulness to detail, if only its +song is charged with a general simplicity and truthfulness that fill our +ears and our hearts.</p> + +<p>As for Goldsmith's verse, who does not love it? It is wicked to consume +the pages of a magazine with extracts from a poem that is our daily +food, else I would string them all down this column and the next, and +every one should have a breezy reminder of the country in it. Not all +the arts of all the modernists,—not "Maud," with its garden-song,—not +the caged birds of Killingworth, singing up and down the +village-street,—not the heather-bells out of which the springy step of +Jean Ingelow crushes perfume,—shall make me forget the old, sweet, even +flow of the "Deserted Village."</p> + +<p>Down with it, my boy, from the third shelf! G-O-L-D-S-M-I-T-H—a worker +in gold—is on the back.</p> + +<p>And I sit reading it to myself, as a fog comes weltering in from the +sea, covering all the landscape, save some half-dozen of the +city-spires, which peer above the drift-like beacons.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_REAPERS_DREAM" id="THE_REAPERS_DREAM"></a>THE REAPER'S DREAM.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The road was lone; the grass was dank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With night-dews on the briery bank<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon a weary reaper sank.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His garb was old,—his visage tanned;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rusty sickle in his hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could find no work in all the land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He saw the evening's chilly star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above his native vale afar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A moment on the horizon's bar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It hung,—then sank as with a sigh:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there the crescent moon went by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An empty sickle down the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To soothe his pain, Sleep's tender palm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid on his brow its touch of balm,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His brain received the slumberous calm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon, that angel without name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her robe a dream, her face the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The giver of sweet visions, came.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She touched his eyes: no longer sealed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They saw a troop of reapers wield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their swift blades in a ripened field:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At each thrust of their snowy sleeves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thrill ran through the future sheaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bustling like rain on forest-leaves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They were not brawny men who bowed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With harvest-voices rough and loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But spirits moving as a cloud:<br /></span><p><a name="Page_557" id="Page_557"></a></p> +<span class="i0">Like little lightnings in their hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silver sickles manifold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slid musically through the gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, bid the morning-stars combine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To match the chorus clear and fine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rippled lightly down the line,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cadence of celestial rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The language of that cloudless clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which their shining hands kept time!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behind them lay the gleaming rows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like those long clouds the sunset shows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On amber meadows of repose:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But like a wind the binders bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon followed in their mirthful might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swept them into sheaves of light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Doubling the splendor of the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There rolled the great celestial wain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gather in the fallen grain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its frame was built of golden bars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its glowing wheels were lit with stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The royal Harvest's car of cars.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snowy yoke that drew the load<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On gleaming hoofs of silver trode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And music was its only goad:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To no command of word or beck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It moved, and felt no other check<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than one white arm laid on the neck,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The neck whose light was overwound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bells of lilies, ringing round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their odors till the air was drowned:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The starry foreheads meekly borne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With garlands looped from horn to horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone like the many-colored morn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The field was cleared. Home went the bands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like children linking happy hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While singing through their father's lands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, arms about each other thrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With amber tresses backward blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They moved as they were Music's own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The vision brightening more and more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He saw the garner's glowing door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sheaves, like sunshine, strew the floor,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The floor was jasper,—golden flails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift sailing as a whirlwind sails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throbbed mellow music down the vales.<br /></span><p><a name="Page_558" id="Page_558"></a></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He saw the mansion,—all repose,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great corridors and porticos<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Propped with the columns' shining rows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these—for beauty was the rule—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The polished pavements, hard and cool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Redoubled, like a crystal pool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there the odorous feast was spread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fruity fragrance widely shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed to the floating music wed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seven angels, like the Pleiad Seven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their lips to silver clarions given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blew welcome round the walls of heaven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In skyey garments, silky thin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glad retainers floated in,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand forms, and yet no din:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the visage of the Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like splendor from the Orient poured,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A smile illumined all the board.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far flew the music's circling sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then floated back with soft rebound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To join, not mar, the converse round,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet notes that melting still increased,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as ne'er cheered the bridal feast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of king in the enchanted East.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Did any great door ope or close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seemed the birth-time of repose,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The faint sound died where it arose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they who passed from door to door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their soft feet on the polished floor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Met their soft shadows,—nothing more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then once again the groups were drawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through corridors, or down the lawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bloomed in beauty like a dawn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where countless fountains leap alway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veiling their silver heights in spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The choral people held their way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, 'mid the brightest, brightly shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear forms he loved in years agone,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earliest loved,—the earliest flown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He heard a mother's sainted tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sister's voice who vanished young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While one still dearer sweetly sung!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No further might the scene unfold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gazer's voice could not withhold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very rapture made him bold:<br /></span><p><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559"></a></p> +<span class="i0">He cried aloud, with claspèd hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O happy fields! O happy bands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who reap the never-failing lands!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O master of these broad estates,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold, before your very gates<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A worn and wanting laborer waits!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me but toil amid your grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or be a gleaner on the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I may leave these fields of pain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A gleaner, I will follow far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With never look or word to mar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind the Harvest's yellow car:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All day my hand shall constant be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every happy eve shall see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The precious burden borne to Thee!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At morn some reapers neared the place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong men, whose feet recoiled apace,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then gathering round the upturned face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They saw the lines of pain and care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet read in the expression there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The look as of an answered prayer.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_NEW-ENGLAND_REVOLUTION_OF_THE_SEVENTEENTH_CENTURY" id="THE_NEW-ENGLAND_REVOLUTION_OF_THE_SEVENTEENTH_CENTURY"></a>THE NEW-ENGLAND REVOLUTION OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.</h2> + + +<p>In the first week of March, 1689, Sir Edmund Andros returned to Boston +from an expedition against the Indians of Maine. He had now governed New +England more than two years for King James II., imitating, in his narrow +sphere, the insolent despotism of his master.</p> + +<p>The people had no share in the government, which was conducted by Andros +with the aid of Counsellors appointed by the King. Some of these were +the Governor's creatures,—English adventurers, who came to make their +fortunes. Their associates of a different character were so treated that +they absented themselves from the Council-Board, and at length not even +formal meetings were held. Heavy taxes were arbitrarily imposed on the +inhabitants. Excessive fees were demanded for the transaction of +business in the courts and public offices. Town-meetings were forbidden, +except one to be held in each year for the choice of assessing-officers. +The ancient titles to land in the Colony were declared to be worthless, +and proprietors were required to secure themselves by taking out new +patents from the Governor, for which high prices were extorted. +Complaint of these usurpations was severely punished by fine and +imprisonment. An order that "no man should remove out of the country +without the Governor's leave" cut off whatever small chance existed of +obtaining redress in England. The religious feelings of the people were +outraged. The Governor directed the opening of the Old South Church in +Boston for worship according to the<a name="Page_560" id="Page_560"></a> English ritual. If the demand had +been for the use of the building for a mass, or for a carriage-house for +Juggernaut, it would scarcely have given greater displeasure.</p> + +<p>Late in the autumn of 1688, the Governor had led a thousand New-England +soldiers into Maine against the Indians. His operations there were +unfortunate. The weather was cold and stormy. The fatigue of long +marches through an unsettled country was excessive. Sickness spread +among the companies. Shelter and hospital-stores had been insufficiently +provided. The Indians fled to the woods, and there laughed at the +invader.</p> + +<p>The costliness, discomforts, and miserable ill-success of this +expedition, while they occasioned clamor in the camp, sharpened the +discontents existing at the capital. Suspicions prevailed of treachery +on the Governor's part, for he was well known to be without the excuse +of incompetence. Plausible stories were told of his being in friendly +relations with the murderous Indians. An apprehension that he was +instructed by his Popish master to turn New England over to the French, +in the contingency of a popular outbreak in England, was confirmed by +reports of French men-of-war hovering along the coast for the +consummation of that object. When, in mid-winter, Andros was informed of +the fears entertained at Court of a movement of the Prince of Orange, he +issued a proclamation, commanding His Majesty's subjects in New England, +and especially all officers, civil and military, to be on the alert, +should any foreign fleet approach, to resist such landing or invasion as +might be attempted. Not causelessly, even if unjustly, the Governor's +object was understood to be to hold New England for King James, if +possible, should the parent-country reassert its rights.</p> + +<p>Of course, no friendly welcome met him, when, on the heels of his +proclamation, he returned to Boston from the Eastern Country. He was +himself so out of humor as to be hasty and imprudent, and one of his +first acts quickened the popular resentment. The gloomy and jealous +state of men's minds had gained some degree of credit for a story that +he had furnished the hostile natives with ammunition for the destruction +of the force under his command. An Indian declared, in the hearing of +some inhabitants of Sudbury, that he knew this to be true. Two of the +townsmen took the babbler to Boston, ostensibly to be punished for his +license of speech. The Governor treated the informers with great +harshness, put them under heavy bonds, and sent one of them to jail. The +comment of the time was not unnatural nor uncandid:—"Although no man +does accuse Sir Edmund merely upon Indian testimony, yet let it be duly +weighed whether it might not create suspicion and an astonishment in the +people of New England, in that he did not punish the Indians who thus +charged him, but the English who complained of them for it."</p> + +<p>The nine-days' wonder of this transaction was not over, when tidings of +far more serious import claimed the public ear. On the fourth day of +April, a young man named John Winslow arrived at Boston from the Island +of Nevis, bringing a copy of the Declarations issued by the Prince of +Orange on his landing in England. Winslow's story is best told in the +words of an affidavit made by him some months after.</p> + +<p>"Being at Nevis," he says, "there came in a ship from some part of +England with the Prince of Orange's Declarations, and brought news also +of his happy proceedings in England, with his entrance there, which was +very welcome news to me, and I knew it would be so to the rest of the +people in New England; and I, being bound thither, and very willing to +convey such good news with me, gave four shillings sixpence for the said +Declarations, on purpose to let the people in New England understand +what a speedy deliverance they might expect from arbitrary power. We +arrived at Boston harbor the fourth day of April following; and as soon +as I came home to <a name="Page_561" id="Page_561"></a>my house, Sir Edmund Andros, understanding I brought +the Prince's Declarations with me, sent the Sheriff to me. So I went +along with him to the Governor's house, and, as soon as I came in, he +asked me why I did not come and tell him the news. I told him I thought +it not my duty, neither was it customary for any passenger to go to the +Governor, when the master of the ship had been with him before, and told +him the news. He asked me where the Declarations I brought with me were. +I told him I could not tell, being afraid to let him have them, because +he would not let the people know any news. He told me I was a +saucy-fellow, and bid the Sheriff carry me away to the Justices of the +Peace; and as we were going, I told the Sheriff I would choose my +Justice. He told me, No, I must go before Dr. Bullivant, one picked on +purpose (as I judged) for the business. Well, I told him, I did not care +who I went before, for I knew my cause was good. So soon as I came in, +two more of the Justices dropped in, Charles Lidgett and Francis +Foxcroft, such as the former, fit for the purpose. So they asked me for +my papers. I told them I would not let them have them, by reason they +kept all the news from the people. So when they saw they could not get +what I bought with my money, they sent me to prison for bringing +traitorous and treasonable libels and papers of news, notwithstanding I +offered them security to the value of two thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>The intelligence which reached Winslow at Nevis, and was brought thence +by him to Boston, could scarcely have embraced transactions in England +of a later date than the first month after the landing of the Prince of +Orange. Within that time, the result of the expedition was extremely +doubtful. There had been no extensive rising against the King, and every +day of delay was in his favor. He had a powerful army and fleet, and it +had been repeatedly shown how insecure were any calculations upon +popular discontent in England, when an occasion arose for putting +English loyalty to the last proof. Should the clergy, after all, be true +to their assertions of the obligation of unqualified obedience,—should +the army be faithful,—should the King, by artifice or by victory, +attract to his side the wavering mass of his subjects, and expel the +Dutch invader,—there would be an awful reckoning for all who had taken +part against the Court. The proceedings after the insurrection under +Monmouth had not entirely shown how cruel James could be. His position +then had been far less critical than now. Then he enjoyed some degree of +popular esteem, and the preparations against him were not on a +formidable scale. Now he was thoroughly frightened. In proportion to his +present alarm would be his fury, if he should come off victorious. The +last chance was pending. If now resisted in vain, he would be +henceforward irresistible. Englishmen who should now oppose their king +must be sure to conquer him, or they lost all security for property, +liberty, and life. Was it any way prudent for the feeble, colony of +Massachusetts, divided by parties, and with its administration in the +hands of a tool of the tyrant, to attempt to throw itself into the +contest at this doubtful stage?</p> + +<p>It is unavoidable to suppose that these considerations were anxiously +weighed by the patriots of Massachusetts after the reception of the +intelligence from England. It is natural to believe, that, during the +fortnight which followed, there were earnest arguments between the more +and the less sanguine portions of the people. It seems probable that the +leaders, who had most to fear from rashness, if it should be followed by +defeat, pleaded for forbearance, or at least for delay. If any of them +took a different part, they took it warily, and so as not to be publicly +committed. But the people's blood was up. Though any day now might bring +tidings which would assure them whether a movement of theirs would be +safe or disastrous, their impatience could not be controlled. If the +leaders would not lead, some of the followers must take their places. +Massachusetts <a name="Page_562" id="Page_562"></a>must at all events have her share in the struggle,—and +her share, if King James should conquer, in the ruin.</p> + +<p>It may be presumed that Andros saw threatening signs, as, when next +heard of, he was within the walls of the work on Fort Hill. Two weeks +had passed after Winslow came with his news, when suddenly, at an early +hour of the day, without any note of preparation, Boston was all astir. +At the South end of the town a rumor spread that armed men were +collecting at the North end. At the North it was told that there was a +bustle and a rising at the South; and a party having found Captain +George, of the Rose frigate, on shore, laid hands on him, and put him +under a guard. "About nine of the clock the drums beat through the town, +and an ensign was set up upon the beacon." Presently Captain Hill +marched his company up King [State] Street, escorting Bradstreet, +Danforth, Richards, Cooke, Addington, and others of the old Magistrates, +who proceeded together to the Council-Chamber. Meantime, Secretary +Randolph, Counsellor Bullivant, Sheriff Sherlock, and "many more" of the +Governor's party, were apprehended and put in gaol. The gaoler was added +to their company, and his function was intrusted to "Scates, the +bricklayer."</p> + +<p>About noon, the gentlemen who had been conferring together in the +Council-Chamber appeared in the eastern gallery of the Town-House in +King Street, and there read to the assembled people what was entitled a +"Declaration of the Gentlemen, Merchants, and Inhabitants of Boston, and +the Country Adjacent." The document contains a brief narrative of the +oppressions that had been suffered by the Colony, under the recent +maladministration. Towards the end it refers in a few words to "the +noble undertaking of the Prince of Orange, to preserve the three +kingdoms from the horrible brinks of Popery and Slavery, and to bring to +a condign punishment those worst of men by whom English liberties have +been destroyed." One point was delicate; for among the recent +Counsellors of the Governor had been considerable men, who, it was +hoped, would hereafter act with the people. It is thus disposed +of:—"All the Council were not engaged in these ill actions, but those +of them which were true lovers of their country were seldom admitted to, +and seldomer consulted at, the debates which produced these unrighteous +things. Care was taken to keep them under disadvantages, and the +Governor, with five or six more, did what they would." The Declaration +concludes as follows:—</p> + +<p>"We do therefore seize upon the persons of those few ill men which have +been (next to our sins) the grand authors of our miseries; resolving to +secure them, for what justice, orders from his Highness, with the +English Parliament, shall direct, lest, ere we are aware, we find (what +we may fear, being on all sides in danger) ourselves to be by them given +away to a foreign power before such orders can reach unto us; for which +orders we now humbly wait. In the mean time, firmly believing that we +have endeavored nothing but what mere duty to God and our country calls +for at our hands, we commit our enterprise unto the blessing of Him who +hears the cry of the oppressed, and advise all our neighbors, for whom +we have thus ventured ourselves, to join with us in prayers and all just +actions for the defence of the land."</p> + +<p>Andros sent the son of the Chief Justice with a message to the +ministers, and to two or three other considerable citizens, inviting +them to the Fort for a conference, which they declined. Meanwhile the +signal on Beacon Hill had done its office, and by two o'clock in the +afternoon, in addition to twenty companies in Boston under arms, several +hundred soldiers were seen on the Charlestown side, ready to cross over. +Fifteen principal gentlemen, some of them lately Counsellors, and others +Assistants under the old Charter, signed a summons to Andros. "We judge +it necessary," they wrote, "you forthwith surrender and deliver up the +government and fortification, to be <a name="Page_563" id="Page_563"></a>preserved and disposed according to +order and direction from the Crown of England, which suddenly is +expected may arrive, promising all security from violence to yourself or +any of your gentlemen or soldiers in person or estate. Otherwise we are +assured they will endeavor the taking of the fortification by storm, if +any opposition be made."</p> + +<p>"The frigate, upon the news, put out all her flags and pendants, and +opened all her ports, and with all speed made ready for fight, under the +command of the lieutenant, he swearing that he would die before she +should be taken." He sent a boat to bring off Andros and his attendants; +but it had scarcely touched the beach when the crew were encountered and +overpowered by the party from the Town-House, which, under the command +of Mr. John Nelson, was bearing the summons to the Governor. The boat +was kept, with the sailors manning it, who were disarmed. Andros and his +friends withdrew again within the Port, from which they had come down to +go on board the frigate. Nelson disposed his party on two sides of the +Fort, and getting possession of some cannon in an outwork, pointed them +against the walls. The soldiers within were daunted. The Governor asked +a suspension of the attack till he should send West and another person +to confer with the Provisional Council at the Town-House. The reply, +whatever it was, decided him how to proceed, and he and his party "came +forth from the Fort, and went disarmed to the Town-House, and from +thence, some to the close gaol, and the Governor, under a guard, to Mr. +Usher's house."</p> + +<p>So ended the first day of the insurrection. The Castle and the frigate +were still defiant in the harbor. The nineteenth of April is a +red-letter day in Massachusetts. On the nineteenth of April, 1861, +Massachusetts fought her way through Baltimore to the rescue of the +imperilled capital of the United States. On the nineteenth of April, +1775, she began at Lexington the war of American Independence. On the +nineteenth of April, 1689, King James's Governor was brought to yield +the Castle of Boston by a threat, that, "if he would not give it +presently, under his hand and seal, he would be exposed to the rage of +the people." A party of Colonial militia then "went down, and it was +surrendered to them with cursings, and they brought the men away, and +made Captain Fairweather commander in it. Now, by the time the men came +back from the Castle, all the guns, both in ships and batteries, were +brought to bear against the frigate, which were enough to have shattered +her in pieces at once, resolving to have her."</p> + +<p>Captain George, who had long nursed a private quarrel with the +arch-disturber of Massachusetts, and chief adviser of the Governor, +"cast all the blame now upon that devil, Randolph; for, had it not been +for him, he had never troubled this good people;—earnestly soliciting +that he might not be constrained to surrender the ship, for by so doing +both himself and all his men would lose their wages, which otherwise +would be recovered in England; giving leave to go on board, and strike +the top-masts, and bring the sails on shore." The arrangement was made, +and the necessity for firing on a ship of the royal navy was escaped. +The sails were brought on shore, and there put away, and the vessel +swung to her anchors off Long Wharf, a harmless and a ridiculous hulk. +"The country-people came armed into the town, in the afternoon, in such +rage and heat that it made all tremble to think what would follow; for +nothing would satisfy them, but that the Governor should be bound in +chains or cords, and put in a more secure place, and that they would see +done before they went away; and to satisfy them, he was guarded by them +to the Fort."</p> + +<p>The Fort had been given in charge to Nelson, and Colonel Lidgett shared +the Governor's captivity. West, Graham, Palmer, and others of his set, +were placed in Fairweather's custody at the Castle. Randolph was taken +care of at the common gaol, by the new keeper, "Scates, <a name="Page_564" id="Page_564"></a>the +bricklayer." Andros came near effecting his escape. Disguised in woman's +clothes, he had safely passed two sentries, but was stopped by a third, +who observed his shoes, which he had neglected to change. Dudley, the +Chief Justice, was absent on the circuit at Long Island. Returning +homeward, he heard the great news at Newport. He crossed into the +Narragansett Country, where he hoped to keep secret at Major Smith's +house; but a party got upon his track, and took him to his home at +Roxbury. "To secure him against violence," as the order expresses it, a +guard was placed about his house. Dudley's host, Smith, was lodged in +gaol at Bristol.</p> + +<p>To secure Dudley against popular violence might well be an occasion of +anxious care to those who had formerly been his associates in public +trusts. Among the oppressors, he it was whom the people found hardest to +forgive. If Andros, Randolph, West, and others, were tyrants and +extortioners, at all events they were strangers; they had not been +preying on their own kinsmen. But this man was son of a brave old +emigrant Governor; he had been bred by the bounty of Harvard College; he +had been welcomed at the earliest hour to the offices of the +Commonwealth, and promoted in them with a promptness out of proportion +to the claims of his years. Confided in, enriched, caressed, from youth +to middle life by his native Colony beyond any other man of his time, he +had been pampered into a power which, as soon as the opportunity was +presented, he used for the grievous humiliation and distress of his +generous friends. That he had not brought them to utter ruin seemed to +have been owing to no want of resolute purpose on his part to advance +himself as the congenial instrument of a despot.</p> + +<p>A revolution had been consummated, and the government of the King of +England over Massachusetts was dissolved. The day after Andros was led +to prison, the persons who had been put forward in the movement +assembled again to deliberate on the state of affairs. The result was, +that several of them, with twenty-two others whom they now associated, +formed themselves into a provisional government, which took the name of +a "Council for the Safety of the People and Conservation of the Peace." +They elected Simon Bradstreet, the last Charter Governor, now +eighty-seven years of age, to be their President, and Wait Winthrop, +grandson of the first Governor, to command the Militia. Among the orders +passed on the first day of this new administration was one addressed to +Colonel Tyng, Major Savage, and Captains Davis and Willard, serving in +the Eastern Country, to send certain officers to Boston, and dismiss a +portion of their force. There was probably a threefold purpose in this +order: to get possession of the persons of some distrusted officers; to +gratify a prevailing opinion that the exposures of the campaign had been +needless as well as cruel; and to obtain a reinforcement of skilled +troops at the centre of affairs.</p> + +<p>The Council felt the weakness of their position. They held their place +neither by deputation from the sovereign, nor by election of the people. +They hesitated to set up the Colonial Charter again, for it had been +formally condemned in the King's courts, and there was a large party +about them who bore it no good-will; nor was it to be expected that +their President, the timid Bradstreet, whatever were his own wishes, +could be brought to consent to so bold a measure. Naturally and not +improperly desirous to escape from such a responsibility, they decided +to summon a Convention of delegates from the towns.</p> + +<p>On the appointed day, sixty-six delegates came together. They brought +from their homes, or speedily reached, the conclusion that of right the +old Charter was still in force; and they addressed a communication to +that effect to the Magistrates who had been chosen just before the +Charter government was superseded, desiring them to resume their +functions, and to constitute, with the delegates <a name="Page_565" id="Page_565"></a>just now sent from the +towns, the General Court of the Colony, according to ancient law and +practice. Their request was denied. Either the wisdom or the timidity of +the Magistrates held them back from so bold a venture. The delegates +then desired the Council to continue to act as a Committee of Public +Safety till another Convention might assemble, of delegates bringing +express instructions from their towns.</p> + +<p>Fifty-four towns were represented in the new Convention. All but +fourteen of them had instructed their delegates to insist on the +resumption of the Charter. In the Council, the majority was opposed to +that scheme. After a debate of two days, the popular policy prevailed, +and the Governor and Magistrates chosen at the last election under the +Charter consented to assume the trusts then committed to them, and, in +concert with the delegates recently elected, to form a General Court, +and administer the Colony for the present according to the ancient +forms. They desired that the other gentlemen lately associated with them +in the Council should continue to hold that relation. But this the +delegates would not allow; and accordingly those gentlemen, among whom +were Wait Winthrop, the newly appointed commander-in-chief, and +Stoughton, whom the people could not yet forgive for his recent +subserviency, relinquished their part in the conduct of affairs. They +did so with prudence and magnanimity, engaging to exert themselves to +allay the dissatisfaction of their friends, and only avowing their +expectation that the state-prisoners would be well treated, and that +there should be no encouragement to popular manifestations of hostility +to England.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had this arrangement been made, when it became known, that, if +dangers still existed, at least the chief danger was over. On the +twenty-sixth of May a ship arrived from England with an order to the +authorities on the spot to proclaim King William and Queen Mary. Never, +since the Mayflower groped her way into Plymouth harbor, had a message +from the parent-country been received in New England with such joy. +Never had such a pageant as, three days after, expressed the prevailing +happiness been seen in Massachusetts. From far and near the people +flocked into Boston; the Government, attended by the principal gentlemen +of the capital and the towns around, passed in procession on horseback +through the thoroughfares; the regiment of the town, and companies and +troops of horse and foot from the country, lent their pomp and noise to +the show; there was a great dinner at the Town-House for the better +sort; wine was served out in the streets; and the evening was made noisy +with acclamations till the bell rang at nine o'clock, and families met +to thank God at the domestic altar for causing the great sorrow to pass +away, and giving a Protestant King and Queen to England.</p> + +<p>The revolution in Massachusetts determined the proceedings in the other +Colonies of New England. On learning what had been done in Boston, the +people of Plymouth seized the person of their townsman, Nathaniel Clark, +one of Andros's Counsellors and tools, and, recalling Governor Hinckley, +set up again the ancient government. When the news reached Rhode Island, +a summons was issued to "the several towns," inviting them to send their +"principal persons" to Newport "before the day of usual election by +Charter, ... there to consult of some suitable way in this present +juncture." Accordingly, at a meeting held on the day appointed by the +ancient Charter for annual elections, it was determined "to reassume the +government according to the Charter," and "that the former Governor, +Deputy-Governor, and Assistants that were in place ... before the coming +over of Sir Edmund Andros, the late Governor, should be established in +their respective places for the year ensuing, or further order from +England." Walter Clarke was the Governor who had been superseded by +Andros. But he had no mind for the hazardous honor which was <a name="Page_566" id="Page_566"></a>now thrust +upon him, and Rhode Island remained without a Governor.</p> + +<p>On the arrival in Connecticut of the news of the deposition of Andros, +the plan of resuming the Charter of that Colony, and reëstablishing the +government under it, was immediately canvassed in all the settlements. +Agreeably to some general understanding, a number of principal men, most +of them elected as Deputies by their respective towns, assembled, on the +eighth of May, at Hartford, to consult together on the expediency of +taking that step. They determined to submit, the next day, to the +decision of the assembled freemen three questions, namely: 1. "Whether +they would that those in place and power when Sir Edmund Andros took the +government should resume their place and power as they were then; or, 2. +Whether they would continue the present government; or, 3. Whether they +would choose a Committee of Safety."</p> + +<p>The adoption of any one of these proposals disposed of the others. The +first of them was first submitted to a vote, and prevailed. A General +Court after the ancient pattern was constituted accordingly. The persons +just deputed from the towns made the Lower House. Governor Treat and +Lieutenant-Governor Bishop resumed their functions, with ten Magistrates +elected with them two years before, besides others now chosen to fill +the places of Magistrates who had died meanwhile.</p> + +<p>The first measure of the Court was, to order "that all the laws of this +Colony formerly made according to Charter, and courts constituted in +this Colony for administration of justice, as they were before the late +interruption, should be of full force and virtue for the future, and +till the Court should see cause to make further and other alteration and +provision according to Charter." The second vote was, to confirm "all +the present military officers." Justices of the Peace were appointed for +the towns. The armament of the fort at Saybrook was provided for. The +Governor was charged to convene the General Court, "in case any occasion +should come on in reference to the Charter or Government." It was soon +convened accordingly, in consequence of the arrival of intelligence of +the accession of William and Mary to the throne; a day of Thanksgiving +was appointed; and the King and Queen were proclaimed with all +solemnity.</p> + +<p>Again Englishmen were free and self-governed in all the settlements of +New England.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SOME_ACCOUNT_OF_THE_EARLY_LIFE_OF_AN_OLD_BACHELOR" id="SOME_ACCOUNT_OF_THE_EARLY_LIFE_OF_AN_OLD_BACHELOR"></a>SOME ACCOUNT OF THE EARLY LIFE OF AN OLD BACHELOR.</h2> + + +<p>Allusion was made in "The Schoolmaster's Story," told in these pages +last month, to two old bachelors. I am one of them. Early this morning, +while taking my walk, I saw, growing about a rock, some little blue +flowers, such as I used to pick when a child. I had broken off a few, +and was stooping for more, when some one near said, "Good morning, +Captain Joseph!"</p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Maylie, the minister's wife, going home from watching. After +a little talk, she told me, in her pleasant way, that I had two things +to do, of which, by the doing, I should make but one: I was to write a +story, and to show good reason for keeping myself all to myself.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Maylie," said I, "do I look like a person who has had a story? I +am a lonely old man,—a hard old man. A story should have warmth. Don't +you see I'm an icicle?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite," said she. "I know of <a name="Page_567" id="Page_567"></a>two warm spots. I see you every day +watching the children go past; and then, what have you there? Icicles +never cling to flowers!"</p> + +<p>After she had gone, I began thinking what a beautiful story mine might +have been, if things had been different,—if I had been different. And +at last it occurred to me that a relation of some parts of it might be +useful reading for young men; also, that it might cause our whole class +to be more kindly looked upon.</p> + +<p>Suppose it is not a pleasant story. Life is not all brightness. See how +the shadows chase each other across our path! To-day our friend weeps +with us; to-morrow we weep with our friend. The hearse is a carriage +which stops at every door.</p> + +<p>No picture is without its shading. We have before us the happy +experiences of my two friends. By those smiling groups let there stand +one dark, solitary figure, pointing out the moral of the whole.</p> + +<p>There is one thing, however, in the story of my neighbor Browne, +pleasant as it is, which reminds me of a habit of my own. I mean, his +liking to watch pretty faces. I do, when they belong to children.</p> + +<p>This practice of mine, which I find has been noticed by my valued +friend, Mrs. Maylie, is partly owing to the memories of my own +childhood.</p> + +<p>When the past was so suddenly recalled, on that stormy day,—as +mentioned by my friend Allen,—I felt as I have often felt upon the sea, +when, after hours of dull sailing, through mist and darkness, I have +looked back upon the lights of the town we were leaving.</p> + +<p>My life began in brightness. And now, amid that brightness, appear +fresh, happy little faces, which haunt me more and more, as I become +isolated from the humanity about me, until at times it is those only +which are real, while living forms seem but shadows.</p> + +<p>I see whole rows of these young faces in an old school-house, far from +here, close by the sea,—can see the little girls running in, when the +schoolma'am knocked, and settling down in their forms, panting for +breath.</p> + +<p>One of these the boys called my girl. I liked her, because she had curls +and two rows of cunning teeth, and because she never laughed when the +boys called me "Spunky Joe." For I was wilful, and of a hasty temper. +Her name was Margaret. My father took me a long voyage with him, and +while I was gone she moved down East. I never saw her afterwards. If +living, it must have been a score of years since she bought her first +glasses.</p> + +<p>No doubt I should have been of a pleasanter disposition, had I not been +the only boy and the youngest child. I was made too much of. Aunt Chloë, +who was aunt to the neighborhood, and did its washing, said I was +"humored to death."</p> + +<p>We had a great family of girls, but Mary was the one I loved best. She +was a saint. Her face made you think of "Peace on earth, and good-will +to men." Aunt Chloë used to say that "Mary Bond was pretty to look at, +and facultied; pity she hadn't the 'one thing needful.'" For Mary was +not a professor.</p> + +<p>I went pretty steadily to school until about sixteen. At that time I had +a misunderstanding with father. I got the idea that he looked upon me as +an incumbrance, and declared I would go to sea.</p> + +<p>Mother and the girls were full of trouble, but I wasn't used to being +crossed, and to sea I went. I knew afterwards that father had set his +heart upon my getting learning.</p> + +<p>He said going to sea was a dog's life. But I liked it, and followed it +up. I think it was in my twentieth year that I shipped on board the +Eliza Ann, Captain. Saunders, bound from Boston to Calcutta. This was my +first long voyage as a sailor. Among the crew was one they called Jamie, +as smart as a steel-trap, and handsome as a picture. He was not our +countryman. I think he was part Scotch. The passengers were always +noticing him. One day, <a name="Page_568" id="Page_568"></a>when he stood leaning against the foremast, with +his black hair blowing out in the wind, a young man with a portfolio got +me to keep him there, still, for a while: he was an artist, and wanted +to make a drawing of him. The sailors all liked him because he was so +clever, and so lively, and knew so many songs, and could hop about the +rigging, light as a bird. Only a few knew him. They said he had no home +but the sea.</p> + +<p>He afterwards told me this himself, one dark night, when we were leaning +together over the rail, as if listening to the splash of the water. He +began his sea-life by running away. He said but little, and that in a +mournful way that made me pity him, and wonder he could be so lively. I +didn't know then that sometimes people have to laugh to keep from +crying. "I was all she had," said he; "and I left her. I never thought +how much she cared for me until I got among all strangers; then I wanted +my mother." At another time he told me about his return home and finding +no mother. And I told him of my own home and my great flock of sisters.</p> + +<p>After this he rather clung to me. And thus it happened, from my liking +Jamie's handsome face, and from Jamie's telling me his trouble, that we +became fast friends.</p> + +<p>When the ship arrived in Boston, I took him home with me. Father had +left off going to sea; but some of the girls were married, and mother +called her family small. I knew she would take the homeless boy into her +great motherly heart, along with the rest of us.</p> + +<p>We couldn't have arrived at a better time. Thanksgiving was just at +hand, work was plenty, and Jamie soon in the thickest of it. 'Twas so +good to him, being in a home, though none of his. The girls were glad +enough of his help and his company; for he was full of his fun, and +never at a loss for a word. We never had so much light talk in the house +before. Mother was rather serious, and father did his laughing at the +stores.</p> + +<p>When Thanksgiving-Day came, however, and the married ones began to flock +in with their families, he spoke of going,—of not belonging. But we +persuaded him, and the girls did all they could to take up his mind, +knowing what his feelings must be.</p> + +<p>The Thanksgiving dinner was a beautiful sight to see. I mean, of course, +the people round it. Father talked away, and could eat. But mother sat +in her frilled cap, looking mildly about, with the tears in her eyes, +making believe eat, helping everybody, giving the children two pieces of +pie, and letting them talk at table. This last, when we were little, was +forbidden. Mother never scolded. She had a placid, saintly face, +something like Mary's. But if we ever giggled at table, she used to say, +"Sho! girls! Don't laugh over your victuals."</p> + +<p>At sunset we missed Jamie. I found him in the hay-mow, crying as if his +heart would break. "Oh, Joseph," said he, "she was just as pleasant as +your mother!" It was sunset when he first ran away, and sunset when he +returned to find his mother dead. He told me that "God brought him home +at that hour to make him <i>feel</i>."</p> + +<p>Our ship was a long while repairing. Then freights were dull, and so it +lingered along, week after week. Jamie often spoke of going, but nobody +would let him. Father said he had always wanted another boy. Mother told +him I should be lonesome without him. The girls said as much as they +thought it would do for girls to say, and he stayed on. I knew he wanted +to badly enough, for I saw he liked Mary. I thought, too, that she liked +him, because she said so little about his staying. To be sure, they were +in nothing alike; but then, as Aunt Chloë said, "Opposites are more +harmonious."</p> + +<p>My sister Cynthia was going to be published soon, and all the rest were +helping her "make her fix." Coverlets were being got into the loom, and +the great wheel and little wheel going all day Jamie liked to help them +"quill." But the best of all, both for him and me, were <a name="Page_569" id="Page_569"></a>the quiltings; +for these brought all the young folks together.</p> + +<p>Our nearest neighbor was a large, stout-looking man, by the name of +Wilbur. He was called Mr. Nathaniel, to distinguish him from his +brother. His house was next ours, with a hill between. He was a good, +jolly soul, had no children of his own, and was always begging mother +for a few of her girls. Nothing suited him better than a good time. If +there was anything going on at our house, he was always on the spot.</p> + +<p>One December evening, our kitchen was full of young people. The best +bed-quilt had been quilted, and Jamie and I had been helping "roll +over," all the afternoon. In the evening, as soon as the young men came, +we hung over the molasses, and set Mr. Nathaniel stirring it. We all sat +around, naming apples. All at once he called out, "Which of you chaps +has got pluck enough to ride over to Swampsey Village to-morrow, after a +young woman he never saw?"</p> + +<p>They all looked up, especially the girls who had beaux present. Then +came questions,—"Who is she?" "Give her name"; "Good-looking?" and many +others.</p> + +<p>"Be thinking it over awhile," said he, and kept on stirring. But when he +was pulling the candy, he explained, dropping a few words at every pull.</p> + +<p>"The girl," said he, "is a nice girl, and I'll be bound she's handsome. +I used to have dealings with her father, while he kept store in Boston. +We've never let the acquaintance die out. When he wrote me that he was +going to take his wife a journey South, and inquired if I knew of a +safe, quiet family where he could leave his daughter, wifey and I +concluded to take her ourselves. We couldn't think of a quieter family, +or one where daughters were more needed. I promised to meet her at +Swampsey Village; but if any of you young men want the chance, you can +have it."</p> + +<p>There was one fellow in the company who hardly ever spoke. He was looked +upon as a sort of crooked stick. As he sat in the corner, paring his +apple, he said in a drawling voice, without looking up,—</p> + +<p>"Better send Joe."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he won't go, I'll bet anything," said two or three at once.</p> + +<p>"What'll you bet?" said I.</p> + +<p>"Bet a kiss from the prettiest girl in the room!"</p> + +<p>"Done!" said I, and jumped up as if to pick out the girl. But they all +cried out, "Wait till you've done it."</p> + +<p>They thought I wouldn't go, because I'd never been particular to any +girl.</p> + +<p>After we went to bed that night, Jamie offered to go in my stead. But I +had made up my mind, and was not so easily turned.</p> + +<p>Early next morning, Mr. Nathaniel drove up to the door in his +yellow-bottomed chaise. The wheeling was better than the sleighing, +except in the woods.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said, "I've ballasted your craft, and made out your papers. +You go in ballast, but'll have good freight back. When you get to +Swampsey-Village meeting-house, turn off to the left, and it's the +second house. The roof behind slants almost to the ground."</p> + +<p>The "ballast" was heated stones. The "papers" consisted of a letter, +addressed to "Miss Margaret Holden, at the house of Mr. Oliver Barrows."</p> + +<p>The road to Swampsey Village, after running a few miles along by the +sea, branched off to the southwest, over a range of high, wooded hills, +called "The Mountains." 'Twas a long ride, and I couldn't help +<i>guessing</i> what manner of girl would in a few hours be sitting by my +side. Would she be sober, or sociable? pretty, or homely? I hoped she +wouldn't be citified, all pride and politeness. And of all things, I +hoped she would not be bashful. Two dummies, one in each corner, riding +along in the cold!</p> + +<p>"Any way," I thought at last, "it's no affair of mine. I'm only sent of +an errand. It's all the same as going for a sheep or a bag of corn." And +with this idea, I whipped up. But the sight of <a name="Page_570" id="Page_570"></a>the slanting roof made +me slacken the reins; and when I found myself really hitching my horse, +I was sorry I came.</p> + +<p>Before I reached the door, it opened, and there stood a white-haired old +man, leaning upon two canes. He wanted to see who had come. I told my +errand. He asked me into the kitchen. As I entered, I looked slyly +about, to see what I could see. But there was only a short old woman. +She was running candles. She looked straight in my face. The old man +stooped down and shouted in her ear,—</p> + +<p>"He's come arter Peggy! where is she?"</p> + +<p>"Denno," said she, toddling along to the window, and looking up and down +the road. "Denno. Mile off, mebbe. Master critter to be on the go!"</p> + +<p>"There she is!" cried Mr. Barrows, from a back-window,—"in the parster, +slidin' down-hill on her jumper. Guess you'll have to go look her, young +man; the old woman's poorly, an' so be I."</p> + +<p>But the old woman told me to sit up to the fire and warm my feet; said +she would hang out a cloth, and Peggy would be in directly. I would have +gone very willingly; for, after expecting to be introduced to Miss +Margaret Holden, being sent out after Peggy was just nothing.</p> + +<p>'Twas but a little while before we heard the jumper rattling along, and +then a stamping in the porch. Then we heard her hand upon the latch.</p> + +<p>"She's a little young thing," said the old man, almost in a whisper; +"but she's knowin'.—Peggy," he continued, as she entered, "you'm sent +for."</p> + +<p>That was the first time I ever saw Margaret. She had on some little +child's hood, and an old josey-coat, which covered her all over. The +hood was red, and ruffled about the border, which made her face look +like a little girl's.</p> + +<p>"To go to Mr. Wilbur's?" she asked, looking towards me.</p> + +<p>I rose to explain, and handed the letter.</p> + +<p>She threw off her things, opened it, and began reading. When I saw the +smile spreading over her face, I knew Mr. Nathaniel had been writing +some of his nonsense.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said I, as she was folding it up, "you don't know Mr. +Nathaniel. He says anything. I don't know what he's been writing, but"—</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing bad," said she, laughing. "He only says you are a nice +young man."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" I replied. "Well, he does sometimes speak the truth."</p> + +<p>Then we both laughed, and, for new acquaintances, seemed on pretty good +terms.</p> + +<p>There was something about her face which made me think of the little +Margaret who had moved away. She had the same pretty laugh, the same +innocent-looking mouth,—only the child Margaret was not so +fair-complexioned. Her figure, and the way of carrying her head, +reminded me of the West-India girls, as I had seen them riding out in +their <i>volantes</i>. I decided that I was pleased with her. When she was +ready to go, with her blue silk pelisse and the plumes in her hat, I was +glad I came, and thought, "How much better is a girl than a sheep!"</p> + +<p>The old man made us stay to dinner; but then he hurried us off, that we +might be over The Mountains before dark.</p> + +<p>The air was chilly when we started, and a few snow-flakes were flying. +But we had everything to make us comfortable. The old horse always +stepped quick, going home; the wind was in our favor; our chaise had a +boot which came up, and a top which tipped down. We should soon be home. +There is nothing very bad, after all, in being sent for a girl you never +saw!</p> + +<p>And we were not two dummies. She was willing to do her part in talking, +and I could always hold my own, if no more.</p> + +<p>She seemed, in conversation, not at all like a "little young thing,"—so +that I kept turning round to see if the look of the child Margaret was +still in her face.<a name="Page_571" id="Page_571"></a> Oh, how that face played the mischief with me! And +in more ways than one.</p> + +<p>We were speaking of large families; I had told her about ours. All at +once she exclaimed at a big rock ahead, which overhung the road.</p> + +<p>The moment I placed my eye on it, I turned the horse's head.</p> + +<p>"Wrong road," said I.</p> + +<p>The horse had turned off, when I wasn't minding, and was taking us to +Cutler's Mills. We tried several ways to set ourselves right by a short +cut, but were finally obliged to go all the way back to where we turned +off. In a summer day this would only have been lengthening out a +pleasant ride. But the days were at the shortest. Snow-flakes fell +thicker, and, what was worse, the wind changed, and blew them straight +into our faces. By the time we reached the foot of The Mountains it was +nearly dark, and snowing furiously. I never knew a storm come on faster. +'Twas a regular, old-fashioned, driving snow-storm, with the wind to the +eastward.</p> + +<p>Margaret seemed noways down-hearted. But I feared she would suffer. I +shook the snow from the blanket and wrapped her in it. I drew it over +her head, pinned it under her chin, and tucked it all about her.</p> + +<p>'Twas hard pulling for the old horse, but he did well. I felt uneasy, +thinking about the blind roads, which led nowhere but to wood-lots. +'Twas quite likely that the horse would turn into one of these, and if +he did, we should be taken into the very middle of the woods.</p> + +<p>It seemed to me we were hours creeping on in the dark, right in the +teeth of the storm. 'Twas an awful night; terribly cold; seemed as if it +was window-glass beating against our faces.</p> + +<p>By the time I judged we had reached the top of The Mountains, the wind +blew a hurricane. Powerful gusts came tearing through the trees, +whirling the snow upon us in great smothering heaps. The chaise was +full. My hands grew numb, and I began slapping them upon my knees. +Margaret threw off the blanket with a jerk, and seized the reins.</p> + +<p>"Stupid!" said she, "to be sitting here wrapped up, letting you freeze!"</p> + +<p>But the horse felt a woman's hand upon the reins, and stopped short.</p> + +<p>I urged him on a few yards, but we were in a cleared place, and the snow +had drifted. 'Twas no use. He was tired out.</p> + +<p>"Take him out!" cried Margaret; "we can ride horseback."</p> + +<p>I sprang out, knowing that no time should be lost. Margaret had not +complained. But I was chilled through. My feet were like blocks of wood. +I knew she must be half frozen. It seemed as if I never should do +anything with the tackling. My fingers were numb, and I could hardly +stand up, the wind blew so.</p> + +<p>With the help of my jack-knife I cleared the horse. I rode him round to +the chaise, and took Margaret up in front of me, then let him take his +own course.</p> + +<p>I asked Margaret if she was cold. She said, "Yes," in a whisper. +Throwing open the blanket had let in the snow upon her, and the sharp +wind. The horse floundered about in the drifts. Every minute I expected +to be thrown off. Time never seemed so long before.</p> + +<p>All at once it occurred to me that Margaret was very quiet. I asked +again if she was cold. She said, "No; only sleepy." I knew in a minute +what that meant. That was a terrible moment. Freezing as I was, the +sweat started out at every pore. The pretty, delicate thing would die! +And I, great strong man, couldn't save her!</p> + +<p>But I wouldn't despair. I made her talk. Kept asking her questions: If +the wind had not gone down? If she heard the surf upon the beach? If she +saw a light?</p> + +<p>"Yes," said she at last,—"I see a light."</p> + +<p>At first I was frightened, thinking her mind wandered. But directly I +saw that towards the right, and a little in advance of us, was a misty +spot of light.</p> + +<p>When we were near enough to see <a name="Page_572" id="Page_572"></a>where it came from, it seemed as if all +my strength left me at once,—the relief was so sudden.</p> + +<p>'Twas a squaw's hut. I knew then just where we were. I climbed up the +bank, with Margaret in my arms, and pounded with all my might upon the +side of the hut, calling out, "For God's sake, open the door!" A latch +rattled close to my ears, and a door flew open. 'Twas Old Suke. I had, +many a time, when a boy, called out to her, "Black clouds arising!"—for +we always would torment the colored folks, when they came down with +their brooms.</p> + +<p>I pushed past her into the hut,—into the midst of rushes, brooms, and +baskets,—into a shelter. I never knew before what the word meant.</p> + +<p>The fireplace was full of blazing pine-knots, which made the room as +light as day. Old Suke showed herself a Christian. She told me where to +find a shed for my horse; and while I was gone, she took the wet things +off Margaret, and rubbed her hands and feet with snow. She took red +peppers from a string over the fireplace, boiled them in milk, and made +us drink it. I thought of "heaping coals of fire." She dipped up hulled +corn from a pot on the hearth, and made us eat. I felt like singing the +song of Mungo Park.</p> + +<p>Margaret kept pretty still. I knew the reason. The warm blood was +rushing back to her fingers and toes, and they ached like the toothache. +Mine did. 'Twas a long while before Old Suke would let us come nearer +the fire. Her old mother was squatting upon the hearth. She looked to be +a hundred and fifty. Her face was like a baked apple,—for she was part +Indian, not very black. She had a check-handkerchief tied round her +head, and an old pea-jacket over her shoulders, with the sleeves +hanging. She hardly noticed us, but sat smoking her pipe, looking at the +coals. 'Twas curious to see Margaret's face by hers in the firelight.</p> + +<p>A little after midnight the storm abated, and by four o'clock the stars +were out. I asked Margaret if she would be afraid to stay there, while I +went home to tell the folks what had become of us.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she said. "'Twas just what she'd been thinking about. She +would be making baskets."—Some girls would never have dared stay in +such a place.</p> + +<p>I promised to be back as soon as possible, and left her there by the old +woman.</p> + +<p>'Twas just about daylight when I came in sight of father's. Mr. +Nathaniel was walking about the yard, looking up the road at every turn. +He hurried towards me.</p> + +<p>"All safe!" I called out.</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" he cried. "It has been a dreadful night."</p> + +<p>Jamie was in the house. They two had been sitting up. They wouldn't hear +of my going back, but put me into bed, almost by main strength. Then +they started with fresh horses. They took a pillion for Margaret, and a +shovel to dig through the drifts when they couldn't go round.</p> + +<p>Mother gave me warm drinks, and piled on the bed-clothes. But I couldn't +sleep for worrying about Margaret. I was afraid the exposure would be +the death of her.</p> + +<p>About noon Mary came running up to tell me they had just gone past. The +window was near my bed. I pulled aside the curtain, and looked out. They +were just going over the hill,—Jamie, with Margaret on the pillion, and +Mr. Nathaniel along-side.</p> + +<p>I often think what a mysterious Providence it was that made me the means +of bringing together the two persons who, as it turned, controlled my +whole life. In fact, it seems as if it were only then that my real life +began.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Nobody could have been more pleased with a bright, beautiful, grown-up +daughter than was Mr. Nathaniel. He was always bragging about her. And +well he might,—for never was a better-dispositioned girl, or a +livelier. She entered right into our country-life, was merry with the +young folks and wise with the old ones.<a name="Page_573" id="Page_573"></a> Aunt Chloë said she was good +company for anybody.</p> + +<p>She was a real godsend to our neighborhood, especially at the +merry-makings; for she could make fun for a roomful, and tell us what +they played at the Boston parties.</p> + +<p>Of course, that long ride with her in the snow-storm had given me an +advantage over the other young men. It seemed to be taken for granted by +them, that, as I brought her to town, I should be the one privileged to +wait upon her about. 'Twas a privilege I was glad enough to claim, and +she never objected. Many would have been glad to be in my place, but +they never tried to cut me out. Margaret was sociable enough with +them,—sometimes I thought too much so. But then I knew 'twas only her +pleasant way. When we two were walking home together, she dropped her +fun, and seemed like another person. I felt pleased that she kept the +best part of herself for me.</p> + +<p>I was pleased, too, to see that she took to Mary, and Mary to her. The +women were hurried with their sewing, and Margaret used to be often at +our house helping. Cynthia was glad enough of her help, because she knew +the fashions, and told how weddings were carried on in Boston. Thus it +happened that she and Mary were brought much together; and before winter +was over they were like two sisters.</p> + +<p>And before winter was over, what was I? Certainly not the same Joseph +who went to Swampsey Village. My eagerness to be on the sea, my pride, +my temper, were gone; and all I cared for was to see the face and hear +the voice of Margaret Holden.</p> + +<p>At first, I would not believe this thing of myself; said it was folly to +be so led about by a woman. But the very next moment, her sitting down +by my side would set me trembling, I didn't know myself; it seemed as if +I were wrong side up, and all my good feelings had come to the top.</p> + +<p>Our names were always called together, but I felt noways sure. I +couldn't think that a girl every way so desirable as Margaret should +take up with a fellow so undesirable as myself. I felt that she was too +good for me. I thought then that this was peculiar to our case. But I +have since observed, that, as a general thing, all women are too good +for all men. I am very sure I have seen something of the kind in print.</p> + +<p>Then there was another feeling which worked itself in by degrees,—one +which would come back as often as I drove it away. And once admitted, it +gained strength. 'Twas not a pleasant feeling, and it had to do with +Jamie.</p> + +<p>I had all along felt sure that he was attached to Mary. I had therefore +never thought anything of his being on pretty good terms with Margaret. +They were both of a lively turn, and thrown much together. But by +degrees the idea got possession of me that there was a secret +understanding between them about something. They had long talks and +walks together. And, in fact, I observed many little things, trifling in +themselves, but much to me after my thoughts were once turned that way.</p> + +<p>Sometimes I think, that, if I had never gone to sea, or had never met +Jamie, or had not brought him home, my life might have been very +different. But then, if we once begin upon the "ifs," we might as well +go back to the beginning, and say, "If we had never been born."</p> + +<p>Jealousy. And my proud, flashy temper. That was it.</p> + +<p>Jamie was like a brother to me. He was a noble fellow, with a pleasant +word and smile for everybody. Not a family in the place but was glad to +see him enter their doors. It looks strange now that I could have +distrusted him so. Still, I must say, there seemed some cause.</p> + +<p>But it's not pleasant dwelling on this. The daily events which stirred +me up so then seem too trifling to mention. I don't like to call up all +those dead feelings, now I'm an old man, and ashamed of them.</p> + +<p>Jamie and Margaret became a mystery <a name="Page_574" id="Page_574"></a>to me. And I was by no means one to +puzzle it out, as I would a sum in the rule-of-three. 'Twas not all +head-work. However, I said nothing. I was mean enough to watch, and too +proud to question.</p> + +<p>At last I began to ask myself what I really knew about Jamie. He was +only a poor sailor-boy, whom I had picked up and befriended. And, once +put upon thought, what did I know of Margaret? What did anybody in the +place? Even Mr. Nathaniel only knew her father. Her simple, childish +ways might be all put on. For she could act. I had seen her, one +evening, for our entertainment, imitate the actresses upon the stage. +First, she was a little girl, in a white frock, with a string of coral +about her neck, and curls hanging over her pretty shoulders. She said a +little hymn, and her voice sounded just like a child's. Afterwards, she +was a proud princess, in laces and jewels, a long train, and a bright +crown. Dressed in this way, with her head thrown back, her bosom +heaving, and reciting something she had heard on the stage, we hardly +knew our Margaret.</p> + +<p>It was at our house, one stormy evening. Mother would never allow it +again. She said it was countenancing the theatre. Besides, I thought +she'd rather not have me look at Margaret when under the excitement of +acting, for the next day she cautioned me against earthly idols. But +Margaret was my idol.</p> + +<p>It was because she was so bewitching to me that I thought it could not +be but that Jamie must be bewitched as well. And it was because he was +so taking in his manner that I felt certain she must be taken with him. +Thus I puzzled on from day to day, drifting about among my doubts and +fears, like a ship in a fog.</p> + +<p>I knew that Margaret thought my conduct strange. Sometimes I seemed +scarcely to live away from her; then I would change about, and not go +near her for days. To Jamie, too, I was often unfriendly, for it +maddened me to think he might be playing a double game. Mary seemed just +as she always did. But then she was simple-minded, and would never +suspect anything or anybody. It was astonishing, the state of excitement +I finally worked myself into. That was my make. Once started upon a +road, I would run its whole length.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>February and March passed, and still we were not sent for to join our +ship. Jamie was getting uneasy, living, as he said, so long upon +strangers. Besides, I knew my manner troubled him.</p> + +<p>One evening, as we were sitting around our kitchen-fire, Margaret with +the rest, Mr. Nathaniel came in, all of a breeze, scolding away about +his fishermen. His schooner was all ready for The Banks, and two of his +men had run off, with all their fitting-out.</p> + +<p>"Come, you two lazy chaps," said he, "you will just do to fill their +places."</p> + +<p>"Agreed!" said Jamie. "I'll go, if Joseph will."</p> + +<p>"I'll go," said I. For I thought in a minute that he would rather not +leave me behind, and I knew he needed the chance.</p> + +<p>The women all began to exclaim against it,—all but Margaret. She turned +pale, and kept silence. That was Friday. The vessel would sail Monday. +Mother was greatly troubled, but said, if I would go, she must make me +comfortable; and all night I could hear her opening and shutting the +bureau-drawers. Margaret stopped with Mary: I think they sewed till near +morning.</p> + +<p>The next evening the singers met in the vestry, to practise the tunes +for the Sabbath. We all sat in the singing-seats. I played the small +bass-viol. Jamie sang counter, and the girls treble. Margaret had a +sweet voice,—not very powerful. She sat in the seats because the other +girls did.</p> + +<p>I went home with her that night. She seemed so sad, so tender in her +manner, that I came near speaking,—came near telling her how much she +was to me, and owning my feeling about Jamie. But I <a name="Page_575" id="Page_575"></a>didn't quite. +Something kept me from it. If there is such a thing as fate, 'twas that.</p> + +<p>Going home, however, I made a resolution that the next night I would +certainly know, from her own lips, whether it was me she liked, or +Jamie.</p> + +<p>I walked slowly home, and directly up-stairs to bed. I lay awake a long +time, heard father and mother go to their chamber, then Mary and Sophy +to theirs. At last I wondered what had become of Jamie.</p> + +<p>I pushed aside the window-curtain and looked out. 'Twas bright +moonlight. I saw Jamie coming over the hill from Mr. Nathaniel's. He +came in softly. I pretended sleep. He was still so long that I looked up +to see what he could be doing. He was leaning his elbow on the desk, +looking straight at the floor, thinking.</p> + +<p>All that night I lay awake, staring at the moonlight on the curtains. I +was again on the old track, for I could not possibly imagine what he +should have to say to Margaret at that hour.</p> + +<p>Towards morning I fell asleep, and never woke till the people were +getting ready for meeting. I hurried, for the instruments met before the +rest to practise.</p> + +<p>Nearly all the young folks sat in the seats. Jamie stood at the head of +the back row, on the men's side. His voice was worth all the rest. +Margaret came in late. She looked like a beauty that day. Her place was +at the head of the first row of girls. I, with my bass-viol, was behind +all.</p> + +<p>The minister read the hymn beginning with this verse,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"We are a garden walled around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chosen and made peculiar ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little spot inclosed by grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the world's wide wilderness."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>While he was reading it, I saw her write a little note, and hand it +across the alley to Jamie. He smiled, and wrote another back. After +meeting, they had a talk. These things sound small enough now. But now I +am neither young, nor in love, nor jealous.</p> + +<p>That night was our last at home. After supper, I strolled off towards +the meeting-house. 'Twas about sundown. I walked awhile in the +graveyard, and then followed the path into the wood at the back of it.</p> + +<p>I see that I have been telling my story in a way to favor myself,—that +even now I am unwilling wholly to expose my folly. I could not, if I +tried, tell how that night in the wood I was beset at once by jealousy, +pride, love, and anger, and so well-nigh driven mad.</p> + +<p>I passed from the wood to the open field, and reached the shore. The +vessel lay at the wharf. I climbed the rigging, and watched the moon +rising over the water. It must have been near midnight when I reached +home.</p> + +<p>The vessel sailed early in the morning. I did not see Margaret,—never +bid her good-bye. After we were under way, and were out of the windings +of the channel, Jamie came and leaned with me against the rail. And +there in silence we stood until the homes of those we loved so well had +faded from our sight.</p> + +<p>Poor Jamie! I knew afterwards how troubled he was at the way I treated +him that summer. He wanted to be friendly, but I stood off. He wanted to +speak of the folks at home, but I would never join him. At last he left +off trying.</p> + +<p>If he had not met with an accident, maybe I should never have spoken +another kind word to him. It happened towards the end of the voyage. The +schooner had wet her salt, and all hands were thinking of home. I was +down in the cabin. I was marking a piece of meat to boil,—for then each +fisherman carried his own provisions. All at once I heard something fall +upon the deck. Then a great trampling. I hurried up, and saw them +lifting up Jamie. He had fallen from the rigging. It was old and rotten. +They carried him down, and laid him in his berth. He wouldn't have +known, if they had dropped him into the sea.</p><p><a name="Page_576" id="Page_576"></a></p> + +<p>When I saw him stretched out there, every unkind feeling left me. My old +love for him came back. All I could think of was what he said in our +first talk,—"Then I wanted my mother." None of us could say whether he +would live or die. We feared for his head, because he took no notice, +but seemed inclined to sleep. I wanted to do everything for him myself. +I had borne him ill-will, but now my strong feelings all set towards +him.</p> + +<p>It was in the middle of the night that he first came to himself. 'Twas a +blowy night, and most of the crew were on deck. A couple of men were +sleeping in their berths.</p> + +<p>The cabin of a fishing-schooner is a dark, stifled place, with +everything crowded into it. The berths were like a double row of shelves +along the sides. In one of these, with his face not far from the beams +overhead, was stretched my poor, ill-treated Jamie. I was so afraid he +would die! I had no pride then.</p> + +<p>On this night I stood holding by the side of his berth, to steady +myself. I turned away a moment to snuff the candle, and when I stepped +back he looked up in my face and smiled. I couldn't help throwing my +arms around his neck and kissing him. I never kissed a man before,—nor +since.</p> + +<p>"Joseph has come back," said he, with a smile.</p> + +<p>I thought he was wandering, and made no answer. After that he frequently +roused from his stupor and seemed inclined to talk.</p> + +<p>One stormy night, when all hands were upon deck, he seemed like himself, +only very sad, and began of his own accord to talk of what was always in +my mind. He spoke low, being weak.</p> + +<p>"Joseph," said he, "there is one question I want to ask you."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said I,—"you mustn't talk, you must be quiet." For I dreaded +his coming to the point.</p> + +<p>"I can't be quiet," said he, "and I must talk. You've something against +me. What is it?"</p> + +<p>I made no answer.</p> + +<p>"But I know," he continued. "I have known all along. You've heard +something about my old life. You think Mary is too good for me. And she +is. But she is willing to take me just as I am. I'm not what I was. She +has changed me. She will keep me from harm."</p> + +<p>"Jamie," said I, "I don't know what you mean. I've heard nothing. I'm +willing you should have Mary,—want you to."</p> + +<p>He looked perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Then what is it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>I turned my head away, hardly knowing how to begin. At last I said,—</p> + +<p>"I wasn't sure, Jamie, that you wanted Mary. You know there was some one +else you were often with."</p> + +<p>He lay for some time without speaking. At last he said, slowly,—"I +see,—I see,—I see,"—three times. Then, turning his eyes away from me, +he kept on,—"What should you think, Joseph, if I were to tell you that +I had seen Margaret before she came to your place?"</p> + +<p>"Seen Margaret?" I repeated.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied; "and I will tell you where. You see, when I found +mother was dead, and nobody cared whether I went up or down in the +world, that I turned downwards. I got with a bad set,—learned to drink +and gamble. One night, in the streets of Boston, I got into a quarrel +with a young man, a stranger. We were both drunk. I don't remember doing +it, but they told me afterwards that I stabbed him. This sobered us +both. He was laid on a bed in an upper room in the Lamb Tavern. I was +awfully frightened, thinking he would die. That was about two months +before I shipped aboard the Eliza Ann.</p> + +<p>"After his wound was dressed, he begged me to go for his sister, and +gave me the street and number. His name was Arthur Holden. His sister +was your Margaret. Our acquaintance began at his bedside. We took turns +in the care of him.</p> + +<p>"They were a family well off in the world, with nothing to trouble them +but <a name="Page_577" id="Page_577"></a>his wickedness. He would not be respectable, would go with bad +company.</p> + +<p>"After he was well enough to be taken home, I never saw Margaret until +that morning after the snow-storm. I was very eager to go for her, for I +felt sure, from what Mr. Nathaniel had said during the night, that she +was the same.</p> + +<p>"Riding along, she told me all about Arthur's course, and the grief he +had caused them ever since. It had made her mother ill. He was roaming +about the country, always in trouble, and it was on his account that she +stayed behind, when her father and mother went South. She said he must +have some one to befriend him in case of need.</p> + +<p>"And here," continued he, "was where I took a wrong step. I begged +Margaret not to speak of our former acquaintance. I could not bear to +have you all know. I was afraid Mary would despise me, she was so pure.</p> + +<p>"Margaret was willing to keep silence about it, for she would rather not +have the people know of her brother. He would have been the talk of the +neighborhood. Everybody would have been pitying her. She used to like to +speak of him to me, because I was the only one who knew the +circumstances.</p> + +<p>"But don't think," he continued, earnestly, "that I would have married +Mary and never told her. We had a long, beautiful talk the last evening. +I had never before spoken quite freely of my feelings, though she must +have seen what they were. But that night I told everything,—my past +life, and all. And she forgave all, because she loved me.</p> + +<p>"I meant to tell you as soon as we were off; but you turned the cold +shoulder,—you would not talk about home."</p> + +<p>Here he stopped. I hoped he would say no more, for every word he spoke +made me feel ashamed. But he went on.</p> + +<p>"The day before we agreed to go this voyage, Margaret told me that +Arthur was concealed somewhere in the neighborhood. She didn't know what +he had done, but only that he was running away from an officer. I found +him out, and went every night to carry him something to eat."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't she tell me?" I exclaimed. "I would have done the same."</p> + +<p>"She would, perhaps," said he, "only that for some time you had acted so +strangely. She never said a word, but I knew it troubled her. If I had +only known of your feeling so, I would have told everything. But I +thought you must see how much I cared for Mary. Everybody else was sure +who Margaret loved, if you were not.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Joseph," he continued, clasping my hand, "how beautiful it will be, +when we get home, now that everything is cleared up! But I haven't quite +finished. Sunday, if you remember, Margaret came in late to meeting. +While the hymn was being read, she wrote me on a slip of paper that +Arthur was gone. I wrote her back, 'Good news.' Afterwards she told me +that he came in the night to her bedroom-window to bid her +good-bye,—that he had promised her he certainly would do better. +Margaret was in better spirits that day than I had seen her for a long +while. I thought there had been an explanation between you two. Never +fear, Joseph, but that she loves you."</p> + +<p>Jamie seemed tired after talking so much, and soon after fell asleep. I +crept into the berth underneath him. I felt like creeping somewhere. +Sleep was long coming, and no sooner was I unconscious of things about +me than I began to dream bad dreams. I thought I was stumbling along in +the dark, 'Twas over graves. I fell over a heap of earth, and heard the +stones drop down into one newly made. As I was trying to walk away, +Margaret came to meet me. "You didn't bid me good-bye," said she, +smiling; "but it's not too late now." Then she held out her hand. I took +it, but the touch waked me. 'Twas just like a dead hand.</p> + +<p>I kept sleeping and waking; and every time I slept, the same dream came +to me,—exactly <a name="Page_578" id="Page_578"></a>the same. At last I rushed upon deck, sent a man below, +and took his place. He was glad to go, and I was glad to be where the +wind was blowing and everything in commotion.</p> + +<p>The next day I told Jamie my dream. He said it was a lucky one, and he +hoped it meant two weddings. So I thought no more of it. I was never +superstitious: my mother had taught me better.</p> + +<p>We had just started for home, but this gale blew us off our course. Soon +after, however, the wind shifted to the eastward, and so kept, for the +biggest part of the time, until we sighted Boston Lights. Jamie was +nearly well. Still he could not walk much. He was quite lame. The +skipper thought some of the small bones of the foot were put out. But +Jamie didn't seem to care anything about his feet. He was just as gay as +a lark, singing all day.</p> + +<p>As soon as we caught sight of The Mountains, we ran up our flag. It was +about noon, and the skipper calculated on dropping anchor in the channel +by sundown, at the farthest. And so we should, but the wind hauled, and +we couldn't lay our course. Tacking is slow work, especially all in +sight of home. About ten o'clock in the evening we made Wimple's Creek. +Then we had the tide in our favor, and so drifted into the channel. Our +bounty wasn't quite out, or we should have gone straight in to the +wharf, over everything.</p> + +<p>When things were made snug, we pulled ashore in the boat. It being in +the night, we went just as we were, in fishermen's rig. 'Twas a wet, +drizzly, chilly night, so dark we could hardly make out the landing. We +coaxed Jamie to stop under a shed while I went for a horse. I was the +only one of the crew who lived beyond the meeting-house. But I had so +much to think of, was so happy, thinking I was home again, and that +everything would be right, that I never minded being alone. Passing by +the graveyard made me remember my dream. "Joseph," said I to myself, +"you don't dare walk through there!" 'Twas only a post-and-rail fence, +and I sprang over, to show myself I dared do it. I felt noways agitated +until I found, that, on account of its being so dark, I was stumbling +just as I had dreamed. I kept on, however; for, by going that way, I +could reach home by a short cut. When I got behind the meeting-house I +nearly fell down over a heap of earth. My fall started a few stones, and +I could hear them drop. Then my courage left me. I shook with fear. I +hardly had strength to reach the road. That was the first time it +occurred to me that I might not find all as I left them.</p> + +<p>As I came to dwelling—houses, however, I grew calm again, and even +smiled at my foolishness,—or tried to.</p> + +<p>Mr. Nathaniel's house came before ours. I saw there was a light in the +kitchen, and stepped softly through the back-yard, thinking some one +might be sick. The windows were small and high. The curtains were made +of house-paper. One of them was not quite let down. I looked in +underneath it, and saw two old women sitting by the fire. Something to +eat was set out on a table, and the teapot was on the hearth. One stick +had broken in two. The smoking brands stood up in the corners. There was +just a flicker of flame in the candlestick. It went out while I was +looking. I saw that the old women were dozing. I opened the outside-door +softly, and stood in the porch. There was a latch-string to the inner +one. As soon as I pulled it the door opened. In my agitation I forgot +there was a step up, and so stumbled forward into the room. They both +started to their feet, holding on by the pommels of the chairs. They +were frightened.</p> + +<p>"What are you here for?" I gasped out.</p> + +<p>"Watching with the dead!" whispered one of them.</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>They looked at each other; they knew me then.</p> + +<p>I remember their eyes turning towards the front-room door, of placing my +hand on the latch, of standing by a table between <a name="Page_579" id="Page_579"></a>the front-windows, of +a coffin resting on the white cloth, of people crowding about me,—but +nothing more that night. Nothing distinctly for weeks and months. Some +confused idea I have of being led about at a funeral, of being told I +must sit with the mourners, of the bearers taking off their hats, of +being held back from the grave. But a black cloud rests over all. I +cannot pierce it. I have no wish to. I can't even tell whether I really +took her cold hand in mine, and bid her good-bye, or whether that was +one of the terrible dreams which came to me every night. I know that at +last I refused to go to bed, but walked all night in the fields and +woods.</p> + +<p>I believe that insane people always know the feelings and the plans of +those about them. I knew they were thinking of taking me to an asylum. I +knew, too, that I was the means of Jamie's being sick, and that they +tried to keep it from me. I read in their faces,—"Jamie got a fever +that wet night at the shore; but don't tell Joseph."</p> + +<p>As I look back upon that long gloom, a shadowy remembrance comes to me +of standing in the door-way of a darkened chamber. A minister in white +bands stood at the foot of the bed, performing the marriage-ceremony. I +remember Jamie's paleness, and the heavenly look in Mary's face, as she +stood at the bedside, holding his right hand in hers. Mother passed her +hand over my head, and whispered to me that Mary wanted to take care of +him.</p> + +<p>One of my fancies was, that a dark bird, like a vulture, constantly +pursued me. All day I was trying to escape him, and all the while I +slept he was at my pillow.</p> + +<p>As I came to myself I found this to be a form given by my excited +imagination to a dark thought which would give me no rest. It was the +idea that my conduct had been the means of Margaret's death. I never +dared question. They said it was fever,—that others died of the same. +If I could but have spoken to her,—could but have seen, once more, the +same old look and smile! This was an ever-present thought.</p> + +<p>But I did afterwards. I told her everything. She knows my folly and my +grief.</p> + +<p>It was in the night-time. I was walking through the woods, on the road +to Swampsey Village. Margaret walked beside me for a long way. Just +before she left me, she said,—</p> + +<p>"Do you hear the surf on the beach?"</p> + +<p>I said, "Yes, I hear the surf."</p> + +<p>"And what is it saying?"</p> + +<p>I listened a moment, then answered,—</p> + +<p>"It says, 'Woe! woe! woe!'"</p> + +<p>She said, "Listen again."</p> + +<p>While I was listening, she disappeared. But a moment afterwards I heard +a voice speaking in the midst of the surfs roaring. It was just as plain +and distinct as the minister's from the pulpit. It said, "Endure! +endure! endure."</p> + +<p>I might think that all this, even my seeing Margaret, was only a +creation of my disordered mind, were it not for something happening +afterwards which proved itself.</p> + +<p>One evening, about twilight, I walked through the graveyard, and stood +leaning against her tombstone. I soon knew that she was coming, for I +heard the ringing sound in the air which always came before her. A +moment after, she stood beside me. She placed her hand on my heart, and +said, "Joseph, all is right here,"—then upon my forehead, and said, +"But here all is wrong."</p> + +<p>Then she told me there was a ship ready to sail from Boston, and that I +must go in her,—said it troubled her that I wasted my life so. She gave +me the name of the ship and of the captain, and told me when to go.</p> + +<p>I did exactly as she said. And it all came true. When the captain saw +me, he started back and exclaimed,—"What sent you here?"</p> + +<p>I said, "An angel."</p> + +<p>"And an angel told me you were coming," he replied.</p> + +<p>Active work saved me. For years I never dared rest. I shrank back from a +leisure hour as from a dark chasm.</p><p><a name="Page_580" id="Page_580"></a></p> + +<p>The greater part of my life has been passed upon the sea. As I +approached middle age, people would joke me upon my single life. They +could never know what a painful chord they struck, and I could never +tell them. Beautiful girls were pointed out to me. I could not see them. +Margaret's face always came between.</p> + +<p>This bantering a single man is very common. I often wonder that people +dare do it. How does the world know what early disappointment he may be +mourning over? Is it anything to laugh about, that he has nobody to love +him,—nobody he may call his own,—no home? Seated in your pleasant +family-circle, the bright faces about him fade away, and he sees only a +vision of what might have been. Yet nobody supposes we have feeling. No +mother, dressing up her little boy for a walk, thinks of <i>our</i> noticing +how cunning he looks, with the feather in his hat. No mother, weeping +over the coffin of her child, dreams that <i>we</i> have pity and sorrow in +our hearts for her.</p> + +<p>Thus the world shuts us out from all sympathy with its joys or +afflictions. But the world doesn't know everything,—least of all what +is passing in the heart of an old bachelor.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Jamie and Mary are old folks now. He never went to sea after his +marriage. Father set him up in a store. I should make it my home with +them, but they live at the old place, and I am always better away from +there.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Maylie was right about my noticing children. I like to sit on the +stone wall and talk with them. No face comes between theirs and +mine,—unless it's the little girl's who moved away. Farmer Hill's is a +pleasant family. His grandchildren call me Captain Joseph. I humor them +almost as much as he does. When huckleberries come, they wonder why I +won't let them take that little rough-looking basket that hangs over the +looking-glass. 'Tis the one Margaret made that night in the hut on The +Mountains.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_SNOW-MAN" id="THE_SNOW-MAN"></a>THE SNOW-MAN.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fields are white with the glittering snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save down by the brook, where the alders grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hang their branches, black and bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the stream that wanders darkly there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where the dry stalks of the summer past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand shivering now in the winter blast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where the naked woodlands lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bearded and brown against the sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But over the pasture, and meadow, and hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snow is lying, all white and still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But a loud and merry shout I hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ringing and joyous, fresh and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where a troop of rosy boys at play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awaken the echoes far away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have moulded the snow with hand and spade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a strange, misshapen image made:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Caliban in fiendish guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With mouth agape and staring eyes,<br /></span><p><a name="Page_581" id="Page_581"></a></p> +<span class="i0">And monstrous limbs, that might uphold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weight that Atlas bore, of old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like shapes that our troubled dreams distress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ghost-like and grim in their ugliness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A huge and hideous human form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born of the howling wind and storm:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet those boyish sculptors glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the pride of a Phidias or Angelo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come hither and listen to me, my son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a lesson of life I'll read thereon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have made a man of the snow-bank there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stands up yet in the frosty air:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go out from your home, so bright and warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And throw yourself on his frozen form;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wind him around with your soft caress;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tenderly up to his bosom press;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask him for sympathy, love, and cheer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plead for yourself with prayer and tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him you hope and dream and grieve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beg him to comfort and relieve:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The form that you press will be icy cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A frozen heart to your breast you hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That turns into stone the tears you weep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the chill of his touch through your soul will creep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So over the field of life are spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men who have hearts as cold and dead,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who nothing of sympathy know, nor love,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom your prayers would as fruitless prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As those that you now might go and say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the grim snow-man that you made to-day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But soon the soft and gentle spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The balmy southern breeze will bring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snow, that shrouds the landscape o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will melt away, and be seen no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gladsome brook shall rippling run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath the alders greening in the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grass shall spring, and the birds shall come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the verdant woodlands to find a home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the softened heart of your man of snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall bid the blue violets blossom below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, let us hope that time may bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To earth some sweet and gentle spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When human hearts shall thaw, and when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ice shall melt away from men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the hearts now frozen stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love then shall blossom o'er all the land!<br /></span> +</div></div><p><a name="Page_582" id="Page_582"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_GOLD-FIELDS_OF_NOVA_SCOTIA" id="THE_GOLD-FIELDS_OF_NOVA_SCOTIA"></a>THE GOLD-FIELDS OF NOVA SCOTIA.</h2> + + +<p>It will probably be thought a startling statement, by the good people of +our staid Northern metropolis,—certainly by those of them whose +attention has not been called to the recent developments on this +subject,—that within thirty-six hours' travel from their own doors, by +conveyance as safe and even luxurious as any in the world, there exist +veins of auriferous quartz, practically inexhaustible in extent, teeming +throughout with virgin gold of a standard of almost absolute purity, and +yielding a return to the labors of the scientific miner, rivalling, if +not fairly surpassing, in their comparative results, the richest +deposits of California, Colorado, and Australia.</p> + +<p>But then, if one has a startling fact to tell, why is it not best to +tell it out, all at once, and in a startling manner? If the house-maid +of our modest <i>menage</i> should on a sudden discover that Aladdin's lamp +had come home from the auction-room among some chance purchases of her +mistress, and that the slave or genie thereof was actually standing in +the middle of our own kitchen-floor at the moment, and grumbling audibly +at lack of employment in fetching home diamonds and such like delicacies +by the bale for the whole household, could we reasonably expect the girl +to announce the fact, in the parlor above, in the same tone in which she +ordinarily states that the butcher has called for his orders? Aesop, in +his very first fable, (as arranged by good Archdeacon Croxall,) has +inculcated but a mean opinion of the cock who forbore to crow lustily +when he turned up a jewel of surpassing richness, in the course of his +ordinary scratching, and under his own very beak; why, then, should we +render ourselves liable to the same depreciatory moral? Something, at +least, must be pardoned to the <i>certaminis gaudia</i> of this new-found +contest with the secrets of Nature,—and though the fact we have stated +be a startling one, the statements and authorities which go to support +it will, perhaps, in the end, surprise us still more. We shall give +them, at any rate, in such a form as "to challenge investigation and to +defy scrutiny." How far they will bear out our sensational opening +paragraph, then, the readers of the "Atlantic" cannot choose but judge.</p> + +<p>But let us hasten, in the very outset, to warn the individual +gold-hunter that he, at least, will get no crumb of comfort from these +pages. That the precious metal is there,—to use Dr. Johnson's +expression, "the potentiality of growing rich beyond the dreams of +avarice,"—no one, we think, after reading what we have now to offer, +will be inclined to deny. But it is to be sought successfully, as we +shall show, only by the expenditure of capital, and under the direction +of science and the most experienced skill. The solitary adventurer may +tickle the stern ribs of Acadia with his paltry hoe and pick in +vain,—she will laugh for him and such as he with no sign of a golden +harvest. Failure and vexation, disappointment, loss, and ruin, will be +again, as they have already been, his only reward. With this full +disclaimer, therefore, at the commencement of our remarks, we trust that +we shall, at least, have no sin of enticement laid at our door. If any +one chooses to go there and try it on his own individual responsibility, +and in the face of this energetic protest and solemn warning, it must +surely be no further affair of ours.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The authorities, official, statistical, and scientific, from which our +knowledge of the Gold-Fields of Nova Scotia is mainly derived, are as +follows:—</p> + +<p>1. Report of a Personal Inspection of the Gold-Fields of Nova Scotia, in +the Consecutive Order in which they were visited. Made by Lord Mulgrave +to His Grace the Duke of Newcastle, and dated at Government House, +Halifax, N.S., 21st June, 1862.</p><p><a name="Page_583" id="Page_583"></a></p> + +<p>2. Report of the Chief Gold-Commissioner for the Province of Nova Scotia +for the Year 1862. Made to the Honorable the Provincial Secretary, and +dated at Halifax, January 23, 1863.</p> + +<p>3. Report of the Provincial Geologist, Mr. Campbell. Made to the +Honorable Joseph Howe, Provincial Secretary, at Halifax, N.S., 25th +February, 1863. Accompanied by a Section across the Gold-bearing Rocks +of the Atlantic Coast of Nova Scotia.</p> + +<p>4. Report on the Gold-Districts of the Province of Nova Scotia. Made to +the President and Directors of the Oldham Gold-Mining Company, December +28, 1863, by George I. Chace, Professor of Chemistry in Brown +University, Providence, R.I. <i>Manuscript</i>.</p> + +<p>5. Introductory Remarks on the Gold-Region of Nova Scotia. Prefixed to a +Report made to the President and Directors of the Atlantic Mining +Company, December 31, 1863. By Benjamin Silliman, Jr., Professor of +General and Applied Chemistry in Yale College, New Haven, Ct. +<i>Manuscript</i>.</p> + +<p>6. Report on the Montague Gold-Field, near Halifax, N.S., by the Same, +and on the Gold-Fields of the Waverley District, by the Same. +<i>Manuscript</i>.</p> + +<p>7. Quarterly Report of the Chief Gold-Commissioner of the Province of +Nova Scotia. Made to the Provincial Secretary at Halifax, October 1, +1863.</p> + +<p>8. The Royal Gazette, issued by the Chief Gold-Commissioner, Halifax, +January 20, 1863. Published by Authority.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In confirmation of these documents, we shall only need to add the +"testimony of the rocks" themselves, as shown in more than sixty +specimens of the gold-bearing quartz of these remarkable mines. Some of +these were brought to Boston by Professors Chace and Silliman, on their +return a few weeks since from exploring the rich leads of the +Provinces,—but by far the larger number were forwarded by some of the +resident superintendents of the mines, by the Cunard steamer Africa, +arriving in Boston, Sunday, January 10, 1864, to the care of Captain +Field, then residing at the Tremont House. We may add that the eight +finest of these specimens are now lying on the table before us, their +mottled sides thickly crusted with arsenical pyrites and streaked +through and through with veins and splashes of twenty-two-carat gold. +Incredulity, when raised to its highest pitch, might perhaps discredit +all written testimony, whether official or scientific; but we have as +yet seen no case so confirmed that the sight of these extraordinary +fragments did not <i>compel</i> belief.</p> + +<p>In drawing our narrative from the authorities above cited, we shall +prefer to follow as closely as possible the precise statements of the +documents themselves,—interspersed only with such remarks of our own as +may be necessary best to preserve an intelligible connection between the +different portions. The agreement between all the authorities is so +substantial, and in fact entire, that we shall experience none of the +usual difficulties in the reconciling of contradictions or the balancing +of conflicting theories or statements.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The gold-fields of Nova Scotia consist of some ten or twelve districts +of quite limited area in themselves, but lying scattered along almost +the whole southeastern coast of the Province. The whole of this coast, +from Cape Sable on the west to Cape Canso on the east, a distance of +about two hundred and fifty miles, is bordered by a fringe of hard, +slaty rocks,—slate and sandstone in irregular alternations,—sometimes +argillaceous, and occasionally granitic. These rocks, originally +deposited on the grandest scale of Nature, are always, when stratified, +found standing at a high angle,—sometimes almost vertical,—and with a +course, in the main, very nearly due east and west. They seldom rise to +any great elevation,—the promontory of Aspatogon, about five hundred +feet high, being the highest land on the Atlantic coast of the Province. +The general aspect of the shore is low, rocky, and <a name="Page_584" id="Page_584"></a>desolate, strewn +often with huge boulders of granite or quartzite,—and where not bleak +and rocky, it is covered with thick forests of spruce and white birch.</p> + +<p>The picture is not enticing,—but this is, nevertheless, the true <i>arida +nutrix</i> of the splendid masses before us. The zone of metamorphic rocks +which lines this inhospitable coast varies in width from six or eight +miles at its eastern extremity to forty or fifty at its widest +points,—presenting in its northern boundary only a rude parallelism +with its southern margin,—and comprising, over about six thousand +square miles of surface, the general outline of what may, geologically +speaking, be called the Gold-Region of Nova Scotia.</p> + +<p>It will be most interesting hereafter to mark the gradual changes +already beginning to take place in this rich, but limited district. It +is destined throughout, we may be sure, to very thorough and systematic +exploration. For, although it is true that gold is not to be found in +all parts of it, still it is not unreasonable to search for the precious +metal throughout this whole region, wherever the occurrence of true +quartz-veins—the almost sole <i>matrix</i> of the gold—is shown by boulders +on the surface. Back from the coast-line, a large part of the district +named is now little better than an unexplored wilderness; and the fact +that the remarkable discoveries which have been made are in a majority +of cases almost on the sea-shore, and where the country is open and the +search easy, by no means diminishes the probabilities that continued +exploration in the less frequented parts of the district will be +rewarded with new discoveries as important as any which have yet been +made.</p> + +<p>The earliest discovery of gold in the Province, yet made known to the +public, occurred during the summer of 1860, at a spot about twelve miles +north from the head of Tangier Harbor, on the northeast branch of the +Tangier River,—shown on McKinley's excellent map of Nova Scotia as +about fifty-eight miles east from Halifax. Subsequent discoveries at +Wine Harbor, Sherbrooke, Ovens, Oldham, Waverley, Hammond's Plains, and +at Lake Loon,—a small lake only five miles distant from Halifax,—have +fully determined the auriferous character of particular and defined +localities throughout the district already described, and abundantly +justify the early opinion of Lord Mulgrave, that "there is now little or +no doubt that this Colony will soon rank as one of the gold-producing +countries of the world."</p> + +<p>As a specimen of one of the most interesting mineral veins of this +region, it may answer to select the Montague lode at Lake Loon for a +specific description. The course of this vein is E. 10° N., that being +the <i>strike</i> of the rocks by the compass in that particular district. It +has been traced by surface-digging a long distance,—not less, probably, +than half a mile. At one point on this line there is a <i>shift</i> or +<i>fault</i> in the rocks which has heaved the most productive portion of the +vein about thirty-five feet to the north; but for the rest of the +distance, so far as yet open, the whole lead remains true and +undisturbed.</p> + +<p>Its dip, with the rocks around it, is almost vertical,—say from 85° to +80° south. The vein is contained between walls of slate on both sides, +and is a double or composite vein, being formed, 1st, of the main +<i>leader</i>; 2d, of a smaller vein on the other side, with a thin slate +partition-wall between the two; and, 3d, of a strongly mineralized slate +<i>foot-wall</i>, which is in itself really a most valuable portion of the +ore-channel.</p> + +<p>The quartz which composes these interposed sheets, thus separated, yet +combined, is crystallized throughout, and highly +mineralized,—belonging, in fact, to the first class of quartz lodes +recognized in all the general descriptions of the veins of this region. +The associated minerals are, here, <i>cuprite</i> or yellow copper, green +<i>malachite</i> or carbonate of copper, <i>mispickel</i> or arsenical pyrites, +<i>zinc blende, sesquioxyde of iron</i>, rich in gold, and also frequent +"sights" or visible masses of gold itself. The gold <a name="Page_585" id="Page_585"></a>is also often +visible to the naked eye in all the associated minerals, and +particularly in the mispickel and blende.</p> + +<p>The main quartz vein of this interesting lead varies from three to ten +inches in thickness at different points on the surface-level, but is +reported as increasing to twenty inches thick at the bottom of the +shaft, already carried down to a depth of forty feet. This very +considerable variation in thickness will be found to be owing to the +folds or plications of the vein, to which we shall hereafter make more +particular allusion.</p> + +<p>The minerals associated with the quartz in this vein, especially the +cuprite and mispickel, are found most abundantly upon the foot-wall +side, or underside of the quartz itself. The smaller accompanying vein +before alluded to appears to be but a repetition of the larger one in +all its essential characteristics, and is believed by the scientific +examiners to be fully as well charged with gold. That this is likely to +come up to a very remarkable standard of productiveness, perhaps more so +than any known vein in the world, is to be inferred from the official +statement in the "Royal Gazette" of Wednesday, January 20, 1864, +published by authority, at the Chief Gold-Commissioner's office in +Halifax, in which the average yield of the Montague vein for the month +of October, 1863, is given as 3 oz. 3 dwt. 4 gr., for November as 3 oz. +10 dwt. 13 gr., and for December as 5 oz. 9 dwt. 8 gr., to the ton of +quartz crushed during those months respectively. Nor is the quartz of +this vein the only trustworthy source of yield. The underlying slate is +filled with bunches of mispickel, not distributed in a sheet, or in any +particular order, so far as yet observed, but developed throughout the +slate, and varying in size from that of small nuts to many pounds in +weight, masses of over fifty pounds having been frequently taken out. +This peculiar mineral has always proved highly auriferous in this +locality, and a careful search will rarely fail to detect "sights" of +the precious metal imbedded in its folds, or lying hidden between its +crystalline plates.</p> + +<p>Nor is the surrounding mass of slate in which this vein is inclosed +without abundant evidences of a highly auriferous character. Scales of +gold are everywhere to be seen between its laminæ, and, when removed and +subjected to the processes of "dressing," there can be little doubt of +its also yielding a very handsome return. In fact, the entire mass of +material which is known to be auriferous is not less than twelve to +fifteen inches at the surface, and will doubtless be found, as all +experience and analogy in the district have hitherto shown to be the +case, to increase very considerably with the increased depth to which +the shafts will soon be carried. No difficulties whatever are +apprehended here in going to a very considerable depth, as the slate is +not hard, and easily permits the miner in his progress to bear in upon +it without drilling upon the closer and more tenacious quartz.</p> + +<p>The open cut, made by the original owners of the Montague property, and +by which the veins have been in some degree exposed, absurd and culpable +as it is as a mode of mining, has yet served a good purpose in showing +in a very distinct manner the structure of these veins,—a structure +which is found to be on the whole very general in the Province. The +quartz is not found, as might naturally be supposed from its position +among sedimentary rocks, lying in anything like a plain, even sheet of +equal thickness. On the contrary, it is seen to be marked by <i>folds</i> or +plications, occurring at tolerably regular intervals, and crossing the +vein at an angle of 40° or 45° to the west. Similar folds may be +produced in a sheet which is hung on a line and then drawn at one of the +lower corners. The cross-section of the vein is thus made to resemble +somewhat the appearance of a chain of long links, the rolls or swells +alternating with plain spaces through its whole extent. Perhaps a better +comparison is that of ripples or gentle waves, <a name="Page_586" id="Page_586"></a>as seen following each +other on the ebbtide in a still time, on the beach.</p> + +<p>The distribution of the gold in the mass of the quartz appears to be +highly influenced by this peculiar wavy or folded structure. All the +miners are agreed in the statement that the gold abounds most at the +swells, or highest points of the waves of rock, and that the scarcely +less valuable mispickel appears to follow the same law. The spaces +between are not found to be so rich as these points of undulation; and +this structure must explain the signal contrast in thickness and +productiveness which is everywhere seen in sinking a shaft in this +district. As the cutting passes through one of these original swells, +the thickness of the vein at once increases, and again diminishes with +equal certainty as the work proceeds,—below this point destined again +to go through with similar alternations in its mass.</p> + +<p>"There can be no fear, however," says Mr. Silliman, (Report, p. 10,) +"that there will be any failure in depth" (<i>i.e.</i>, at an increased depth +of excavation) "on these veins, either in gold product or in strength. +The formation of the country is on too grand a scale, geologically, to +admit of a doubt on this point, so vital to mining success." Mr. +Campbell, whose masterly survey and analysis of the whole gold-region +forms, with the colored section accompanying it, the basis for a general +and thorough understanding of the whole subject, adds (Report, p. 5) +that "the yield per ton of such quartz when crushed cannot fail to prove +highly satisfactory." And Mr. Chace, in the Preface to his Report on the +Oldham District, (p. 6,) remarks, that, "if, as there are reasons for +believing, the gold-bearing quartz of Nova Scotia is of sedimentary +origin, in that case I see no reason why depth should cause any decline +in the richness of the ore. As yet, none of the shafts have been carried +down sufficiently far to test this question practically,"—he must, we +think, mean to its fullest extent, since he adds immediately after, +that, "as far as they have gone, the ore is very generally believed to +have improved with increase of depth."</p> + +<p>Such, then, is a brief and imperfect description of the general +character of one of the representative veins or "leads" of the +gold-fields of Nova Scotia. Of the extent and number of similar deposits +it is scarcely possible at present to give any definite idea. The line +along which Mr. Campbell's section is made out extends from the +sea-shore at the south-east entrance of Halifax Harbor to the Renfrew +Gold-Field, a distance a little over thirty miles to the northeast, +intersecting in that distance no less than six great anticlinal folds. +The points at which the east and west anticlinal lines are intersected +by north and south lines of upheaval form the localities in which the +quartzite group of gold-bearing rocks are brought to the surface, and it +is here that their outcroppings form the surface of the country. The +official "Gazette" for January, 1864, enumerates nine of these districts +as already under a course of active exploration, namely, Stormont, Wine +Harbor, Sherbrooke, Tangier, Montague, Waverley, Oldham, Renfrew, and +Ovens. When we add, in the words of Mr. Silliman's second conclusion to +his Report on the Atlantic Gold-Field at Tangier, "that the gold-bearing +veins already explored on this estate alone are in number not less than +thirty, and that there is every reason to expect more discoveries of +importance, as the results of future explorations, already foreshadowed +by facts which have been stated," enough, we think, will have been +deduced, on the highest kind of scientific testimony, to bear out our +opening statement, that there exist in Nova Scotia veins of auriferous +quartz practically inexhaustible, by any known methods of mining, at +least for the next two hundred years.</p> + +<p>One very remarkable characteristic of all the gold hitherto produced in +Nova Scotia is its exceeding purity, it being on the average twenty-two +carats fine, as shown by repeated assay. In this respect it possesses an +advantage of about twenty-five per cent. of superior fineness, and +consequently <a name="Page_587" id="Page_587"></a>of value, over most of the yield of California, much of +which latter reaches a standard of only sixteen or seventeen carats' +fineness, and is therefore inferior by five or six carats in twenty-four +to the standard of the gold of Nova Scotia. The gold from all the +districts named is sold commonly in Halifax in bars or ingots, at about +$20 the ounce. Professor Silliman states the value of some of this gold, +assayed under his direction at the Sheffield Laboratory in New Haven, +Connecticut, at $19.97 per ounce, while the standard of another lot, +from the Atlantic Mine in the Tangier District, is fixed by him as high +as $20.25 per ounce. The Official Report of the Provincial +Gold-Commissioner for the year 1862 assumes the sum of $19.50, +Nova-Scotia currency, as the basis upon which his calculations of +gold-value of the yield of all the mines is made up. A quantity of gold +from the "Boston and Nova-Scotia" mines in the Waverley District, just +coined into eagles at the United-States Mint, and the results of which +process are officially returned to the President of that Company, +required a considerable amount of alloy to the ore as received from the +mines, in order to bring it down to the standard fineness of the +United-States gold-currency. All the Nova-Scotia gold is uncommonly +bright and beautiful to the eye, and it has often been remarked by +jewellers and other experts to whom it has been shown, that it more +nearly resembles the appearance of the gold of the old Venetian +ducats—coined mostly, it is supposed, from the sands of Guinea—than +any other bullion for many years brought into the gold-market.</p> + +<p>In regard to the most important point of the whole subject, namely, the +average yield per ton of quartz crushed at the various mills, we are +fortunately enabled to give the official returns of the Deputy +Gold-Commissioners for the several districts, as made to the Chief +Commissioner at Halifax. A few words of explanation as to the definite +and statistical character of these returns may be of value here, in +order to prevent or to correct much misconception and want of knowledge +with regard to their absolute reliability.</p> + +<p>In the first place, then, every miner, or the agent or chief +superintendent of each mine, is required by law to make a quarterly +return of the amount of days' labor expended at his mine, the number of +tons of quartz raised and crushed, and the quantity of gold obtained +from the whole,—neglecting to do which, he forfeits his entire claim, +and the Gold-Commissioner is then empowered to grant it to another +purchaser.</p> + +<p>These returns are therefore made with the utmost regularity and with the +greatest care. But as the royalty of three per cent. to the Government +is exacted on the amount of this return, whatever it may be, it is +obvious that there exists no motive on the part of the miner to +exaggerate the amount in making his statement. We may be as sure that +his exhibit of the gold admitted to have been extracted by him does not, +at any rate, <i>exceed</i> the amount obtained, as that the invoices of +importations entered at the Custom-House in Boston do not overstate the +value of the goods to which they refer. The practice is generally +suspected, at least, to tend in quite the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>As the next step for ascertaining the yield of the mines, there comes in +a form of scrutiny which it would be still more difficult to evade. All +owners of quartz-mills are also required to render official returns +under oath, and in a form minutely prescribed by the Provincial law, of +all quartz crushed by them during the month, stating particularly from +what mine it was raised, for whose account it has been crushed, and what +was the exact quantity in ounces, pennyweights, and grains. And this is +designed also as a check on the miner, as the two statements, if +correct, will be found, of course, to balance each other.</p> + +<p>The Chief Gold-Commissioner resides in Halifax, and has his deputy in +each gold-district, whose duty it is, as a sworn officer of the +Government, to see that the provisions of the law are carried out; and +the returns, as collected, are duly <a name="Page_588" id="Page_588"></a>made by him each month, accompanied +by a general report on the industrial condition of the district +represented. It is from these returns, thus collected, that the +Gold-Commissioner-in-Chief prepares a quarterly exhibit, which he issues +on a broad sheet in a so-called "Royal Gazette." The last of these +documents issued was published by authority at Halifax, Wednesday, +January 20th, 1864, and a copy thereof, ornamented at the head with the +familiar lion and unicorn, is now lying with several of its predecessors +on the table before us. If skeptics desire any better authority than +this for the average yield of these mines, they must seek it elsewhere +for themselves. By the majority of persons capable of judging of the +value and weight of testimony, we presume it will be regarded as amply +sufficient.</p> + +<p>After this explanation of the official character of these returns, a +transcript of the figures given in the last exhibit as the average yield +of gold per ton of quartz crushed will be all we think necessary in +answer to the inquiry we have proposed. We give them just as they stand +in the returns for December, 1863, only premising that the relative +yield of the several mines is found to vary very considerably from month +to month, being at one time higher, and at other times again somewhat +lower, and this from natural causes which have already been explained, +while the total amounts, when taken together, exhibit a steady increase +in the general yield of the whole. The figures stand as follows:—</p> + +<pre> +DECEMBER, 1863. + +<i>District.</i> <i>Yield of Gold</i> + <i>per Ton of Quartz.</i> + +Stormont (Isaac's Harbor) 2 oz. 10 dwt. 0 gr. +Wine Harbor 10 " 6 " +Sherbrooke 1 " 7 " 0 " +Tangier 14 " 12 " +Montague 5 " 9 " 8 " +Waverley 9 " 11 " +Oldham 15 " 12 " +Renfrew 1 " 2 " 0 " +Ovens<a name="FNanchor_P_16" id="FNanchor_P_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_P_16" class="fnanchor">[P]</a> 18 " 9 "<br /> +</pre> + +<p>The difference in yield between the districts is here very considerable, +as it happens,—yet in the month of October the average yield at Oldham +was 1 oz. 16 dwt, 20 gr., and at Renfrew 2 oz.; while for November it +was at Stormont 3 oz. 2 dwt. 12 gr., at Tangier 1 oz. 10 dwt, at +Waverley I oz. 3 dwt. 12 gr., and at Oldham 1 oz. 8 dwt. The <i>maximum</i> +yield per ton was 50 oz. at Wine Harbor, 12 oz. at Sherbrooke, 11 oz. 12 +dwt. at Oldham, and 5 oz. 15 dwt. at Stormont, for the same period.</p> + +<p>"The average yield," says Professor Chace, "per ton of quartz, of the +gold-fields of Nova Scotia will, it is believed, compare favorably with +that of either Australia or California, while some of the maximum yields +<i>indicate ores of unsurpassed richness</i>."</p> + +<p>In regard to the best and most effectual methods of dressing and +amalgamating these rich ores, it seems to be conceded that the modes +hitherto in use in Nova Scotia have been very defective. Much larger +returns of gold are to be expected from the introduction of the new +processes, which scientific research is every day bringing to a greater +degree of efficiency in Colorado and California. The promoters of the +Nova-Scotia mining-enterprises, thanks to the skill and pains of their +scientific advisers, are fully awake to the importance of this vital +point. Pyrites—the mineral mixture so universally found with the gold +of this region—is well known to escape, or rather to resist, the +attraction of the mercury used in the amalgamating process, and it has +hitherto been allowed to pass away with the "tailings", or refuse from +the mills. When we state that it has been repeatedly shown to be from +ten to twelve per cent. of the components of the ore, and that by test +of the United-States Assay-Office its average yield is one hundred and +twenty-eight dollars to the ton,—and by the careful experiments of +Professor Silliman, at the Sheffield Laboratory in New Haven, it has +yielded even as high as two hundred and seventy-six dollars and +forty-nine cents to the ton,—the oversight <a name="Page_589" id="Page_589"></a>and bad economy of its +waste will be sufficiently apparent. It may safely be estimated, +therefore, that the process of Dr. Keith, or some other equally simple +and efficacious method of extracting this hitherto wasted portion of the +precious metal from the accompanying sulphurets, will produce an amount +quite equal, at least, to the previous minimum yield. The effect of such +an increase in the returns will readily be appreciated by others besides +the merely scientific reader.</p> + +<p>In regard to the capacity of the various mines for the regular supply of +quartz to the mills, it may be stated that ten tons daily is the average +amount fixed upon, by the different experts, as a reasonable quantity to +be expected from either of the well-conducted properties. Works of +exploration and of "construction", such as will hereafter be pointed +out, must, it is true, always precede those of extraction; but a very +moderate quartz-mill will easily "dress" ten tons of quartz daily, or +three thousand tons per annum, requiring the constant labor of thirty +men, as shown by the large experience already gained throughout the +Province. And this, says Professor Silliman, "is not a very formidable +force for a profitable mine,"—particularly when we consider that the +price of miners' labor in Nova Scotia rarely rises above the moderate +sum of ninety cents per day.</p> + +<p>If the quartz cost, to turn its product into gold bars, as high as +twenty dollars a ton, there would be, says the same eminent authority, +"a deduction of one-fourth [as expense] from the gross gold-product. The +gold is about nine-hundred-and-sixty thousandths fine, and is worth, as +already shown, over twenty dollars per ounce. But the cost of the quartz +cannot be so much by one-half as that named above; and there is the +additional value of gold from the pyrites and mispickel, as well as +probably fifteen per cent, saving on the total amount of gold produced +by improved methods of working."</p> + +<p>The reason why so little <i>alluvial</i> gold is to be found throughout this +district may be very simply and concisely stated. It will be observed, +that the length of the gold-field lies mainly from east to west, while +its width from north to south is over a much less distance, and +therefore lies almost at right angles to the scouring and grinding +action of the glacial period. No long Sacramento Valley, stretching away +to the south and west of the quartzite upheavals, has here retained and +preserved the spoils of those long ages of attrition and denudation. The +alluvial gold has mostly been carried, by the action alluded to, into +the sands and beneath the waves of the Atlantic Ocean; and it is only at +the bottom of the numerous little lakes which dot the surface of the +country, that the precious metal, in this, its most obvious and +attractive form, has ever been found in any remunerative quantity in +Nova Scotia.</p> + +<p>This statement brings us naturally to the consideration of another of +our opening positions, namely, that the gold of Nova Scotia is to be +successfully sought only under the application of the most scientific +and systematic methods of deep quartz-mining. That no pains nor expense +has been spared by the present promoters of these important enterprises, +in the very commencement of their mining-works, will perhaps be +sufficiently evident from the fact that no step has been taken without +the full advice and concurrence of the eminent mining authorities +already cited. A summary of the methods now employed for developing the +rich yield of these deposits may not be out of place in this connection.</p> + +<p>The ill-considered system of allotting small individual claims, at first +adopted by the Colonial Government, was founded, probably, on a want of +exact knowledge of the peculiar nature of the gold-district, and the +consequent expectation that the experiences of California and Australia, +in panning and washing, were to be repeated here. This totally +inapplicable system in a manner compelled <a name="Page_590" id="Page_590"></a>the early single adventurers +to abandon their claims, as soon as the surface-water began to +accumulate in their little open pits or shallow levels, beyond the +control of a single bucket, or other such primitive contrivance for +bailing. Even the more active and industrious digger soon found his own +difficulties to accumulate just in proportion to his own superior +measure of activity; since, as soon as he carried his own excavation a +foot or two deeper than his neighbor's, he found that it only gave him +the privilege of draining for the whole of the less enterprising +diggers, whose pits had not been sunk to the same level as his own. Thus +the adventurers who should ordinarily have been the most successful were +soon drowned out by the accumulated waters from the adjacent, and +sometimes abandoned, claims. Nearly all of these early efforts at +individual mining are now discontinued, and the claims, thus shown to be +worthless in single hands, have been consolidated in the large +companies, who alone possess the means to work them with unity and +success.</p> + +<p>The present methods of working the lodes, as now practised in Nova +Scotia, proceed on a very different plan. Shafts are sunk at intervals +of about three hundred feet on the course of the lodes which it is +proposed to work,—as these are distinctly traced on the surface of the +ground. When these shafts have been carried down to the depth of sixty +feet,—or, in miners' language, ten fathoms,—horizontal <i>drifts</i> or +<i>levels</i> are pushed out from them, below the ground, and in either +direction, still keeping on the course of the lode. Whilst these +subterranean levels are being thus extended, the shafts are again to be +continued downwards, until the depth of twenty fathoms, or one hundred +and twenty feet, has been attained. A second and lower set of levels are +then pushed out beneath and parallel to the first named. At the depth of +thirty fathoms, a third and still lower set of levels will extend +beneath and parallel to the second. This work of sinking vertical +shafts, and excavating horizontal levels to connect them, belongs to +what is denominated the "construction of the mine", and it is only after +this has been completed that the work of mining proper can be said to +begin.</p> + +<p>The removal of the ore, as conducted from the levels by which access to +it has thus been gained, may be carried on either by "direct" or by +"inverted grades,"—that is, either by breaking it up from underneath, +or down from overhead, in each of the levels which have now been +described,—or, as it is more commonly called in mining language, by +"understoping" or by "overstoping." When the breadth of the lode is +equal to that of the level, it is perhaps not very material which plan +be adopted. But when, as at Oldham, Montague, or Tangier, the lodes are +only of moderate-width, and much barren rock, however soft and yielding, +has, of necessity, to be removed along with the ore, so as to give a +free passage for the miner through the whole extent of the drifts, we +shall easily understand that the working by inverted grades, or +"overstoping," is the only proper or feasible method. In this case, the +blasts being all made from the roof, or "back," as it is called, of the +drift, the barren or "dead" rock containing no gold is left on the floor +of the drift, and there is then only the labor and expense of bringing +the valuable quartz itself, a much less amount in bulk, to the surface +of the ground. The accumulating mass of the dead rock underfoot, will +then be constantly raising the floor of the drift, and as constantly +bringing the miners within convenient working-distance of the receding +roof. In the case of "understoping," however, in which the blasts are +made from the floor of the drift, it will be perceived that all the rock +which is moved, of whatever kind, must equally be brought to the +surface, which entails a much greater labor and expense in the hoisting; +and gravity, moreover, instead of cooperating with, counteracts, it will +easily be understood, the effective force of the powder.</p><p><a name="Page_591" id="Page_591"></a></p> + +<p>Such is a necessarily brief and condensed account of the novel and +interesting branch of industry which has thus been opened almost at our +very doors. The enterprise is as yet merely in its infancy, and will +doubtless for some time be regarded with incredulity and even distrust. +But if there be any weight to be attached to the clearest, most explicit +scientific and practical testimony, we must henceforth learn to look +upon Nova Scotia with an increased interest, and, perhaps a somewhat +heightened respect. The spies that came out of Canaan were not, at any +rate, more completely unanimous in their reports of the richness of the +land than the eminent persons who have been sent to examine the +auriferous lodes of our Acadian neighbors. If gold does not really exist +there, and in very remunerative quantities, it will be hard for us +henceforth to believe in the calculations of even a spring-tide, a +comet, or an eclipse.</p> + +<p>"Up to the present time," (June, 1862,) says Lord Mulgrave, "there has +been no great influx of persons from abroad; and the gradual development +of the richness of the gold-fields is chiefly due to the inhabitants of +the country. Some few have arrived from the United States, and from the +neighboring Provinces; but they are chiefly persons destitute of +capital, and without any practical knowledge of mining-operations. This, +I fear, is likely to produce some discouragement, as many of them will +undoubtedly prove unsuccessful; and, returning to their homes, will +spread unfavorable reports of the gold-fields, while their failure +should more properly be ascribed to their own want of capital and +skill."</p> + +<p>In contrast with this sensible prediction, and to show the very +different results of associated capital and labor noticed in the outset +of our remarks, we give the following on the authority of the +"Commercial Bulletin" of February 13, 1864:—</p> + +<p>"At a meeting of the Directors of the St. Croix Mining Company, held on +the 14th ult., a dividend of <i>sixty per cent.</i>, payable in gold, was +declared, and, in addition to this, a sum sufficient to work the claim +during the winter was reserved for that purpose."</p> + +<p>The latest information from this highly interesting region is contained +in the Annual Report of the Chief Gold-Commissioner for the year 1863, +issued at Halifax on the 26th of January, 1864. The present incumbent of +this responsible office is Mr. P.S. Hamilton, of Halifax,—the former +Commissioner, Mr. Creelman, having gone out of service in consequence of +the change of Ministry which occurred in the early part of last year. +Mr. Hamilton's Report is singularly clear and concise, and exhibits +throughout a highly flattering prospect in all the Districts now being +worked, except that of Ovens,—the reasons for this exception being, +however, fully explained by the Commissioner. "Taking the average yield +at what it appears by these [official] tables," says Mr. Hamilton, +"<i>these mines show, a higher average productiveness than those of almost +any other gold-producing country, if, indeed, they are not, in this +respect, the very first now being worked in the world</i>. I may here +mention one fact affording increased hopes for the future, which +although unquestionably a fact, the exact measure of its importance +cannot well be shown, as yet, by any statistical returns. Excavations +have not yet, it is true, been carried to any great depth. Few +mining-shafts upon any of the gold-fields exceed one hundred feet in +depth; but, as a general rule,—indeed, in nearly every instance,—the +quartz seams actually worked have been found to increase in richness as +they descend." "The yield of gold to each man engaged during the year is +very much higher than has yet been attained in quartz-mining in any +other country."</p> + +<p>Wine Harbor, almost at the eastern extremity of the peninsula, has, it +appears from this official statement, "the distinction of having +produced a larger amount of gold during 1863 than any other district in +the Province. During <a name="Page_592" id="Page_592"></a>each one of five out of the last six months of the +year, it showed the highest maximum yield of gold per ton of quartz;<a name="FNanchor_Q_17" id="FNanchor_Q_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_Q_17" class="fnanchor">[Q]</a> +and on the whole year's operations it ranks next to Sherbrooke in the +average amount produced per man engaged in mining." In the table giving +the entire returns of gold for the year, the whole yield of the +Wine-Harbor mines is set down as 3,718 oz. 2 dwt. 19 gr.,—equal, at the +present price of gold in New York and Boston, to about $125,000 for the +twelve months,—certainly a very hopeful return for a first year's +operations. It is evident that the Commissioner regards this district +and the neighboring one of Sherbrooke, as specially entitled to his +consideration, for he continues,—"Here, as at Sherbrooke, gold-mining +has become a settled business; and the prospects of the district are of +a highly satisfactory character." But he adds, (p. 7,)—"From every one +of the gold-districts, without exception, the accounts received from the +most reliable sources represent the mining-prospects to be good, and the +men engaged in mining to be in good spirits,—content with their present +success and future prospects." To those who consider the accounts of +Nova-Scotia gold as mere myths we commend the attentive study of these +Government returns. "Miners' stories" are one thing,—but a certified +royalty from a staff of British officials, in ounces, pennyweights, and +grains, on the first day of each month, is, in our modest opinion, quite +another. They "have a way of putting things," as Sydney Smith expressed +it, which is apt to be rather convincing.</p> + +<p>It would not be surprising, if so marked an addition to the resources of +a small, and not an eminently wealthy Province, had been productive, in +some degree, of excitement, idleness, and disorder. But we have reason +to believe that hitherto this has not been found to be the case. Lord +Mulgrave bears willing testimony to "the exemplary conduct of the +miners," and Mr. Creelman, the late Chief-Commissioner, is still more +explicit. "It affords me the highest satisfaction," he concludes, "to be +able to bear testimony to the orderly conduct and good behavior of those +who have hitherto undertaken to develop the resources of our +gold-fields. I have visited every gold-district in the Province twice, +and, with one or two exceptions, oftener, during the past season; I have +seen the miners at work in the shafts and trenches; I have noticed them +in going to and returning from their work, at morning, noon, and night; +I have witnessed their sports after the labors of the day were over; and +I have never heard an uncivil word nor observed an unseemly action +amongst them. And although the 'Act relating to the Gold-Fields' +authorized the appointment of a bailiff in every gold-district, it has +not been deemed necessary to make more than three such appointments, +and, with one single exception, no service from any of these officers +has been required.... It may be said, in general, that the respect for +law and order, the honest condition, and the moral sentiment which +pervade our gold-district, are not surpassed in many of the rural +villages of the country."</p><p><a name="Page_593" id="Page_593"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LIFE_ON_THE_SEA_ISLANDS" id="LIFE_ON_THE_SEA_ISLANDS"></a>LIFE ON THE SEA ISLANDS.</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[To THE EDITOR OF THE "ATLANTIC MONTHLY."—The following graceful +and picturesque description of the new condition of things on the +Sea Islands of South Carolina, originally written for private +perusal, seems to me worthy of a place in the "Atlantic." Its +young author—herself akin to the long-suffering race whose Exodus +she so pleasantly describes—is still engaged in her labor of love +on St. Helena Island.—J.G.W.]</p></div> + + +<p>PART I.</p> + +<p>It was on the afternoon of a warm, murky day late in October that our +steamer, the United States, touched the landing at Hilton Head. A motley +assemblage had collected on the wharf,—officers, soldiers, and +"contrabands" of every size and hue: black was, however, the prevailing +color. The first view of Hilton Head is desolate enough,—a long, low, +sandy point, stretching out into the sea, with no visible dwellings upon +it, except the rows of small white-roofed houses which have lately been +built for the freed people.</p> + +<p>After signing a paper wherein we declared ourselves loyal to the +Government, and wherein, also, were set forth fearful penalties, should +we ever be found guilty of treason, we were allowed to land, and +immediately took General Saxton's boat, the Flora, for Beaufort. The +General was on board, and we were presented to him. He is handsome, +courteous, and affable, and looks—as he is—the gentleman and the +soldier.</p> + +<p>From Hilton Head to Beaufort the same long, low line of sandy coast, +bordered by trees; formidable gunboats in the distance, and the gray +ruins of an old fort, said to have been built by the Huguenots more than +two hundred years ago. Arrived at Beaufort, we found that we had not yet +reached our journey's end. While waiting for the boat which was to take +us to our island of St. Helena, we had a little time to observe the +ancient town. The houses in the main street, which fronts the "Bay," are +large and handsome, built of wood, in the usual Southern style, with +spacious piazzas, and surrounded by fine trees. We noticed in one yard a +magnolia, as high as some of our largest shade-maples, with rich, dark, +shining foliage. A large building which was once the Public Library is +now a shelter for freed people from Fernandina. Did the Rebels know it, +they would doubtless upturn their aristocratic noses, and exclaim in +disgust, "To what base uses," etc. We confess that it was highly +satisfactory to us to see how the tables are turned, now that "the +whirligig of time has brought about its revenges." We saw the +market-place, in which slaves were sometimes sold; but we were told that +the buying and selling at auction were usually done in Charleston. The +arsenal, a large stone structure, was guarded by cannon and sentinels. +The houses in the smaller streets had, mostly, a dismantled, desolate +look. We saw no one in the streets but soldiers and freed people. There +were indications that already Northern improvements had reached this +Southern town. Among them was a wharf, a convenience that one wonders +how the Southerners could so long have existed without. The more we know +of their mode of life, the more are we inclined to marvel at its utter +shiftlessness.</p> + +<p>Little colored children of every hue were playing about the streets, +looking as merry and happy as children ought to look,—now that the evil +shadow of Slavery no longer hangs over them. Some of the officers we met +did not impress us favorably. They talked flippantly, and sneeringly of +the negroes, whom they found we had come down to teach, using an epithet +more offensive than gentlemanly. They assured us that there was <a name="Page_594" id="Page_594"></a>great +danger of Rebel attacks, that the yellow fever prevailed to an alarming +extent, and that, indeed, the manufacture of coffins was the only +business that was at all flourishing at present. Although by no means +daunted by these alarming stories, we were glad when the announcement of +our boat relieved us from their edifying conversation.</p> + +<p>We rowed across to Ladies Island, which adjoins St. Helena, through the +splendors of a grand Southern sunset. The gorgeous clouds of crimson and +gold were reflected as in a mirror in the smooth, clear waters below. As +we glided along, the rich tones of the negro boatmen broke upon the +evening stillness,—sweet, strange, and solemn:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Jesus make de blind to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jesus make de cripple walk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jesus make de deaf to hear.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Walk in, kind Jesus!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No man can hender me."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was nearly dark when we reached the island, and then we had a +three-miles' drive through the lonely roads to the house of the +superintendent. We thought how easy it would be for a band of +guerrillas, had they chanced that way, to seize and hang us; but we were +in that excited, jubilant state of mind which makes fear impossible, and +sang "John Brown" with a will, as we drove through the pines and +palmettos. Oh, it was good to sing that song in the very heart of +Rebeldom! Harry, our driver, amused us much. He was surprised to find +that we had not heard of him before. "Why, I thought eberybody at de +Nort had heard o' me!" he said, very innocently. We learned afterward +that Mrs. F., who made the tour of the islands last summer, had publicly +mentioned Harry. Some one had told him of it, and he of course imagined +that he had become quite famous. Notwithstanding this little touch of +vanity, Harry is one of the best and smartest men on the island.</p> + +<p>Gates occurred, it seemed to us, at every few yards' distance, made in +the oddest fashion,—opening in the middle, like folding-doors, for the +accommodation of horsemen. The little boy who accompanied us as +gate-opener answered to the name of Cupid. Arrived at the headquarters +of the general superintendent, Mr. S., we were kindly received by him +and the ladies, and shown into a large parlor, where a cheerful +wood-fire glowed in the grate. It had a home-like look; but still there +was a sense of unreality about everything, and I felt that nothing less +than a vigorous "shaking-up," such as Grandfather Smallweed daily +experienced, would arouse me thoroughly to the fact that I was in South +Carolina.</p> + +<p>The next morning L. and I were awakened by the cheerful voices of men +and women, children and chickens, in the yard below. We ran to the +window, and looked out. Women in bright-colored handkerchiefs, some +carrying pails on their heads, were crossing the yard, busy with their +morning work; children were playing and tumbling around them. On every +face there was a look of serenity and cheerfulness. My heart gave a +great throb of happiness as I looked at them, and thought, "They are +free! so long down-trodden, so long crushed to the earth, but now in +their old homes, forever free!" And I thanked God that I had lived to +see this day.</p> + +<p>After breakfast Miss T. drove us to Oaklands, our future home. The road +leading to the house was nearly choked with weeds. The house itself was +in a dilapidated condition, and the yard and garden had a sadly +neglected look. But there were roses in bloom; we plucked handfuls of +feathery, fragrant acacia-blossoms; ivy crept along the ground and under +the house. The freed people on the place seemed glad to see us. After +talking with them, and giving some directions for cleaning the house, we +drove to the school, in which I was to teach. It is kept in the Baptist +Church,—a brick building, beautifully situated in a grove of live-oaks. +These trees are the first objects that attract one's attention here: not +that they are finer than our Northern oaks, but because of the singular +gray moss with which every branch is heavily <a name="Page_595" id="Page_595"></a>draped. This hanging moss +grows on nearly all the trees, but on none so luxuriantly as on the +live-oak. The pendants are often four or five feet long, very graceful +and beautiful, but giving the trees a solemn, almost funereal look. The +school was opened in September. Many of the children had, however, +received instruction during the summer. It was evident that they had +made very rapid improvement, and we noticed with pleasure how bright and +eager to learn many of them seemed. They sang in rich, sweet tones, and +with a peculiar swaying motion of the body, which made their singing the +more effective. They sang "Marching Along," with great spirit, and then +one of their own hymns, the air of which is beautiful and touching:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My sister, you want to git religion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go down in de Lonesome Valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My brudder, you want to git religion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go down in de Lonesome Valley.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">CHORUS.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go down in de Lonesome Valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go down in de Lonesome Valley, my Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go down in de Lonesome Valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To meet my Jesus dere!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, feed on milk and honey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, feed on milk and honey, my Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, feed on milk and honey,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Meet my Jesus dere!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, John he brought a letter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, John he brought a letter, my Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Mary and Marta read 'em,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Meet my Jesus dere!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">CHORUS.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go down in de Lonesome Valley," etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>They repeat their hymns several times, and while singing keep perfect +time with their hands and feet.</p> + +<p>On our way homeward we noticed that a few of the trees were beginning to +turn, but we looked in vain for the glowing autumnal hues of our +Northern forests. Some brilliant scarlet berries—the cassena—were +growing along the roadside, and on every hand we saw the live-oak with +its moss-drapery. The palmettos disappointed me; stiff and ungraceful, +they have a bristling, defiant look, suggestive of Rebels starting up +and defying everybody. The land is low and level,—not the slightest +approach to a hill, not a rock, nor even a stone to be seen. It would +have a desolate look, were it not for the trees, and the hanging moss +and numberless vines which festoon them. These vines overrun the hedges, +form graceful arches between the trees, encircle their trunks, and +sometimes climb to the topmost branches. In February they begin to +bloom, and then throughout the spring and summer we have a succession of +beautiful flowers. First comes the yellow jessamine, with its perfect, +gold-colored, and deliciously fragrant blossoms. It lights up the +hedges, and completely canopies some of the trees. Of all the +wild-flowers this seems to me the most beautiful and fragrant. Then we +have the snow-white, but scentless Cherokee rose, with its lovely, +shining leaves. Later in the season come the brilliant trumpet-flower, +the passion-flower, and innumerable others.</p> + +<p>The Sunday after our arrival we attended service at the Baptist Church. +The people came in slowly; for they have no way of knowing the hour, +except by the sun. By eleven they had all assembled, and the church was +well filled. They were neatly dressed in their Sunday-attire, the women, +mostly wearing clean, dark frocks, with white aprons and bright-colored +head-handkerchiefs. Some had attained to the dignity of straw hats with +gay feathers, but these were not nearly as becoming nor as picturesque +as the handkerchiefs. The day was warm, and the windows were thrown open +as if it were summer, although it was the second day of November. It was +very pleasant to listen to the beautiful hymns, and look from the crowd +of dark, earnest faces within, upon the grove of noble oaks without. The +people sang, "Roll, Jordan, roll," the grandest of all their hymns. +There is a great, rolling wave of sound through it all.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Mr. Fuller settin' on de Tree ob Life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fur to hear de ven Jordan roll.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, roll, Jordan! roll, Jordan! roll, Jordan roll!<br /></span><p><a name="Page_596" id="Page_596"></a></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">CHORUS.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, roll, Jordan, roll! oh, roll, Jordan, roll!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul arise in heab'n, Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fur to hear de ven Jordan roll!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Little chil'en, learn to fear de Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let your days be long.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, roll, Jordan! roll, Jordan! roll, Jordan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">roll!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">CHORUS.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, march, de angel, march! oh, march, de<br /></span> +<span class="i0">angel, march!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul arise in heab'n, Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fur to hear de ven Jordan roll!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The "Mr. Fuller" referred to was their former minister, to whom they +seem to have been much attached. He is a Southerner, but loyal, and is +now, I believe, living in Baltimore. After the sermon the minister +called upon one of the elders, a gray-headed old man, to pray. His +manner was very fervent and impressive, but his language was so broken +that to our unaccustomed ears it was quite unintelligible. After the +services the people gathered in groups outside, talking among +themselves, and exchanging kindly greetings with the superintendents and +teachers. In their bright handkerchiefs and white aprons they made a +striking picture under the gray-mossed trees. We drove afterward a mile +farther, to the Episcopal Church, in which the aristocracy of the island +used to worship. It is a small white building, situated in a fine grove +of live-oaks, at the junction of several roads. On one of the tombstones +in the yard is the touching inscription in memory of two +children,—"Blessed little lambs, and <i>art thou</i> gathered into the fold +of the only true shepherd? Sweet <i>lillies</i> of the valley, and <i>art thou</i> +removed to a more congenial soil?" The floor of the church is of stone, +the pews of polished oak. It has an organ, which is not so entirely out +of tune as are the pianos on the island. One of the ladies played, while +the gentlemen sang,—old-fashioned New-England church-music, which it +was pleasant to hear, but it did not thrill us as the singing of the +people had done.</p> + +<p>During the week we moved to Oaklands, our future home. The house was of +one story, with a low-roofed piazza running the whole length. The +interior had been thoroughly scrubbed and whitewashed; the exterior was +guiltless of whitewash or paint. There were five rooms, all quite small, +and several dark little entries, in one of which we found shelves lined +with old medicine-bottles. These were a part of the possessions of the +former owner, a Rebel physician, Dr. Sams by name. Some of them were +still filled with his nostrums. Our furniture consisted of a bedstead, +two bureaus, three small pine tables, and two chairs, one of which had a +broken back. These were lent to us by the people. The masters, in their +hasty flight from the islands, left nearly all their furniture; but much +of it was destroyed or taken by the soldiers who came first, and what +they left was removed by the people to their own houses. Certainly, they +have the best right to it. We had made up our minds to dispense with all +luxuries and even many conveniences; but it was rather distressing to +have no fire, and nothing to eat. Mr. H. had already appropriated a room +for the store which he was going to open for the benefit of the freed +people, and was superintending the removal of his goods. So L. and I +were left to our own resources. But Cupid the elder came to the +rescue,—Cupid, who, we were told, was to be our right-hand man, and who +very graciously informed us that he would take care of us; which he at +once proceeded to do by bringing in some wood, and busying himself in +making a fire in the open fireplace. While he is thus engaged, I will +try to describe him. A small, wiry figure, stockingless, shoeless, out +at the knees and elbows, and wearing the remnant of an old straw hat, +which looked as if it might have done good service in scaring the crows +from a cornfield. The face nearly black, very ugly, but with the +shrewdest expression I ever saw, and the brightest, most humorous +twinkle in the eyes. One glance at Cupid's face showed that he was not a +person to be imposed <a name="Page_597" id="Page_597"></a>upon, and that he was abundantly able to take care +of himself, as well as of us. The chimney obstinately refused to draw, +in spite of the original and very uncomplimentary epithets which Cupid +heaped upon it,—while we stood by, listening to him in amusement, +although nearly suffocated by the smoke. At last, perseverance +conquered, and the fire began to burn cheerily. Then Amaretta, our +cook,—a neat-looking black woman, adorned with the gayest of +head-handkerchiefs,—made her appearance with some eggs and hominy, +after partaking of which we proceeded to arrange our scanty furniture, +which was soon done. In a few days we began to look civilized, having +made a table-cover of some red and yellow handkerchiefs which we found +among the store-goods,—a carpet of red and black woollen plaid, +originally intended for frocks and shirts,—a cushion, stuffed with +corn-husks and covered with calico, for a lounge, which Ben, the +carpenter, had made for us of pine boards,—and lastly some corn-husk +beds, which were an unspeakable luxury, after having endured agonies for +several nights, sleeping on the slats of a bedstead. It is true, the +said slats were covered with blankets, but these might as well have been +sheets of paper for all the good they did us. What a resting-place it +was! Compared to it, the gridiron of St. Lawrence—fire excepted—was as +a bed of roses.</p> + +<p>The first day at school was rather trying. Most of my children were very +small, and consequently restless. Some were too young to learn the +alphabet. These little ones were brought to school because the older +children—in whose care their parents leave them while at work—could +not come without them. We were therefore willing to have them come, +although they seemed to have discovered the secret of perpetual motion, +and tried one's patience sadly. But after some days of positive, though +not severe treatment, order was brought out of chaos, and I found but +little difficulty in managing and quieting the tiniest and most restless +spirits. I never before saw children so eager to learn, although I had +had several years' experience in New-England schools. Coming to school +is a constant delight and recreation to them. They come here as other +children go to play. The older ones, during the summer, work in the +fields from early morning until eleven or twelve o'clock, and then come +into school, after their hard toil in the hot sun, as bright and as +anxious to learn as ever.</p> + +<p>Of course there are some stupid ones, but these are the minority. The +majority learn with wonderful rapidity. Many of the grown people are +desirous of learning to read. It is wonderful how a people who have been +so long crushed to the earth, so imbruted as these have been,—and they +are said to be among the most degraded negroes of the South,—can have +so great a desire for knowledge, and such a capability for attaining it. +One cannot believe that the haughty Anglo-Saxon race, after centuries of +such an experience as these people have had, would be very much superior +to them. And one's indignation increases against those who, North as +well as South, taunt the colored race with inferiority while they +themselves use every means in their power to crush and degrade them, +denying them every right and privilege, closing against them every +avenue of elevation and improvement. Were they, under such +circumstances, intellectual and refined, they would certainly be vastly +superior to any other race that ever existed.</p> + +<p>After the lessons, we used to talk freely to the children, often giving +them slight sketches of some of the great and good men. Before teaching +them the "John Brown" song, which they learned to sing with great +spirit, Miss T. told them the story of the brave old man who had died +for them. I told them about Toussaint, thinking it well they should know +what one of their own color had done for his race. They listened +attentively, and seemed to understand. We found it rather hard to keep +their attention in school. It is not strange, as they have <a name="Page_598" id="Page_598"></a>been so +entirely unused to intellectual concentration. It is necessary to +interest them every moment, in order to keep their thoughts from +wandering. Teaching here is consequently far more fatiguing than at the +North. In the church, we had of course but one room in which to hear all +the children; and to make one's self heard, when there were often as +many as a hundred and forty reciting at once, it was necessary to tax +the lungs very severely.</p> + +<p>My walk to school, of about a mile, was part of the way through a road +lined with trees,—on one side stately pines, on the other noble +live-oaks, hung with moss and canopied with vines. The ground was +carpeted with brown, fragrant pine-leaves; and as I passed through in +the morning, the woods were enlivened by the delicious songs of +mocking-birds, which abound here, making one realize the truthful +felicity of the description in "Evangeline,"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">"The mocking-bird, wildest of singers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The hedges were all aglow with the brilliant scarlet berries of the +cassena, and on some of the oaks we observed the mistletoe, laden with +its pure white, pearl-like berries. Out of the woods the roads are +generally bad, and we found it hard work plodding through the deep sand.</p> + +<p>Mr. H.'s store was usually crowded, and Cupid was his most valuable +assistant. Gay handkerchiefs for turbans, pots and kettles, and +molasses, were principally in demand, especially the last. It was +necessary to keep the molasses-barrel in the yard, where Cupid presided +over it, and harangued and scolded the eager, noisy crowd, collected +around, to his heart's content; while up the road leading to the house +came constantly processions of men, women, and children, carrying on +their heads cans, jugs, pitchers, and even bottles,—anything, indeed, +that was capable of containing molasses. It is wonderful with what ease +they carry all sorts of things on their heads,—heavy bundles of wood, +hoes and rakes, everything, heavy or light, that can be carried in the +hands; and I have seen a woman, with a bucketful of water on her head, +stoop down and take up another in her hand, without spilling a drop from +either.</p> + +<p>We noticed that the people had much better taste in selecting materials +for dresses than we had supposed. They do not generally like gaudy +colors, but prefer neat, quiet patterns. They are, however, very fond of +all kinds of jewelry. I once asked the children in school what their +ears were for. "To put ring in," promptly replied one of the little +girls.</p> + +<p>These people are exceedingly polite in their manner towards each other, +each new arrival bowing, scraping his feet, and shaking hands with the +others, while there are constant greetings, such as, "Huddy? How's yer +lady?" ("How d' ye do? How's your wife?") The hand-shaking is performed +with the greatest possible solemnity. There is never the faintest shadow +of a smile on anybody's face during this performance. The children, too, +are taught to be very polite to their elders, and it is the rarest thing +to hear a disrespectful word from a child to his parent, or to any grown +person. They have really what the New-Englanders call "beautiful +manners."</p> + +<p>We made daily visits to the "quarters," which were a few rods from the +house. The negro-houses, on this as on most of the other plantations, +were miserable little huts, with nothing comfortable or home-like about +them, consisting generally of but two very small rooms,—the only way of +lighting them, no matter what the state of the weather, being to leave +the doors and windows open. The windows, of course, have no glass in +them. In such a place, a father and mother with a large family of +children are often obliged to live. It is almost impossible to teach +them habits of neatness <a name="Page_599" id="Page_599"></a>and order, when they are so crowded. We look +forward anxiously to the day when better houses shall increase their +comfort and pride of appearance.</p> + +<p>Oaklands is a very small plantation. There were not more than eight or +nine families living on it. Some of the people interested us much. +Celia, one of the best, is a cripple. Her master, she told us, was too +mean to give his slaves clothes enough to protect them, and her feet and +legs were so badly frozen that they required amputation. She has a +lovely face,—well-featured and singularly gentle. In every household +where there was illness or trouble, Celia's kind, sympathizing face was +the first to be seen, and her services were always the most acceptable.</p> + +<p>Harry, the foreman on the plantation, a man of a good deal of natural +intelligence, was most desirous of learning to read. He came in at night +to be taught, and learned very rapidly. I never saw any one more +determined to learn. "We enjoyed hearing him talk about the +"gun-shoot,"—so the people call the capture of Bay Point and Hilton +Head. They never weary of telling you "how Massa run when he hear de +fust gun."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you go with him, Harry?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss, 't wasn't 'cause Massa didn't try to 'suade me. He tell we +dat de Yankees would shoot we, or would sell we to Cuba, an' do all de +wust tings to we, when dey come. 'Bery well, Sar,' says I. 'If I go wid +you, I be good as dead. If I stay here, I can't be no wust; so if I got +to dead, I might's well dead here as anywhere. So I'll stay here an' +wait for de "dam Yankees."' Lor', Miss, I knowed he wasn't tellin' de +truth all de time."</p> + +<p>"But why didn't you believe him, Harry?"</p> + +<p>"Dunno, Miss; somehow we hear de Yankees was our friends, an' dat we'd +be free when dey come, an' 'pears like we believe <i>dat</i>."</p> + +<p>I found this to be true of nearly all the people I talked with, and I +thought it strange they should have had so much faith in the +Northerners. Truly, for years past, they had had but little cause to +think them very friendly. Cupid told us that his master was so daring as +to come back, after he had fled from the island, at the risk of being +taken prisoner by our soldiers; and that he ordered the people to get +all the furniture together and take it to a plantation on the opposite +side of the creek, and to stay on that side themselves. "So," said +Cupid, "dey could jus' sweep us all up in a heap, an' put us in de boat. +An' he telled me to take Patience—dat's my wife—an' de chil'en down to +a certain pint, an' den I could come back, if I choose. Jus' as if I was +gwine to be sich a goat!" added he, with a look and gesture of ineffable +contempt. He and the rest of the people, instead of obeying their +master, left the place and hid themselves in the woods; and when he came +to look for them, not one of all his "faithful servants" was to be +found. A few, principally house-servants, had previously been carried +away.</p> + +<p>In the evenings, the children frequently came in to sing and shout for +us. These "shouts" are very strange,—in truth, almost indescribable. It +is necessary to hear and see in order to have any clear idea of them. +The children form a ring, and move around in a kind of shuffling dance, +singing all the time. Four or five stand apart, and sing very +energetically, clapping their hands, stamping their feet, and rocking +their bodies to and fro. These are the musicians, to whose performance +the shouters keep perfect time. The grown people on this plantation did +not shout, but they do on some of the other plantations. It is very +comical to see little children, not more than three or four years old, +entering into the performance with all their might. But the shouting of +the grown people is rather solemn and impressive than otherwise. We +cannot determine whether it has a religious character or not. Some of +the people tell us that it has, others that it has not. But as the +shouts of the grown <a name="Page_600" id="Page_600"></a>people are always in connection with their +religious meetings, it is probable that they are the barbarous +expression of religion, handed down to them from their African +ancestors, and destined to pass away under the influence of Christian +teachings. The people on this island have no songs. They sing only +hymns, and most of these are sad. Prince, a large black boy from a +neighboring plantation, was the principal shouter among the children. It +seemed impossible for him to keep still for a moment. His performances +were most amusing specimens of Ethiopian gymnastics. Amaretta the +younger, a cunning, kittenish little creature of only six years old, had +a remarkably sweet voice. Her favorite hymn, which we used to hear her +singing to herself as she walked through the yard, is one of the oddest +we have heard:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What makes old Satan follow me so?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Satan got nuttin' 't all fur to do wid me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">CHORUS.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Tiddy Rosa, hold your light!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brudder Tony, hold your light!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All de member, hold bright light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Canaan's shore!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This is one of the most spirited shouting-tunes. "Tiddy" is their word +for sister.</p> + +<p>A very queer-looking old man came into the store one day. He was dressed +in a complete suit of brilliant Brussels carpeting. Probably it had been +taken from his master's house after the "gun-shoot"; but he looked so +very dignified that we did not like to question him about it. The people +called him Doctor Crofts,—which was, I believe, his master's name, his +own being Scipio. He was very jubilant over the new state of things, and +said to Mr. H.,—"Don't hab me feelins hurt now. Used to hab me feelins +hurt all de time. But don't hab 'em hurt now no more." Poor old soul! We +rejoiced with him that he and his brethren no longer have their +"feelins" hurt, as in the old time.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On the Sunday before Thanksgiving, General Saxton's noble Proclamation +was read at church. We could not listen to it without emotion. The +people listened with the deepest attention, and seemed to understand and +appreciate it. Whittier has said of it and its writer,—"It is the most +beautiful and touching official document I ever read. God bless him! +'The bravest are the tenderest.'"</p> + +<p>General Saxton is truly worthy of the gratitude and admiration with +which the people regard him. His unfailing kindness and consideration +for them—so different from the treatment they have sometimes received +at the hands of other officers—have caused them to have unbounded +confidence in General "<i>Saxby</i>," as they call him.</p> + +<p>After the service, there were six couples married. Some of the dresses +were unique. One was particularly fine,—doubtless a cast-off dress of +the bride's former mistress. The silk and lace, ribbons, feathers and +flowers, were in a rather faded and decayed condition. But, comical as +the costumes were, we were not disposed to laugh at them. We were too +glad to see the poor creatures trying to lead right and virtuous lives. +The legal ceremony, which was formerly scarcely known among them, is now +everywhere consecrated. The constant and earnest advice of the minister +and teachers has not been given in vain; nearly every Sunday there are +several couples married in church. Some of them are people who have +grown old together.</p> + +<p>Thanksgiving-Day was observed as a general holiday. According to General +Saxton's orders, an ox had been killed on each plantation, that the +people might that day have fresh meat, which was a great luxury to them, +and, indeed, to all of us. In the morning, a large +number—superintendents, teachers, and freed people—assembled in the +Baptist Church. It was a sight not soon to be forgotten,—that crowd of +eager, happy black faces, from which the shadow of Slavery had forever +passed. "Forever free! forever free!" those magical words of the +Proclamation were constantly singing themselves in my soul. After an +appropriate prayer and sermon by Mr. P., and singing <a name="Page_601" id="Page_601"></a>by the people, +General Saxton made a short, but spirited speech, urging the young men +to enlist in the regiment then forming under Colonel Higginson. Mrs. +Gage told the people how the slaves in Santa Cruz had secured their +liberty. It was something entirely new and strange to them to hear a +woman speak in public; but they listened with great attention, and +seemed much interested. Before dispersing, they sang "Marching Along," +which is an especial favorite with them. It was a very happy +Thanksgiving-Day for all of us. The weather was delightful; oranges and +figs were hanging on the trees; roses, oleanders, and japonicas were +blooming out-of-doors; the sun was warm and bright; and over all shone +gloriously the blessed light of Freedom,—Freedom forevermore!</p> + +<p>One night, L. and I were roused from our slumbers by what seemed to us +loud and most distressing shrieks, proceeding from the direction of the +negro-houses. Having heard of one or two attempts which the Rebels had +recently made to land on the island, our first thought was, naturally, +that they had forced a landing, and were trying to carry off some of the +people. Every moment we expected to hear them at our doors; and knowing +that they had sworn vengeance against all the superintendents and +teachers, we prepared ourselves for the worst. After a little +reflection, we persuaded ourselves that it could not be the Rebels; for +the people had always assured us, that, in case of a Rebel attack, they +would come to us at once,—evidently thinking that we should be able to +protect them. But what could the shrieks mean? They ceased; then, a few +moments afterwards, began again, louder, more fearful than before; then +again they ceased, and all was silent. I am ashamed to confess that we +had not the courage to go out and inquire into the cause of the alarm. +Mr. H.'s room was in another part of the house, too far for him to give +us any aid. We hailed the dawn of day gladly enough, and eagerly sought +Cupid,—who was sure to know everything,—to obtain from him a solution +of the mystery. "Why, you wasn't scared at <i>dat?</i>" he exclaimed, in +great amusement; "'twasn't nuttin' but de black sogers dat comed up to +see der folks on t' oder side ob de creek. Dar wasn't no boat fur 'em on +dis side, so dey jus' blowed de whistle dey hab, so de folks might bring +one ober fur 'em. Dat was all 't was." And Cupid laughed so heartily +that we felt not a little ashamed of our fears. Nevertheless, we both +maintained that <i>we</i> had never seen a whistle from which could be +produced sounds so startling, so distressing, so perfectly like the +shrieks of a human being.</p> + +<p>Another night, while staying at a house some miles distant from ours, I +was awakened by hearing, as I thought, some one trying to open the door +from without. The door was locked; I lay perfectly still, and listened +intently. A few moments elapsed, and the sound was repeated; whereupon I +rose, and woke Miss W., who slept in the adjoining room. We lighted a +candle, took our revolvers, and seated ourselves on the bed, keeping our +weapons, so formidable in practised male hands, steadily pointed towards +the door, and uttering dire threats against the intruders,—presumed to +be Rebels, of course. Having maintained this tragical position for some +time, and hearing no further noise; we began to grow sleepy, and +extinguished our candle, returned to bed, and slept soundly till +morning. But that mystery remained unexplained. I was sure that the door +had been tried,—there could be no mistaking it. There was not the least +probability that any of the people had entered the house, burglars are +unknown on these islands, and there is nobody to be feared but the +Rebels.</p> + +<p>The last and greatest alarm we had was after we had removed from +Oaklands to another plantation. I woke about two o'clock in the morning, +hearing the tramp of many feet in the yard below,—the steady tramp of +soldiers' feet. "The Rebels! they have come at last! all is over with us +now!" I thought at once, with a desperate kind of resignation. And I lay +<a name="Page_602" id="Page_602"></a>still, waiting and listening. Soon I heard footsteps on the piazza; +then the hall-door was opened, and steps were heard distinctly in the +hall beneath; finally, I heard some one coming up the stairs. Then I +grasped my revolver, rose, and woke the other ladies.</p> + +<p>"There are soldiers in the yard! Somebody has opened the hall-door, and +is coming up-stairs!"</p> + +<p>Poor L., but half awakened, stared at me in speechless terror. The same +thought filled our minds. But Mrs. B., after listening for a moment, +exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"Why, that is my husband! I know his footsteps. He is coming up-stairs +to call me."</p> + +<p>And so it proved. Her husband, who was a lieutenant in Colonel +Montgomery's regiment, had come up from camp with some of his men to +look after deserters. The door had been unfastened by a servant who on +that night happened to sleep in the house. I shall never forget the +delightful sensation of relief that came over me when the whole matter +was explained. It was almost overpowering; for, although I had made up +my mind to bear the worst, and bear it bravely, the thought of falling +into the hands of the Rebels was horrible in the extreme. A year of +intense mental suffering seemed to have been compressed into those few +moments.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="GOLD_HAIR" id="GOLD_HAIR"></a>GOLD HAIR.</h2> + +<h3>A LEGEND OF PORNIC.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the beautiful girl, too white,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who lived at Pornic, down by the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just where the sea and the Loire unite!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And a boasted name in Brittany<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She bore, which I will not write.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Too white, for the flower of life is red;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her flesh was the soft, seraphic screen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a soul that is meant (her parents said)<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To just see earth, and hardly be seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blossom in heaven instead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet earth saw one thing, one how fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">One grace that grew to its full on earth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles might be sparse on her cheek so spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And her waist want half a girdle's girth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she had her great gold hair:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hair, such a wonder of flix and floss,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Freshness and fragrance,—floods of it, too!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gold did I say? Nay, gold's mere dross.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Here Life smiled, "Think what I meant to do!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love sighed, "Fancy my loss!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, when she died, it was scarce more strange<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Than that, when some delicate evening dies,<br /></span><p><a name="Page_603" id="Page_603"></a></p> +<span class="i0">And you follow its spent sun's pallid range,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">There's a shoot of color startles the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sudden, violent change,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That, while the breath was nearly to seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As they put the little cross to her lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She changed; a spot came out on her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A spark from her eye in mid-eclipse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she broke forth, "I must speak!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Not my hair!" made the girl her moan;—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"All the rest is gone, or to go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the last, last grace, my all, my own,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Let it stay in the grave, that the ghosts may know!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave my poor gold hair alone!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The passion thus vented, dead lay she.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her parents sobbed their worst on that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All friends joined in, nor observed degree:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For, indeed, the hair was to wonder at,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it spread,—not flowing free,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But curled around her brow, like a crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And coiled beside her cheeks, like a cap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And calmed about her neck,—ay, down<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To her breast, pressed flat, without a gap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I' the gold, it reached her gown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All kissed that face, like a silver wedge<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Mid the yellow wealth, nor disturbed its hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en the priest allowed death's privilege,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As he planted the crucifix with care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her breast, 'twixt edge and edge.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus was she buried, inviolate<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of body and soul, in the very space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the altar,—keeping saintly state<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In Pornic church, for her pride of race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure life, and piteous fate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And in after-time would your fresh tear fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though your mouth might twitch with a dubious smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they told you of gold both robe and pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How she prayed them leave it alone awhile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So it never was touched at all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Years flew; this legend grew at last<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The life of the lady; all she had done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All been, in the memories fading fast<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of lover and friend, was summed in one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sentence survivors passed:<br /></span><p><a name="Page_604" id="Page_604"></a></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To wit, she was meant for heaven, not earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Had turned an' angel before the time:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, since she was mortal, in such dearth<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of frailty, all you could count a crime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was—she knew her gold hair's worth.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At little pleasant Pornic church,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It chanced, the pavement wanted repair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was taken to pieces: left in the lurch,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A certain sacred space lay bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the boys began research.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'T was the space where our sires would lay a saint,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A benefactor,—a bishop, suppose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A baron with armor-adornments quaint;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A dame with chased ring and jewelled rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Things sanctity saves from taint:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So we come to find them in after-days,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the corpse is presumed to have done with gauds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of use to the living, in many ways;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For the boys get pelf, and the town applauds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the church deserves the praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They grubbed with a will: and at length—<i>O cor</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Humanum, pectora cœca</i>, and the rest!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They found—no gauds they were prying for,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No ring, no rose, but—who would have guessed?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A double Louis-d'or!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here was a case for the priest: he heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Marked, inwardly digested, laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Finger on nose, smiled, "A little bird<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Chirps in my ear!"—then, "Bring a spade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dig deeper!" he gave the word.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And lo! when they came to the coffin-lid,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or the rotten planks which composed it once,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, there lay the girl's skull wedged amid<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A mint of money, it served for the nonce<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hold in its hair-heaps hid:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Louis-d'ors, some six times five;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And duly double, every piece.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now do you see? With the priest to shrive,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With parents preventing her soul's release<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By kisses that keep alive,—<br /></span><p><a name="Page_605" id="Page_605"></a></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With heaven's gold gates about to ope,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With friends' praise, gold-like, lingering still,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What instinct had bidden the girl's hand grope<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For gold, the true sort?—"Gold in heaven, I hope;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I keep earth's, if God will!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Enough! The priest took the grave's grim yield;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The parents, they eyed that price of sin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if <i>thirty pieces</i> lay revealed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the place <i>to bury strangers in</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hideous Potter's Field.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the priest bethought him: "'Milk that's spilt'<br /></span> +<span class="i3">—You know the adage! Watch and pray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saints tumble to earth with so slight a tilt!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It would build a new altar; that we may!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the altar therewith was built.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why I deliver this horrible verse?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As the text of a sermon, which now I preach:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Evil or good may be better or worse<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the human heart, but the mixture of each<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a marvel and a curse.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The candid incline to surmise of late<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That the Christian faith may be false, I find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For our Essays-and-Reviews' debate<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Begins to tell on the public mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Colenso's words have weight:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I still to suppose it true, for my part,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">See reasons and reasons; this, to begin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is the faith that launched point-blank her dart<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At the head of a lie,—taught Original Sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Corruption of Man's Heart.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><a name="Page_606" id="Page_606"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CALIFORNIA_AS_A_VINELAND" id="CALIFORNIA_AS_A_VINELAND"></a>CALIFORNIA AS A VINELAND.</h2> + + +<p>It has been reserved for California, from the plenitude of her +capacities, to give to us a truly great boon in her light and +delicate-wines.</p> + +<p>Our Pacific sister, from whose generous hand has flowed an uninterrupted +stream of golden gifts, has announced the fact that henceforth we are to +be a wine-growing people. From the sparkling juices of her luscious +grapes, rich with the breath of an unrivalled climate, is to come in +future the drink of our people. By means of her capacity in this respect +we are to convert the vast tracts of her yet untilled soil into blooming +vineyards, which will give employment to thousands of men and women,—we +are to make wine as common an article of consumption in America as upon +the Rhine, and to break one more of the links which bind us unwilling +slaves to foreign lands.</p> + +<p>It is a little singular, that, in a country so particularly adapted to +the culture of the grape, no species is indigenous to the soil. The +earliest record of the grape in California is about 1770, at which time +the Spanish Jesuits brought to Los Angeles what are supposed to have +been cuttings from the Malaga. There is a difference of opinion as to +what stock they originally came from; but one thing is certain,—from +that stock has sprung what is now known all over the State as the +"Mission" or "Los Angeles" grape, and from which is made all the wine at +present in the market. The berry is round, reddish-brown while ripening, +turning nearly black when fully ripe. It is very juicy and sweet, and a +delicious table-grape.</p> + +<p>Three prominent reasons maybe given in support of the claims of +California to be considered a wine-producing State. First, her soil +possesses a large amount of magnesia and lime, or chalk. Specimens of +it, taken from various localities, and carried to Europe, when +chemically tested and submitted to the judgment of competent men, have +been pronounced to be admirably adapted to the purposes of wine-culture. +Then, the climate is all that could possibly be desired,—as during the +growth and ripening of the grapes they are never exposed to storms of +rain or hail, which often destroy the entire crop in many parts of +Europe. As an evidence of the great superiority enjoyed by California in +this respect, it may be remarked, that, while the grape-crop here is a +certainty, "the oldest inhabitant" not remembering a year that has +failed of a good yield,—in Europe, on the contrary, in a period of 432 +years, from 1420 to 1852, the statistics exhibit only 11 years which can +be pronounced eminently good, and but 28 very good,—192 being simply +what may be called "pretty good" and "middling," and 201, or nearly +one-half, having proved total failures, not paying the expenses. Again, +the enormous productiveness of the soil is an immense advantage. We make +on an average from five hundred and fifty to six hundred and fifty +gallons of wine to the acre. The four most productive of the +wine-growing districts of Europe are—</p> + +<pre> +Italy, giving to the acre 441 1-2 gallons +Austria and her provinces 265 5-6 " +France, 176 2-7 " +Nassau, 237 1-2 " +</pre> + +<p>Of these, it will be perceived, that Italy, the most prolific, falls +fully one hundred and fifty gallons short of the average yield per acre +in California.—In this connection the following account of a grape-vine +in Santa Barbara may be interesting:—</p> + +<p>"Four miles south of the town there is a vine which was planted more +than a quarter of a century since, and has a stalk now about ten inches +thick. The branches are supported by a train or arbor, and extend out +about fifty feet on all sides. The annual crop of grapes upon this one +vine is from six to ten thousand pounds, as much as the yield of half +<a name="Page_607" id="Page_607"></a>an acre of common vines. It is of the Los Angeles variety. There is a +similar vine, but not so large, in the vineyard of Andres Pico, at San +Fernando."</p> + +<p>It is well known that California has within her borders five million +acres of land suitable for vine-culture. Suppose it to average no larger +yield than that of Italy, yet, at 25 cents a gallon, it would give an +income of $551,875,000. That this may not seem an entirely chimerical +estimate, it may be remarked that trustworthy statistics show that in +France five millions of acres are planted in vines, producing seven +hundred and fifty millions of gallons, while Hungary has three millions +of acres, yielding three hundred and sixty millions of gallons. If it is +asked, Supposing California capable of producing the amount claimed for +her, what could be done with this enormous quantity of wine? the answer +may be found in the experience of France, where, notwithstanding the +immense native production, there is a large importation from foreign +countries, besides a very considerable consumption of purely artificial +wines.</p> + +<p>Small quantities of wine have been made in California for over half a +century, by the Spanish residents, not, however, as a commercial +commodity, but for home-consumption, and there are wines now in the +cellars of some of the wealthy Spanish families which money could not +purchase. But it remained for American enterprise, aided by European +experience, to develop the wonderful capacity which had so long +slumbered in the bosom of this most favored land.</p> + +<p>The following statistics exhibit the total number of vines in 1862, and +the great increase in the last five or six years will show the opinion +entertained as to the success of the business.</p> + +<p>"The number of grape-vines set out in vineyards in the State, according +to the Report of the County Assessors, as compiled in the +Surveyor-General's Report for 1862, is 10,592,688, of which number Los +Angeles has 2,570,000, and Sonoma 1,701,661.</p> + +<p>"The rate of increase in the number and size of vineyards is large. All +the vines of the State did not number 1,000,000 seven years ago. Los +Angeles, which had three times as many vines surviving from the time of +the Mexican domain as all the other counties together, had 592,000 +bearing vines and 134,000 young vines in 1856. The annual increase in +the State has been about 1,500,000 since then; and though less +hereafter, it will still be large.</p> + +<p>"The wine made in 1861 is reported, very incorrectly, by the County +Assessors, as amounting to 343,000 gallons. The amount made in 1862 was +about 700,000 gallons. The total amount made in all other States of the +Union in 1859, according to the United States census, was 1,350,000 +gallons; and the same authority puts down California's wine-yield for +that year at 494,000 gallons, which is very nearly correct. In Los +Angeles County most of the vineyards have 1,000 vines to the acre. In +Sonoma the number varies from 680 to 1,000. The average number may be +estimated at 900; and the 10,000,000 vines of the State cover about +11,500 acres. An acre of California vineyard in full bearing produces at +least 500 gallons annually, and at that rate the produce of the 11,500 +acres would be 5,750,000 gallons. Strike off, however, one-third for +grapes lost, wasted, and gathered for the table, and we have an annual +produce of 3,800,000 gallons. The reason why the present product is so +far below this amount is that most of the vines are still very young, +and will not be in full bearing for several years yet."</p> + +<p>The cost of planting a vineyard will of course vary with the situation, +price of labor, quality of soil, etc., but may be estimated at not far +from fifty dollars an acre. This includes everything except the cost of +the land, and brings the vines up to the third year, when they are in +fair bearing condition. There are thousands of acres of land scattered +over the State, admirably adapted to vine-culture, which may be +purchased at from one to <a name="Page_608" id="Page_608"></a>two dollars per acre. No enterprise holds out +more encouragement for the investment of labor and capital than this, +and the attention of some of the most intelligent capitalists of the +country is being given to it. In this connection I cannot forbear +referring to the action of the Government in regard to our native wines. +By the National Excise Law of 1862 a tax of five cents a gallon was laid +upon all wine made in the country. No tax has yet been laid upon +agricultural productions generally, and only three per cent, upon +manufactures. Now wine certainly falls properly under the head of +agricultural productions. Upon this ground it might justly claim +exemption from taxation. The wine-growers of California allege that the +tax is oppressive and impolitic: oppressive, because it is equal to +one-fourth of the original value of the wine, and because no other +article of production or manufacture is taxed in anything like this +proportion; impolitic, because the business is now in its infancy, +struggling against enormous difficulties, among which may be mentioned +the high price of labor, rate of interest, and cost of packages, making +it difficult to compete with the wines of Europe, which have already +established themselves in the country, and which are produced where +interest is only three per cent. per annum, and the price of labor +one-quarter of what it is in California. In addition to this there is +the prejudice which exists against American wines, but which, happily, +is passing away. The vintners ask only to be put upon the same footing +as manufacturers, namely, an <i>ad valorem</i> tax of three per cent.; and +they say that the Government will derive a greater revenue from such a +tax than from the one now in force, as they cannot pay the present tax, +and, unless it is abated, they will be obliged to abandon the business. +Efforts are being made to induce Congress to modify it, and it is to be +hoped they will be successful.</p> + +<p>In 1861 California sent a commissioner to Europe, to procure the best +varieties of vines cultivated there, and also to report upon the +European culture generally. The gentleman selected for the mission was +Colonel Haraszthy, to whom I am indebted for many of my statistics, and +who has given us a very interesting book on the subject. He brought back +a hundred thousand vines, embracing about fourteen hundred varieties. +These were to have been planted and experimented upon under the auspices +of the State. What the result has been I am unable to say; but we are +informed upon good authority that over two hundred foreign varieties are +now successfully cultivated. Such being the fact, it is a fair +presumption that we are soon to make wines in sufficient variety to suit +all tastes.</p> + +<p>Los Angeles is at present the largest wine-growing county in the State, +and Sonoma the second. Many other portions of the State, however, are +fast becoming planted with vineyards, and some of them are already +giving promise of furnishing superb wines. As usual in wine-growing +countries, in the southern part of the State the wines are richer in +saccharine properties, and heavier-bodied, than those of the more +northern sections, but are deficient in flavor and bouquet. We shall get +a lighter and tarter wine from the Sonoma and other northern vineyards, +which will please many tastes better than the southern wines. The two +largest vineyards in the State are owned by Colonel Haraszthy, of +Sonoma, and John Rains, of San Gabriel. The former has two hundred and +ninety thousand vines, and the latter one hundred and sixty-five +thousand. It is probable that from one of these vineyards at least will +come a good Champagne wine.</p> + +<p>A large tract of land, to which has been given the name of "Anaheim," +has been recently purchased by a German company. It is sold to actual +settlers in lots of twenty acres, affording room for twenty thousand +vines. There are now planted nearly three hundred thousand, which are in +a very flourishing condition. The wines from this district will soon be +in the market.</p> + +<p>The wines now made in California <a name="Page_609" id="Page_609"></a>are known under the following names: +"White" or "Hock" Wine, "Angelica," "Port," "Muscatel," "Sparkling +California," and "Piquet." The character of the first-named wine is much +like that of the Rhine wines of Germany. It is not unlike the <i>Capri +bianco</i> of Naples, or the white wines of the South of France. It is +richer and fuller-bodied than the German wines, without the tartness +which is strongly developed in nearly all the Rhenish varieties. It is a +fine wine, and meets the approval of many of our best connoisseurs. +Specimens of it have been sent to some of the wine-districts of Germany, +and the most flattering expressions in its favor have come from the +Rhine. The "Angelica" and "Muscatel" are both <i>naturally</i> sweet, +intended as dessert-wines, and to suit the taste of those who do not +like a dry wine. They are both of a most excellent quality, and are very +popular. The "Port" is a rich, deep-colored, high-flavored wine, not +unlike the Burgundies of France, yet not so dry. The "Sparkling +California" and "Piquet" are as yet but little known. The latter is made +from the lees of the grape, is a sour, very light wine, and not suitable +for shipment. Messrs. Sainsivain Brothers have up to the present time +been the principal house engaged in the manufacture of Champagne. So +far, they have not been particularly successful. This wine has a certain +bitter taste, which is not agreeable; yet it is a much better wine than +some kinds of the foreign article sold in our markets. The makers are +still experimenting, and will, no doubt, improve. It is probable that +most of the good sparkling wine which we shall get from California will +be made in the northern part of the State; the grapes grown there seem +to be better adapted to the purpose than those raised in Los Angeles. +There is no doubt, too, that the foreign grape will be used for this +branch of the business, rather than the Los Angeles variety. All that is +required to obtain many other varieties of wine, including brands +similar to Sherry and Claret, is time to find a proper grape, and to +select a suitable soil for its culture. Considering the short time which +has elapsed since the business was commenced, wonders have been +accomplished. It has taken Ohio thirty years to furnish us two varieties +of wine, while in less than one-third that time California has produced +six varieties, four of which are of a very superior quality, and have +already taken a prominent position in the estimation of the best tastes +in the country.</p> + +<p>In 1854, Messrs. Köhler and Fröhling commenced business in Los Angeles, +and shortly after opened a house in San Francisco. They were assisted by +Charles Stern, who had enjoyed a long and valuable experience in the +wine-business upon the Rhine. The vintage was very small and inferior in +quality, as they had had no experience in making wine from such a grape +as California produced. Numberless difficulties were met with, and it +was only the indomitable energy of the gentlemen engaged in the +enterprise, sustained by a firm faith in its ultimate success, which +brought them triumphantly out of the slough of despond that seemed at +times almost to overwhelm them. They have to-day the satisfaction of +being the pioneers in what is soon to be one of the most important +branches of industry in California. They own one of the finest vineyards +in the State, from which some magnificent wine has been produced. They +have contracts with owners of other vineyards; and after making the wine +in their own, the men and machinery are moved into these, the grapes +pressed, and the juice at once conveyed to their cellars, they paying +the producers of the grapes a stipulated price per ton on the vines. The +vintage commences about the first of October, and generally continues +into November. The labor employed in gathering the grapes and in the +work of the press is mostly performed by Indians. It is a novel and +interesting sight to see them filing up to the press, each one bearing +on his head about fifty pounds of the delicious fruit, <a name="Page_610" id="Page_610"></a>which is soon to +be reduced to an unseemly mass, and yield up its purple life-blood for +the benefit of man. Some of the best wine made in the State is from the +"Asuza" and "Sunny Slope" vineyards, both of which lie directly at the +foot of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. From a small beginning Messrs. +Köhler and Fröhling have steadily progressed, till at this time their +position is a very enviable one. Their cellars, occupying the basement +of Montgomery Block, excite the admiration of all who visit them, and +their wines are more favorably known than those of any other vintners. +Agencies have been established in New York and other cities, under the +supervision of Mr. Stern, and the favor with which they have been +received has settled the fact that the wines of California are a +success. It only remains for the vintners to keep their wines pure, and +always up to the highest standard, and to take such measures as shall +insure their delivery in a like condition to the consumers, to build up +a business which shall eclipse that of any of the great houses of +Europe. Thus will the State and nation be benefited, by keeping at home +the money which we annually pay for wine to foreign countries, and the +people will be led away from the use of strong, fiery drinks, to accept +instead the light wines of their native land.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TO_A_YOUNG_GIRL_DYING" id="TO_A_YOUNG_GIRL_DYING"></a>TO A YOUNG GIRL DYING:</h2> + +<p>WITH A GIFT OF FRESH PALM-LEAVES.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is Palm-Sunday: mindful of the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bring palm-branches, found upon my way:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But these will wither; thine shall never die,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sacred palms thou bearest to the sky!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear little saint, though but a child in years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Older in wisdom than my gray compeers!<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>We</i> doubt and tremble,—<i>we</i> with 'bated breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Talk of this mystery of life and death:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, strong in faith, art gifted to conceive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond thy years, and teach us to believe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then take my palms, triumphal, to thy home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentle white palmer, never more to roam!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only, sweet sister, give me, ere thou go'st,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy benediction,—for my love thou know'st!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We, too, are pilgrims, travelling towards the shrine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray that our pilgrimage may end like thine!<br /></span> +</div></div><p><a name="Page_611" id="Page_611"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_RIM" id="THE_RIM"></a>THE RIM.</h2> + +<p>PART I.</p> + + +<p>There are women at whom, after the first meeting, you forget to glance a +second time, they seem to be such indifferent creations, such imperfect +sketches of an idea to be fulfilled farther on in a clearer type, but +who, met once more and yet again, suddenly take you captive in bonds. +You find the sallow cheek to be but polished ivory, the heavy eye loaded +with fire, the irregular features chords of a harmony whose whole is +perfect; you find that this is the type itself; while in every gesture, +every word, every look, the soul is shed abroad, and the fascination is +what neither Campaspe, nor Jocasta, nor even Aspasia herself held in +fee. For you, she has blossomed into the one beauty of the world; you +hear her, and the Sirens sing in vain; she touches you, and makes you +the slave beneath her feet.</p> + +<p>Such a one was Éloise Changarnier.</p> + +<p>There was iron of the old Huguenot blood in her veins; late American +admixture had shot a racy sparkle through it; convent-care from her +tenth to her sixteenth year had softened and toned the whole into a +warm, generous life; and underneath all there slumbered that one atom of +integral individuality that was nothing at all but a spark: as yet, its +fire had never flashed; if it ever should do so, one might be safe in +prophesying a strange wayward blaze.</p> + +<p>In one of her earliest summers her widowed mother had died and +bequeathed her sole legacy, a penniless orphan, to the care of the +survivor in an imperishable friendship, Disbrowe Erne. A childless, +thriftless, melancholy man, Mr. Erne had adopted her into his inmost +heart, but out of respect to his friend had suffered her to retain her +father's name, and had thoughtlessly delayed rendering the adoption +legal. One day it was found too late to remedy this delay; for Mr. Erne +died, just a year after Éloise's return from the distant Northern +convent whither at ten years old she had been despatched, when, wild and +witching as a wood-brier, there had been found nothing else to do with +her. There her adopted father had visited her twice a year in all her +exile, as she deemed it, sometimes taking up his residence for several +months in the neighborhood of the nunnery; and a long vacation of many +weeks she had every winter spent at home with him on the rich and +beautiful plantation poetically known as The Rim, because, seen from +several of the adjacent places, it occupied the whole southern horizon. +The last vacation, however, she had passed with her adopted father +travelling in France, whither some affairs called him; but, of all the +splendid monuments and records of civilization that she saw, almost the +only thing that had impressed itself distinctly upon her memory, through +the chicanery of chances, was that once in a cathedral-choir she had +seen the handsome, blonde-hued, Vandyck face of a gentleman with +dreaming eyes looking at her from a gallery-niche with the most singular +earnestness. So at sixteen she found that the nuns had exhausted their +slender lore, and had nothing more to teach her; and after her brief +travels, she returned home for a finality, and there had dallied a +twelvemonth, lapped in the Elysium of freedom and youth. Every want +anticipated, every whim gratified, servants prostrate before her, father +adoring her,—the year sped on wings of silent joy, and left her a shade +more imperious than it met her. Launched into society, wealthy and +winning, Éloise counted, too, her lovers; but she spurned them so gayly +that her hard heart became a proverb through all the region round, +wherever the rejected travelled. It is true that Mr. Erne had often +expressed <a name="Page_612" id="Page_612"></a>his film of dissatisfaction with the conventual results, and +had planned an attack on matters of more solid learning; but, tricksy as +a sprite, Éloise had escaped his designs, broken through his +regulations, implored, just out of shackles, a year's gambol in liberty, +and had made herself too charming to be resisted in her plea; and if, +feeling his health fail, he had at first insisted,—in the fear that +there might be left but brief opportunity for him to make her pleasure, +he yielded. Nevertheless, with the best outlay in the world, +plantation-life is not all a gala, and there were, it must be confessed, +certain ennuisome moments in which Éloise made inroads on her father's +library, chiefly in wild out-of-the-way veins, all which, however, +romantic, unsystematic, and undigested, did nothing towards rendering +her one whit more independent of the world in time of future trial.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, just reëntering the house from some gay farewell of +friends, she found her father sitting in the hall, and she stood +tiptoing in the door-way while smiling at him, with a fragrant vine half +twisted in her dark drooping hair, the heat making her cheek yet paler, +and the great blue-green eyes shining at him from under the black +straight brows, like aquamarine jewels. Mr. Erne leaned forward in the +chair, with hands clasped upon his knees, and eyes upbent.</p> + +<p>"Éloise! Éloise!" he cried in a piercing voice, then grew white, and +fell back in the cushions.</p> + +<p>The girl flew to him, took the head upon her shoulder, caressed the +deathly face, warmed the mouth with her own.</p> + +<p>"Child!" he murmured, "I thought it was your mother!"</p> + +<p>And by midnight, alone, and in the dark, he died, and went to find that +mother.</p> + +<p>As for Éloise, she was like some one made dumb by a thunderbolt. Her +garden had become a desert. Ice had fallen in her summer. Death was too +large a fact for her to comprehend. She had seen the Medusa's head in +its terror, but not in its loveliness, and been stricken to stone. At +length in the heart of that stone the inner fountains broke,—broke in +rains of tempestuous tears, such gusts and gushes of grief as threatened +to wash away life itself; and when Éloise issued from this stormy deep, +the warmth and the wealth of being obscured, the effervescence and +bubble of the child destroyed, feeling like a flower sodden with +showers, if she had been capable of finding herself at all, she would +have found herself a woman.</p> + +<p>Among Mr. Erne's disorderly papers, full of incipient schemes, sketches, +and schedules of gold-mining, steam-companies, and railways to the +nebulæ in Orion, was discovered after his death a scrap witnessed by two +signatures. The owner of one of these signatures was already dead, and +there were no means to prove its genuineness. The other was that of a +young man who had just enough of that remote taint in his descent which +incapacitates one, in certain regions, from bearing witness. It was +supposed that Mr. Erne had some day hurriedly executed this paper in the +absence of his lawyer, as being, possibly, better than no paper at all, +and he had certainly intended to have the whole matter arranged +legitimately; but these are among the things which, with a superstitious +loitering, some men linger long before doing, lest they prove to be, +themselves, a death-warrant.</p> + +<p>By this paper, in so many words, Disbrowe Erne left to Éloise +Changarnier all the property of which he died possessed. An old friend +of her father's in the neighborhood assured her that the only relatives +were both distant, distinguished, and wealthy, unlikely to present any +claims, and that she would be justified in fulfilling her father's +desire. And so, without other forms, Éloise administered the affairs of +The Rim,—waiting until the autumn to consult the usual lawyer, who was +at present in England.</p> + +<p>There had reigned over the domestic department of The Rim, for many +years, a person who was the widow of a maternal <a name="Page_613" id="Page_613"></a>cousin of Mr. Erne's, +and who, when left destitute by the death of this young cousin, had +found shelter, support, and generous courtesy beneath the roof of her +late husband's kinsman. It was on the accession of this person, who was +not a saint, that Éloise had become so ungovernable as to require the +constraint of a nunnery. Mrs. Arles was a dark and quiet little lady, +with some of the elements of beauty which her name suggested, and with a +perfectly Andalusian foot and ankle. These being her sole wealth, it +was, perhaps, from economy of her charms that she hid the ankle in such +flowing sables, that she bound the black locks straightly under a little +widow's-cap, seldom parted the fine lips above the treasured pearls +beneath, disdained to distort the classic features, and graved no +wrinkles on the smooth, rich skin with any lavish smiling. She went +about the house, a self-contained, silent, unpleasant little vial of +wrath, and there was ever between her and Éloise a tacit feud, waiting, +perhaps, only for occasion to fling down the gage in order to become +open war. Mrs. Arles expected, therefore, that, so soon Éloise should +take the reins in hand herself, she would be lightly, but decisively +shaken off,—for the old friend had mentioned to Mrs. Arles that Mr. +Erne's will left Éloise heir, as she had always supposed it would. She +was, accordingly, silently amazed, when Éloise, softened by suffering, +hoped she would always find it convenient to make a home with herself, +and informed her that a certain section of the farm had been measured +off and allotted to her, with its laborers, as the source of a yearly +income. This delicacy, that endeavored to prevent her feeling the +perpetual recurrence of benefits conferred, touched the speechless Mrs. +Arles almost to the point of positive friendliness.</p> + +<p>The plantation was one of those high and healthy spots that are ever +visited by land- and sea-breezes, and there Éloise determined to stay +that spring and summer; for this ground that her father had so often +trod, this air that had given and received his last breath, were dear to +her, and just now parting with them, for ever so short a time, would be +but a renewal of her loss. As she became able to turn her energy to the +business requiring attention, she discovered at last her sad ignorance. +Dancing, drawing, music, and languages were of small avail in managing +the interior concerns and the vexatious finance of a great estate. The +neighbors complained that her spoiled and neglected servants infected +theirs, and that her laxity of discipline was more ruinous in its +effects than the rigor of Blue Bluffs. But she just held out to them her +helpless little hands in so piteous and charming a way that they could +not cherish an instant's enmity. If she tried to remedy the evil +complained of, she fell into some fresh error; take what advice she +would, it invariably twisted itself round and worked the other way. The +plantation, always slackly managed, saw itself now on the high road to +destruction. Let her do the very best in her power, she found it +impossible to plan her season's campaign, to carry it out, to audit her +accounts, to study agricultural directions, to preserve the peace, to +keep her fences in order, to attend to the sick, to rule her household +and her spirit, to dispose of her harvest, and to bring either end of +the thread out of the tangled skein of her affairs.</p> + +<p>Perhaps there could have been really no better thing for Éloise than the +diversion from her sorrow which all this perplexity necessarily in some +degree occasioned.</p> + +<p>As for Mrs. Arles, so soon as Éloise had begun to move about again, she +had taken herself off on a long-promised visit to the West, and was but +just returning with the October weather.</p> + +<p>Éloise, worn and thin, and looking nearly forty, as she had remarked to +herself that morning in the brief moment she could snatch for her +toilet, welcomed the cool and quiet little Mrs. Arles, who might <i>be</i> +forty, but looked any age between twenty and thirty, with affectionate +warmth, and made all the world <a name="Page_614" id="Page_614"></a>bestir themselves for her comfort. It is +only justice to the owner of the little Andalusian foot to say that in +her specific domain things immediately changed for the better. But that +was merely within-doors, and because she tightened the reins and used +the whip in a manner which Éloise could not have done, if the whole +equipage tumbled to pieces about her ears.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arles had been at home a week or so; the evening was chilly with +rain, and a little fire flickered on the hearth. Mrs. Arles sat on one +side of the hearth, with her tatting in hand; Éloise bent above the +papers scattered over a small table.</p> + +<p>"See what it is to go away!" said Éloise, cheerily. "It's like light in +a painting, as the Sisters used to say,—brings out all the shadows."</p> + +<p>"Nobody knew how indispensable I was," said the other lady, with the +fragment of expression in the phantom of a smile.</p> + +<p>"How pleasant it is to be missed! I <i>did</i> miss you so,—it seemed as if +one of the four sides of the walls were gone. Now we stand—what is that +word of Aristotle's?—four-square again. Now our universe is on wheels. +Just tell me how you tamed Hazel so. She has conducted like a little +wild gorilla all summer,—and here, in the twinkling of an eye, she goes +about soberly, like a baptized Christian. How?"</p> + +<p>"By a process of induction."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean"—</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. Nothing of the kind. I didn't touch her. I sent her into my +room, and told her to take down that little riding-switch hanging over +the mantel"—</p> + +<p>"What,—the ebony and gold?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And to whip all the flies out of the air with it. It makes a +monstrous whizzing. There's no such thing as actual experience for these +imps of the vivid nerves. And when she came down I looked at her, and +asked her how she liked the singing. Her conduct now leads me to believe +that she has no desire to hear the tune again."</p> + +<p>The hearer winced a trifle before lightly replying,—</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>I</i> might have sent her forever, and all the result would have +been the switch singing about my own shoulders, probably."</p> + +<p>"That is because she knows you would never use it. As for me,—Hazel has +a good memory."</p> + +<p>Éloise gave a half-imperceptible shiver and frown; but, clearing her +brow, said,—</p> + +<p>"If Hazel had my accounts here, they would tame her. I will put all my +malcontents through a course of mathematics. You do so well everywhere +else, Mrs. Arles, that I've half the mind to ask you to advise me here. +Little Arlesian, come over into Macedonia!"</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's only an inversion of the old problem, If the ton of coal cost +ten dollars, what will the cord of wood come to? Now, if one bale"—</p> + +<p>"But coal doesn't cost ten dollars," replied Mrs. Arles, with admirable +simplicity.</p> + +<p>"Now, if one bale of Sea-Island"—</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, I know nothing at all about it. Pray, don't ask me."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Éloise, after a moment's wondering pause, in which she had +taken time to reflect that Mrs. Arles's corner of the estate was carried +on faultlessly, "it is too bad to vex you with my matters, when you have +as much as you can do in the house, yourself,"—and relapsed into what +she called her Pythagorean errors.</p> + +<p>"Did you know," said Mrs. Arles, after a half-hour's silence, "that +Marlboro' has returned?"</p> + +<p>"Marlboro'?" repeated Éloise, hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"Marlboro' of Blue Bluffs."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. And five's eleven. No," said Éloise, absently and with half a +sigh. "I've never seen him, you know,—he's been in Kamtschatka and the +Moon so long. How did you know?"</p> + +<p>"Hazel told me. Hazel wants to marry his Vane."</p><p><a name="Page_615" id="Page_615"></a></p> + +<p>"His what?"</p> + +<p>"Not his weathercock. Vane, his butler."</p> + +<p>"That is why she behaved so. Dancing quicksilver. Then, perhaps, he'll +buy her. What a relief it would be!"</p> + +<p>"Marlboro' is a master!" said Mrs. Arles, emphatically.</p> + +<p>There was a good deal in the ensuing pause. For Éloise, in her single +year, had not half learned the neighborhood's gossip.</p> + +<p>"A cruel man. Then it's not to be thought of. We shall have to buy Vane. +Though how it's to be done"—</p> + +<p>"I didn't say he was a cruel man. He wouldn't think of interfering with +an ordinance of his overseers. I esteem his thoroughness. He has ideas. +But I might have said that he is a remarkable man."</p> + +<p>"There'll be some pulling of caps soon, Hazel said to-day, in her +gibberish. I couldn't think what she meant."</p> + +<p>"Blue Bluffs is a place to be mistress of. He's a woman-hater, though, +Mr. Marlboro',—believes in no woman capable of resisting him when he +flings the handkerchief, should he choose, but believes in none worth +choosing."</p> + +<p>"We shall have to invite him here, Mrs. Arles," said Éloise, +mischievously, "and show him that there are two of us."</p> + +<p>"That would never do!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't mean so. Of course, I didn't mean so. How could I see any +one else sitting in"—And there were tears in her eyes and on her +trembling tones.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Mrs. Arles, "I am afraid, <i>apropos</i> of nothing at all, +that you have isolated yourself from all society for too long a time +already."</p> + +<p>Just here Hazel entered and replenished the hearth, stopping half-way, +with her armful of brush, to coquet an instant in the mirror, and adjust +the scarlet love-knot in her curls.</p> + +<p>"There's a carriage coming up the avenue, Miss," said she, demurely. +"One of the boys"—</p> + +<p>"What one?" asked Mrs. Arles.</p> + +<p>"Vane," answered Hazel,—carmine staining her pretty olive cheek. "He +ran before it."</p> + +<p>"Who can it be, at this hour?" said Éloise, half rising, with the pen in +her hand, and looking at Mrs. Arles, who did not stir.</p> + +<p>As she spoke, there was a bustle in the hall, a slamming door, a voice +of command, the door opened, and a stranger stood among them, surveying +the long antique room with its diamonded windows flickering in every +pane, and the quaint hearth, whose leaping, crackling, fragrant blaze +lighted the sombre little person sitting beside it, and sparkled on the +half-bending form of that strange dark-haired girl, with her aquamarine +eyes bent full on his. He was wrapped, from head to foot, in a great +sweeping brigand's cloak, and a black, wide-brimmed hat, that had for an +instant slouched its shadow down his face, hung now in his gloved hand. +Dropping cloak and hat upon a chair with an invisible motion, he +advanced, an air of surprise lifting the heavy eyebrows so that they +strongly accented the contrast in hue between the lower half of his +face, tanned with wind and sun, and the wide, low brow, smooth as marble +itself, and above which swept one great wave of dark-brown hair. +Altogether, it was an odd, fiery impression that he made,—whether from +that golden-brown tint of skin that always seems full of slumbering +light, or from the teeth that flashed so beneath the <i>triste</i> moustache +whenever the haughty lips parted and unbent their curve, or whether it +were a habit the eyes seemed to have of accompanying all his thoughts +with a play of flame.</p> + +<p>"Really," said he,—and it may have been a subtile inner musical trait +of his tone that took everybody's will captive,—"I was not +aware"—making a long step into the room, with a certain lordly bearing, +yet almost at a loss to whom he should address himself. "I am Earl St. +George Erne. May I inquire"—</p> + +<p>"My name is Éloise Changarnier,"<a name="Page_616" id="Page_616"></a> said its owner, drawing herself up, it +being incumbent on her to receive him.</p> + +<p>He bowed, and advanced.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Arles, then, I presume,—my cousin Disbrowe Erne's cousin. I +expected to find you here."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arles, after a hurried acknowledgment, slipped over to Éloise.</p> + +<p>"I have heard your father speak of him," she murmured. "They had +business-relations. He is Mr. Erne's legal heir, in default of +sufficient testament, I believe. He must have come to claim the +property."</p> + +<p>"He!" said Éloise, with sublime scorn. "The property is mine! My father +left such commands!"</p> + +<p>"But he can have no other reason for being here. Strange the lawyer +didn't write! He is certainly at home again."</p> + +<p>"I have not had time to open the mail to-day; it lies in the hall. +Hazel! the mail-bag."</p> + +<p>And directly afterward its contents were before her.</p> + +<p>She hurriedly shifted and reshifted the letters of factors and agents, +and broke the seal of one, while Earl St. George Erne deliberately +warmed his long white hands at the blaze, and, supposing Éloise +Changarnier to be a guest of the lonely Mrs. Arles, wondered with some +angry amusement at her singular deportment.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arles was right. The letter in Éloise's hand, which had been +intended to reach her earlier, was from their old lawyer, but lately +returned from England. In it he informed her that the scrap of paper on +the authority of which she had assumed control of the property was +worthless,—and that not only was Earl St. George Erne the heir of his +cousin, but that some three years previously he had lent that cousin a +sum of money sufficient to cover much more than the whole value of The +Rim, taking in payment only promissory notes, whose indorser was since +insolvent. This sum—as Mr. Erne the elder had been already unfortunate +in several rash speculations—had been applied towards lifting a heavy +mortgage, and instituting improvements that would enable the farm soon +to repay the debt in yearly instalments. Added to this was the fact that +Earl St. George Erne, who had passed many years away from home upon +Congressional duties, had lately met with a severe reverse himself, and +had now nothing in the world except this lucky inheritance from his +cousin, and into this he had been inducted by all legal forms. This had +transpired during the lawyer's absence, (that person wrote,) as +otherwise some provision might have been made for Miss Changarnier,—and +not being able to meet with Mr. St. George Erne, he had learned the +facts from others. Meantime she would see, that, even if her father left +to her all he died possessed of, he died possessed of nothing.</p> + +<p>The idea that anybody should dare to controvert her father's will flared +for a moment behind Éloise's facial mask, and illumined every feature. +Then her eye fell upon the mass of papers with the inextricable +confusion of their figures. An exquisitely ludicrous sense of +retributive justice seized her, heightened, perhaps, by some surprise +and nervous excitement; she fairly laughed,—a little, low bubble of a +laugh,—swept her letters into her apron, and, with the end of it +hanging over her arm, stepped towards Mr. St. George, and offered him +her hand. He thought she was a crazy girl. But there was the hand; he +took it, and, looking at her a moment, forgot to drop it,—an error +which she rectified.</p> + +<p>"It seems, then, that you are the owner of The Rim," said she. "I had +been dreaming myself to be that very unfortunate person,—a nightmare +from which you wake me. The steward will show you over it to-morrow. You +will find your exchequer in the escritoire-drawer in the cabinet across +the hall. You will find the papers and accounts on that table, and I +wish you joy of them!"</p> + +<p>So saying, after her succinct statement, she vanished.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arles lingered a moment to wind <a name="Page_617" id="Page_617"></a>up her tatting. St. George, who +had at first stood like a golden bronze cast immovably in an irate +surprise, then shook his shoulders, and stepped towards the table and +carelessly parted the papers.</p> + +<p>"Remarkable manuscript," said he, as if just then he could find nothing +else to say. "Plainer than type. A purely American hand. Is it that of +the young lady?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Changarnier? Yes."</p> + +<p>"She was apparent heiress?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What does she expect to become of her?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell?"</p> + +<p>"You can conjecture."</p> + +<p>"She has not yet begun to consider, herself, you see."</p> + +<p>"She has other property?"</p> + +<p>"None."</p> + +<p>"Ah! A fine thing, usurping!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arles did not reply.</p> + +<p>And then, in a half-angry justification, he exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"I didn't know there was such a person in the world! I could not come +immediately on Erne's death. I was ill, and I was busy, and I let things +wait for me. Why did no one write?"</p> + +<p>"No one knew there was such a person as <i>you</i>. At least, no one supposed +it signified."</p> + +<p>"Signified! The Rim was my father's as much as it was Disbrowe Erne's +father's. Disbrowe Erne's father entrapped mine, and got the other half. +It was the old story of Esau's pottage, with thrice the villany. My +father made me promise him on his death-bed, that, come fair means, The +Rim should be mine again. I was twenty, Erne was fifty. Fair means came. +Nevertheless, if I had known how things stood, I might have broken the +promise,—who knows?—if at that moment I had happened to possess +anything else in the world but my wardrobe, and sundry debts, and this!"</p> + +<p>He opened, as he spoke, a purse that had seen service, and from his +lordly height and supreme indifference, scattered its contents on the +projecting top of the fireplace. They were two old pieces of ringing +Spanish silver, a tiny golden coin of Hindostan, a dime, and a pine-tree +shilling.</p> + +<p>"Marlboro' won my last dollar," said he.</p> + +<p>"Marlboro'?" said Mrs. Arles.</p> + +<p>"What do you know of Marlboro'?"</p> + +<p>"He lives over here at Blue Bluffs."</p> + +<p>"The Devil he does!"</p> + +<p>Mr. St. George Erne glanced at the dark little woman sitting before him. +No smile softened her face, no ray had lighted it; she only +intelligently observed, and monosyllabically answered him. She was a +study,—might also be convenient; the place would be ennuisome; somebody +must sit at the head of his table. He threw his purse into the fire.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Arles," he said, "it is decidedly necessary, that, to conduct my +house, there should be in it a female relative,—an article I do not +possess. Will you take the part, and remain with me on the same terms as +with my Cousin Erne?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arles had intended to propose such an arrangement herself, and, +after a brief pause for apparent consideration, replied affirmatively, +not thinking it worth while to tell him that the section of the farm, +with its laborers, set apart for her benefit, was a device of Éloise's, +and not one of anterior date.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Mr. St. George Erne; "that being settled, will you +have the kindness to order rooms prepared for me and my traps?"</p> + +<p>Which Mrs. Arles disappeared to do.</p> + +<p>It was early the next morning that Éloise knocked at Mrs. Arles's door.</p> + +<p>"Good bye!" said she, looking in. "And good bye to The Rim! I don't +suppose his Arch-Imperial Highness, Mr. Earl St. George Erne, will want +to see my face immediately. I've only taken my clothes, as they'd be of +no use to him, and"—</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" inquired Mrs. Arles from among her pillows, as +<a name="Page_618" id="Page_618"></a>quietly as if such an exodus were an every-day affair.</p> + +<p>"To the Murrays',—till I can find something to do."</p> + +<p>"What can you find to do?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't the least idea," said Éloise, coming in and sitting down. +"I've thought all night. I can't do anything. I can't teach; I can't +sew; I can't play. I <i>can</i> starve; can't I, Mrs. Arles?"</p> + +<p>"You don't know that!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I can be a nursery-governess, or I can sing in a chorus; I should +make a very decent <i>figurante</i>, or I could go round with baskets. +Perhaps I can get writing. There's one comfort: I sha'n't have anything +more to do with Arabic numerals till the latest day I live, and needn't +know whether two and two make four or five. I may remember, though, that +two from two leave nothing!"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—we are all equal to subtraction."</p> + +<p>"So, good bye, Mrs. Arles," said Éloise, rising. "We've had pleasant +times together, first and last. I dare say, I've tried you to death. +You'll forgive me, and only remember the peaceful part. If I succeed, +I'll write you. And if I don't, you needn't bother. I'm well and strong, +and seventeen."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arles elaborated a faint smile, kissed Éloise's cheek, told her she +would help her look about for something, rang for Hazel to close the +door the careless girl left ajar as she went springing down-stairs, and +arranged herself anew in the laced pillows that singularly became with +their setting the creamy hue of her tranquil face.</p> + +<p>But Éloise was keeping up her spirits by an artificial process that she +meant should last at least as far as the Murrays'. Passing, on her way, +the door of her father's cozy cabinet, the attraction overcame her, she +turned the handle, only for a moment, and looked in. The place was too +full of memories: yonder he had stood, and she remembered what he said; +there he had sat and stroked her hair; here he had every night kissed +her two eyes for pleasant dreams. The door banged behind her, and she +was sitting on the floor sobbing with all her soul.</p> + +<p>When the tornado had passed, Éloise rose, smoothed her dress, opened the +window that the morning air might cool her burning eyes, then at length +went to find a servant who would take her trunk to the Murrays', and +passed down the hall.</p> + +<p>As she reached the door of the long, antique room where last night's +scene had passed, it opened, and Mr. St. George Erne came out.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Miss Changarnier," said he. "May I speak with you a +moment?"</p> + +<p>"Very briefly," said Éloise, loftily, for she was in an entirely +different mood from that in which she had left him the night before.</p> + +<p>The corner of a smile curled Mr. St. George Erne's mouth and the brown +moustache above it. Éloise saw it, and was an inch taller. Then St. +George did not smile again, but was quite as regnantly cool and distant +as the Khan of Tartary could be.</p> + +<p>"I glanced at the papers to which you referred me last evening," said +he. "As you intimated, I perceive the snarl is hopeless. Were it for +nothing else," he added, casting down the orbs that had just now too +tremulous a light in them, "I should ask you to remain and assist me in +unravelling affairs, for a few days. I intend, so soon as the way shall +be clear, to set off half of the estate to you"—</p> + +<p>"Sir, I do not accept gifts from strangers. I will be under no +obligations. I hope to earn my own livelihood. The estate is yours; I +will not receive a penny of it!"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, if I say that this is a rash and ill-considered statement. +There is no reason why you should be unwilling, in the first place, to +see justice done, and, after that, to respect your Adopted father's +wish."</p> + +<p>"My father could have wished nothing dishonest. He is best pleased with +me as I am."</p> + +<p>"Will it make any difference, if I assure <a name="Page_619" id="Page_619"></a>you that the half of the +estate under my plan of management will yield larger receipts than the +whole of it did under your proprietorship?"</p> + +<p>"Not the least," said Éloise, with a scornful and incredulous smile.</p> + +<p>"You make me very uncomfortable. Let me beg you to take the matter into +consideration. After a few days of coolness, you will perhaps think +otherwise."</p> + +<p>"After a thousand years I should think the same. I do not want your +money, Sir. I thank you. And so, good bye."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"Out into the world."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"That is certainly no affair of yours."</p> + +<p>"How much money have you in that little purse?"</p> + +<p>She poured its contents down where he had emptied his own purse on the +previous evening, adding to those still remaining there some four or +five small gold-pieces.</p> + +<p>"Of course they are yours, Sir. I have no right to them!"</p> + +<p>He brushed them indignantly all down together in a heap upon the hearth.</p> + +<p>"You sha'n't have them, then!" said he, and ground them with his heel +into the ashes.</p> + +<p>"I can sell my mother's jewels!" said she, defiantly.</p> + +<p>"I can confiscate them for the balance of the half-year's income of the +estate!"</p> + +<p>Éloise turned pale with pride and anger and fear and mastery.</p> + +<p>"We are talking very idly," said St. George, then, softening his +falcon's glance. "Pray excuse such savage jesting. I should like to +share my grandfather's estate with you, the adopted child of his elder +grandson. It looks fairly enough, I think."</p> + +<p>"Talking very idly. I have assured you that I never will touch it. And +if you want more, here I <i>swear</i> it!"</p> + +<p>"Hush! hush!"</p> + +<p>"It's done!" said Éloise, exultantly, and almost restored to good-humor +by the little triumph.</p> + +<p>"And you won't reconsider? you won't break it? you will not let me beg +you"—</p> + +<p>"Never! If that is all you had to say, I shall bid you good-morning."</p> + +<p>Mr. St. George was silent for a moment or two.</p> + +<p>"I am greatly grieved," said he then. "I have done an evil thing +unconsciously enough, and one for which there is no remedy, it seems. +Until you mentioned your name last night, I was innocent of your +existence. I had, indeed, originally heard of my cousin's educating some +child, but our intercourse was so fragmentary that it made no impression +upon me. I had entirely forgotten that there was such a person in the +world, ungallant as it sounds. Afterwards,—last night, this morning,—I +was so selfish as to imagine that we could each of us be very happy upon +the half of such a property, until, at least, my affairs should right +themselves. I was wrong. Whatever legal steps have been taken shall be +recalled, and I leave you in full possession to-day and forever. 'The +King sall ha' his ain again.'"</p> + +<p>"Folderol!" said Éloise, turning her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p> + +<p>"You may go where you please, and let all The Rim do the same,—go to +dust and ashes, if it will! As for me, my hands are washed of it; if it +isn't mine, I will not have it. Now let the thing rest! Besides, Sir," +said Éloise, with a more gracious air, and forgetting her wicked temper, +"you don't know the relief I feel! how free I am! no more figures! such +a sad weight off me that I could fly! You would be silly to be such a +Don Quixote as you threaten; it would do nobody any good, and would +prove the ruin of all these poor creatures for whom you are now +responsible. Don't you see?" said Éloise, taking a step nearer, and +positively smiling upon him. "It isn't now just as you like,—you have a +duty in the case. And as for me, good morning!"</p> + +<p>And Éloise actually offered him her hand.</p><p><a name="Page_620" id="Page_620"></a></p> + +<p>"One moment. Let me think."</p> + +<p>And after her white flag of truce, there came a short cessation of +hostilities.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mr. St. George Erne at last, looking up, and shaking +his strong shoulders like a Newfoundland dog coming out of the water. +"Let it be. I have, then, one other idea,—in fact, one other condition. +If I yield one thing, it is only right that you should yield another. It +is this. I am entirely unaccustomed to doing my own writing. My script +is illegible, even to myself. My amanuenses, my copyists, in Washington, +have cost me a mint of money. I find there are none of the servants, of +course, who write their names. I cannot afford, either, at present, to +buy a clerk from Charleston. And on the whole, if it would be agreeable +to you, I should be very glad if you would accept a salary,—such salary +as I find convenient,—and remain as my accountant. You will, perhaps, +receive this proposal with the more ease, as Mrs. Arles agrees to occupy +the same position as formerly in the house."</p> + +<p>Those horrible accounts! And a master! Who said Marlboro' was a master? +What thing was Earl St. George Erne?—Yet too untaught to teach, too +finely bred to sew, too delicate to labor, perhaps not good enough to +starve,—</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour elapsed in dead silence.</p> + +<p>Éloise threw back her head, and grew just a trifle more queenly, as she +answered,—</p> + +<p>"I thank you. I will stay, Mr. Erne."</p> + +<p>The last word had tripped on her tongue; it had been almost impossible +for her to give to another person her father's name, which she had never +been allowed to wear herself.</p> + +<p>He noticed her hesitation, and said,—</p> + +<p>"You can call me St. George. Everybody does,—Mrs. Arles, the servants +will. We have always been the St. Georges and the Disbrowes, for +generations. Besides, if you had really been my cousin's child, you +would naturally have called me so."</p> + +<p>"If I had really been your cousin's child, Sir," said Éloise, with a +flash, "I should not have been obliged to call you at all!"</p> + +<p>This finished the business. Mr. St. George, who felt, that, in reality, +he had only got his right again, who would gladly have given her back +hers, who had only, in completest innocence and ignorance, made it +impossible for her, in pride and honor, to accept it, who, moreover, +very naturally considered his treatment of this handsome, disagreeable +girl rather generous, and who had sacrificed much of his usually +dictatorial manner in the conversation, felt also now that there was +nothing more to do till she chose her ice should melt; and so he +straightway let a frosty mood build itself up on his part into the very +counterpart of hers. The resolution which he had just made, boyishly to +abstract himself in secret, and leave her to fate and necessity and +duty, faded. She deserved to lose. A haughty, ungovernable hussy! He +would keep it in spite of her! How, under the sun, had his Cousin +Disbrowe got along with her? Nevertheless, the salary which Mr. St. +George had privately allotted to his accountant covered exactly one-half +of his yearly income, whatever that contingent fund might prove to be; +and, meantime, he did not intend to pay her a copper of it until they +should become so much better friends that it would be impossible for +her, with all her waywardness, to refuse it.</p> + +<p>A bell sounded. Hazel came, and murmured something to Éloise. And +thereupon, in this sweet and cordial frame of mind, they entered the +breakfast-room, where Mrs. Arles awaited them behind a hissing urn,—and +a cheery meal they had of it!</p> + +<p>Mr. St. George passed a week in finding firm footing upon all the +circumference of his property; by that time, clear and far-sighted as an +eagle, he had seized on every speck of error throughout its wide +mismanagement, and had initiated Éloise into a new way of performing old +duties, as coolly as if no indignant word or <a name="Page_621" id="Page_621"></a>thought had ever passed +between them. And meanwhile, in place of their ancient warfare, but with +no later friendship, Éloise and Mrs. Arles had tacitly instituted an +offensive and defensive alliance against the common enemy. This the +common enemy soon perceived, laughed at it a little grimly at first, +then accepted it, as a kind of martyrdom expiatory of all previous sins, +that a man must have against his grain two hostile women in the house, +neither of whom had anything but the shadow of a claim upon him. Still, +Earl St. George had his own plans; and by degrees it dimly dawned on his +flattered intelligence that one of these women used her hostility merely +as a feint towards the other.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TYPES" id="TYPES"></a>TYPES.</h2> + + +<p>Mr. Samuel Weller, of facetious memory, has told us of the girl who, +having learned the alphabet, concluded that it was not worth going +through so much to get so little. This, to say the least of it, was +disrespectful to Cadmus, and should be condemned accordingly. Authors +have feelings, which even scholastic young maidens cannot be permitted +to lacerate. I therefore warn the reader of this article against any +inclination toward sympathy with the critical mood of that obnoxious +female. My theme is not as lively as "Punch" used to be; but, on the +other hand, it is not as dull as a religious novel. Patient +investigation may find it really agreeable: good-nature will not find it +a bore.</p> + +<p>I propose, then, a half-hour's gossip concerning Types, Type-Setting, +and the machinery connected with Printing, at the present time. It +would, perhaps, be interesting to review in detail the printing-devices +of the past; but that would be to extend unwarrantably the limits of +this article. Enough that any sketch of the invention, manufacture, and +use of types would illustrate the triumph of the labor-saving instinct +in man, and thus confirm the scientific lesson of to-day,—that +machinery must entirely supersede the necessarily slow processes of +labor by hand. That it will at no distant day supersede those processes +in the art of printing is, as you will presently see, a fixed fact.</p> + +<p>Machinery now does nearly every sort of labor,—economizing health, +strength, time, and money, in all that it does. We tread upon +beautifully figured carpets that are woven by machinery from single +threads. We wear clothes that are made by machinery at the rate of two +thousand stitches a minute. We hear in every direction the whistle of +the locomotive, which saves us almost incalculable time, in the safe and +convenient transportation of our persons and our property. We read in +our newspapers messages that are brought instantaneously, from points +far as well as near, by a simple electric current, governed by +machinery, which prints its thought in plain Roman characters, at a rate +of speed defying the emulation of the most expert penman. These, among +many illustrations of scientific progress, occur in our daily +experience. Manufacture, agriculture, and commerce would yield us others +quite as impressive. In all this we see that man is finding out and +applying the economy of Nature, and thus that the world is advancing, by +well-directed effort, toward a more natural, and therefore a happier +civilization.</p> + +<p>The labor-saving processes of mechanism as applied to Printing are in +the highest degree advantageous and admirable. Once types were cast in +moulds, such as boys use for casting bullets. Now they are turned out, +with inconceivable rapidity, from a casting-machine worked <a name="Page_622" id="Page_622"></a>by steam. +Ink and paper, too, are made by machinery; and when the types are set, +we invoke the aid of the Steam-Press, and so print off at least fifty +impressions to each one produced under the old process of press-work by +hand. Machinery, moreover, folds the printed sheets,—trims the rough +edges of books,—directs the newspaper,—and does, in short, the bulk of +the drudgery that used to be done by operatives, at great expense of +time and trouble, and with anything but commensurate profit.</p> + +<p>These are facts of familiar knowledge. They indicate remarkable +scientific progress. But the great fact—by no means so well +known—remains to be stated. It is only of late that machinery has been +successfully employed in the most laborious and expensive process +connected with the art of printing,—that, namely, of Composition. In +this process, however, iron fingers have proved so much better than +fingers of flesh, that it is perfectly safe to predict the speedy +discontinuance, by all sensible printers, of composition by hand.</p> + +<p>Composition—as probably the reader knows—is the method of arranging +types in the proper form for use. This, ever since the invention of +movable types,—made by Laurentius Coster, in 1430,—has been done by +hand. A movement toward economy in this respect was, indeed, made some +sixty years ago, by Charles, the third Earl Stanhope, inventor of the +Stanhope Press, and of the process of stereotyping which is still in +use. His plan was to make the type-shank thicker than usual, and cast +two or more letters upon its face instead of one. This, his Lordship +rightly considered, would save labor, if only available combinations +could be determined; since, using such types, it would frequently happen +that the compositor would need to make but one movement for two or three +or even four letters. The desired economy, however, was not secured. +Subsequent attempts at combinations were made in England, but all proved +abortive. In the office of the London "Times," castings of entire +words—devised, I think, by Sterling—were used, to a limited extent. It +remained, however, for a New-York mechanic to make the idea of +combination-type a practical success. Mr. John H. Tobitt, being a +stenographer as well as a compositor, was enabled to make a systematic +selection of the syllables most frequently occurring in our language; +and thus it happens that his combinations have stood a practical test. +His improved cases, with combination-type, were shown at the London +Exhibition, in 1851, when a medal was awarded to the inventor. These +cases have now been in use upwards of ten years, and have demonstrated a +gain of twenty per cent over the ordinary method of composition. It +should be mentioned that Mr. Tobitt's invention was entirely original +with himself. When he made it, he had never heard of Earl Stanhope, nor +of any previous attempt at this improvement.</p> + +<p>It is evident, when we reflect upon the intricate construction of +language, that this method of saving labor, though it may be made still +more useful than at present, must always be restricted within a limited +circle of operations. Nor would any number of combination-letters +obviate the necessity of composition by hand. The printer would still be +obliged to stand at the case, picking up type after type, turning each +one around and over, and so arranging the words in his "stick." Every +one knows this process,—a painfully slow one in view of results, +although individual compositors are sometimes wonderfully expert. But it +is only when a great many men labor actively during more hours than +ought to be spent in toil, that any considerable work is accomplished by +this method. The composing-room of a large daily paper, for instance, +presents, day and night, a spectacle of the almost ceaseless industry of +jaded operatives. The need of relief in this respect was long ago +recognized. The attempt at combination-letters was not less a precursor +of reform than an acknowledgment of its necessity.<a name="Page_623" id="Page_623"></a> It remained for +American inventive genius, in this generation, to conceive and perfect +the greatest labor-saving device that has ever been applied to the art +of printing,—the last need of the operative,—the Type-Setting Machine.</p> + +<p>It was inevitable that this should come. The only wonder is that it did +not come before. Perhaps, indeed, the idea was often conceived in the +minds of skilful, though dreamy and timorous inventors, but not +developed, for fear of opposition. And opposition enough it has +encountered,—alike from inertia, suspicion, and conservative +hostility,—since first it assumed a practical position among American +ideas, some ten years ago. But I do not care to dwell upon the shadows. +Turn we to the sunshine. There are two strong points in favor of the +invention, which, since they cover the whole ground of argument, deserve +at least to be stated. I assert, then, without the fear of contradiction +before my eyes, that the Type-Setting Machine, besides being a universal +benefactor, is, in a double sense, a blessing to the mechanic. It spares +his physical health, and it stimulates his mental and moral activity. +The first truth appears by sanitary statistics, which prove that the +health of such artisans as the type-founder and such craftsmen as the +printer has been materially improved by the introduction of mechanical +aids to their toil. The second is self-evident,—seeing that there is a +moral instructor ever at work in the mazes of ingenious and +highly-wrought machinery. Those philosophers are not far wrong, if at +all, who assert that the rectitude of the human race has gained +strength, as by a tonic, from the contemplation of the severe, arrowy +railroad,—iron emblem of punctuality, directness, and despatch.</p> + +<p>In the interest, therefore, of education no less than health, it becomes +imperative that machinery should be substituted for hand-labor in +composition. At present, our printing-offices are by no means the +sources whence to draw inspirations of order, fitness, and wholesome +toil. On the contrary, they are frequently badly lighted and worse +ventilated rooms, wherein workmen elbow each other at the closely set +cases, and grow dyspeptic under the combined pressure of foul air and +irritating and long-protracted labor. All this should be changed. With +the composing-machine would come an atmosphere of order and cleanliness +and activity, making work rapid and agreeable, and lessening the period +of its duration. I know that working-men are suspicious of scientific +devices. But surely the compositor need not fear that the iron-handed +automaton will snatch the bread out of his mouth. To diminish the cost +of any article produced—which is the almost immediate result of +substituting machinery for hand-labor—is to expand the market for that +article. The Sewing-Machine has not injured the sempstress. The +Power-Press has not injured the pressman. The Type-Setting Machine will +not injure the compositor. Skilled labor, which must always be combined +with the inventor's appliances for aiding it, so far from dreading harm +in such association, may safely anticipate, in the far-reaching economy +of science, ampler reward and better health, an increase of prosperity, +and a longer and happier life in which to enjoy it.</p> + +<p>Let me now briefly sketch the history of type-setting machinery. This +must necessarily be done somewhat in the manner of Mr. Gradgrind. I am +sorry thus to tax the reader's patience; but facts, which enjoy quite a +reputation for stubbornness, cannot easily be wrought into fancies. +Color the map as you will, it is but a prosy picture after all.</p> + +<p>Charles Babbage, of London, the inventor of the Calculating-Engine, +first essayed the application of machinery to composition. His +calculator was so contrived that it would record in type the results of +its own computations. This was over forty years ago. At about the same +time Professor Treadwell of Cambridge, Massachusetts, who was bred a +practical mechanic, turned his attention <a name="Page_624" id="Page_624"></a>to this improvement, and +ascertained by experiment the feasibility of the type-setting machine. +But mechanical enterprise was then comparatively inactive in America, +and nothing of immediate practical importance resulted from the +Professor's experiments. Nor did greater success attend the efforts of +Dr. William Church, of Vermont, a contemporary inventor, who constructed +an apparatus for setting types, but failed to provide for their +distribution. Subsequently, for a long time, the idea slumbered.</p> + +<p>At length, about the year 1840, Mr. Timothy Alden, a printer, and a +native of Massachusetts, conceived a plan for setting and distributing +type, which has since been put into successful operation. Mr. Alden's +workshop was, I believe, situated at the corner of Canal and Centre +Streets, in New York city. There he labored in privacy, year after year, +encountering all manner of difficulty and discouragement, till his great +work was substantially completed. His invention was patented in 1857, +but the studious and persevering inventor did not live to reap the +fruits of the seed he had sown. Worn out with care and toil and +long-suffering patience, he died in 1859, a martyr to scientific +progress. His patent passed into the hands of his cousin, Mr. Henry W. +Alden, who has since organized a company for the manufacture and sale of +the Alden Machine.</p> + +<p>In appearance, this machine resembles a circular table, having in its +centre a wheel, placed horizontally, from the outer edge of which lines +of type radiate, like spokes from an axle, to the distance of about one +foot. Three-quarters of the circle is filled up by these lines. In front +is a key-board, containing one hundred and fifty-four keys, by which the +operator governs the action of the machine. The central wheel controls +some forty "conveyors," half of which compose the types into language, +while the other half distribute them, guided by certain nicks cut upon +their sides, to their proper places, when no longer needed. Both +operations may go on at the same time. The types, as they are composed, +are fed out in a continuous line, at the left of the key-board. The +operator then divides this line into proper lengths, and "justifies" it +by hand. "Justifying," it should be stated, consists in placing spaces +between the words, and making the lines of equal length. This machine is +a very ingenious invention, and marks the first great step towards +successful improvement in the method of Type-Setting.</p> + +<p>Another machine, originated by Mr. William H. Mitchell, of Brooklyn, New +York, was patented in 1853. In appearance it suggests a harp placed +horizontally. In front is a key-board, in shape and arrangement not +unlike that of a piano. Each key indicates a certain letter. The types +employed are arranged in columns, nearly perpendicular. The touching of +a key throws out a type upon one of a series of endless belts, graduated +in length, from six inches up to three feet, which move horizontally +towards the farther side of the machine, depositing the types in due +order upon a single belt. This latter carries them, in uninterrupted +succession, to a brass receiver, on which they stand ranged in one long +line. This line is then cut into lengths and justified by hand. Mr. +Mitchell's Distributing-Apparatus—which is entirely distinct from the +Composing-Machine—is, substantially, a circular wheel armed with +feelers, which latter distribute according to the nicks cut in the +types.</p> + +<p>These machines require very considerable external aid in the labor they +accomplish, while, like the Alden Machine, they neither justify nor lead +the matter that is set. They have, however, stood a practical +test,—having been in use several years. It may interest the reader to +know that the matter for the "Continental Monthly" is set up and +distributed by them, in the office of Mr. John F. Trow, of New York. +They are also known, and to some extent employed, in printing-houses in +London, and are found to be economical.</p> + +<p>But, as remarked by Macbeth, "the <a name="Page_625" id="Page_625"></a>greatest is behind." I touch now upon +the most comprehensive and effectual invention for labor-saving in this +respect,—namely, the Felt Machine. This ingenious creation, which is, +in all particulars, original, and quite distinct from those already +mentioned, performs, with accuracy and speed, all the work of composing, +justifying, leading, and distributing types. It was invented by Mr. +Charles W. Felt, of Salem, Massachusetts, a man of superior genius, +whose energy in overcoming obstacles and working out the practical +success of his idea is scarcely less remarkable than the idea itself. I +shall dwell briefly upon his career, since it teaches the old, but never +tiresome lesson of patient perseverance. He began the business of life +in his native town, though not in mechanical pursuits. His mind, +however, tended naturally toward mechanical science, and he improved +every opportunity of increasing his knowledge in that department of +study. The processes of Printing especially attracted his attention, and +the idea of applying machinery to the work of composition haunted him +from an early period of youth. He read, doubtless, of the various +experiments that had been made in this direction, and observed, as far +as possible, the results achieved by contemporary inventors. But it does +not appear, that, in the original conception of his wonderful machine, +he was indebted to any source for even a single suggestion. I have seen +his first wooden model,—made at the age of eighteen,—crude and clumsy +indeed, compared with the machine in its present shape, but containing +the main features and principles. This was the first step. He began with +the earnings of his boyhood. Then a few friends, fired by his spirit and +courage, contributed money, and enabled him to prosecute his enterprise +during several years. In this way it became the one purpose of his life. +In time the number of his liberal patrons increased to nearly one +hundred, and a considerable fund was placed at his disposal. Thus, +genius, energy, and patience, aided by capital, carried the work bravely +forward. It is a pleasure to record that a worthy design was thus +generously nurtured. Mr. Felt's fund was subsequently increased by +additional loans, from several of the same patrons. One of these +gentlemen—Dr. G. Henry Lodge, of Swamscott, Massachusetts—contributed +with such generous liberality that he may justly be said to share with +the inventor the honor of having introduced this noble improvement in +the art of printing. I take off my hat to Mæcenas. Dr. Lodge was led to +appreciate the need of such an improvement by personal experience in +publishing a large work, copies of which were gratuitously distributed +among various libraries in the Republic. Acquainted with the toil of a +printer's life, impelled by earnest love of real progress, and guided by +a sound, practical judgment, he was peculiarly well fitted for the +difficult province of directing the labors of an enthusiastic inventor. +His duty has been well performed. The success of Mr. Felt's undertaking +is due scarcely less to the pecuniary aid of all his patrons than to the +counsel and encouragement of this wise, liberal, and steadfast friend. +Thus aided, he has triumphed over all obstacles. Proceeding in a most +unostentatious manner, he has submitted his device to the inspection of +practical printers, and men of science, in various cities of the United +States and Great Britain, and has everywhere won approval. His first +patent was issued in 1854,—proceedings to obtain it having been +commenced in the preceding year. Meanwhile he has organized a wealthy +and influential company, for the purpose of manufacturing the machines +and bringing them into general use. One of them has been built at +Providence, Rhode Island, but the manufactory will be in Salem, +Massachusetts, where the company has been formed.</p> + +<p>The merits of Mr. Felt's machine are manifold. It is comparatively +simple in construction, it is strongly made and durable, it cannot +easily get out of order, and it does its work thoroughly. All that is +<a name="Page_626" id="Page_626"></a>required of the operator is to read the copy and touch the keys. The +processes proceed, then, as of their own accord. But the supreme +excellence of the machine is that <i>it justifies the matter which it +sets</i>. The possibility of doing this by machinery has always been +doubted, if not entirely disbelieved, from an erroneous idea that the +process must be directed by immediate intelligence. Mr. Felt's invention +demonstrates that this operation is clearly within the scope of +machinery; that there is no need of a machine with brains, for setting +or justifying type; that such a machine need not be able to think, read, +or spell; but that, guided in its processes by an intelligent mind, a +machine can perform operations which, as in this case, are purely +mechanical, much more rapidly and cheaply than they can be performed by +hand.</p> + +<p>I cannot pretend to convey a technically accurate idea of this +elaborate, though compact piece of machinery; but such a sketch as I can +give—from memory of a pleasant hour spent in looking at it—shall here +be given as briefly as possible.</p> + +<p>The machine stands in a substantial iron framework, five feet by four, +within which the mechanism is nicely disposed, so that there may be +ample room for the four operations of setting, justifying, leading, and +distributing. In front is a key-board of forty keys, which correspond to +two hundred and fifty-six characters, arranged in eight cases. A single +case consists of thirty-two flat brass tubes, standing perpendicularly, +side by side, each one being filled with a certain denomination of type. +Seven of the keys determine from which case the desired letter shall be +taken. Thus, the small letter <i>a</i> is set by touching the <i>a</i> key; the +capital A by touching the "capital key" in connection with the <i>a</i> key; +the capital B by touching the "capital key" in connection with the <i>b</i> +key; and so on with every letter. There are also keys called the "small +capital," the "Italic," and the "Italic capital"; so that the machine +contains all the characters known to the compositor. The operation of +these "capital" and "small-capital keys" is similar to that of an +organ-stop in modifying the effect of other keys.</p> + +<p>When the machine is in motion,—and I should here mention that it is +worked by steam,—a curious piece of mechanism, called "the +stick,"—which is about as large as a man's hand, and quite as +adroit,—plays to and fro beneath the cases, and acts obediently to the +operator's touch. The spectacle of this little metallic intelligence is +amusing. It is armed with pincers, which it uses much as the elephant +does his trunk, though with infinite celerity. Every time a key is +touched, these pincers seize a type from one of the tubes, turn +downward, and, as it were, put it into the mouth of the stick. And so +voracious is the appetite of this little creature, that in a few seconds +its stomach is full,—in other words, the line is set. A tiny bell gives +warning of this fact, and the operator finishes the word or syllabic. He +then touches the justifying-key, and the spacer seizes the line and +draws it into another part of the machine, to be justified, while the +empty stick resumes its feeding. No time is lost; for, while the stick +is setting a second line; the "spacer" is justifying the first; so that, +in a few moments after starting, the processes are going forward +simultaneously. That of justifying is, perhaps, the most ingenious. It +is accomplished in this wise. The stick never sets a full line, but +leaves room for spaces, and with the last letter of each word inserts a +piece of steel, to separate the words. When the line has been drawn into +the spacer, the pieces of steel, which are furnished with nicked heads +for the purpose, are withdrawn, and ordinary spaces are substituted. All +this requires no attention whatever from the operator. The matter, thus +set and justified, is now leaded by the machine, and deposited upon a +galley ready for the press.</p> + +<p>In this machine, distribution is the reverse of composition, and is +effected by simply reversing the motion of the shaft. By duplicating +certain parts of the machine, <a name="Page_627" id="Page_627"></a>both operations are performed at the same +time. The process of distributing, and also that of resetting the same +matter, may be made automatic by means of the Register. This device, +although an original invention with Mr. Felt, is an application of the +principle of the Jacquard loom. It consists of a narrow strip of card or +paper, in which holes are punched as the types are taken, forming a +substitute for the troublesome nicking of the type, which has heretofore +been thought indispensable to automatic distribution. By this means the +type can be changed in resetting, if desired, so that different editions +of the same work can be printed in different sizes of type.</p> + +<p>The machine is adapted to the use of combination-types as well as single +letters. For this purpose Mr. Felt has developed a new system, based +upon an elaborate analysis of the language. In a number of examples of +printed matter, embracing a wide range of literature, the frequency of +the single and combined letters has been ascertained by careful and +accurate computation, and reduced to a percentage. It may interest the +reader to know that <i>e</i> is the letter of most frequent occurrence, +constituting one-eighth of the language. <i>The</i>, as a word or syllable, +is found to be six per cent.; <i>and</i>, four per cent.; <i>in</i>, three per +cent., etc.</p> + +<p>I have not pretended, in this description of Mr. Felt's machine, to +explain every technicality, or to raise and answer possible objections. +The great point is, that the labor of setting, justifying, leading, and +distributing types by machinery is actually done, by means of his +invention. Thus the aspiration of inventive genius, in this department +of art, is nobly fulfilled. Thus the links in the chain of progress are +complete, from Laurentius Coster, walking in the woods of Holland, in +1430, and winning, from an accidental shower-bath, the art of making +movable types, down to the wide-awake Massachusetts Yankee, whose genius +will make printing as cheap as writing, and therefore a thousand times +more available for all purposes of civilization,—besides lightening the +burdens of toil, and blessing the jaded worker with a bright prospect of +health, competence, and ease.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOUSE_AND_HOME_PAPERS" id="HOUSE_AND_HOME_PAPERS"></a>HOUSE AND HOME PAPERS.</h2> + +<h3>BY CHRISTOPHER CROWFIELD.</h3> + + +<p>V.</p> + +<p>RAKING UP THE FIRE.</p> + + +<p>We have a custom at our house which we call <i>raking up the fire</i>. That +is to say, the last half-hour before bed-time, we draw in, shoulder to +shoulder, around the last brands and embers of our hearth, which we +prick up and brighten, and dispose for a few farewell flickers and +glimmers. This is a grand time for discussion. Then we talk over +parties, if the young people have been out of an evening,—a book, if we +have been reading one; we discuss and analyze characters,—give our +views on all subjects, æsthetic, theological, and scientific, in a way +most wonderful to hear; and, in fact, we sometimes get so engaged in our +discussions that every spark of the fire burns out, and we begin to feel +ourselves shivering around the shoulders, before we can remember that it +is bed-time.</p> + +<p>So, after the reading of my last article, we had a "raking-up talk,"—to +wit, Jennie,<a name="Page_628" id="Page_628"></a> Marianne, and I, with Bob Stephens;—my wife, still busy +at her work-basket, sat at the table a little behind us. Jennie, of +course, opened the ball in her usual incisive manner.</p> + +<p>"But now, papa, after all you say in your piece there, I cannot help +feeling, that, if I had the taste and the money too, it would be better +than the taste alone with no money. I like the nice arrangements and the +books and the drawings; but I think all these would appear better still +with really elegant furniture."</p> + +<p>"Who doubts that?" said I. "Give me a large tub of gold coin to dip +into, and the furnishing and beautifying of a house is a simple affair. +The same taste that could make beauty out of cents and dimes could make +it more abundantly out of dollars and eagles. But I have been speaking +for those who have not, and cannot get, riches, and who wish to have +agreeable houses; and I begin in the outset by saying that beauty is a +thing to be respected, reverenced, and devoutly cared for,—and then I +say that BEAUTY IS CHEAP, nay, to put it so that the shrewdest Yankee +will understand it, BEAUTY IS THE CHEAPEST THING YOU CAN HAVE, because +in many ways it is a substitute for expense. A few vases of flowers in a +room, a few blooming, well-kept plants, a few prints framed in fanciful +frames of cheap domestic fabric, a statuette, a bracket, an engraving, a +pencil-sketch, above all, a few choice books,—all these arranged by a +woman who has the gift in her finger-ends often produce such an illusion +on the mind's eye that one goes away without once having noticed that +the cushion of the arm-chair was worn out, and that some veneering had +fallen off the centre-table.</p> + +<p>"I have a friend, a school-mistress, who lives in a poor little cottage +enough, which, let alone of the Graces, might seem mean and sordid, but +a few flower-seeds and a little weeding in the spring make it, all +summer, an object which everybody stops to look at. Her æsthetic soul +was at first greatly tried with the water-barrel which stood under the +eaves-spout,—a most necessary evil, since only thus could her scanty +supply of soft water for domestic purposes be secured. One of the +Graces, however, suggested to her a happy thought. She planted a row of +morning-glories round the bottom of her barrel, and drove a row of tacks +around the top, and strung her water-butt with twine, like a great +harpsichord. A few weeks covered the twine with blossoming plants, which +every morning were a mass of many-colored airy blooms, waving in +graceful sprays, and looking at themselves in the water. The +water-barrel, in fact, became a celebrated stroke of ornamental +gardening, which the neighbors came to look at."</p> + +<p>"Well, but," said Jennie, "everybody hasn't mamma's faculty with +flowers. Flowers will grow for some people, and for some they won't. +Nobody can see what mamma does so very much, but her plants always look +fresh and thriving and healthy,—her things blossom just when she wants +them, and do anything else she wishes them to; and there are other +people that fume and fuss and try, and their things won't do anything at +all. There's Aunt Easygo has plant after plant brought from the +greenhouse, and hanging-baskets, and all sorts of things; but her plants +grow yellow and drop their leaves, and her hanging-baskets get dusty and +poverty-stricken, while mamma's go on flourishing as heart could +desire."</p> + +<p>"I can tell you what your mother puts into her plants," said I,—"just +what she has put into her children, and all her other home-things,—her +<i>heart</i>. She <i>loves</i> them; she lives in them; she has in herself a +plant-life and a plant-sympathy. She feels for them as if she herself +were a plant; she anticipates their wants,—always remembers them +without an effort, and so the care flows to them daily and hourly. She +hardly knows when she does the things that make them grow,—but she +gives them a minute a hundred times a day. She <a name="Page_629" id="Page_629"></a>moves this nearer the +glass,—draws that back,—detects some thief of a worm on one,—digs at +the root of another, to see why it droops,—washes these leaves, and +sprinkles those,—waters, and refrains from watering, all with the +habitual care of love. Your mother herself doesn't know why her plants +grow; it takes a philosopher and a writer for the 'Atlantic' to tell her +what the cause is."</p> + +<p>Here I saw my wife laughing over her work-basket as she answered,—</p> + +<p>"Girls, one of these days, <i>I</i> will write an article for the 'Atlantic,' +that your papa need not have <i>all</i> the say to himself: however, I +believe he has hit the nail on the head this time."</p> + +<p>"Of course he has," said Marianne. "But, mamma, I am afraid to begin to +depend much on plants for the beauty of my rooms, for fear I should not +have your gift,—and of all forlorn and hopeless things in a room, +ill-kept plants are the most so."</p> + +<p>"I would not recommend," said I, "a young housekeeper, just beginning, +to rest much for her home-ornament on plant-keeping, unless she has an +experience of her own love and talent in this line, which makes her sure +of success; for plants will not thrive, if they are forgotten or +overlooked, and only tended in occasional intervals; and, as Marianne +says, neglected plants are the most forlorn of all things."</p> + +<p>"But, papa," said Marianne, anxiously, "there, in those patent parlors +of John's that you wrote of, flowers acted a great part."</p> + +<p>"The charm of those parlors of John's may be chemically analyzed," I +said. "In the first place, there is sunshine, a thing that always +affects the human nerves of happiness. Why else is it that people are +always so glad to see the sun after a long storm? why are bright days +matters of such congratulation? Sunshine fills a house with a thousand +beautiful and fanciful effects of light and shade,—with soft, luminous, +reflected radiances, that give picturesque effects to the pictures, +books, statuettes of an interior. John, happily, had no money to buy +brocatelle curtains,—and besides this, he loved sunshine too much to +buy them, if he could. He had been enough with artists to know that +heavy damask curtains darken precisely that part of the window where the +light proper for pictures and statuary should come in, namely, the upper +part. The fashionable system of curtains lights only the legs of the +chairs and the carpets, and leaves all the upper portion of the room in +shadow. John's windows have shades which can at pleasure be drawn down +from the top or up from the bottom, so that the best light to be had may +always be arranged for his little interior."</p> + +<p>"Well, papa," said Marianne, "in your chemical analysis of John's rooms, +what is the next thing to the sunshine?"</p> + +<p>"The next," said I, "is harmony of color. The wall-paper, the furniture, +the carpets, are of tints that harmonize with one another. This is a +grace in rooms always, and one often neglected. The French have an +expressive phrase with reference to articles which are out of +accord,—they say that they swear at each other. I have been in rooms +where I seemed to hear the wall-paper swearing at the carpet, and the +carpet swearing back at the wall-paper, and each article of furniture +swearing at the rest. These appointments may all of them be of the most +expensive kind, but with such disharmony no arrangement can ever produce +anything but a vulgar and disagreeable effect. On the other hand, I have +been in rooms where all the material was cheap, and the furniture poor, +but where, from some instinctive knowledge of the reciprocal effect of +Colors, everything was harmonious, and produced a sense of elegance.</p> + +<p>"I recollect once travelling on a Western canal through a long stretch +of wilderness, and stopping to spend the night at an obscure settlement +of a dozen houses. We were directed to lodgings in a common frame-house +at a little distance, where, it seemed, the only hotel was kept. When we +entered the parlor, we were struck with utter amazement at <a name="Page_630" id="Page_630"></a>its +prettiness, which affected us before we began to ask ourselves how it +came to be pretty. It was, in fact, only one of the miracles of +harmonious color working with very simple materials. Some woman had been +busy there, who had both eyes and fingers. The sofa, the common wooden +rocking-chairs, and some ottomans, probably made of old soap-boxes, were +all covered with American nankeen of a soft yellowish-brown, with a +bordering of blue print. The window-shades, the table-cover, and the +piano-cloth, all repeated the same colors, in the same cheap material. A +simple straw matting was laid over the floor, and, with a few books, a +vase of flowers, and one or two prints, the room had a home-like, and +even elegant air, that struck us all the more forcibly from its contrast +with the usual tawdry, slovenly style of such parlors.</p> + +<p>"The means used for getting up this effect were the most inexpensive +possible,—simply the following-out, in cheap material, a law of +uniformity and harmony, which always will produce beauty. In the same +manner, I have seen a room furnished, whose effect was really gorgeous +in color, where the only materials used were Turkey-red cotton and a +simple ingrain carpet of corresponding color.</p> + +<p>"Now, you girls have been busy lately in schemes for buying a velvet +carpet for the new parlor that is to be, and the only points that have +seemed to weigh in the council were that it was velvet, that it was +cheaper than velvets usually are, and that it was a genteel pattern."</p> + +<p>"Now, papa," said Jennie, "what ears you have! We thought you were +reading all the time!"</p> + +<p>"I see what you are going to say," said Marianne. "You think that we +have not once mentioned the consideration which should determine the +carpet,—whether it will harmonize with our other things. But, you see, +papa, we don't really know what our other things are to be." "Yes," said +Jennie, "and Aunt Easygo said it was an unusually good chance to get a +velvet carpet."</p> + +<p>"Yet, good as the chance is, it costs just twice as much as an ingrain."</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa, it does."</p> + +<p>"And you are not sure that the effect of it, after you get it down, will +be as good as a well-chosen ingrain one."</p> + +<p>"That's true," said Marianne, reflectively.</p> + +<p>"But, then, papa," said Jennie, "Aunt Easygo said she never heard of +such a bargain; only think, two dollars a yard for a <i>velvet!</i>"</p> + +<p>"And why is it two dollars a yard? Is the man a personal friend, that he +wishes to make you a present of a dollar on the yard? or is there some +reason why it is undesirable?" said I.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, papa, he said those large patterns were not so +salable."</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth," said Marianne, "I never did like the pattern +exactly; as to uniformity of tint, it might match with anything, for +there's every color of the rainbow in it."</p> + +<p>"You see, papa, it's a gorgeous flower-pattern," said Jennie.</p> + +<p>"Well, Marianne, how many yards of this wonderfully cheap carpet do you +want?"</p> + +<p>"We want sixty yards for both rooms," said Jennie, always primed with +statistics.</p> + +<p>"That will be a hundred and twenty dollars," I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jennie; "and we went over the figures together, and thought +we could make it out by economizing in other things. Aunt Easygo said +that the carpet was half the battle,—that it gave the air to everything +else."</p> + +<p>"Well, Marianne, if you want a man's advice in the case, mine is at your +service."</p> + +<p>"That is just what I want, papa."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, my dear, choose your wall-papers and borderings, and, when +they are up, choose an ingrain carpet to harmonize with them, and adapt +your furniture to the same idea. The sixty dollars that you save on your +carpet spend on engravings, chromo-lithographs, or photographs of some +really <i>good</i> works of Art, to adorn your walls."</p><p><a name="Page_631" id="Page_631"></a></p> + +<p>"Papa, I'll do it," said Marianne.</p> + +<p>"My little dear," said I, "your papa may seem to be a sleepy old +book-worm, yet he has his eyes open. Do you think I don't know why my +girls have the credit of being the best-dressed girls on the street?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa!" cried out both girls in a breath.</p> + +<p>"Fact, that!" said Bob, with energy, pulling at his moustache. +"Everybody talks about your dress, and wonders how you make it out."</p> + +<p>"Well," said I, "I presume you do not go into a shop and buy a yard of +ribbon because it is selling at half-price, and put it on without +considering complexion, eyes, hair, and shade of the dress, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course we don't!" chimed in the duo, with energy.</p> + +<p>"Of course you don't. Haven't I seen you mincing down-stairs, with all +your colors harmonized, even to your gloves and gaiters? Now, a room +must be dressed as carefully as a lady."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm convinced," said Jennie, "that papa knows how to make rooms +prettier than Aunt Easygo; but then she said this was <i>cheap</i>, because +it would outlast two common carpets."</p> + +<p>"But, as you pay double price," said I, "I don't see that. Besides, I +would rather, in the course of twenty years, have two nice, fresh +ingrain carpets, of just the color and pattern that suited my rooms, +than labor along with one ill-chosen velvet that harmonized with +nothing."</p> + +<p>"I give it up," said Jennie; "I give it up."</p> + +<p>"Now, understand me," said I; "I am not traducing velvet or Brussels or +Axminster. I admit that more beautiful effects can be found in those +goods than in the humbler fabrics of the carpet-rooms. Nothing would +delight me more than to put an unlimited credit to Marianne's account, +and let her work out the problems of harmonious color in velvet and +damask. All I have to say is, that certain unities of color, certain +general arrangements, will secure very nearly as good general effects in +either material. A library with a neat, mossy green carpet on the floor, +harmonizing with wall-paper and furniture, looks generally as well, +whether the mossy green is made in Brussels or in ingrain. In the +carpet-stores, these two materials stand side by side in the very same +pattern, and one is often as good for the purpose as the other. A lady +of my acquaintance, some years since, employed an artist to decorate her +parlors. The walls being frescoed and tinted to suit his ideal, he +immediately issued his decree that her splendid velvet carpets must be +sent to auction, and others bought of certain colors, harmonizing with +the walls. Unable to find exactly the color and pattern he wanted, he at +last had the carpets woven in a neighboring factory, where, as yet, they +had only the art of weaving ingrains. Thus was the material sacrificed +at once to the harmony."</p> + +<p>I remarked, in passing, that this was before Bigelow's mechanical genius +had unlocked for America the higher secrets of carpet-weaving, and made +it possible to have one's desires accomplished in Brussels or velvet. In +those days, English carpet-weavers did not send to America for their +looms, as they now do.</p> + +<p>"But now to return to my analysis of John's rooms.</p> + +<p>"Another thing which goes a great way towards giving them their +agreeable air is the books in them. Some people are fond of treating +books as others do children. One room in the house is selected, and +every book driven into it and kept there. Yet nothing makes a room so +home-like, so companionable, and gives it such an air of refinement, as +the presence of books. They change the aspect of a parlor from that of a +mere reception-room, where visitors perch for a transient call, and give +it the air of a room where one feels like taking off one's things to +stay. It gives the appearance of permanence and repose and quiet +fellowship; and next to pictures on the walls, the many-colored bindings +and gildings of <a name="Page_632" id="Page_632"></a>books are the most agreeable adornment of a room."</p> + +<p>"Then, Marianne," said Bob, "we have something to start with, at all +events. There are my English Classics and English Poets, and my uniform +editions of Scott and Thackeray and Macaulay and Prescott and Irving and +Longfellow and Lowell and Hawthorne and Holmes and a host more. We +really have something pretty there."</p> + +<p>"You are a lucky girl," I said, "to have so much secured. A girl brought +up in a house full of books, always able to turn to this or that author +and look for any passage or poem when she thinks of it, doesn't know +what a blank a house without books might be."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Marianne, "mamma and I were counting over my treasures the +other day. Do you know, I have one really fine old engraving, that Bob +says is quite a genuine thing; and then there is that pencil-sketch that +poor Schöne made for me the month before he died,—it is truly +artistic."</p> + +<p>"And I have a couple of capital things of Landseer's," said Bob.</p> + +<p>"There's no danger that your rooms will not be pretty," said I, "now you +are fairly on the right track."</p> + +<p>"But, papa," said Marianne, "I am troubled about one thing. My love of +beauty runs into everything. I want pretty things for my table,—and +yet, as you say, servants are so careless, one cannot use such things +freely without great waste."</p> + +<p>"For my part," said my wife, "I believe in best china, to be kept +carefully on an upper-shelf, and taken down for high-days and holidays; +it may be a superstition, but I believe in it. It must never be taken +out except when the mistress herself can see that it is safely cared +for. My mother always washed her china herself; and it was a very pretty +social ceremony, after tea was over, while she sat among us washing her +pretty cups, and wiping them on a fine damask towel."</p> + +<p>"With all my heart," said I; "have your best china, and venerate it,—it +is one of the loveliest of domestic superstitions; only do not make it a +bar to hospitality, and shrink from having a friend to tea with you, +unless you feel equal to getting up to the high shelf where you keep it, +getting it down, washing, and putting it up again.</p> + +<p>"But in serving a table, I say, as I said of a house, beauty is a +necessity, and beauty is cheap. Because you cannot afford beauty in one +form, it does not follow that you cannot have it in another. Because one +cannot afford to keep up a perennial supply of delicate china and +crystal, subject to the accidents of raw, untrained servants, it does +not follow that the every-day table need present a sordid assortment of +articles chosen simply for cheapness, while the whole capacity of the +purse is given to the set forever locked away for state-occasions.</p> + +<p>"A table-service, all of simple white, of graceful forms, even though +not of china, if arranged with care, with snowy, well-kept table-linen, +clear glasses, and bright American plate in place of solid silver, may +be made to look inviting; add a glass of flowers every day, and your +table may look pretty;—and it is far more important that it should look +pretty for the family every day than for company once in two weeks."</p> + +<p>"I tell my girls," said my wife, "as the result of my experience, you +may have your pretty china and your lovely fanciful articles for the +table only so long as you can take all the care of them yourselves. As +soon as you get tired of doing this, and put them into the hands of the +trustiest servants, some good, well-meaning creature is sure to break +her heart and your own and your very pet, darling china pitcher all in +one and the same minute; and then her frantic despair leaves you not +even the relief of scolding."</p> + +<p>"I have become perfectly sure," said I, "that there are spiteful little +brownies, intent on seducing good women to sin, who mount guard over the +special idols of the china-closet. If you hear a crash, and a loud Irish +wail from the inner depths, you <a name="Page_633" id="Page_633"></a>never think of its being a yellow +pie-plate, or that dreadful one-handled tureen that you have been +wishing were broken these five years; no, indeed,—it is sure to be the +lovely painted china bowl, wreathed with morning-glories and sweet-peas, +or the engraved glass goblet, with quaint old-English initials. China +sacrificed must be a great means of saintship to women. Pope, I think, +puts it as the crowning grace of his perfect woman, that she is</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Mistress of herself, though china fall.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I ought to be a saint by this time, then," said mamma; "for in the +course of my days I have lost so many idols by breakage, and peculiar +accidents that seemed by a special fatality to befall my prettiest and +most irreplaceable things, that in fact it has come to be a +superstitious feeling now with which I regard anything particularly +pretty of a breakable nature."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Marianne, "unless one has a great deal of money, it seems +to me that the investment in these pretty fragilities is rather a poor +one."</p> + +<p>"Yet," said I, "the principle of beauty is never so captivating as when +it presides over the hour of daily meals. I would have the room where +they are served one of the pleasantest and sunniest in the house. I +would have its coloring cheerful, and there should be companionable +pictures and engravings on the walls. Of all things, I dislike a room +that seems to be kept like a restaurant, merely to eat in. I like to see +in a dining-room something that betokens a pleasant sitting-room at +other hours. I like there some books, a comfortable sofa or lounge, and +all that should make it cozy and inviting. The custom in some families, +of adopting for the daily meals one of the two parlors which a +city-house furnishes, has often seemed to me a particularly happy one. +You take your meals, then, in an agreeable place, surrounded by the +little agreeable arrangements of your daily sitting-room; and after the +meal, if the lady of the house does the honors of her own pretty china +herself, the office may be a pleasant and social one.</p> + +<p>"But in regard to your table-service I have my advice at hand. Invest in +pretty table-linen, in delicate napkins, have your vase of flowers, and +be guided by the eye of taste in the choice and arrangement of even the +every-day table-articles, and have no ugly things when you can have +pretty ones by taking a little thought. If you are sore tempted with +lovely china and crystal, too fragile to last, too expensive to be +renewed, turn away to a print-shop and comfort yourself by hanging +around the walls of your dining-room beauty that will not break or fade, +that will meet your eye from year to year, though plates, tumblers, and +tea-sets successively vanish. There is my advice for you, Marianne."</p> + +<p>At the same time, let me say, in parenthesis, that my wife, whose +weakness is china, informed me that night, when we were by ourselves, +that she was ordering secretly a tea-set as a bridal gift for Marianne, +every cup of which was to be exquisitely painted with the wild-flowers +of America, from designs of her own,—a thing, by-the-by, that can now +be very nicely executed in our country. "It will last her all her life," +she said, "and always be such a pleasure to look at,—and a pretty +tea-table is such a pretty sight!" So spoke Mrs. Crowfield, "unweaned +from china by a thousand falls." She spoke even with tears in her eyes. +Verily, these women are harps of a thousand strings!</p> + +<p>But to return to my subject.</p> + +<p>"Finally and lastly," I said, "in my analysis and explication of the +agreeableness of those same parlors, comes the crowning grace,—their +<i>homeliness</i>. By homeliness I mean not ugliness, as the word is apt to +be used, but the air that is given to a room by being <i>really</i> at home +in it. Not the most skilful arrangement can impart this charm.</p> + +<p>"It is said that a king of France once remarked,—'My son, you must seem +to love your people.'</p><p><a name="Page_634" id="Page_634"></a></p> + +<p>"'Father, how shall I <i>seem</i> to love them?'</p> + +<p>"'My son, you <i>must</i> love them.'</p> + +<p>"So to make rooms <i>seem</i> home-like you must be at home in them. Human +light and warmth are so wanting in some rooms, it is so evident that +they are never used, that you can never be at ease there. In vain the +house-maid is taught to wheel the sofa and turn chair towards chair; in +vain it is attempted to imitate a negligent arrangement of the +centre-table.</p> + +<p>"Books that have really been read and laid down, chairs that have really +been moved here and there in the animation of social contact, have a +sort of human vitality in them; and a room in which people really live +and enjoy is as different from a shut-up apartment as a live woman from +a wax image.</p> + +<p>"Even rooms furnished without taste often become charming from this one +grace, that they seem to let you into the home-life and home-current. +You seem to understand in a moment that you are taken into the family, +and are moving in its inner circles, and not revolving at a distance in +some outer court of the gentiles.</p> + +<p>"How many people do we call on from year to year and know no more of +their feelings, habits, tastes, family ideas and ways, than if they +lived in Kamtschatka! And why? Because the room which they call a +front-parlor is made expressly so that you never shall know. They sit in +a back-room,—work, talk, read, perhaps. After the servant has let you +in and opened a crack of the shutters, and while you sit waiting for +them to change their dress and come in, you speculate as to what they +may be doing. From some distant region, the laugh of a child, the song +of a canary-bird, reaches you, and then a door claps hastily to. Do they +love plants? Do they write letters, sew, embroider, crochet? Do they +ever romp and frolic? What books do they read? Do they sketch or paint? +Of all these possibilities the mute and muffled room says nothing. A +sofa and six chairs, two ottomans fresh from the upholsterer's, a +Brussels carpet, a centre-table with four gilt Books of Beauty on it, a +mantel-clock from Paris, and two bronze vases,—all these tell you only +in frigid tones, 'This is the best room,'—only that, and nothing +more,—and soon <i>she</i> trips in in her best clothes, and apologizes for +keeping you waiting, asks how your mother is, and you remark that it is +a pleasant day,—and thus the acquaintance progresses from year to year. +One hour in the little back-room, where the plants and canary-bird and +children are, might have made you fast friends for life; but as it is, +you care no more for them than for the gilt clock on the mantel.</p> + +<p>"And now, girls," said I, pulling a paper out of my pocket, "you must +know that your father is getting to be famous by means of these 'House +and Home Papers.' Here is a letter I have just received:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"'MOST EXCELLENT MR. CROWFIELD,—Your thoughts have lighted into +our family-circle, and echoed from our fireside. We all feel the +force of them, and are delighted with the felicity of your +treatment of the topic you have chosen. You have taken hold of a +subject that lies deep in our hearts, in a genial, temperate, and +convincing spirit. All must acknowledge the power of your +sentiments upon their imaginations;—if they could only trust to +them in actual life! There is the rub.</p> + +<p>"'Omitting further upon these points, there is a special feature +of your articles upon which we wish to address you. You seem as +yet (we do not know, of course, what you may hereafter do) to +speak only of homes whose conduct depends upon the help of +servants. Now your principles apply, as some of us well conceive, +to nearly all classes of society; yet most people, to take an +impressive hint, must have their portraits drawn out more exactly. +We therefore hope that you will give a reasonable share of your +attention to us who do not employ servants, so that you may ease +us of some of<a name="Page_635" id="Page_635"></a> <i>our</i> burdens, which, in spite of common sense, we +dare not throw off. For instance, we have company,—a friend from +afar, (perhaps wealthy,) or a minister, or some other man of note. +What do we do? Sit down and receive our visitor with all good-will +and the freedom of a home? No; we (the lady of the house) flutter +about to clear up things, apologizing about this, that, and the +other condition of unpreparedness, and, having settled the visitor +in the parlor, set about marshalling the elements of a grand +dinner or supper, such as no person but a gourmand wants to sit +down to, when at home and comfortable; and in getting up this +meal, clearing away, and washing the dishes, we use up a good half +of the time which our guest spends with us. We have spread +ourselves, and shown him what we could do; but what a paltry, +heart-sickening achievement! Now, good Mr. Crowfield, thou friend +of the robbed and despairing, wilt thou not descend into our +purgatorial circle, and tell the world what thou hast seen there +of doleful remembrance? Tell us how we, who must do and desire to +do our own work, can show forth in our homes a homely, yet genial +hospitality, and entertain our guests without making a fuss and +hurly-burly, and seeming to be anxious for their sake about many +things, and spending too much time getting meals, as if eating +were the chief social pleasure. <i>Won't</i> you do this, Mr. +Crowfield?</p> + +<p>"'Yours beseechingly,</p> + +<p>"'R.H.A.'"</p></div> + +<p>"That's a good letter," said Jennie.</p> + +<p>"To be sure it is," said I.</p> + +<p>"And shall you answer it, papa?"</p> + +<p>"In the very next 'Atlantic,' you may be sure I shall. The class that do +their own work are the strongest, the most numerous, and, taking one +thing with another, quite as well cultivated a class as any other. They +are the anomaly of our country,—the distinctive feature of the new +society that we are building up here; and if we are to accomplish our +national destiny, that class must increase rather than diminish. I shall +certainly do my best to answer the very sensible and pregnant questions +of that letter."</p> + +<p>Here Marianne shivered and drew up a shawl, and Jennie gaped; my wife +folded up the garment in which she had set the last stitch, and the +clock struck twelve.</p> + +<p>Bob gave a low whistle. "Who knew it was so late?"</p> + +<p>"We have talked the fire fairly out," said Jennie.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REENLISTED" id="REENLISTED"></a>REENLISTED.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, did you see him in the street, dressed up in army-blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When drums and trumpets into town their storm of music threw,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A louder tune than all the winds could muster in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Rebel winds, that tried so hard our flag in strips to tear?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You didn't mind him? Oh, you looked beyond him, then, perhaps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the mounted officers rigged out with trooper-caps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shiny clothes, and sashes red, and epaulets and all;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It wasn't for such things as these he heard his country call.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She asked for men; and up he spoke, my handsome, hearty Sam,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I'll die for the dear old Union, if she'll take me as I am."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if a better man than he there's mother that can show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Maine to Minnesota, then let the nation know.<br /></span><p><a name="Page_636" id="Page_636"></a></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You would not pick him from the rest by eagles or by stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By straps upon his coat-sleeve, or gold or silver bars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor a corporal's strip of worsted, but there's something in his face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And something in his even step, a-marching in his place,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That couldn't be improved by all the badges in the land:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A patriot, and a good, strong man; are generals much more grand?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We rest our pride on that big heart wrapped up in army-blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The girl he loves, Mehitabel, and I, who love him too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He's never shirked a battle yet, though frightful risks he's run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since treason flooded Baltimore, the spring of 'sixty-one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through blood and storm he's held out firm, nor fretted once, my Sam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At swamps of Chickahominy, or fields of Antietam:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though many a time, he's told us, when he saw them lying dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boys that came from Newburyport, and Lynn, and Marblehead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretched out upon the trampled turf, and wept on by the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seemed to him the Commonwealth had drained her life-blood dry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But then," he said, "the more's the need the country has of me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live and fight the war all through, what glory it would be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Rebel balls don't hit me, and, mother, if they should,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll know I've fallen in my place, where I have always stood."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He's taken out his furlough, and short enough it seemed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I often tell Mehitabel he'll think he only dreamed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of walking with her nights so bright you couldn't see a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hearing the swift tide come in across the harbor-bar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stars that shine above the stripes, they light him southward now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tide of war has swept him back; he's made a solemn vow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To build himself no home-nest till his country's work is done:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God bless the vow, and speed the work, my patriot, my son!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet it is a pretty place where his new house might be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An orchard-road that leads your eye straight out upon the sea:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boy not work his father's farm? it seems almost a shame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But any selfish plan for him he'd never let me name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He's reënlisted for the war, for victory or for death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soldier's grave, perhaps,—the thought has half-way stopped my breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And driven a cloud across the sun;—my boy, it will not be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The war will soon be over; home again you'll come to me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He's reënlisted; and I smiled to see him going, too:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's nothing that becomes him half so well as army-blue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only a private in the ranks; but sure I am, indeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If all the privates were like him, they 'd scarcely captains need!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I and Massachusetts share the honor of his birth,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grand old State! to me the best in all the peopled earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot hold a musket, but I have a son who can;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'm proud for Freedom's sake to be the mother of a man!<br /></span> +</div></div><p><a name="Page_637" id="Page_637"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_PRESIDENTIAL_ELECTION" id="THE_PRESIDENTIAL_ELECTION"></a>THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION.</h2> + + +<p>For the first time since the American Presidency was created, the +American people have entered upon a Presidential election in time of +great war. Even the election of 1812 forms no exception to this +assertion, as the second contest with England did not begin until the +summer of that year, when the conditions of the political contest were +already understood, and it was known that Mr. Madison would be +reëlected, in spite of the opposition of the Federalists, and +notwithstanding the disaffection of those Democrats who took De Witt +Clinton for their leader. Mr. Madison, indeed, is supposed to have +turned "war man," against his own convictions, in order to conciliate +the "Young Democracy" of 1812, who had resolved upon having a fight with +England,—and in that way to have secured for supporters men who would +have prevented his reëlection, had he defied them. The trouble that we +had with France at the close of the last century undoubtedly had some +effect in deciding the fourth Presidential contest adversely to the +Federalists; but though it was illustrated by some excellent naval +fighting, it can hardly be spoken of as a war: certainly, it was not a +great war. The Mexican War had been brought to a triumphant close before +the election of 1848 was opened. Of the nineteen Presidential elections +which the country has known, sixteen were held in times of profound +peace,—as Indian wars went for nothing; and the other three were not +affected as to their decision by the contests we had had with France or +Mexico, or by that with England, which was in its first stage when Mr. +Madison was reëlected. Every Presidential election, from that of 1788 to +that of 1860, found us a united people, with every State taking some +part in the canvas. Even South Carolina in 1860 was not clearly counted +out of the fight until after Mr. Lincoln's success had been announced, +and rebellion had been resolved upon.</p> + +<p>But all is now changed. The twentieth Presidential election finds us not +only at war, but engaged in a civil war of such magnitude that even the +most martial nations of Europe are surprised at the numbers who take +part in it, and at its cost. The election is to be carried, and perhaps +decided, amid the din of arms, with a million of voters in the land and +sea forces of the two parties. This is so new to us, that it would seem +more like a dream than a reality, but that losses of life and high +prices render the matter most painfully real. How to act under such +circumstances might well puzzle us, were it not that the path of duty is +pointed out by the spirit of patriotism. The election will have much +effect on the operations of war, and those operations in their turn will +have no light effect on the election. Our political action should be +such as to strengthen the arm of Government; and the military action of +Government should be such as to strengthen those who shall be engaged in +affording it political support. Failure in the field would not lead to +defeat at the polls, but it might so lessen the loyal majority that the +public sentiment of the country would be but feebly represented by the +country's political action. What happened in 1862 might happen again in +1864, and with much more disastrous effect on the fortunes of the +Republic. In 1862 there was much discontent, because of the belief that +Government had not done all it could have done to bring about the +overthrow of the Rebels. Irritated by the reverses which had befallen +our arms in Virginia, and knowing that nothing had been withheld that +was necessary to the effective waging of the war, thousands of men +refrained from voting, half-inclined as they were to see if the +Democrats could not do that which others had failed to <a name="Page_638" id="Page_638"></a>do. We are not +discussing the justice of the opinion which then prevailed, but simply +state a fact; and the consequence of the discontent that existed was +that the Democrats came very near obtaining control of the popular +branch of Congress. They made heavy gains in New York, Pennsylvania, +Ohio, and other States; but that this result was not the effect of +hostility to the national cause was made clearly apparent a year later, +when the supporters of that cause won a series of brilliant political +victories in the very States which had either pronounced for the +Democrats in '62, or had given but small Republican majorities. The +loyal majority in Ohio in 1863 was something that approached to the +fabulous, because then the violent members of the Opposition, encouraged +by what had taken place a year earlier, had the audacity to place Mr. +Vallandigham in nomination for the office of Governor. Had that +individual been elevated to the post for which he was nominated, Ohio +must have been arrayed in open opposition to the Federal Government, +almost as decisively so as South Carolina or Virginia. Had he been +defeated by a small majority, his party would have taken arms against +the State Government, and Ohio, compelled to fight for the maintenance +of social order at home, would have done nothing for the national cause. +But the majority against Mr. Vallandigham was upward of one hundred +thousand; and to attempt resistance to a Government so potently +supported as that of which Mr. Brough was the head was something that +surpassed even the audacity of the men who had had the bad courage to +select Mr. Vallandigham for their leader, in the hope of being able to +make him the head of the State. That which was done in Ohio, not seven +months since, should be done in the nation not seven months hence, if we +would have peace preserved at home, and all our available means directed +to the work of destroying the armies of the Southern Confederacy, and to +the seizure of its ports and principal towns. The national popular +majority should be so great in support of the war as to prevent any +faction from thinking of resistance to the people's will as a +possibility. The moral effect of a mighty political victory in November +would be almost incalculable, both at home and in Europe; and in the +Confederacy it would put an end to all such hopes of ultimate success as +may rest upon the belief that we are a divided people.</p> + +<p>The Democratic party should not be restored to power, happen what may in +the course of the present campaign. This we say, not because we believe +the Democratic masses wanting in loyalty or patriotism, but because we +are of opinion that there should be no change either in the position of +parties or in the <i>personnel</i> of the Government. There ought to be no +doubt as to the soundness of the views that are held by most Democrats. +They love their country, and they desire to see the Rebels subdued. They +have the same interest, considered as citizens, in the triumph of the +Federal cause that we all have. They have contributed their share of men +to the fleets and armies of the Republic, and to the rolls on which are +inscribed the names of the gallant dead. Many of our best generals +formerly belonged to the Democratic organization, and they may still +hold Democratic opinions on common politics. Why, then, object to the +Democratic party being replaced in power? Because that would be a +restoration, and it is a truism that a restoration is of all things the +worst thing that can befall a country in times of civil commotion. If it +could be settled beyond controversy that the Democratic party, should it +be restored, would be governed by those of its members who have done +their duty to their country in every way, no objection could be made to +its coming again into possession of the National Government. But we know +that nothing of the kind would take place. The most violent members of +the Democratic party would govern that party, and dictate its policy and +course of action, were it to triumph in the pending political <a name="Page_639" id="Page_639"></a>contest. +We wish for no better proof of this than is afforded by the conduct of +Democratic conventions for some time past. The last convention of the +New-Hampshire Democracy gave utterance to sentiments not essentially +differing from those which were proclaimed by the supporters of Mr. +Vallandigham in Ohio. Unwarned by the fate of the Ohio Democrats, the +representatives of the New-Hampshire Democracy assumed a position that +virtually pledged their State to make war on the Federal Government, +should they succeed in electing Mr. Harrington, their candidate for +Governor. The issue was distinctly made, and the people of New +Hampshire, by a much larger majority than has usually marked the result +of their State elections since the Civil War began, reëlected Mr. +Gillmore, who owed his first term of office to the Legislature's action: +so great was the change wrought in one year. This shows that some of the +Democratic voters are not prepared to follow their leaders to +destruction. So was it in Connecticut. The Democratic convention in that +State exhibited a very strong feeling of disloyalty, but the people +rebuked its members by reëlecting Governor Buckingham by a majority +twice as large as that which he received last year. Here we have proofs, +that, while the men who manage the Democratic party are prepared to go +all lengths in opposition to the Federal Government, they cannot carry +all their ordinary followers with them, when they unhesitatingly avow +their principles and purpose. If they are so rabid, when engaged in +action that is simply preliminary to local elections, what might not be +expected from them, should they find themselves intrusted with the +charge of the National Government? They would then behave in the most +intolerant manner, and would introduce into this country a system of +proscription quite as bad as anything of the kind that was known to the +Romans as one of the most frightful consequences of their great civil +contests. This would lead to reaction, and every Presidential election +might be followed by deeds that would make our country a by-word, a +hissing, and a reproach among the nations. There would be an end to all +those fine hopes that are entertained that we shall speedily recover +from the effects of the war, let peace once be restored. Prosperity +would never return to the land, or would return only under the rule of +some military despot, whose ascendency would gladly be seen and +supported by a people weary of uncertainty and danger, and craving order +above all things,—as the French people submitted to the rule of +Napoleon III., because they believed him to be the man best qualified to +protect themselves and their property against the designs of the +Socialists. Our constitutional polity would give way to a cannonarchy, +as every quietly disposed person would prefer the arbitrary government +of one man to the organization of anarchy. If we should escape from both +despotism and anarchy, it would be at the price of national destruction. +Every great State would "set up for itself," while smaller States that +are neighbors would form themselves into confederacies. There would come +to exist a dozen nations where but one now exists,—for we leave the +Southern Confederacy aside in this consideration. That Confederacy, +however, would become the greatest power in North America. Not only +would it hold together, but it would at once acquire the Border States, +where slavery would be more than restored, for there it would be made as +powerful an interest as it was in South Carolina and Mississippi but +four years ago. War has welded the Southern Confederacy together, and in +face of our breaking-up its rulers would have the strongest possible +inducement to keep their Republic united, because they would then hope +to conquer most of the Free States, and to confer upon them the +"blessings" of the servile system of labor.</p> + +<p>It is sometimes said, that, if the Democratic party should resume the +rule of this nation, the Confederates, or Rebels, would signify their +readiness to return <a name="Page_640" id="Page_640"></a>into the Union, on the simple condition that things +should be allowed to assume the forms they bore prior to Mr. Lincoln's +election. They rebelled against the men who came into power through the +political decision that was made in 1860; and, the American people +having reversed that decision by restoring the Democracy, the cause of +their rebellion having been removed, rebellion itself would cease as of +course. Were this view of the subject indisputably sound, it would ill +become the American to surrender to the men who assume that the decision +of an election, this way or that, affords sufficient reason for a resort +to arms. We should hold our existence as a nation by the basest of +tenures, were we to admit the monstrous doctrine that only one party is +competent to govern the Republic, and that there is an appeal from the +decision of the ballot to that of the bayonet. There never existed a +great people so craven as to make such an admission; and were we to set +the example of making it, we should justify all that has been said +adversely to us by domestic traitors and foreign foes. We should prove +that we were unfit to enjoy that greatest of all public blessings, +constitutional freedom, by surrendering it at the demand of a faction, +merely that we might live in security, and enjoy the property we had +accumulated. Ancient history mentions a people who were so fond of their +ease that they placed all power in the hands of their slaves, on +condition that the latter should not meddle with those pleasures to the +unbroken pursuit of which they purposed devoting all their means and +time. The slaves soon became masters, and the masters slaves. We should +fare as badly as the Volsinians, were we to place all power in the hands +of slaveholders, who then would own some millions of white bondmen, far +inferior in every manly quality to those dark-faced chattels from among +whom the Union has recruited some of its bravest and most unselfish +champions. But there is no ground, none whatever, for believing that the +Rebels would cease to be Rebels, if there should be a Democratic +restoration effected. Not even the election of Mr. Buchanan to a second +Presidential term would lead them to abandon their purpose: and he was +their most useful tool in 1860, and without his assistance they could +not have made one step in the road to rebellion, or ruin. Their purpose +is to found a new nation, as they have never hesitated to avow, with a +frankness that is as commendable as the cause in which it is evinced is +abominable. They would be glad to see a Democrat chosen our next +President, because they would expect from him an acknowledgment of their +"independence"; but they would no more lay down their arms at his +entreaty than they would at the command of a President of Republican +opinions. Their arms can be forced from their hands, but there exists no +man who could, from any position, induce them to surrender, or come back +into the Union on any terms. They mean to abide the wager of battle, and +are more likely to be moved from their purpose by the bold actions of +General Grant than by the blandest words of the smoothest-tongued +Democrat in America. To any mere persuader, no matter what his place or +his opinions, they would turn an ear as deaf as that of the +adder,—refusing to listen to the voice of the charmer, charm he never +so wisely.</p> + +<p>As there should be no change made in the political character of the +Government, so there should be none in the men who compose it. To place +power in new hands, at a time like the present, would be as unwise as it +would be to raise a new army for the purpose of fighting the numerous, +well-trained, and zealous force which the Rebels have organized with the +intention of making a desperate effort to reëstablish their affairs. +There is no reason for supposing that a change would give us wiser or +better men, and it is certain that they would be inexperienced men, +should they all be as many Solomons or Solons. As we are situated, it is +men of experience that we require to administer the Government; and out +of the present Administration <a name="Page_641" id="Page_641"></a>it is impossible to find men of the kind +of experience that is needed at this crisis of the nation's career. The +errors into which we fell in the early days of the contest were the +effect of want of experience; and it would be but to provide for their +repetition, were we to call a new Administration into existence. The +people understand this, and hence the very general expression of opinion +in favor of the reëlection of President Lincoln, whose training through +four most terrible years—years such as no other President ever +knew—will have qualified him to carry on the Government during a second +term to the satisfaction of all unselfish men. Mr. Lincoln's honesty is +beyond question, and we need an honest man at the head of the nation now +more than ever. That the Rebels object to him is a recommendation in the +eyes of loyal men. The substitution of a new man would not dispose them +to submission, and they would expect to profit from that inevitable +change of policy which would follow from a change of men. As to "the +one-term principle," we never held it in much regard; and we are less +disposed to approve it now than we should have been, had peace been +maintained. Were the President elected for six or eight years, it might +be wise to amend the Constitution so as to prevent the reëlection of any +man; but while the present arrangement shall exist, it would not be wise +to insist upon a complete change of Government every four years. To hold +out the Presidency as a prize to be struggled for by new men at every +national election is to increase the troubles of the country. Among the +causes of the Civil War the ambition to be made President must be +reckoned. Every politician has carried a term at the White House in his +portfolio, as every French conscript carries a marshal's <i>bâton</i> in his +knapsack; and the disappointments of so many aspirants swelled the +number of the disaffected to the proportions of an army, counting all +who expected office as the consequence of this man's or that man's +elevation to the Presidency. Were there no other reason for desiring the +reëlection of President Lincoln, the fact that it would be the first +step toward a return to the rule that obtained during the first +half-century of our national existence under the existing Constitution +should suffice to make us all advocates of his nomination for a second +term. That the Baltimore Convention will meet next month, and that it +will place Mr. Lincoln once more before the American people as a +candidate for their suffrages, are facts now as fully established as +anything well can be that depends upon the future; and that he will be +reëlected admits of no doubt. The popular voice designates him as the +man of the time and the occasion, and the action of the Convention will +be nothing beyond a formal process, that shall give regular expression +to a public sentiment which is too strong to be denied, and which will +be found of irresistible force.</p><p><a name="Page_642" id="Page_642"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REVIEWS_AND_LITERARY_NOTICES" id="REVIEWS_AND_LITERARY_NOTICES"></a>REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.</h2> + + +<p><i>Industrial Biography: Iron-Workers and Tool-Makers.</i> By SAMUEL SMILES, +Author of "Self-Help," "Brief Biographies," and "Life of George +Stephenson." Boston: Ticknor & Fields.</p> + +<p>The history of iron is the history of civilization. The rough, shapeless +ore that lies hidden in the earth folds in its unlovely bosom such fate +and fortune as the haughtier sheen of silver, gleam of gold, and sparkle +of diamond may illustrate, but are wholly impotent to create. Rising +from his undisturbed repose of ages, the giant, unwieldy, swart, and +huge of limb, bends slowly his brawny neck to the yoke of man, and at +his bidding becomes a nimble servitor to do his will. Subtile as +thought, rejoicing in power, no touch is too delicate for his +perception, no service too mighty for his strength. Tales of faërie, +feats of magic, pale before the simple story of his every-day labor, or +find in his deeds the facts which they but faintly shadowed forth. And +waiting upon his transformation, a tribe becomes a nation, a race of +savages rises up philosophers, artists, gentlemen.</p> + +<p>Commerce, science, warfare have their progress and their vicissitudes; +but underneath them all, unnoted, it may be, or treated to a superficial +and perhaps supercilious glance, yet mainspring and regulator of all, +runs an iron thread, true thread of Fate, coiling around the limbs of +man, and impeding all progress, till he shall have untwisted its Gordian +knot, but bidding him forward from strength to strength with each +successive release. No romance of court or camp surpasses the romance of +the forge. A blacksmith at his anvil seems to us a respectable, but not +an eminently heroic person; yet, walking backward along the past by the +light which he strikes from the glowing metal beneath his hand, we shall +fancy ourselves to be walking in the true heroic age. Kings and warriors +have brandished their swords right royally, and such splendor has +flashed from Excalibur and Morglay that our dazzled eyes have scarcely +discerned the brawny smith who not only stood in the twilight of the +background and fashioned with skilful hand the blade which radiates such +light, but passed through all the land, changing huts into houses, +houses into homes, and transforming into a garden by his skill the +wilderness which had been rescued by the sword. Vigorous brains, clear +eyes, sturdy arms have wrought out, not without blood, victories more +potent, more permanent, more heroic, than those of the battle-field.</p> + +<p>Such books as this under consideration give us only materials for the +great epic of iron, but with such materials we can make our own rhythm +and harmony. From the feeble beginning of the savage, rejoicing in the +fortunate possession of two old nails, and deriving a sufficient income +from letting them out to his neighbors for the purpose of boring holes, +down to the true Thor's hammer, so tractable to the master's hand that +it can chip without breaking the end of an egg in a glass on the anvil, +crack a nut without touching the kernel, or strike a blow of ten tons +eighty times in a minute, we have a steady onward movement. Prejudice +builds its solid breakwaters; ignorance, inability, clumsiness, and +awkwardness raise such obstacles as they can; but the delay of a century +is but a moment. Slowly and surely the waters rise till they sweep away +all obstacles, overtop all barriers, and plunge forward again with ever +accelerating force. The record of iron is at once a record of our glory +and of our humiliation,—a record of marvellous, inborn, God-given +genius, reaching forth in manifold directions to compass most beneficent +ends, but baffled, thwarted, fiercely and persistently resisted by +obstinacy, blindness, and stupidity, and gaining its ends, if it gain +them at all, only by address the most sagacious, courage the most +invincible, and perseverance the most untiring. Every great advance in +mechanical skill has been met by the determined hostility of men who +fancied their craft to be in danger. An invention which enabled a hand +of iron to do the work of fifty hands of flesh and blood was considered +guilty of taking the bread from the thrice fifty mouths that depended on +those hands' labor, and was not unfrequently visited with the punishment +due to such guilt. No demonstrated <a name="Page_643" id="Page_643"></a>fruitlessness of similar fears in +the past served to allay fears for the future; no inefficiency of brute +force permanently to stay the enterprise of the mind prevented brute +force from making its futile and sometimes fatal attempts. It is no +matter that increased facility of production has been attended by an +increased demand for the product; it is no matter that ingenuity has +never been held permanently back from its carefully conned plans; there +have not been wanting men, numerous, ignorant, and ignoble enough to +collect in mobs, raze workshops, destroy machinery, chase away +inventors, and fancy, that, so employed, they have been engaged in the +work of self-protection.</p> + +<p>It is such indirect lessons as may be learned from these and other +statements that give this book its chief value. The interesting +historical and mechanical information contained in its pages makes it +indeed well worthy of perusal; yet for that alone we should not take +especial pains to set it before the people. But its incidental teachings +ought to be taken to heart by every man, and especially every mechanic, +who has any ambition or conscience beyond the exigencies of bread and +butter. Lack of ambition is not an American fault, but it is too often +an ambition that regards irrelevant and factitious honors rather than +those to which it may legitimately and laudably aspire. A mechanic +should find in the excellence of his mechanism a greater reward and +satisfaction than in the wearing of a badge of office which any +fifth-rate lawyer or broken-down man-of-business with influential +"friends" may obtain, and whose petty duties they may discharge quite as +well as the first-rate mechanic. The mechanic who is master of his +calling need yield to none. We would not have him like the ironmongers +denounced by the old religious writer as "heathenish in their manners, +puffed up with pride, and inflated with worldly prosperity"; but we +would have him mindful of his true dignity. In the importance of the +results which he achieves, in the magnitude of the honors he may win, in +the genius he may employ and the skill he may attain, no profession or +occupation presents a more inviting field than his; but it will yield +fruits only to the good husbandman. Science and art give up their +treasures only to him who is capable of enthusiasm and devotion. He +alone who magnifies his office makes it honorable. Whether he work in +marble, canvas, or iron, the man who is content simply to follow his +occupation, and is not possessed by it, may be an artificer, but will +not be an artist, nor ever wear the laurel on his brow. He should be so +enamored of his calling as to court it for its own charms. Invention is +a capricious mistress, and does not always bestow her favors on the most +worthy. Men not a few have died in poverty, and left a golden harvest to +their successors; yet the race is often enough to the swift, and the +battle to the strong, to justify men in striving after strength and +swiftness, as well for the guerdon which they bring as for the jubilant +consciousness which they impart. And this, at least, is sure: though +merit may, by some rare mischance, be overlooked, demerit has no +opportunity whatever to gain distinction. Sleight of hand cannot long +pass muster for skill of hand. Unswerving integrity, unimpeachable +sincerity, is the lesson constantly taught by the lives of these +renowned mechanics. "The great secret," says one, "is to have the +courage to be honest,—a spirit to purchase the best material, and the +means and disposition to do justice to it in the manufacture." Another, +remonstrated with for his high charges, which were declared to be six +times more than the price his employers had before been paying for the +same articles, could safely say, "That may be, but mine are more than +six times better." A master of his profession is master of his +employers. Maudslay's works, we are told, came to be regarded as a +first-class school for mechanical engineers, the Oxford and Cambridge of +mechanics; nor can Oxford and Cambridge men be any prouder of their +connection with their colleges than distinguished engineers of their +connection with this famous school of Maudslay. With such an <i>esprit de +corps</i> what excellence have we not a right to expect?</p> + +<p>We cannot forbear pointing out the Aids to Humility collected in this +book from various quarters, and presented to the consideration of the +nineteenth century. Our boasted age of invention turns out, after all, +to have been only gathering up what antiquity has let +fall,—rediscovering and putting to practical account what the past +discovered, but could not, or, with miscalled dignity, would not, turn +to the uses of common <a name="Page_644" id="Page_644"></a>life. Steam-carriages, hydraulic engines, +diving-bells, which we have regarded with so much complacency as our +peculiar property, worked their wonders in the teeming brain of an old +monk who lived six hundred years ago. Printing, stereotypes, +lithography, gunpowder, Colt's revolvers and Armstrong guns, Congreve +rockets, coal-gas and chloroform, daguerreotypes, reaping-machines, and +the electric telegraph are nothing new under the sun. Hundreds of years +ago the idea was born, but the world was too young to know its character +or prize its service, and so the poor little bantling was left to shiver +itself to death while the world stumbled on as aforetime. How many eras +of birth there may have been we do not know, but it was reserved for our +later age to receive the young stranger with open arms, and nourish his +infant limbs to manly strength. Richly are we rewarded in the precision +and power with which he performs our tasks, in the comfort with which he +enriches, the beauty with which he adorns, and the knowledge with which +he ennobles our daily life.</p> + + +<p><i>The Life and Times of John Huss; or, The Bohemian Reformation of the +Fifteenth Century</i>. By E.H. GILLETT. 2 vols. Second Edition. Boston: +Gould & Lincoln.</p> + +<p>The style of Mr. Gillett is clear, manly, and discriminating. If, in +respect of show, sparkle, nervous energy, verbal felicity, and +picturesqueness, it is not equal to that of our chief American +historians, yet it is not deficient in ease, grace, or vigor. He is +almost always careful, always unambitious, always in good taste. To +complain that the style is not equal to Mr. Motley's, simply on the +ground that the book is large and the subject historical, is grossly +unfair. Mr. Gillett has not been eager for a place as a writer; his +story has more merit in the thing told than in the telling. Even with +his want of German he has been thorough in the investigation of +authorities; and if he writes without enthusiasm, his judgment carries +the greater weight. As a scholar and an historian, as a man of candor +and resources, his name is an ornament to the Presbyterian ministry, of +which he is a member.</p> + +<p>And yet the life of Huss is not adapted to produce popular effect, to +show to striking advantage the charm of elaborate style, or to lift the +hero himself into that upper light where his commonest deeds are +dazzling and fascinating. He had not the acumen, the weight, the +learning, the logical irresistibleness of Calvin; nor had he the great +human sympathies, the touch of earthiness, yet not grossness, which made +Luther so dear to his countrymen, and which have imprinted a cordial +geniality on the whole Lutheran Church. John Huss, though a man of +learning, the Rector of a great and powerful University, though a true +friend, though a man of wide sympathies, though an eloquent preacher, +and a most formidable enemy to the corruptions of the Romish Church, was +yet a colorless character in comparison with some men who have become +the objects of hero-worship. There are few of those grand bursts which +will always justify Luther's reputation, nothing of that rich poetical +vein of Luther's, finding its twofold course in music and in poetry: +Huss was comparatively dry, and unenriched by those overflowings of a +deep inner nature. He is, therefore, rather the exponent of an age than +a brilliant mark,—rather a type than a great, restless, creative power. +His life was almost too saintly to be interesting in the popular sense; +and although he does emerge above his age, yet it is not as the advocate +of an idea, as Luther was, nor of a great system, as Calvin was, nor as +a man fearless of kings and queens, as Knox was; his life, rather, was a +continued protest against sin in the high places of the Church. Though +in him there appear glimpses of a clearer doctrine than that of his age, +yet they do not come to a full expression; it is the pride of pontiffs, +the debaucheries of priests, the grasp after place and power and wealth +by those who claim to follow the meek and holy One, which provoke his +fiercest invective.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gillett has, therefore, done a good service in subordinating the +story of John Huss to the history of his age. His work is strictly +entitled, "The Bohemian Reformation of the Fifteenth Century." That +period has heretofore been almost a blank in our ecclesiastical records. +The blank is now filled. It was a period of great beginnings. Germany +was silent then; but Wycliffe in England, and Huss, with his +<a name="Page_645" id="Page_645"></a>predecessors, Waldhauser, Milicz, and Peter of Dresden, in Bohemia, +were even then causing the Papal power, rent as it was with its internal +dissensions, to tremble as before approaching death.</p> + +<p>The story of that impotent rage which sought to purchase life and safety +for the Romish Church by the murder of Huss and of Jerome of Prague is +instructive, if it is not pleasing. The truth was too true to be spoken. +Never has the Church of Rome, in its inquisitorial madness, been so +blinded with fury and passion as then. Weakened by internal feuds, with +two Popes struggling and hurling anathemas at each other, and with a +priesthood at its lowest point, not of ignorance, but of carnality, it +seemed in peril of utter extinction. Its own boldest and ablest men were +among its most outspoken accusers; and no words stronger or more cutting +were spoken by Huss than by Gerson and Clémangis. But Huss committed the +common mistake of reformers. He put himself outside of the body to be +reformed. He allowed his spirit to fret against the evils of his times +so madly that he would fain have put himself outside of the +circumstances of his age. This wiser men than he, men no loss ardent, +but more calculating, never would do. In the city of Constance itself, +during the sittings of the great Council which condemned Huss to death, +sermons were preached more bitterly reproachful of the pride of the +Pontiffs and the corruption of the Church than the words of any of the +men who put themselves beyond its pale, and addressed it as "your +Church," instead of speaking of it as "ours." And while the dignitaries +of that corrupt body dared not lay a finger upon their more pure, +prophetic, and sharply accusing brethren, they made men like Huss and +Jerome of Prague the doubly burdened and tortured victims of their rage.</p> + +<p>Much of the interest of these volumes is owing to the prominence given +to Wycliffe, and his contemporaneous work in England. It is strange, +indeed, that in those early days, before Europe was crossed with its +net-works, not of railways, but of post-roads even, the land which +inclosed the fountains that fed the Elbe, eight hundred miles above +Hamburg, was closely bound to that distant island, four hundred miles +beyond Hamburg, on the western side of the German Ocean. But a royal +marriage in England had united that kingdom to Bohemia, and Wycliffe's +name was a household word in the lecture-rooms of Prague, and Wycliffe's +books were well worn in its libraries. The great work of preparation, +the preliminary stirring-up of men's minds, by both of these great +reformers, is hardly realized by us. But words had been spoken which +could not die in a hundred years, and the public temper had been thrown +into a glow which could not cool in a century. The "Morning Star of the +Reformation" found its twin lighting up the dark ravines of Bohemia, and +when they twain arose the day had begun to break. The Reformation did +not begin with Luther. The elements had been made plastic to his touch; +all was ready for his skilful hand to mould them into the symmetry of +the Great Reformation. The armies of the Lord had enlisted man by man +before he came; it was for his clarion blast to marshal them in +companies and battalions, and lead them to the battle. We must again +thank Mr. Gillett for his timely, serviceable book. It is never +unprofitable to look back and see who have kept the sacred fire of +Christianity burning when it seemed in danger of extinguishment. And in +that fifteenth century its flames certainly burned low. Whenever the +Church is on the side of aristocratic power, whenever it is a +conservative and not a radical and progressive force in an evil age, +when the forces of Satan are in power, the men are truly worthy of +immortality who go out to meet death in behalf of Christ and the +religion of meekness and purity and universal love. Such was John Huss. +He ought never to have suffered himself to be driven from the Church, +and when he did so, he committed the unceasing mistake of reformers, +among whom Wesley and Zinzendorf stand as the two marked exceptions; but +for rectitude, zeal, and a thorough consecration to the great interests +of Christ, he merits an even more sumptuous memorial than this excellent +book.</p> + + +<p><i>Sordello, Strafford, Christmas-Eve and Easter-Day.</i> By ROBERT BROWNING. +Boston: Ticknor & Fields.</p> + +<p>In his dedication to the new edition of "Sordello," Mr. Browning +says,—"I lately <a name="Page_646" id="Page_646"></a>gave time and pains to turn my work into what the many +might—instead of what the few must—like; but, after all, I imagined +another thing at first, and therefore leave as I find it."</p> + +<p>This, on the whole, he has done; for, though a prose heading runs before +every page, with a knowing wink to the reader, the mystery is not +cleared up. As the view dissolves with every turn of a leaf, the showman +says, confidentially,—"Now you shall see how a poet's soul comes into +play,—how he succeeds a little, but fails more,—tries again, is no +better satisfied,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Because perceptions whole, like that he sought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To clothe, reject so pure a work of thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As language: thought may take perception's place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hardly coexist in any case,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Being its mere presentment,—of the whole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By parts, the simultaneous and the sole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the successive and the many. Lacks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crowd perception?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We fear so; at any rate, the exhibition fails, because the showman +cannot furnish brains to his commentary. The man who can read "Sordello" +is little helped by these headings, and the man who cannot is soon +distracted by continual disappointment. We think he will end by reading +only the headings. And they doubtless are the best for him. Otherwise, +under the cerebral struggle to perceive how the prose interprets the +poetry, he might become the idiot that Douglas Jerrold exclaimed that +<i>he</i> was at his first trial of "Sordello."</p> + +<p>There has been a careful overhauling of the punctuation, with benefit to +the text. Many lines have been altered, sometimes to the comfort of the +reader; and about a hundred fresh lines have been interpolated here and +there, to the weakening, we think, of the dramatic vigor of nearly every +place that is thus handled. Many readers will, however, find this +compensated by an increased clearness of the sense. On page 131 (page +152, first edition) there is an improved manipulation of the simile of +the dwarf palm; and four lines before the last one on page 147 (page +171, first edition) lighten up the thought. So there are eight lines +placed to advantage after "Sordello, wake!" on page 152 (page 176). But, +on the whole, what Mr. Browning first imagined cannot be tampered with, +and he must generously trust the elements of his own fine genius to do +justice to his thought with all people who would not thank him to +furnish an interpreter.</p> + +<p>One day we argued earnestly for Browning with a man who said it was +fatal to the poetry that it needed an argument, and that he did not want +to earn the quickening of his imagination by the sweat of his brow,—he +could gather the same thought and beauty in less break-neck places,—all +the profit was expended in mental gymnastics,—in short,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The man can't stoop<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sing us out, quoth he, a mere romance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'd fain do better than the best, enhance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The subjects' rarity, work problems out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therewith: now, you're a bard, a bard past doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no philosopher; why introduce<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crotchets like these? fine, surely, but no use<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In poetry,—which still must be, to strike,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eased upon common sense; there's nothing like<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appealing to our nature!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Find the rest of Mr. Average's argument on page 67.</p> + +<p>These objections to the poetry of Mr. Browning, which the dense, +involved, and metaphysical treatment of "Sordello" first suggested to +the public, are made to apply to all his subsequent writings. We concede +that "Sordello" over-refines, and that, after reading it, "who <i>would</i> +has heard Sordello's story told," but who would not and could not has +probably not heard it. The very time of the poem, which is put several +centuries back amid the scenery of the Guelph and Ghibelline feuds, as +if to make the struggle of a humane and poetic soul to grow, to become +recognized, to find a place and purpose, seem still more premature, +puzzles the reader with remote allusions, with names that belong to +obscure Italian narrative, with motives and events that require +historical analysis. The poem is impatient with those very things which +make the environment of the bard Sordello, and treats them in curt +lines. A character is jammed into a sentence, like a witch into a +snuff-box, the didactic parts grow metaphysical, and the life of +Sordello does not fuse the events of the poem into one long rhythm. He +thinks and dreams apart, and Palma's ambition for him is an aside, and +the events swing their arms and strike fiery and cruel blows with +Sordello <a name="Page_647" id="Page_647"></a>absent. Considering Mr. Browning's intent, there is a fine +poetic success in this very fault of the poem, but it is not a plain +one, and is an after-thought of the critic. The numerous splendid pages +in "Sordello" do nothing towards making one complete impression which +cannot be evaded. Naddo, the genius-haunter, would complain, that, in +struggling out towards these aisles of beauty, he had seriously +compromised his clothing in the underbrush.</p> + +<p>But the faults which characterize "Sordello" are not prevalent in the +subsequent writings which are loosely accused of them. They become +afterwards exceptional, they vein here and there the surface, and Mr. +Average stumbles over them and proceeds no farther. Still, Mr. +Browning's verse is not easy reading. He is economical of words to the +point of harmony; but what a hypocrite he would be, if he used more! He +brings you meaning, if you bring him mind; and there is Tupper outside, +if you don't care to trouble yourself. In saying this we are not +arrogant at all, for there is a large and widening sympathy with Mr. +Browning's thought. Perhaps a whole generation of readers will fretfully +break itself upon his style, and pass away, before the mind hails with +ease his merits. But is Shakspeare's verse easy reading? Not to this +day, in spite of his level of common sense, the artlessness of his +passion, and the broad simplicity of a great imagination, that causeth +its sun to shine on the evil and the good. It was easy reading to Ben +Jonson, to Milton, and to Chapman; it took "Eliza and our James"; it had +more theatrical success than the scholarly plays of Jonson: but two or +three centuries have exhausted neither his commentators nor the subtile +parts that need a comment. A good deal of Shakspeare is read, but the +rest is caviare to the multitude. We need not comfort ourselves on the +facility with which we take his name in vain. We venture to say that the +whole of Shakspeare's thought is inwardly tasted by as many people as +enjoy the subtilty of Robert Browning. Shakspeare has broader places +over which the waters lie, sweet and warm, to tempt disporting crowds, +and places deep as human nature, upon whose brink the pleasure-seekers +peer and shudder. But if Mr. Browning had a theatrical ability equal to +his dramatic, and were content to exhibit a greater number of the +stock-figures of humanity, men would say that here again they had love +that maddened and grief that shattered, murdering ambition, humorous +weakness, and imagination that remarries man and Nature.</p> + +<p>Mr. Browning's literary and artistic allusions prevent a ready +appreciation of his genius. "Sordello" needs a key. How many friends, +"elect chiefly for love," have spent time burrowing in encyclopædias, +manuals of history, old biographies, dictionaries of painting, and the +like, for explanations of the remote knowledge which Mr. Browning uses +as if it had been left at the door with the morning paper! On the very +first page, who is "Pentapolin, named o' the Naked Arm"? If a man had +just read Don Quixote, he might single out Pentapolin. Taurello and +Ecelin were not familiar,—nor the politics of Verona, Padua, Ferrara, +six hundred years ago. There was not a lively sympathy with Sordello +himself. Who were the "Pisan pair"? Lanzi's pages were turned up to +discover. And Greek scholars recognized the "Loxian." But any reader +might be pardoned for not at once divining that the double rillet of +minstrelsy, on page 37, was the Troubadour and the Trouvere, nor for +refusing to read pages 155 and 156 without a tolerable outfit of +information upon the historical points and personages there catalogued.</p> + +<p>There are not a few pages that appear like a long stretch of prose +suddenly broken up and jammed in the current; some of the ends stick +out, some have gone under, the sense has grown hummocky, and the +reader's whole faculty turns to picking his way. Take, for instance, +page 95, of which we have prepared a translation, but considerately +withhold it.</p> + +<p>But turn now to the famous marble font, sculptured afresh in those +perfect lines which begin at the middle of page 16, with the picture of +the Castle Goito and the maple-panelled room. Here the boy Sordello +comes every eve, to visit the marble standing in the midst, to watch the +mute penance of the Caryatides, who flush with the dawn of his +imagination. Read the description of his childhood, from page 25, and +the delights of his opening fancy:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He e'er-festooning every interval,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the adventurous spider, making light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of distance, shoots her threads from depth to height,<br /></span><p><a name="Page_648" id="Page_648"></a></p> +<span class="i0">From barbican to battlement; so flung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fantasies forth and in their centre swung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our architect,—the breezy morning fresh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above, and merry,—all his waving mesh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laughing with lucid dew-drops rainbow-edged."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>All these pages are filled with poetry; the reflective element does not +dominate severely. Bordello's youthful genius craves sympathy, and he +finds it by investing Nature with fanciful forms and attributes. He is +Apollo,—"that shall be the name." How he ransacks the world for his +youth's outfit, as he climbs the ravine in the June weather, and emerges +into the forest, which tries "old surprises on him," amid which he +lingers, deep in the stratagems of his own fancy, till</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"aloft would hang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White summer-lightnings; as it sank and sprang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To measure, that whole palpitating breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heaven, 't was Apollo, Nature prest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At eve to worship."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then comes a portrait of Palma, done with Titian's brush and manner. As +we turn the leaves where favorite passages lie brilliantly athwart the +faded politics of an old story, we are tempted to try spinning its +thread again for the sake of holding up these lines, which are among the +most delicate and sumptuous that Mr. Browning ever wrote. But room is at +present dear as paper. Only turn, for instance, to pages 39-45, 72-74, +the picturesque scenes on pages 84, 85, the opening of Book IV., +Salinguerra's portrait, like an old picture of Florence, on page 127, +and lines single and by the half-dozen everywhere.</p> + +<p>The tragedy of "Strafford" is one of Mr. Browning's earliest +compositions. It was once placed upon the stage by Mr. Macready, but it +is no more of an acting play than all the other pieces of Mr. Browning, +and is too political to be good reading. The characters seem to be +merely reporting the condition of parties under Charles I.; this and the +struggle of the King with the Parliament are told, but are not +represented, the passions of the piece belong too exclusively to the +caucus and the council-chamber, and even the way in which the King +sacrifices Strafford does not dramatically appear. In the last act, +there is much tenderness in the contrast of Stratford's doom with the +unconsciousness of his children, and pathos in his confidence to the +last moment that the King will protect him. The dialogue is generally +too abrupt and exclamatory. Vane speaks well on page 222, and Hampden on +page 231, and there are two good scenes between Charles and Strafford, +where the King's irresolution appears against the Earl's devotedness. +The closing scene of Act IV. has the dramatic form, but it is interfused +with mere civil commotion instead of color, and the motive is a +transient one, important only to the historian. But we need not multiply +words over that one of all his compositions which Mr. Browning probably +now respects the least.</p> + +<p>"Christmas-Eve and Easter-Day" is a beautiful poem, filled with thought, +humor, and imagination. The mythical theory of Strauss was never so well +analyzed as in the tilting lines from page 353 to 361. And there is good +theology in this:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Take all in a word: the truth in God's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies trace for trace upon ours impressed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though He is so bright and we so dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are made in His image to witness Him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And were no eye in us to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instructed by no inner sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light of heaven from the dark of hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That light would want its evidence," etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Naddo will doubtless tell us that this poem is not built broadly on the +human heart; there is too much discussion about the difficulty of +becoming a Christian, and the subtile genius flits so quickly through +the lines that an ordinary butterfly-net does not catch it. That is well +for the genius. But we are of opinion that the human heart will always +find in this great poem the solemn and glorious things that belong to +it, and more and more so as new and clearer thought is born into the +world to read it. It is no more difficult to read than "Paradise Lost," +while its scenery is less conventional, and the longings of a religious +heart are taken by a bold imagination into serene and starry skies.</p> + + +<p><i>A History of the Intellectual Development of Europe.</i> By JOHN WILLIAM +DRAPER, M.D., LL.D. New York: Harper & Brothers.</p> + +<p>Water and the science of Physiology are both good things. But water is +one thing to drink, and another to be drowned <a name="Page_649" id="Page_649"></a>in. In like manner, +though Physiology is a large and noble science and a yet larger symbol, +furnishing analogies to the thinker quite as often as uses to the +medical doctor, nevertheless, Physiology in the form of a deluge, +overflowing, swamping, drowning almost everything else, and leaving only +Body, the sole ark, afloat,—this is a gift which we are able to receive +with a gratitude not by any means unspeakable. And such, very nearly, is +the contribution to modern thought which the author of the above work +endeavors to make. He holds Physiology to be coextensive with Man, and +would prove the fact by including History in its laws.</p> + +<p>In truth, however, it is a pretty thin sort of Physiology to which this +extension is to be given,—resembling water in this respect also. Our +physiological philosopher seeks to prove (in 631 octavo pages) that +there are in history five perpetually recurring epochs, answering—the +reader will please consider—to the Infancy, Childhood, Youth, Maturity, +and Old Age of the individual body. So much, therefore, as one would +know concerning Physiology in its application to the individual body, in +virtue of being aware that men pass from infancy to age, thus much does +Dr. Draper propose to teach his readers concerning the said science in +its application to History. Add now that his induction rests almost +wholly on <i>two</i> main instances, of which one is yet incomplete! Should +one, therefore, say that his logic is somewhat precipitate, and his +"science" somewhat lacking in matter, he would appear not to prefer a +wholly groundless charge.</p> + +<p>Were Dr. Draper simply giving a History of the Intellectual Development +of Europe, he could, of course, relate only such facts as exist; and +should it appear that this history has but two cycles, one of them +incomplete, he would be under no obligation to make more. But such is +not the case. His "history" is purely a piece of polemic. His aim is to +establish a formula for all history, past, present, and to come; and, in +this view, the paucity of instances on which his induction rests becomes +worthy of comment.</p> + +<p>And this disproportion between induction and conclusion becomes still +more glaring, when it is observed that he expects his formula for all +history to carry an inference much larger than itself. Dr. Draper is +devoted to a materialistic philosophy, and his moving purpose is to +propagate this. He holds that Psychology must be an inference from +Physiology,—that the whole science of Man is included in a science of +his body. His two perpetual aims are, first, to absorb all physical +science in theoretical materialism,—second, to absorb all history in +physical science. And beside the ambition of his aims one must say that +his logic has an air of slenderness.</p> + +<p>This work, then, may be described as a review of European history, +written in obedience to two primary and two secondary assumptions, as +follows:—</p> + +<p><i>Primary Assumptions</i>: First, that man is fully determined by his +"corporeal organization"; second, that all corporeal organizations, with +their whole variety and character, are due solely to "external +situations."</p> + +<p><i>Secondary Assumptions</i>: First, that physical science (under submission +to materialistic interpretations) is the only satisfactory intellectual +result in history, being the only pure product of "reason"; second, that +"reason" alone represents the adult stage of the human mind,—"faith" +being simply immature mental action, and "inquiry" belonging to a stage +of intellect still less mature,—in fact, to its mere childishness.</p> + +<p>The position thus assigned to <i>inquiry</i> is very significant of the +theoretic precipitancy which is one of Dr. Draper's prominent +characteristics. His mind is afflicted with that disease which +physicians call "premature digestion." Inquiry, which is the perpetual +tap-root of science, he separates wholly from science, stigmatizes it as +the mere token of intellectual childhood; and this not in the haste of +an epithet or heat of a paragraph, but as a fixed part of his scheme of +history and of mind. The reason is found in his own intellectual habits. +And the savage fury with which he plies his critical bludgeon upon Lord +Bacon is due, not so much to that great man's infirmities, nor even to +his possession of intellectual qualities which our author cannot +appreciate and must therefore disparage, as to the profound consecration +of Inquiry, which it was one grand aim of his life to make.</p> + +<p>His assumptions made, Dr. Draper proceeds to "break" and train history +into <a name="Page_650" id="Page_650"></a>their service, much after the old fashion of "breaking" colts. +First, he mounts the history of Greece. And now what a dust! What are +centaurs to a <i>savant</i> on his hobby? To see him among the mythic +imaginations of the sweet old land! He goes butting and plunging through +them with the headiness of a he-goat, another monster added to those of +which antique fancy had prattled.</p> + +<p>He has collected many facts respecting ancient thought, (for his +industry is laudable,) but the evil is that he has no real use for his +facts when obtained. Think of finding in an elaborate "History of the +Intellectual Development of Europe" no use for the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" +but that of bolstering up the proposition that there was in Greece an +age of unreasoning credulity! It is like employing Jove to turn a spit +or to set up tenpins. Everywhere, save in a single direction, and that +of secondary importance with respect to antique thought, he practises +the same enormous waste of material. Socrates is a mere block in his +way, which he treats with nothing finer than a crow-bar. Socrates had +set a higher value on ethical philosophy, derived from the consciousness +of man, than on physical science; consequently, Dr. Draper's choice must +be between treating him weakly and treating him brutally; he chooses the +latter, and plays his <i>rôle</i> with vigor,—talks of his "lecherous +countenance," and calls him "infidel" and "hypocrite." Plato he treats +with more respect, but scarcely with more intelligence. He makes an +inventory of Plato's opinions, as a shopman might of his goods; and does +it with an air which says, "He who buys these gets cheated," while +occasionally be cannot help breaking out into an expression of +impatience. Indeed, not only Plato, but Athens itself, represents to Dr. +Draper's mind the mere raw youth, the mere ambitious immaturity of +Grecian intellect, amusing itself with "faith" because incapable of +"reason." He finds its higher and only rational stage at Alexandria, at +Syracuse, or wherever results in physical science were attained. In +Aristotle, indeed, he is able to have some complacency, since the +Stagirite is in a degree "physiological." But this pleasure is partial, +for Aristotle has the trick of eminent intelligences, and must needs +presently spread his pinions and launch forth into the great skies of +speculation; whereupon, albeit he flies low, almost touching the earth +with the tips of his wings, our physiological philosopher begins to +<i>pish</i> and <i>pshaw</i>.</p> + +<p>In his treatment of modern or post-Roman history, Dr. Draper goes over +new ground in much the same spirit. He seems, indeed, nearer to his +facts, deals more with actual life, is more lively, graphic, engaging, +and has not that air of an intellectual shopman making an inventory. +Considered as a general review of the history of Europe, written chiefly +in the interest of physical science, but also in marked opposition to +Roman Catholicism, it might pass unchallenged and not without praise. +But considered as a final scientific interpretation of the last fifteen +centuries, its shortcomings are simply immeasurable. The history of +Europe, from the fusion of the Christian Impulse with Roman imperialism +to the time of Columbus, Copernicus, and Luther, is the history of a +grand religious idealism <i>established over men's heads in the form of an +institution</i>, because too great to be held in solution by their +thoughts. Of such a matter the writer in question could give no other +than a very inadequate account. Wanting that which is highest in the +reason of man, namely, imaginative intellect, he has no natural fitness +for explaining such a fact; while his unconsciousness of any such +deficiency, his persuasion that an <i>imagination</i> and a <i>delusion</i> are +one and the same, and his extreme dogmatic momentum cause him to handle +it with all the confidence of commanding power.</p> + +<p>Considered, again, as a polemic to the point that history revolves +forever through five recurring epochs, and that, as our civilization has +been now four centuries in the "age of reason," it must next (and +probably soon) pass into the fifth stage, that of decrepitude, and +thence into infantile credulity and imbecility once more,—as a +demonstration that history is such a Sisyphus, his induction is weak +even to flimsiness.</p> + +<p>But on approaching times yet more modern, the dominating predilection of +the writer no longer misleads him; it guides him, on the contrary, to +the truth. For of the last four centuries the grand <i>affirmative</i> fact +is the rise of physical science. Or rather, perhaps, one should say that +it <i>was</i> the grand fact until some fifty years ago.<a name="Page_651" id="Page_651"></a> Science is still +making progress; indeed, leaving out of sight one or two great Newtonian +steps, we may say that it is advancing more rapidly than ever. But now +at length its spiritual correlative begins to emerge, and a new epoch +forms itself, as we fully believe, in the history of humanity.</p> + +<p>In celebrating this birth and growth of science, in treating it as the +central and commanding fact of modern times, and in suggesting the vast +modification of beliefs and habits of thought which this must effect, +Dr. Draper has a large theme, and he treats it <i>con amore</i>. In this +respect, his book has value, and is worth its cost to himself and his +readers. In some branches of science, moreover, as in Physiology, and in +questions of vital organization generally, he is to be named among the +authorities, and we gladly attend when he raises his voice.</p> + +<p>Yet even in respect to this feature, his work cannot be praised without +reserve. Though a man of scientific eminence, yet in the pure and open +spirit of science it is impossible for him to write. He is a dogmatist, +a controversialist, a propagandist. No matter of what science he treats, +his exposition ever has an aim beyond itself. It is always a means to an +end; and that end is always a dogma. For example, he has written a work +on Human Physiology; and in the present volume he avows that his "main +object" therein was to "enforce the doctrine" of the "absolute dominion +of physical agents over organic forms as the fundamental principle in +all the sciences of organization." This "main object" is no less dear to +him in the work immediately under consideration. He still teaches that +the primitive cell, with which, it is supposed, all organisms begin, is +in all the same, but, being placed in different situations, is developed +here into a man, and there into a mushroom. "The offspring," he says, +not without oracular twang, "is like its parent, not because it includes +an immortal typical form, but because it is exposed in development to +the same conditions as was its parent." Behold a cheap explanation of +the mystery of life! If one inquire how the vast variety of parental +conditions was obtained, Dr. Draper is ready with his answer:—"A +suitableness of external situation called them forth," quoth he. An +explanation nebulous enough to be sage!</p> + +<p>Behold, therefore, a whole universe of life constructed by "Situations"! +"Situations" are the new <i>Elohim</i>. They say to each other, "Let us make +man"; and they do it! But they cannot say, "Let us make man in our own +image"; for they have no image. No matter: they succeed all the same in +giving one to man! Wonderful "Situations"! Who will set up an altar to +almighty "Situations"?</p> + +<p>We have ourselves a somewhat Benjamite tongue for pronouncing the +popular shibboleths, but, verily, we would sooner try the crookedest of +them all than endeavor to persuade ourselves that in a universe wherein +no creative idea lives and acts "external situations" can "call forth" +life and all its forms. We can understand that a divine, creative idea +may develop itself under fixed conditions, as the reproductive element +in opposite sexes may, under fixed conditions, prove its resources; but +how, in a universe devoid of any productive thought, "external +situations" can produce definite and animate forms, is, to our feeble +minds, incomprehensible. Verily, therefore, we will have nothing to do +with these new gods. The materialistic <i>savans</i> may cry <i>Pagani</i> at us, +if they will; but we shall surely continue to kneel at the old altars, +unless something other than the said "Situations" can be offered us in +exchange.</p> + +<p>We complain of Dr. Draper that he does not write in the spirit of +science, but in the spirit of dogmatism. We complain of him, that, when +he ostensibly attempts a piece of pure scientific exposition, his +thought always has a squint, a boomerang obliquity; it is afflicted with +<i>strabismus</i>, and never looks where it seems to look. He approaches +history only to subject it to the service of certain pet opinions +<i>already formed</i> before his inspection of history began. He seeks only +to make it an instrument for the propagation of these. He is a +philosophical historian in the same sense that Bossuet was a +philosophical historian. Each of these seeks to subject history to a +dogma. The dogma of Bossuet is Papal Catholicism; that of Dr. Draper is +the creative supremacy of "Situations" and "the insignificance of man in +the universe."</p> + +<p>It is quite proper for Dr. Draper to appear as a polemic in science, if +he will. It is not advocacy <i>per se</i> of which we complain; it is +advocacy with a squint, advocacy <a name="Page_652" id="Page_652"></a>round a corner. If he wishes to prove +the creative efficacy of "Situations," let him do so; but let him not in +doing so seem to be offering an impartial exposition of Human +Physiology. If he wishes to prove that physical science is the only +rational thing in the world, he may try; but let him not assume to be +writing a history of intellectual development. If he would convince us +that history has epochs corresponding to those of individual life, we +will listen; but we shall listen with impatience, if it appear after all +that he is merely seeking, under cover of this proposition, to further a +low materialistic dogma, and convince us of "man's insignificance in the +universe."</p> + +<p>We are open to all reasonings. Any decent man, who has honorably gone +through with his Pythagorean <i>lustrum</i> of silence and thought, shall, by +our voice, have his turn on the world's tribune; and if he be honest, he +shall lose nothing by it. But we hate indirections. We hate the +pretension implied in assuming to be an authoritative expounder, when +one is only an advocate. And, still further, we shall always resist any +man's attempt to make his facts go for a great deal more than they are +worth. Let him call his ten <i>ten</i>, and it shall pass for ten; but if he +insist on calling it a thousand, we shall not acquiesce. The science of +Physiology is just out of its babyhood. Of the nervous system in +particular—of its physiology and pathology alike—our knowledge is +extremely immature. We are just beginning, indeed, to know anything +<i>scientifically</i> on that subject. The attempt in behalf of that little +to banish spiritual philosophy out of the world, and to silence forever +the voice of Human Consciousness, is a piece of pretension on behalf of +which we decline to strain our hospitality.</p> + +<p>Our notice of this work would, however, be both incomplete and unjust, +did we forbear to say, that, in its avowed idea, the author has got hold +of a genuine analogy. Not that we approve the details of his scheme; the +details, we verily believe, are as nearly all wrong as an able and +studious man could make them. But the general idea of a correspondence +between individual and social life, of an organic existence in +civilizations and a consequent subjection to the law of organisms, is a +rich mine, and one that will sooner or later be worked to profit. And +the definite, emphatic announcement of it in Dr. Draper's work, however +awkwardly done, suffices to make the work one of grave importance.</p> + +<p>Every system of civilization is in some degree special. None is +universal; none represents purely the spirit of humanity; none contains +all the possibilities of society. Not being universal, none can be, in +its form, perpetual. The universal asserts its supremacy; all that is +partial must be temporary. The human spirit takes back, as it were, into +its bosom each sally of civilization before pulsing anew. Thus, even on +their ideal side, civilizations have their law of limitation; and to +know what this law of limitation definitely is constitutes now one of +the great <i>desiderata</i> of the world. We believe, that, <i>ceteris +paribus</i>, the duration of a civilization is proportioned to its depth +and breadth,—that is, to the degree in which it represents the total +resource and possibility of the human spirit.</p> + +<p>Again, every system of civilization has a body, an institution, an +established and outward interpretation of social relationship. In +respect to this it is mortal. In respect to this it has a law of growth +and decay. In respect to this, moreover, it is subject to what we call +accident, the chances of the world. In fine, the bodies of individuals +and of civilizations, the fixed forms, that is, in which they are +instituted, serve the same uses and obey the same law.</p> + +<p>Now a work which should deal in a really great and profound way with +this <i>corpus</i> of civilizations,—not spending itself in a mere tedious, +endless demonstration that such <i>corpus</i> exists, and has therefore its +youth and its age, but really explaining its physiology and +pathology,—such a work would be no less than a benefaction to the human +race. And in such a work one of the easiest and most obvious points +would be this,—that the spirit of civilizations has a certain power of +changing the form of its body by successive partial rejections and +remouldings; and the degree in which they prove capable of this +continuous <i>palingenesia</i> is one important measure of their depth and +determinant of their duration.</p> + +<p>For writing such a work we do not think Dr. Draper perfectly qualified. +For this we find in him no tokens of an intelligence sufficiently +subtile, penetrating, and <a name="Page_653" id="Page_653"></a>profound. He is, moreover, too heady and too +well cased in his materialistic strait-waistcoat. Nevertheless, his book +carries in it a certain large suggestion; it contains many excellent +observations; its tone is unexceptionable; the style is firm and clear, +though heavy and disfigured by such intolerable barbarisms as "commence +to" walk, talk, or the like,—the use of the infinitive instead of the +participle after <i>commence</i>. Dr. Draper is an able man, a scholar in +science, a well-informed, studious gentleman in other provinces; but he +tries to be a legislator in thought, and fails.</p> + + +<p><i>De l'Origine du Langage</i>. Par ERNEST RENAN, Membre de l'Institut. +Quatrième Èdition, augmentée. Paris.</p> + +<p>It seems to be the law of French thought, that it shall never be +exhaustive of any profound matter, and also that (Auguste Comte always +excepted) it shall never be exhausting to the reader. German thought may +be both; French is neither; English thought—but the English do not +think, they dogmatize. Magnificent dogmatism it may be, but dogmatism. +Exceptions of course, but these are equally exceptions to the +characteristic spirit of the nation.</p> + +<p>M. Renan is thoroughly French. The power of coming after the great +synthetic products of the human spirit and distributing them by analysis +into special categories, eminent in his country, is pre-eminent in him. +The facility at slipping over hard points, and at coming to unity of +representation, partly by the solving force of an interior principle, +and partly by ingenious accommodations, characteristic of French +thought, characterizes his thinking in particular. That supremacy of the +critical spirit in the man which secures to it the loyalty of all the +faculties is alike peculiar to France among nations, and to this writer +among Frenchmen. In Germany the imagination dominates, or at least +contends with, the critical spirit; the French Ariel not only gives +magic service to the critical Prospero, but seeks no emancipation, +desires nothing better. Hence an admirable clearness and shapeliness in +the criticism of France. Hence, also, in its best criticism a high +degree of imaginative subtilty and penetration, without prejudice either +to the dominion of common sense in the thought or to clearness in the +statement.</p> + +<p>M. Renan's essay on "The Origin of Language" is typical of his quality. +Treating of an abstruse, though enticing problem,—<i>almost</i> profound, +and that in comparison with the soundest and sincerest thinking of our +time,—it is yet so clear and broad, its details are so perfectly held +in solution by the thought, the thought itself moves with such ease, +grace, and vigor, and in its style there is such crystal perspicuity and +precision, that one must he proof against good thinking and excellent +writing not to feel its charm.</p> + +<p>The main propositions of the work—whose force and significance, of +course, cannot be felt in this dry enumeration—are that language issues +from the spontaneity of the human spirit,—"spontaneity, which is both +divine and human"; that its origin is simultaneous with the opening of +consciousness in the human race; that it preserves a constant parallel +with consciousness, that is, with the developed spirit of man, in its +nature and growth; and that, by consequence, its first form is not one +of analytic simplicity, but of a high synthesis and a rich complexity. +The whole mind, he says, acts from the first, only not with the power of +defining, distinguishing, separating, which characterizes the intellect +of civilized man; his objects are groups; he grasps totalities; sees +objects <i>and</i> their relationships as one fact; tends to connect his +whole consciousness with all he sees, making the stone a man or a god: +and language, in virtue of its perpetual parallelism with consciousness, +must be equally synthetic and complex from the start.</p> + +<p>He finds himself opposed, therefore, first, to those, "like M. Bonald," +who attribute language to a purely extraneous, not an interior, +revelation; secondly, to the philosophers of the eighteenth century, who +made it a product of free and reflective reason; thirdly, to the German +school, who trace it back to a few hundred monosyllabic roots, each +expressing with analytic precision some definite material object, from +which roots the whole subsequent must be derived by etymologic +spinning-out, by agglutination, and by figurative heightening of +meaning.</p><p><a name="Page_654" id="Page_654"></a></p> + +<p>His work, accordingly, should be read by all sincere students of the +question of Language in connection with the statements of Professor +Müller, as he represents another and a typical aspect of the case. He +denies the existence of a "Turanian" family of tongues, such as Müller +sought to constitute in Bunsen's "Outlines"; pronouncing with great +decision, and on grounds both philosophical and linguistic, against that +notion of monosyllabic origin which assumes the Chinese as truest of all +tongues to the original form and genius of language, he is even more +decided that not the faintest trace can be found of the derivation of +all existing languages from a single primitive tongue. From general +principles, therefore, and equally from inspection of language, he +infers with confidence that each great family of languages has come +forth independently from the genius of man.</p> + +<p>His results in Philology correspond, thus, with those of Mr. Agassiz in +Natural History. They suggest multiplicity of human origins. From this +result M. Renan does not recoil, and he takes care to state with great +precision and vigor the entire independence of the spiritual upon the +physical unity of man,—as Mr. Agassiz also did in that jewel which he +set in the head of Nott and Gliddon's toad.</p> + +<p>But here he pauses. His results bear him no farther. The philological +and physiological classifications of mankind, he says, do not +correspond; their lines cross; nothing can be concluded from one to the +other. The question of unity or diversity of physical origins he leaves +to the naturalist; upon that he has no right to raise his voice. +Spiritual unity he asserts firmly; linguistic unity he firmly denies; on +the question of physical unity he remains modestly and candidly silent, +not finding in his peculiar studies data for a rational opinion.</p> + +<p>M. Renan is not a Newton in his science. He satisfies, and he +disappoints. The Newtonian depth, centrality, and poise,—well, one may +still be a superior scholar and writer without these. And such he is. +His tendency to central principles is decided, but with this there is a +wavering, an unsteadiness, and you get only agility and good writing, it +may be, where you had begun to look for a final word. Sometimes, too, in +his desire of precision, he gives you precision indeed, but of a cheap +kind, which is worse than any <i>thoughtful</i> vagueness. Thus, he opens his +sixth section by naming <i>l'onomatopée</i>, the imitation of natural sounds, +as the law of primitive language. He knew better; for he has hardly +named this "law" before he slips away from it; and his whole work was +pitched upon a much profounder key. Why must he seize upon this +ready-made word? Why could he not have taken upon himself to say +deliberately and truly, that the law of primitive language, and in the +measure of its <i>life</i> of all language, is the symbolization of mental +impression by sounds, just as man's spirit is symbolized in his body, +and absolute spirit in the universe? But this is "vague," and M. Renan +writes in Paris.</p> + +<p>And in Paris he has written an able and in many respects admirable +treatise,—<i>almost</i> profound, as we have said, and creditable to him and +to France. It must be reckoned, we think, a foundation-stone in the +literature of the problem of Language.</p> + +<p>In five or six pages the theological peculiarities of M. Renan appear. +The reader, however, who is most rigidly indisposed to open question on +such matters will find these six pages which do not please him a feeble +counterbalance to the two hundred and fifty which do.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Published 1770-71.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Johnson enumerates fifteen.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Many of the bibliographers, even, have omitted mention of +it.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Of which the first book was published in 1772. This author +is to be distinguished from George Mason, who in 1768 published "An +Essay on Design in Gardening."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> Lettre XI Liv. IV. <i>Nouvelle Héloise.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> First published in 1766.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> Citing, in confirmation, that passage commencing,—"<i>Nunc +dicam agri quibus rebus colantur</i>," etc.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> Pp. 177-179, edition of 1802, Edinburgh.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_I_9" id="Footnote_I_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I_9"><span class="label">[I]</span></a> Pp. 166, 167.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_J_10" id="Footnote_J_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_J_10"><span class="label">[J]</span></a> See Article of Philip Pussy, M.P., in <i>Transactions of the +Royal Society</i>, Vol. XIV.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_K_11" id="Footnote_K_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_K_11"><span class="label">[K]</span></a> First published in 1724.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_L_12" id="Footnote_L_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_L_12"><span class="label">[L]</span></a> I find him named, in Dodsley's "Annual Register" for 1771, +"Keeper of His Majesty's Private Roads."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_M_13" id="Footnote_M_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_M_13"><span class="label">[M]</span></a> Loudon makes an error in giving 1780 as the year of his +death.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_N_14" id="Footnote_N_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_N_14"><span class="label">[N]</span></a> Presented to William Pitt, 1795.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_O_15" id="Footnote_O_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_O_15"><span class="label">[O]</span></a> At that day, horse-hoeing, at regular intervals, was +understood to form part of what was counted drill-culture.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_P_16" id="Footnote_P_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_P_16"><span class="label">[P]</span></a> Returns incomplete.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_Q_17" id="Footnote_Q_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Q_17"><span class="label">[Q]</span></a> In the Quarterly Tables of Mr. Hamilton's office, as quoted +by Professor Chace, the maximum yield at Wine Harbor during the month of +September, 1863, reached the almost incredible figure of <i>sixty-six</i> +ounces to the ton.</p></div> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 13, No. 79, +May, 1864, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY, VOL. *** + +***** This file should be named 15860-h.htm or 15860-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/8/6/15860/ + +Produced by Cornell University, Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci, +and the 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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