diff options
Diffstat (limited to '16151-h/16151-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 16151-h/16151-h.htm | 9522 |
1 files changed, 9522 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/16151-h/16151-h.htm b/16151-h/16151-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f22dbb --- /dev/null +++ b/16151-h/16151-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9522 @@ +<!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 name="generator" + content="HTML Tidy for Linux/x86 (vers 1st November 2002), see www.w3.org" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of the Continental Monthly, Vol. I, No. 6, June 1862, by Various.</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + +body { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify } +table {text-align: center;} +div { margin: 2em 0em } +Div.tables { margin: 1em 0em; text-align: center } +span.stage { font-weight: normal; font-style: italic } +div.eg { margin: 1em -1em; padding: 1ex 1em; font-size: 80%; + color: black; background-color: #eee } +.tables { margin: 1em 0em; text-align: center } +.titles { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: center; } +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em;} +.center {text-align: center;} +.sub { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 144% } +.poem { margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; } +.poem2 { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 10%; } +.poem3 { margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; } +hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} +hr.quarter {width: 25%; } +hr.page { margin: 4em 0em } +/* indent verse continuation lines 4em */ +p.l { margin: 0em 0em 0em 4em; text-align: left; + text-indent: -4em } + +h1 { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 173%; } +h2 { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 144%; } +h3 { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 120%; } +h4 { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 100%; } +h4, h5, h6 { margin-top: 1em; font-size: smaller; } +ol { margin: 2em 0em } +ul.toc { margin: 2em 0em; list-style-type: none } +li { margin: 1em 0em } +dt { font-weight: bold; } +ul.toc li { margin: 0em } +span.pageno { position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; + font-size: 8pt;} +span.underline { text-decoration: underline } +dl { } +dl dt { } +dl dd { margin: 0em 0em 0em 4em } +dl.footnote { font-size: 80% } +dl.footnote dt { font-weight: normal; text-align: right; + float: left; width: 3em } +dl.footnote dd { margin: 0em 0em 1ex 4em } +th { padding: 0em 1em } +td { padding: 0em 1em } + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Continental Monthly, Vol. I, No. VI, June, +1862, 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: Continental Monthly, Vol. I, No. VI, June, 1862 + Devoted To Literature and National Policy + +Author: Various + +Release Date: June 29, 2005 [EBook #16151] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTINENTAL MONTHLY, VOL. I *** + + + + +Produced by Cornell University, Joshua Hutchinson, Norma +Elliott and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="titles"> + +<h3>THE</h3> +<h1>CONTINENTAL MONTHLY</h1> +<h3>DEVOTED TO LITERATURE AND NATIONAL POLICY.</h3> +<hr class="quarter" /> + +<p>VOL. I.—JUNE, 1862.—No. VI.</p> + +<hr class="quarter" /> +</div> + +<div class="div" id="toc"> +<a id="toc_1" name="toc_1"></a> + <h2>Contents</h2> + <ul class="toc"> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#THE_CONSTITUTION_AND_SLAVERY">The + Constitution and Slavery.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#A_STORY_OF_MEXICAN_LIFE">A Story Of + Mexican Life.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#THE_RED_WHITE_AND_BLUE">The Red, White, + And Blue.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#MACCARONI_AND_CANVAS">Maccaroni And + Canvas.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#EN_AVANT">En Avant!</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#DESPERATION_AND_COLONIZATION">Desperation + And Colonization.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#THE_EDUCATION_TO_BE">The Education To + Be.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#TRAVEL_PICTURES">Travel-pictures.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#A_QUIET_COURT_IN_PARIS">A Quiet Court + In Paris.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#THE_COUNTRY_OF_EUGENE_ARAM">The Country Of + Eugene Aram.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#THE_GREAT_ST_BERNARD">The Great St. + Bernard.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#THE_HUGUENOTS_OF_STATEN_ISLAND">The + Huguenots Of Staten Island.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a + href="#RECOLLECTIONS_OF_WASHINGTON_IRVING">Recollections Of Washington + Irving.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#BYRONIC_MISANTHROPY">Byronic + Misanthropy.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#NEW-ENGLANDS_ADVANCE">New-England's + Advance.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#WAS_HE_SUCCESSFUL">Was He + Successful?</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#MONROE_TO_FARRAGUT">Monroe To + Farragut.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#AMONG_THE_PINES">Among The Pines.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#PICAYUNE_BUTLER">Picayune Butler.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#LITERARY_NOTICES">Literary + Notices.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#EDITORS_TABLE">Editor's Table.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#KYNG_COTEN">Kyng Coten.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#Our_Orientalist_appears_this_month">'Our + Orientalist'</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a + href="#Very_welcome_is_our_pleasant_contributor">Very welcome is our pleasant + contributor</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#It_is_stated_in_the_newspapers">It is + stated in the newspapers</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a + href="#Among_the_most_striking_songs_which_the_war_has_brought_forth">Among the + most striking songs which the war has brought forth</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#GALLI_VAN_T_is_welcome">'Galli Van T' is + welcome</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#A_SONG_OF_THE_PRESENT">A Song Of The + Present.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#A_STRANGE_STORY_ITS_SEQUEL">A Strange + Story—ITS SEQUEL.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#WHAT_THEN">What Then?</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a + href="#The_last_stranger_who_visited_Washington_Irving">The last stranger who + visited Washington Irving</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a + href="#The_following_paragraph_from_the_Boston_Traveller">The following + paragraph from the Boston Traveller</a></li> + </ul> +<h2>Advertisements</h2> + <ul class="toc"> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#THE_OFFICIAL_WAR_MAP_NOW_READY">The + Official War Map—now Ready</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#WASHINGTON">Washington.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#HOME_INSURANCE_COMPANY">Home Insurance + Company.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#WILCOX_GIBBS">Wilcox & Gibbs</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#NOW_READY">Now Ready.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a + href="#DESTINED_TO_BE_THE_BOOK_OF_THE_SEASON">Destined To Be The Book Of The + Season.</a></li> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#THE_CONTINENTAL_MONTHLY">The Continental + Monthly.</a></li> + </ul> +<h2>Notes</h2> + <ul class="toc"> + <li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#NOTES">Footnotes.</a></li> + </ul> +</div> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<div class="div"> + +<h2 class="center"> +<a name="THE_CONSTITUTION_AND_SLAVERY" id="THE_CONSTITUTION_AND_SLAVERY"></a> +THE CONSTITUTION AND SLAVERY.</h2> + +<p>There are two sections of the United States, the Free States and the Slave +States, who hold views widely different upon the subject of Slavery and the true +interpretation of the Constitution in relation to it. The Southern view, for the +most part, is:</p> + +<p>1. The Constitution recognizes slaves as strictly property, to her bought and +sold as merchandise.</p> + +<p>2. The Constitution recognizes all the territories as open to slavery as much +as to freedom, except in those cases where it has been expressly interdicted by +the Federal Government; and it secures the legal right to carry slaves into the +territories, and any act of Congress, restricting this right to hold slaves in +the territories, is unconstitutional and void.</p> + +<p>3. Slavery is a natural institution, and not to be considered as local and +municipal.</p> + +<p>4. The Constitution is simply a compact or league between sovereign States, +and when either party breaks, in the estimation of the other, this contract, it +is no longer binding upon the whole, and the party that thinks itself wronged has +a right, acting according to its own judgment, to leave the Union.</p> + +<p>5. This contract between sovereign States has been broken to such an extent, +by long and repeated aggressions upon the South by the North, that the slave +States who have seceded from the Union, or who may secede, are not only right in +thus doing, but are justified in taking up arms, to prevent the collection of +revenue by the Federal Government.</p> + +<p>These ideas are universally repudiated in the free States. It is not my +purpose to discuss the social or moral relations of slavery, but simply to +consider under what circumstances the Constitution originated, and what was the +clear intent of those who adopted it as the organic or fundamental law of the +country. The last assumption taken by the seceding States grows out of the first +four, and therefore it becomes a question of vital interest, what did the framers +of the Constitution mean? We must remember that while names remain the same, the +things which they represent in time go through a radical change. Slavery is not +the same that it was when the Constitution was formed, nor are the original slave +States the same. If freedom at the North has made great strides, so also has +slavery South. Our country now witnesses a mighty difference in free and slave +institutions from what originally was seen. The stand-point of slavery and freedom +has altogether changed, not from +<span class="pageno"><a name="page620" id="page620"></a>{620}</span> +local legislation, but from natural causes, +inherent in these two diverse states of society. New interests, new relations, +new views of commerce, agriculture, and manufactures now characterize our +country. It will not do then to infer, from the existing state of things, +as originally the respective condition of the slaveholding and the free States, +or what was in fact the import of that agreement, called the Constitution, which +brought about the Federal Union. The framers of the Constitution did not reason +so much as to what they should do for posterity as for the generation then +living. As fallible men, much as they would wish to legislate wisely for the +future, yet their very imperfection of knowledge precluded them from knowing +fully what fifty or a hundred years hence would be the development of slavery or +freedom. Their actions must have reference to present wants, and consult +especially existing conditions of society. While they intended that the +Constitution should be the supreme law of the land, yet they wisely put into the +hands of the people the power of amending it at any such time as circumstances +might make it necessary. The question then at issue between the North and the +South is not what the Constitution should read, not what it ought to be, to come +up to the supposed interests of the country; but what it does read. How is the +Constitution truly to be interpreted? All parties should acquiesce in seeking +only to find out the literal import of the Constitution as originally framed, or +subsequently amended, and abide by it, irrespective altogether of present +interests or relations. The reason is, in no other way can the common welfare of +the country be promoted. If the necessities of the people demand a change in the +Constitution, they can, in a legal way, exercise the right, always remembering +that no republic, no free institutions, no democratic state of society can exist +that denies the great principle of the rule of the majority. It becomes us, then, +in order that we may come to a right decision respecting the duties that grow out +of our Federal Union, to consider what language the Constitution makes use of, in +relation to slavery, and how was this instrument interpreted by the framers. The +great question is, was slavery regarded as a political and moral evil, to be +restricted and circumscribed within the States existing under the Constitution, +or was it looked upon as a blessing, a social relation of society, proper to be +diffused over the territories? It can be clearly shown that there was no such +state of feeling, respecting slavery, as to lead the originators of +Constitution to look upon it as a thing in itself of natural right, useful in its +operation, and worthy of enlargement and perpetuation. Rather, the universal +sentiment respecting slavery, North and South, was, that as a great moral, +social, and political evil, it should be condemned, and the widely prevalent +impression was, that through the peaceful operation of causes that evinced the +immeasurable superiority of free institutions, slavery would itself die out, and +the whole country be consecrated to free labor. Never did it enter the minds of +the framers of the Constitution, that slavery was a thing in itself right and +desirable, or that it should be encouraged in the territories. It was looked upon +as exclusively local in its character, the creature of State law, a relation of +society that was to be regulated like any other municipal institution. It is not +to be presumed that the authors of our government would, in the Declaration of +Independence, assert the natural rights of all men to life, liberty, and the +pursuit of happiness, and then contradict this cardinal principle of the +revolution in the Constitution. They found slavery existing in the Southern +States; they simply left it as it was before the Revolution, with the idea that +in time the local action of the State legislature would do away with the system. +But so far as the extension of slavery was concerned, the predominant feeling, +North and South, was hostile to it. +<span class="pageno"><a name="page621" id="page621"></a>{621}</span> +The security of the country demanded the union of +the States under one common Constitution. The dangers of foreign war, the +exhausted finances of the different States, the evils of a great public debt, +contracted during the Revolution, made it advisable, as soon as the consent of +the States could be got, to have a Constitution that should command security at +home and credit and respect abroad. It was regarded as indispensable for union, +that slavery should be left as it was found in the States. The thirteen States +that first formed our Union under the Constitution, with the great evils that +grew out of war and debt, agreed, for their own mutual protection, that slavery +should be permitted to exist in those States where it was sanctioned by the local +government, as an evil to be tolerated, not as a thing good in itself, to be +fostered, perpetuated, and enlarged. Seeing that union could not be had without +slavery, it was recognized as an institution not to be interfered with by the +free States; but not acknowledged, in the sense that it was right, a blessing +that, like free labor, should be the normal condition of the whole people. There +was no such indifference to slavery as a civil institution, as has been asserted. +The reason is two-fold: first, the States could not be indifferent to slavery, if +they wished; and secondly, they could not repudiate, in the Constitution, the +Declaration of Independence. Thus the word 'slave' is not found in the +Constitution. In the rendition of slaves, they simply spoke of persons held to +service, and as union was impossible, if the free States were open to their +escape, without the right being recognized of being returned, this provision was +accordingly made; and yet by the provision that no person should be deprived of +liberty or life, without due process of law, and that the free citizens of one +State, irrespective of color, should have the same rights, while resident in any +other State, as the citizens of that State, the framers of our Constitution +declared, in language most explicit, the natural rights of all men. The question +is not as to the consistency of their profession and practice, or how they could +fight for their own independence, and yet deny freedom, for the sake of the +Union, to the slaves; but the question is simply whether, in preparing the +Constitution, they intended to engraft upon it the idea of the natural right of +slavery, and recognize it as a blessing, to be perpetuated and enlarged. The +question is simply, whether the Constitution was designed to be pro-slavery, or +whether, like the instrument of the Declaration of Independence, it was intended +to be the great charter of civil and religious freedom, although compelled, for +the sake of union, not to interfere with slavery where it already existed? Great +stress is put upon that clause enjoining the rendition of slaves escaping from +their masters; but union was impossible without this provision. The necessity of +union was thought indispensable for protection, revenue, and securing the +dearly-bought blessings of independence. The question with them was not, ought +slavery to be recognized as a natural right, and slaves a species of property +like other merchandise? but simply, shall we tolerate this evil, for the sake of +Union? Thus, as the indispensable condition of union, the provision was made for +the rendition of persons held to labor in the slave States. Why is the language +of the Constitution so guarded as not to have even the word 'slave' in it, and +yet of such a character as not to interfere with local State legislation upon +slavery? Simply to steer between the Charybdis of no union and the Scylla of the +repudiation of the Declaration of Independence, teaching that all men are born +free and equal, and that all have natural rights, such as life, liberty, and the +pursuit of happiness. And yet, in the slave States, the interpretation of the +Constitution is such, that the free States are accused of violating it, unless +they acknowledge that it recognizes slavery as a natural right, and an +institution to be perpetuated +<span class="pageno"><a name="page622" id="page622"></a>{622}</span> +and enlarged, and put upon the same level with the +blessing of freedom, in the territories. Slavery virtually must be nationalized, +and the Constitution be interpreted so as to carry it all over the territories +now existing, or to be acquired, or the free States have broken the Constitution, +and the slave States may leave the Union whenever it suits their pleasure. It is +easy to see how time has brought about such a revolution of feeling and idea +respecting slavery. It can be shown that circumstances have changed altogether +the relations of slavery, and while names have remained the same, the things +which they represent have assumed a radical difference. It can be shown that the +introduction of the cotton-gin, and the increased profits of slave labor, have +given an impetus to the domestic institution that brings with it an entire +revolution of opinion. When slavery was unprofitable to the slaveholders; when, +in the early days of the republic, the number of slaves was comparatively small; +when, all over the country, the veterans of the Revolution existed to testify to +the hardships they endured for national independence, and eulogize even the help +of the negro in securing it, then slavery was regarded a curse, an evil to be +curtailed and in time obliterated; then the local character of slavery, as the +creature of municipal law, not to be recognized where such law does not exist, +was the opinion universally of the people. But now, with the growing profits of +slavery, with the increase of the power of this institution, other and far +different language is held. Disguise it as we may, there do exist great motives +that have silently yet powerfully operated within the last thirty or forty years, +to change the popular current of feeling and opinion. Not only have the slave +States held the balance of political power, but the spread of slavery has been +gigantic. The fairest regions of the South have been opened up to the domestic +institution, and Texas annexed, with Louisiana, Arkansas and Florida, making an +immense area of country, to be the nursery of slavery. The political ascendency +of the slave States has ever given to the South a great advantage, in the +extension of their favored institution, and the result has proved that what our +ancestors looked upon as an evil that time would soon do away with, has grown +into a monster system that threatens to make subservient to it the free +institutions of the North.</p> + +<p>Slavery has now come to be a mighty energy of disquietude all over the +country, assuming colossal proportions of mischief, and mocking all the ordinary +restraints of law. The question of the present day to be decided is not whether +freedom and slavery shall exist side by side, nor whether slavery shall be +tolerated as a necessary evil; but in reality, whether freedom shall be crushed +under the iron hoof of slavery, and this institution shall obtain the complete +control of the country. It has been said that the Constitution takes the position +of complete indifference to slavery; but the history of the slave States does not +lead us to infer that they were ever willing that slavery should be tested by its +own merits, or stand without the most persistent efforts to secure for it the +patronage of the Federal Government. Study the progress of slavery, the last +forty years, and none can fail to see that it has ever aimed to secure first the +supreme political control, and then to advance its own selfish interests, at the +expense of free institutions. The great danger has always been, that while +numerically vastly inferior to the North, slavery has always been an unit, with a +single eye to its own aggrandizement; consequently, the history of the country +will show that so far from the general policy of the government being adverse to +slavery, that policy has been almost exclusively upon the side of slaveholders. +The domestic institution has been ever the pet interest of the land.</p> + +<p>In all that pertains to political power, the slaveholding interests have been +in the ascendant. Even when Lincoln was elected, it was found that the Senate +and <span class="pageno"><a name="page623" id="page623"></a>{623}</span> +House of +Representatives, as well as the Judiciary, were numerically upon the side of +slavery, so that he could not, even had it been his wish, carry out any measure +inimical to the South. True, the South had not the same power as under Buchanan; +they could not hope ever again to wield the resources of government to secure the +ascendency of slavery in Kansas; but for all that, Lincoln was powerless to +encroach upon their supposed rights, even if thus disposed. Is it not, then, +evident, that so far from the slaveholding States holding to the opinions of the +framers of the Constitution, there has been within the last forty years a mighty +change going on in the South, giving to slavery an essentially aggressive policy, +and an extension never dreamed of by the authors of the Constitution? The ground +of the Constitution respecting slavery, was simply non-interference in the States +where it already existed. It left slavery to be curtailed, or done away with by +the local legislature, but it used language the most guarded, to preclude the +idea that slavery rested upon natural right, and that slaves, like other +property, could be carried into the territories. It has been said, that the +position of the Constitution is that of absolute indifference, both to freedom +and slavery; that it advocated neither, but was bound to protect both. But how +could the Constitution be indifferent to the very end for which it was made? Was +not its great design to secure the liberty of the country, and promote its +highest welfare? The Constitution simply tolerated the existence of slavery, and +no more. As union was impossible without the provision for the rendition of +persons held to labor, escaping from one state into another, it simply +accommodated itself to an evil that was thought would be restricted, and in due +process of time done away with in the slave States. To strain this provision to +mean that it advocated the natural right of slavery, and recognized the slave as +property, to be sold and bought like other merchandise, is simply to say that the +framers of the Constitution were the greatest hypocrites in the world, +originating the Declaration of Independence upon the basis of the natural right +of all men to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, and yet with full +knowledge and purpose giving the lie to this instrument in the Constitution. +Madison thought it wrong to admit in the Constitution the idea of property in +man. The word 'service' was substituted for 'servitude,' simply because this last +encouraged the idea of property.</p> + +<p>The constitutional provision for the rendition of slaves was simply a +compromise between union and slavery. Of the two evils of <i>no union</i>, or +<i>no slavery</i>, it was thought the former was the worse, and consequently the +free States fell in with the measure. But could the patriots of the Revolution +have foreseen the gigantic growth of slavery, and the use that would have been +made of the provision recognizing it, no consideration would have induced them to +adopt a course that has been prolific of so much misrepresentation and mischief +to the country. They left the suppression of slavery to the States where it +existed, but there was no intention to ingraft the idea of property in man in the +Constitution, or to favor its extension beyond the original slave States in any +way. John Jay, the first Chief-Justice, was preëminently qualified to judge +respecting this. We have his testimony most explicitly denying the natural right +of property in slaves, and declaring that the Constitution did not recognize the +equity of its extension in the new States or Territories. Who was there more +conversant with the genius of our country than Washington; and yet how full is +his testimony to the evil of slavery; its want of natural right to support it, +and the necessity of its speedy suppression and abolition? Is it possible that +he, himself a slaveholder and an emancipationist, could utter such sentiments and +enforce them by his example, if he regarded the Constitution as establishing the +light of property in man, and the +<span class="pageno"><a name="page624" id="page624"></a>{624}</span> +benefit of the indefinite expansion of slavery over +the country? No, indeed! If we may consider the Constitution in relation to +slaves an inconsistent instrument, we can not prove it an hypocritical and +dishonest one. The hard necessities of the times wrung out of reluctant patriots +the admission of the rendition of slaves, but they would not by any reasonable +construction of language, assert the natural right of property in slaves, and the +propriety or benefit of its toleration in new States and Territories. It was bad +enough to tolerate this evil in the old slave States, but it would be infamous to +hand down to posterity a Constitution denying the self-evident truths of the +Declaration of Independence. Toleration is not synonymous with approval, or +existence with right. There is a most subtle error in the assumption of the +indifference of the Constitution to freedom and slavery—that it advocated +neither, but protected both. Certainly the framers of the Constitution were not +automatons, or this instrument the accident of the throw of the dice-box. The +great purpose of this instrument was to raise the revenue, and defend the +country. Its end was to protect the liberties and command the respect of +civilized nations. The old Confederation was to give way to the Federal +Constitution. The independence of the United States had been achieved at a heavy +cost. To say nothing of frontiers exposed, country ravaged, towns burnt, commerce +nearly ruined, the derangement of finances—the pecuniary loss alone +amounted to one hundred and seventy million dollars, two thirds of which had been +expended by Congress, the balance by individual States. The design of the +Constitution was to preserve the fruits of the Revolution, to respect State +sovereignty, and yet secure a powerful and efficient Union; to have a central +government, and yet not infringe upon the local rights of the States. It will, +therefore, be seen that while the subject of slavery was earnestly discussed, and +presented at the outset a great obstacle to the union of the States, yet it was +thought, upon the whole, best to leave to the slave States the business of doing +away with this great evil in such a manner as in their judgment might best +conduce to their own security and the preservation of the Union.</p> + +<p>But no truth of history is more evident than that the authors of the +Constitution regarded slavery as impossible to be sustained upon the ground of +the natural rights of mankind, and deserving of no encouragement in the +Territories, or States hereafter to come into the Union. It was thought that the +best interests of the slave States would lead them to abolish slavery, and that +before many years, the Republic would cease to bear the disgrace of chattel +bondage. It is certainly proper that the acts and language of the authors of the +Constitution, and those who chiefly were instrumental in achieving our +independence, should be made to interpret that instrument which was the creation +of their own toils and love of country. Because the circumstances of the present +day have brought about a mighty change in the feelings and opinions of the slave +States, it does not follow that the Constitution in its original intention and +spirit should be accommodated to this new aspect of things. It is easy to get up +a theory of the natural right of slavery, and then say that the Constitution +meant that the slave States should carry slave property just where the free +States carry their property; but when this ground is taken, the Constitution is +made, to all intents, a pro-slavery instrument. It ceases to be the charter of a +nation's freedom, and resolves itself into the most effective agent of the +propagandism of slavery. The transition is easy from such a theory to the +fulfillment of the boast of Senator Toombs, 'that the roll of slaves might yet be +called at the foot of Bunker Hill Monument.' But no straining of the language of +the Constitution can make it mean the recognition of the natural right of +slavery. The guarded manner in which the provision was made for the rendition +of +<span class="pageno"><a name="page625" id="page625"></a>{625}</span> +slaves, +and all the circumstances connected with the adoption of the Constitution, show +conclusively that slavery was considered only a local and municipal institution, +a serious evil, to be suppressed and curtailed by the slave States, and never by +the General Government a blessing to be fostered and extended where it did not +exist at the time the Union of the thirteen States was perfected.</p> + +<p>Alexander H. Stephens, Vice-President of the Confederate States, in a speech +at Atlanta, Georgia, said:</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Jefferson, Madison, Washington, and many + others, were tender of</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">the word slave, in the organic law, and all + looked forward to the</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">time when the institution of slavery should be + removed from our</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">midst as a trouble and a stumbling-block. The + delusion could not be</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">traced in any of the component parts of the + Southern Constitution.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In that instrument we solemnly discarded the + pestilent heresy of</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">fancy politicians, that all men of all races + were equal, and we</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">have made African inequality, and + subordination, the chief</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">corner-stone of the Southern + Republic.'</span><br /> + +<p>Here we have the great idea of an essential difference in relation to the +Constitution and slavery existing at the present day South, from that which did +exist at the time of its ratification universally by the people of the thirteen +States. The Vice-President of the Southern Confederacy frankly admits that +slavery is its chief corner-stone; that our ancestors were deluded upon the +subject of slavery; that the ideas contained in the Declaration of Independence +respecting the equality of all men, and their natural right to life, liberty, and +the pursuit of happiness, are only the pestilent heresy of fancy politicians; +consequently that in the Southern Constitution all such trash was solemnly +discarded. Can clearer proof be wanted to show that the stand-point of slavery +and freedom has altogether changed since the days of Washington? Is it not true +that our country at the present day presents the singular spectacle of two great +divisions, one holding to the Constitution as interpreted by our ancestors North +and South, the other openly repudiating such interpretation? Is it strange, with +such a radical difference existing as to the import of the Constitution upon the +subject of slavery, that we should have such frequent and ever persistent charges +of Northern aggression? If the history of slavery be kept in mind, it will be +seen that it has steadily had its eye upon one end, and that is national +aggrandizement. Thus about two hundred thousand slaveholders wield all the +political power of the South, and compel all non-slaveholders to acquiesce in +their supremacy. But whatever the South may choose to do, the North is under +obligation to give to slavery nothing more than what is guaranteed in the +Constitution. If more than this is asked for, the North is bound by a just regard +for its own interests and the prosperity of the country to refuse compliance. It +has been seen that even admitting that a State has a just cause of complaint, or +supposing as a matter of fact that the Constitution is violated, she can not set +herself up to be exclusively the judge in this matter, and leave the Union at her +convenience.</p> + +<p>The history of our country reveals two memorable cases where the question was +decided that not the State, but the Federal Government was to be its own judge of +what was constitutional, and act accordingly. First, the case of New-York; +secondly, the course taken by Massachusetts in relation to the Embargo law of +1807, which was believed to be unconstitutional generally in New-England. In the +case of New-York, there was, as has been said, the surrender of any right to +secede from the Union at her pleasure; while in the Embargo law of 1807, which +was brought up to the Supreme Court for decision, there was the acquiescence of +New-England upon the simple point, who should be the final arbiter in the +dispute. Massachusetts and all New-England assented to a decision of the +Judiciary, not +<span class="pageno"><a name="page626" id="page626"></a>{626}</span> +upon the ground that it was right, but that the +Supreme Court had alone the authority to say what was right.</p> + +<p>In this case there was a perfect refutation of the whole theory of secession; +that theory falls back upon the idea that the State government is to be its own +judge of what constitutes a violation of the Constitution, and act accordingly; +but the Embargo law of 1807, when carried up to the Supreme bench, and the way +New-England assented to a decision that was not believed to be in accordance with +the Constitution, is a signal rebuke of the assumption of State sovereignty when +arrayed against the General Government. The all-important question was not, Was +the decision of the Judiciary right, but simply, Who had the authority to say +what was right? Who should submit to that authority? No person can fail to see in +these two cases, under circumstances so widely different, and with an end +proposed in each directly the reverse of the other, that the point so important +to establish was clearly made out, that the National Government reserves to +itself alone the right to decide as to what should be the course taken in +questions of dispute that arise between the States and the Federal authority.</p> + +<p>It is mournful to see the finest country on the earth—a land peculiarly +blessed with every element of material wealth, a land that has grown like a +giant, and commanded the respect of the world—now in her central government +made an object of contempt, and crippled in her strength by those very States who +should, upon the principle of gratitude for favors granted, have been the last to +leave the Union. While the Government at Washington has shown the utmost +forbearance, they have manifested the greatest insolence, as well as disregard of +the most sacred rights of the Union. An Absalom the most willful and impetuous of +his father's family, and yet the most caressed and indulged, requites every debt +of parental kindness by seeking through treachery and the prostitution of all his +privileges to raise an insurrection in the household of David, and turn away +through craft the hearts of the people from their rightful lord. So like Absalom, +South-Carolina first unfurls the banner of treason and war among the sister +States, desperately resolved to secure her selfish aggrandizement even at the +price of the ruin of the country, but like Absalom, also, she is destined to +experience a reverse as ignominious and as fatal.</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="A_STORY_OF_MEXICAN_LIFE" id="A_STORY_OF_MEXICAN_LIFE"> +</a>A STORY OF MEXICAN LIFE.</h2> +<p><span class="pageno"><a name="page627" id="page627"></a>{627}</span></p> + +<h4 class="center">VIII.</h4> + +<p>'My neighbor gazed at the stranger with bewilderment, and remained speechless. +There was, nevertheless, nothing in his outward mien to give rise to so much +emotion. He was a robust and rather handsome fellow, of about twenty-five, bold, +swaggering, and free and easy in his deportment—a perfect specimen of the +race of half-breeds so common in Mexico. His skin was swarthy, his features +regular, and his beard luxuriant and soft as silk. His eyes were large and black +as sloes, his teeth small, regular, and white as ivory, and his whole +countenance, when in repose, wore an expression which won confidence rather than +excited distrust. But when conversing, there was an indefinable craftiness in his +smile, and a peculiar cunning in the twinkle of his eye, that often strikes the +traveler in Mexico, as pervading all that class who are accustomed to making +excursions into the interior. His costume, covered with dust, and torn in many +places, led me to infer that he had only just returned from some long +journey.</p> + +<p>'After waiting, with great politeness, for some few seconds, to allow Arthur +time to address him, and finding he waited in vain, the Mexican opened the +conversation:</p> + +<p>''I fear your excellency will scold me for delaying so long on the road; but +how could I help it? I am more to be pitied than blamed—I lost three +horses—at monte—and if it had not been by good luck that the ace +turned up when I staked my saddle and bridle, I should not be here even now; but +the ace won; I bought a fresh horse—and here I am.'</p> + +<p>''What success?' inquired Arthur, with a look of intense anxiety; 'did you +bring any?'</p> + +<p>''Certainly,' replied Pepito, handing him very unconcernedly a small package; +'I brought more than you told me, and, in fact, I might have brought a mule-load +if you had wanted so many.'</p> + +<p>''Adéle!' cried Mr. Livermore, overcome with delight, as he rushed into +my room, 'Adéle, HE HAS FOUND IT!'</p> + +<p>Pepito followed Arthur with his sharp eye, and on beholding Adéle, +asked me, in a low tone:</p> + +<p>''Who is that lady, Caballero?'</p> + +<p>''I can not say; I myself never saw her until to-day,' said I; and noticing his +gaze riveted on her in apparent admiration, I added:</p> + +<p>''Do you think her pretty?'</p> + +<p>''Pretty! Holy Virgin! she is lovely enough to make a man risk his salvation to +win her.'</p> + +<p>'Feeling that my presence might be one of those superfluities with which they +would gratefully dispense, I was on the point of leaving, when there was a knock +at the door. Again Adéle sought refuge in my room, and again Arthur +advanced to the door:</p> + +<p>''Open, it is I,' said a voice from the outside; 'I have come to inquire after +my friend Pepito.'</p> + +<p>''Seņor,' exclaimed Pepito, 'that must be my compadre, Pedro.'</p> + +<p>'On the door being opened, they flew to one another's arms, and gave a true +Mexican embrace.</p> + +<p>'The entrance of Pedro, which evidently annoyed Mr. Livermore, awakened in my +mind strange suspicions. I resolved at the earliest opportunity I had of a +private interview with him, to allude to what I had overheard on the Alameda. In +the mean time I would keep an eye on these two cronies.</p> + +<p>''Stand back, Pedro, and let me have a good look at you.'</p> + +<p>''<i>There!</i> well, how do you think I look?'</p> + +<p>''My dear fellow, you are growing decidedly coarse and fat.'</p> + +<p>''Bah! but how do you like my new rig?'</p> + +<p>''I can not admire the cut; but, of<span class="pageno"><a name="page628" +id="page628"></a>{628}</span> course, you bought them ready-made—one could +see that with half an eye.'</p> + +<p>''Well, Pepito, now that you are once more back in the city, I lack nothing to +make me perfectly happy. You will spend the rest of the day with me?'</p> + +<p>''Of course, my dear fellow.'</p> + +<p>''Well, it is about dinner-time; let us be off.'</p> + +<p>''Wait till I have first bid adieu to his excellency,' replied Pepito, turning +toward Mr. Livermore. Then advancing a few steps, he whispered a few words to +him, at the same time bowing very low. Arthur unlocked the drawer of his table +and took out a roll of dollars, which he handed to the Mexican.</p> + +<p>''Must you absolutely leave me so soon?' said he.</p> + +<p>''Well, Caballero, after so long a journey, a man requires relaxation, and +enjoys a social glass; so, with your permission, I will see you again +to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>'This answer was any thing but pleasing to Mr. Livermore, who turned to me, +and addressing me in English, said:</p> + +<p>''My dear sir, once more I must trespass on your good-nature. It is essential +to the success of my plans, that these two men should not be left together. Will +you, <i>can</i> you, tack yourself on to them, and keep close to Pepito until +they separate?'</p> + +<p>''Your request is as strange as it is difficult of execution; but I will do my +best.'</p> + +<p>''Gentlemen,' said I, to the two Mexicans, as we all three were going down the +stairs, 'you were speaking of dining—now I want to visit a real Mexican +<i>fonda</i>; I am tired of these French cafés; will you favor me by taking me to +a first-rate house, for I am not acquainted with this city.'</p> + +<p>''If you will accompany us to the Fonda Genovesa, Caballero,' said Pedro, 'I +will warrant you will have no cause to repent it.'</p> + +<p>''I am infinitely indebted to you, and shall gladly accept your guidance.'</p> + +<p>'The Fonda Genovesa was certainly one of the vilest establishments I ever +visited, and the dinner was, of course, detestably bad. However, I treated my two +worthies to a couple of bottles of wine, which being to them a rare luxury, they +declared they had fared sumptuously.</p> + +<p>''But, look here, Pepito,' said Pedro, 'you have not yet alluded to your +journey. Where have you been all this time?'</p> + +<p>''Where have I been? Oh! well, that is a secret.'</p> + +<p>''A secret! what, from me, from your compadre Pedro?'</p> + +<p>''Even so, my dear Pedro, even so; I have sworn not to mention the object of +my journey nor my destination.'</p> + +<p>''Oh! I dare say; but look here, what did you swear by—the holy Virgin +of Guadalupe? No? Well, was it the cross?'</p> + +<p>''No, neither by the one nor the other.'</p> + +<p>''What is there binding, then? nothing else ought to keep you silent when +<i>I</i> am in question?'</p> + +<p>''I pledged my sacred honor.'</p> + +<p>''Your sacred honor! Give me your hand, you always were a wag, but you +humbugged me this time, I confess; well, that <i>is</i> a good one—the best +joke I have heard for an age—excellent! well, go on, I am all attention, +all ears.'</p> + +<p>''Well, you won't hear much, for I am a man of honor, and bound not to speak; +besides, I received a hundred dollars to keep mum.'</p> + +<p>'Pedro for a moment appeared to be in a brown study; at last, gazing hard at +his friend, he said:</p> + +<p>''Would two hundred tempt you to speak?'</p> + +<p>''If such a proposition were to come from a stranger, I might, perchance, +accept it; but seeing it comes from you—never.'</p> + +<p>''Why?'</p> + +<p>''Because, when you offer me two hundred dollars for any thing, it must be +worth far more than you offer.'</p> + +<p>''Well, now, admit, just as a supposition, that I am interested in this +mat<span class="pageno"><a name="page629" id="page629"></a>{629}</span>ter, what +harm will it do you, if we both turn an honest penny?'</p> + +<p>''That is just the point; but I don't want you to turn ten pennies to my +one.'</p> + +<p>''Your scruples, my dear Pepito, display a cautious temperament, and evince +deep acquaintance with human nature; you see through my little veil of mystery, +and I own your sagacity; now I will be honest with you—with a man like you, +lying is mere folly. It is true, I am to have four hundred dollars if I can find +out where you have been. I swear to you by the holy Virgin of Guadalupe, I am +making a clean breast of it. Now, will you take that amount? Say the word, and I +will go and fetch it right away.'</p> + +<p>'This proposition seemed to embarrass the scrupulous Pepito extremely, and he +remained some time lost in thought.</p> + +<p>''But, if you only receive four hundred, and give me four hundred, what the +deuce will you make out of such an operation?'</p> + +<p>''Trust entirely to your generosity.'</p> + +<p>''What! leave me to do what I like! I take you up—by Jupiter! Pedro, +that is a noble trait in your character—I take you up.'</p> + +<p>''Then it is a bargain. Will you wait here for me, or would you prefer to meet +me at our usual Monte in the Calle de los Meradores?'</p> + +<p>''I prefer the Monte.'</p> + +<p>''You will swear on the cross, to relate fully and truly every particular +relating to your journey?'</p> + +<p>''Of course—every thing.'</p> + +<p>''I will be there in a couple of hours.'</p> + +<p>'After his friend's departure, Pepito sat silent; his brow was knit, and yet a +mocking sneer played around his lips; he seemed to be pursuing two trains of +thought at once; suspicion and merriment were clearly working in his mind.</p> + +<p>''This is a droll affair, Caballero; I can't clearly see the bottom of it'</p> + +<p>''There is nothing very unusual in it that I see,' I replied, 'for every day +men sacrifice honor for gold.'</p> + +<p>''True, nothing more common, and yet this proposition beats all I ever met +with.'</p> + +<p>''In what respect?'</p> + +<p>''Why, the interest that these folks who employ Pedro, take in this journey +that I undertook for your friend, Señor Pride.'</p> + +<p>''But, if this journey has some valuable secret object in view?'</p> + +<p>''Valuable secret!' repeated Pepito, bursting into a fit of laughter; 'Yes, a +valuable secret indeed! Oh! the joke of offering four hundred dollars for what, +'twixt you and me, is not worth a cent. But who can it be that is behind Pedro, +in this matter? He must be some rival doctor, or else a naturalist, on the same +scent.'</p> + +<p>''Is Señor Pride,' I inquired, 'a doctor—are you sure of +that?'</p> + +<p>''Yes—he must be—but I don't know,' exclaimed Pepito; 'I am at my +wits' end. If he is not, I have been working in the dark, and he has deceived me +with a false pretext; I am at a loss—dead beat. But one thing is +plain—I can make four hundred dollars, if I like.'</p> + +<p>''And will you betray your employer?' said I indignantly.</p> + +<p>''Time enough—never decide rashly, Caballero; I shall +deliberate—nothing like sleeping on important affairs; to-morrow—who +knows what to-morrow may bring forth?'</p> + +<p>'So saying, Pepito arose, took his traveling sword under his arm, placed his +hat jauntily on his head, cast an admiring eye at the looking-glass, and then +brushed off some of the dust that still clung to his left sleeve.</p> + +<p>''The smile of Heaven abide with you, Señor,' said he, with a most +graceful bow. 'As for your friend's secret, do not be uneasy about it; I am not +going to meet Pedro to-night. I shall take advantage of his absence to make a +call on my lady-love. Pedro is a good fellow, but shockingly self-conceited; he +fancies himself far smarter than I—perhaps he is—but somehow I fancy, +this time he must be early if he catches me asleep.'<span class="pageno"><a +name="page630" id="page630"></a>{630}</span></p> + +<p>'On his departure, I paid the bill, which both my friends had overlooked, then +walked out and seated myself on the Alameda, which at that hour was thronged with +promenaders. Isolated, buried in thought, in the midst of that teeming throng, +the various episodes in the drama of which my mysterious neighbor was the +principal character, passed before my mind. I again and again reviewed the +strange events which, by some freak of fortune, I had been a witness to. What was +the basis on which my friend, with two sets of names, founded his dream of +inexhaustible wealth, this mission he had intrusted to Pepito? What the mission +which the agent laughed at, and which to gain a clue to, others were tempting him +with glittering bribes? And again, why the deceit practiced on Pepito, by +assuming the guise of a doctor? Each of these facts was a text on which I piled a +mountain of speculation.</p> + +<p>'Vexed and annoyed at finding myself becoming entangled in this web of +mystery, as well as piqued at my failure to unravel it, I determined to avoid all +further connection with any of the actors; and full of this resolve, I wended my +way homeward, to have a final and decisive interview with Mr. Livermore.</p> + +<p>'The worthy Donna Teresa Lopez confronted me as I entered the inner door:</p> + +<p>''Plenty of news, is there not?' she asked; 'I heard a good deal of +squabbling, last night; that man in the cloak was noisy.'</p> + +<p>''Yes; they had an interesting discussion.'</p> + +<p>''You can not make me believe that was all. <i>Discussion</i>, indeed! When +there is a pretty woman in the case, and two men talk as loudly as they did, it +generally ends in a serious kind of discussion. 'When love stirs the fire, anger +makes the blood boil.' Tell me, now, will they fight here, in the Señor +Pride's room?'</p> + +<p>'This question, which Donna Teresa put in the most matter-of-fact sort of way, +staggered me considerably, and confirmed me in the resolution to avoid the whole +business.</p> + +<p>''I sincerely trust, Señora, that such an event is not probable. On +what do you base your supposition?'</p> + +<p>''There is nothing so very astounding in rivals fighting; but it is all the +same to me. I only asked that I might take precautions.'</p> + +<p>''Precautions! what, inform the police?'</p> + +<p>''No, no! I thought it might be as well to take down the new +curtains—the blood might spoil them.'</p> + +<p>'Need I say I terminated my interview with my hostess, more impressed with +admiration of her business qualities than of her sympathetic virtues? But let me +do the poor woman justice; life is held so cheap, and the knife acts so large a +part in Mexico, that violence and sudden death produce a mere transient +effect.</p> + +<h4 class="center">IX.</h4> + +<p>'Instead of going to my own apartments, I went direct to Mr. Livermore's, +intending thus to show him that I wished no longer to be looked upon as the man +in the next room.</p> + +<p>''We were dying with anxiety to see you,' he said, as I entered; 'walk into +the other room, you will find Adéle there.'</p> + +<p>''Well, Mr. Rideau,' said she, with intense anxiety visible on her +countenance, 'what passed between those two men?'</p> + +<p>''Little of importance. Pedro offered Pepito four hundred dollars if he would +divulge the particulars of his journey; to which offer Pepito has acceded. That +is about all.'</p> + +<p>'I was far from anticipating the effect my answer would produce on my hearers. +They were overwhelmed—thunderstruck. Adéle was the first to +recover.</p> + +<p>''Fool! fool that I was,' she exclaimed, 'why did I select in such an +enterprise a man worn down by sickness and disease?'</p> + +<p>'The look she cast on Arthur, rapid<span class="pageno"><a name="page631" +id="page631"></a>{631}</span> as it was, was so full of menace and reproach, that +it startled me.</p> + +<p>''Well, Arthur,' she said, laying her hand on his arm; 'do you feel ill +again?'</p> + +<p>'Roused by the sound of her voice, Arthur placed his hand on his heart, and +mutely plead excuse for the silence which his sufferings imposed on him.</p> + +<p>'As for me, I spoke no word, but mentally consigned my mysterious neighbors to +a distant port, whence consignments never return.</p> + +<p>''My dear sir,' I replied at length, 'Pepito's treachery, which appears so +deeply to affect you, is not yet carried into execution, it is only contemplated. +I will give you word for word what transpired.'</p> + +<p>'When I had concluded my narrative, to which they listened with breathless +attention, Adéle exclaimed:</p> + +<p>''Our hopes are not yet crushed, the case is not utterly desperate; but alas! +it is evident our secret is suspected, if not known. Arthur,' she continued, 'now +is the time to display all our energy. We have some enemy to dread, as I have +long suspected. If we do not at once steal a march on him, then farewell forever +to all our dreams of happiness, of wealth, or even of subsistence.'</p> + +<p>''Sir,' said she, again addressing me; 'your honor alone has kept you in +ignorance of our secret. You could easily have tempted and corrupted Pepito. We +prefer you should learn it from us rather than from an accidental source. We +merely request your word of honor that you will not use it to your own advantage, +without our joint consent, nor in any way thwart our plans.'</p> + +<p>''I am deeply sensible, madame, of the confidence you repose in me; but I must +beg you will allow me to remain in ignorance.'</p> + +<p>''You refuse, then, to give us the promise?' exclaimed Adéle, 'I see it +all! you will thwart us; you would preserve your liberty of action without +forfeiting your word.'</p> + +<p>'If you had known me longer, such a suspicion would not have crossed your +mind. However, as I have no other means of proving it unjust, I will give the +pledge you desire, I am now ready to hear whatever you have to communicate.'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Livermore resumed the conversation:</p> + +<p>''The secret which Adéle imparted to me will, I dare say, appear at +first very extravagant, but before you laugh at it, give me time to explain. It +is the existence of a marvelous opal mine in the interior; the precise location +of which is known to no one save Adéle and myself.'</p> + +<p>'In spite of the greatest effort, I could not suppress a smile of incredulity, +at this announcement. Mexico is so full of strange stories of fabulous mines, +that this wondrous tale of opals looked to me like some new confidence game, and +I felt sure my neighbors were duped or else trying to dupe me.</p> + +<p>''Oh! I see you think we are deceived?'</p> + +<p>''I admit,' I replied, 'it strikes me as possible that you have been the +victims of some crafty scheme. Did you hear of this mine before or since your +arrival in Mexico?'</p> + +<p>''Before we left New-Orleans.'</p> + +<p>''And yet it is not known to the natives?'</p> + +<p>''It was from a Mexican we had our information.'</p> + +<p>''Why did not this Mexican himself take advantage of it?'</p> + +<p>''He could not, for he was banished. He is now dead. But what do you think of +these specimens?'</p> + +<p>'He took from a drawer ten or twelve opals of rare size and brilliancy. I +examined them with care; they were, beyond all doubt, of very considerable value. +My incredulity gradually gave way to amazement.</p> + +<p>''Are you certain these opals really came from the mine of which you +speak?'</p> + +<p>''Nothing can be more certain; you saw Pepito hand me a package; you heard his +remark that he could have<span class="pageno"><a name="page632" +id="page632"></a>{632}</span> brought a mule-load; these are a few of what he did +bring.'</p> + +<p>''This mine then really exists?' I said, my incredulity giving way to the most +ardent curiosity.</p> + +<p>''Really exists! yes, my friend; if you listen, I will dispel all doubt of +that.'</p> + +<h4 class="center">X.</h4> + +<p>''On arriving in this country, my first step was to procure a guide and the +necessary equipage for reaching the opal mine. Although I felt sure of its +existence, I could not dispel the fear that the story of its marvelous richness +would prove false. Without loss of time, I started; for to me it was a question +of life and death. I had, however, barely accomplished a third of the journey, +when I was prostrated by fever. The fatigue of traveling in the interior of this +magnificent but wretched country, combined with excitement and anxiety, preyed +upon my mind, and brought on an illness, from which at one time I gave up all +hope of recovering. I was compelled to return to Vera Cruz. The doctors were all +of the opinion that several months of perfect repose would be necessary before I +could undertake another such journey. Several months—oh! how those words +fell on my ears; they sounded like the knell of all my hopes. A thousand +expedients floated through my brain, and in adopting the course I eventually did, +time alone will prove whether I followed the promptings of a good or evil genius. +One evening, I explained to my attendant that I was a medical man, deeply +interested in botanical and mineralogical discoveries; that my object in +undertaking my recent journey was to collect certain rare herbs and a singular +description of shell. I laid peculiar stress on the herbs, and added in relation +to the shells, that I merely wanted a few specimens, as they were rare in my +country. My attendant at once proffered his services, to go in search of them. I +appeared at first to attach but little importance to his offer; but as he renewed +it whenever the subject was alluded to, I at last employed him. The mine is +situated on the margin of a little brook. One day's work of an active man will +turn the stream into a fresh channel, and a few inches beneath its bed will be +found, mixed with the damp sand and loam, the shells, which, when polished, form +the opal. I gave my servant the needful information as to localities and +landmarks, and promised him a gratuity of a hundred dollars over and above his +wages, in case he succeeded. Having given him instructions, I retained his +services until I reached this city, where I determined to await his return, it +being more healthy than Vera Cruz. Having selected my lodgings and given him the +pass-word by which alone a stranger could obtain admittance to me, with an +anxious heart I dispatched him on the mission.</p> + +<p>''For three months I had no tidings of him; night and day, I was the prey of +doubt and fear. No words can portray the agony of suspense that I endured; the +hours seemed days, the days months, and the bitterness of years was crowded into +that short interval. At last, thanks be to heaven, my messenger returned.'</p> + +<p>''Do you mean Pepito?' I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>''The very man,' replied Arthur; 'his journey was successful. You have seen +the specimens he brought. I was intoxicated with delight; but Adéle did +not share my joy. Nature has given woman a faculty of intuition denied to man. +Alas! Adéle's presentiment has been verified; your account of the +interview between Pepito and his friend proves her fears were well-grounded.'</p> + +<p>''In what way?'</p> + +<p>''In <i>this</i> way; it shows we have an enemy who has an inkling of our +secret, and is striving to snatch the prize from us. What course to take I am at +a loss to know. Adéle advises to make sure of Pepito, at any price.'</p> + +<p>''And that strikes me as being your surest if not your only course.'</p> + +<p>''Yes, the surest; but how to make <i>sure</i> of him?'<span class="pageno"><a +name="page633" id="page633"></a>{633}</span></p> + +<p>''By outbidding your competitors, and proving to him that in adhering to you +he is best serving his own interests.'</p> + +<p>''But he is base enough to take bribes from both sides, and betray each.'</p> + +<p>''Oh! that I were a man!' exclaimed Adéle, 'this fellow is the only one +who knows our secret. One man ought not to stand in fear of another. Only +<i>one</i> man crosses your path, Arthur.'</p> + +<p>''Unless I murder him, how can he be silenced?'</p> + +<p>''<i>Murder</i> him! It is not murder to kill a robber. Were <i>I</i> a man, I +would not hesitate how to act.'</p> + +<p>''The anxiety of Pedro,' I said, 'indicates you have an enemy. Have you any +idea who he is?'</p> + +<p>''I believe,' said Adéle, 'that I know him.'</p> + +<p>''Are you sure there is only one?'</p> + +<p>''Why do you ask?' said the woman, fixing her eye upon me as though she would, +in spite of every obstacle, read my inmost thoughts.</p> + +<p>''Because I fancy there are <i>two</i>, for instance, Brown and Hunt.'</p> + +<p>'At the mention of these names Adéle started to her feet, +exclaiming:</p> + +<p>''On all sides there is treachery. I <i>demand</i>, sir, an explanation. What +leads you to associate the name of that firm with this matter? Either you are our +friend or you are not. Speak plainly!'</p> + +<p>''Madame, by the merest chance, I overheard Pedro mention those names, and +since you have given me your confidence, I will give you some information which +may put you on your guard, and help to guide your future plans.'</p> + +<p>'I then briefly related the conversations I had overheard between General +Valiente and Pedro, both on the Alameda and in the gaming-house in the Calle del +Arco.</p> + +<p>''Now, madame,' I continued, 'let me inquire whether the Mexican from whom you +derived your information, had any connection with this firm?'</p> + +<p>''Yes, sir, he knew them,' she replied; then, after a slight pause, she added: +'We have already told you so much that it would be folly to conceal the way in +which we became acquainted with the existence of this mine. Soon after my +marriage, I met a veteran officer of the Mexican army, General Ramiro, then +living in exile, at New-Orleans. For me he conceived a paternal affection, and +many a time remonstrated with Mr. Percival, and entreated him to devote himself +to his family, and abandon the course of life which was leading him to ruin. He +often spoke of his desire to return to Mexico, and lived constantly in the hope +of the decree being revoked, which had driven him into exile. One day he +disclosed the chief cause of his desire to return, by revealing the secret we +have imparted to you.'</p> + +<p>''Pardon me, madame,' I said, 'but tell me how General Ramiro gained his +information? Exploring for opal mines is hardly part of the duties of a General, +even in Mexico.'</p> + +<p>''I was about to explain that,' replied the lady. 'An Indian, convicted of +murdering a monk, some three years previously, was condemned to death. On being +taken, according to Mexican usage, on the eve of execution, to the confessional, +he refused the slightest attention to the exhortations of the priests, affirming +that he had written a letter to the Governor, which would secure his pardon.</p> + +<p>''True enough, a party of dragoons arrived during the night, and took him +away. The letter was addressed to General Ramiro, then acting as Governor, and +contained promises of a revelation of the highest importance.</p> + +<p>''When conducted to the General, the Indian proved, by a host of details, the +existence of an opal mine, which he had accidentally discovered, and in return +for the revelation, demanded a free pardon.'</p> + +<p>''I understand, perfectly, madame,' I added, seeing Adéle hesitate.</p> + +<p>''I feel,' she said, 'a certain reluctance at this portion of my narrative, +for it forces me to lay bare an act which General Ramiro ever after regretted, +and which—'<span class="pageno"><a name="page634" +id="page634"></a>{634}</span> ''Madame, I will spare you the recital; the fact +is, the General gained the Indian's secret, and then—unfortunately for the +Indian—forgot to fulfill his promise.'</p> + +<p>''Alas! sir, you have rightly judged. Two hours after the interview, the +Indian suffered the garrote, and General Ramiro became the sole possessor of this +important secret. I will not attempt to justify my venerable friend. He sincerely +lamented his sin, and retribution followed him with long, sad years of exile and +poverty. We often sat together for hours, he talking of his wonderful mine, and +longing for his recall to his native land. His enemies, however, held a firm hold +of government, and growing weary of delay, he made overtures to this firm of +Brown and Hunt, through their correspondents in New-Orleans. Being sadly in want +of funds, he was even mad enough to give a hint of some kind, relative to an opal +mine, which was to be worked by them on joint account.</p> + +<p>''Before any definite arrangement was perfected, an event occurred which is +indelibly impressed on my memory. The General, after spending a portion of the +afternoon with us, had returned to his home; and about eleven at night, a +messenger begged my immediate attendance on him. He had been taken suddenly ill; +and my husband, who was cognizant of the paternal affection the General felt for +me, urged me to hasten to his bedside.</p> + +<p>''I found him at the point of death; but my presence seemed to call him back +to life. 'My child,' said he, placing in my hands a very voluminous letter, 'this +is all I have to give you. Farewell, dear child, I am going. Farewell, forever.' +In a few moments he was no more. I returned home a prey to the most intense +grief, and for several days did not think of opening the letter I had received +from my dying benefactor. It contained the most precise details of the situation +of the opal mine, and advice as to the best means of reaching it.</p> + +<p>''So you see, Mr. Rideau,' she added, after a slight pause, 'the secret is +known only to three persons—Arthur, Pepito, and myself. What, under the +circumstances, would you do?'</p> + +<p>''I see but one course, madame—prompt action; by this means only can you +hope to succeed. You should start without a day's delay.'</p> + +<p>''And Pepito?'</p> + +<p>''Take him with you.'</p> + +<p>''Your advice would be excellent were it practicable; but the state of Mr. +Livermore's health will not permit him to travel.'</p> + +<p>''Oh! never fear, Adéle; your presence and your care will keep me up. I +shall gain strength by change of air and scene.'</p> + +<p>'Adéle was, probably, about to protest against such a proof of his +attachment, when she was interrupted by a knock at the door.</p> + +<p>''It is Pepito,' said I. My conjecture proved correct. Opening the door, the +Mexican appeared, dressed in a new suit, and evidently not a little proud of his +external improvements. He bowed politely to Mr. Livermore and myself, and then +bending before Adéle, took her hand and raised it with true Mexican grace, +to his lips.</p> + +<p>''You arrive, Pepito,' said Adéle, 'at the very moment we are talking +about you.'</p> + +<p>'Pepito again bowed to the lady.</p> + +<p>''Señora,' said he, 'to please you I would die; to obey you I would +kill myself.'</p> + +<p>'The exaggerated tone of Mexican politeness which prompted this reply did not +surprise Adéle, but it brought a smile to her lips.</p> + +<p>''I trust my wishes will not lead to such disastrous results,' she replied. +'The fact is, Señor Pride thinks shortly of undertaking another journey; +and as his health is delicate, we are anxious you should bear us company. I need +not add, the zeal you have already shown, will not fail to secure our interest in +your future welfare.'</p> + +<p>''Indeed! does his excellency intend<span class="pageno"><a name="page635" +id="page635"></a>{635}</span> starting very soon? May I be allowed to ask where +is he going?'</p> + +<p>''To the same place,' said Arthur.</p> + +<p>''Oh! oh! I see; the herbs and shells I brought were not enough to answer his +excellency's purpose; you want more of the shells—eh, Señor?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, a few more,' said Arthur, with a deep sigh, for he felt acutely the +ironical tone which the Mexican assumed.</p> + +<p>''Well, what would you say, Señor Pride, if, instead of the few I +handed you, I had brought a sack full—you would not feel angry, would +you?'</p> + +<p>''Scoundrel! you have not dared to thus deceive me?' exclaimed Mr. Livermore, +starting to his feet and advancing toward Pepito, with an air of menace.</p> + +<p>''Unfortunately, I did not; but you have proved to me what a fool I was, not +to suspect their value. You evidently attach immense importance to them.'</p> + +<p>''Control your temper, Arthur,' said Adéle, in English, 'or you will +ruin every thing.'</p> + +<p>''After all,' resumed Pepito, 'it is only a chance deferred, not a chance +lost. With a good horse, I can soon make up for lost time.'</p> + +<p>'His tone of defiance annihilated the self-possession even of Adéle; +while as for Arthur, he looked the very picture of despair. I, therefore, +resolved to smooth matters over, and if possible, to bring Pepito to terms. At +first he listened to me very unwillingly, and answered sulkily and laconically; +but wearied at last by my pertinacity, he suggested that it was scarcely fair +play for me to assume to sit as judge in a cause wherein I was an interested +party.'</p> + +<p>''You are strangely mistaken, Pepito,' I said, in reply; 'I can swear to you +on my honor, and by the holy Virgin of Guadalupe, that I am not in any way a +party to this transaction; and that its success or its failure will not affect me +to the extent of a real.</p> + +<p>''Oh! I beg your pardon, Caballero,' muttered Pepito, on whom my adjuration by +the holy Virgin of Guadalupe, had produced an unexpected effect. 'In that case I +will trust to your advice; I rely on your honor. Now tell me—I know very +well these shells are valuable—how much would a mule-load be +worth—two thousand dollars?'</p> + +<p>''Yes, and perhaps more.'</p> + +<p>''You speak frankly, like a man!' he exclaimed with delight; 'you don't seek +to take advantage of my ignorance; you are a true gentleman. Tell me where I +could sell these things.'</p> + +<p>''You could find no one to buy them in this country; they must be sent either +to Europe or New-York.'</p> + +<p>''The devil! that upsets my plans. I know no one in Europe, no one in +New-York; besides, I can neither read nor write; I should be cheated on all +hands. Is there no way to settle this business between ourselves? Listen, now: I +will agree not only to accompany Señor Pride as his guide, but to do all +the work when we arrive at our destination, on condition that he pays me two +thousand dollars for every trip we make. What do you say to my proposition?'</p> + +<p>''That it is Señor Pride who must answer you, not I.'</p> + +<h4 class="center">XI.</h4> + +<p>'Obeying the injunction laid upon him by Adéle, Mr. Livermore affected +to demur at the high price placed by Pepito on his cooperation, but finally +appeared to yield to our joint solicitation.</p> + +<p>''Well, then, the bargain is closed,' said Pepito, smiling. 'Now I can +understand why Pedro was so anxious to have me betray my trust. Oh! how delighted +I am to think he will find I have left him in the lurch.'</p> + +<p>''Señor Pepito,' said Adéle, with a most winning smile, 'do you +happen to know a family residing some short distance from this city, who, in +consideration of a liberal compensation, would not object to take a lady to board +with them?'</p> + +<p>''I do, Señora, at Toluca.'</p> + +<p>''How far is it from here?'</p> + +<p>''Twelve or fourteen leagues.'</p> + +<p><span class="pageno"><a name="page636" id="page636"></a>{636}</span>'' Are you +intimate enough with the family to take me there to-morrow, without previously +informing them of my intention?'</p> + +<p>''Certainly; the lady I allude to is my sister.'</p> + +<p>''Then to-morrow morning early, at seven, say. But Señor Pepito, I had +forgotten to warn you that in escorting me you will run a great danger.'</p> + +<p>''Oh! I am not afraid of the robbers on the road; they know me well, and never +molest me.'</p> + +<p>''It is not of robbers that I stand in dread.'</p> + +<p>''Of what, then?'</p> + +<p>''Of a man—an enemy who hates me with a deadly hatred, and who, I fear, +seeks my life.'</p> + +<p>''A man—<i>one</i> man—and he seeks your life; well, well, I +should like to meet him face to face,' exclaimed Pepito.</p> + +<p>''Then, Señor, you promise to protect me at any risk?'</p> + +<p>''Protect you! <i>yes</i>,' replied he with vehemence, 'I pledge you my honor, +my body, and my soul. I will face the bravest of the brave, to defend you from +injury.'</p> + +<p>''From my heart of hearts I thank you, Pepito,' said Mr. Livermore, 'you shall +find me not ungrateful, and in return for the zeal and devotion you have shown, +two hundred dollars shall be yours, on your return with tidings of madame's safe +arrival.'</p> + +<p>''I will at once proceed to secure the necessary equipage, Señor. +Señora, rely on my punctuality; at seven, I shall attend you.'</p> + +<p>''Are you related to Señor Pride?' asked Pepito, as we descended the +stairs.</p> + +<p>''In no way; I have known him only a few days.'</p> + +<p>''Well, Caballero, I own I am enchanted with his wife; I never met a woman of +such matchless beauty, such fascinating manners; why, Señor, if she said +to me, 'Pepito, kill your brother,' and I had a brother, which, luckily, I have +not, I think I should kill him.'</p> + +<p>'These words were uttered with so much vehemence, that I deemed it advisable +to turn the conversation.</p> + +<p>''It seems strange to me,' said I, 'that you should be so intimate with Pedro, +and yet be ever on the very verge of quarreling with him.'</p> + +<p>''Well, it is perhaps astonishing to those who do not know us; but somehow +Pedro is my best, in fact, my only friend. We were brought up in the same +village, and are just like brothers. He is a good sort of fellow, but is +abominably vain and self-conceited; then he is deucedly overbearing. He has no +delicacy for his friend's feelings, and, in fact, has a thousand failings that no +one else but I could tolerate. True, we have now and then a pretty rough time of +it. The two gashes on his left cheek are mementoes of my regard, and I confess I +have two ugly marks, one on my shoulder, the other on my right breast, which I +owe to him. But what galls me most, he is always talking of his six dead ones, +while I can claim only five; but then my five are all men, while two of his six +are women.'</p> + +<p>''Horrible!' I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>''Yes, it is not a fair count; but then it shows his insatiable vanity. Vanity +is one of the capital sins; it is hard to tell into what meanness it may not lead +a man.' With this sententious denunciation, the Mexican, who had clearly +misinterpreted my indignant ejaculation, raised his hat, with an air of extreme +politeness, and departed.</p> + +<p>'When I again entered Mr. Livermore's apartment, the conversation naturally +turned on Pepito.</p> + +<p>''Well, what think you of my cavalier?' said Adéle.</p> + +<p>''As you are aware, my acquaintance with him is of but recent date; but one +thing speaks greatly in his favor: he has been for several months attached to Mr. +Livermore's person, both as guide and as attendant while sick, and he has not +attempted, as far as I have heard, either to assassinate or poison him. This I +take to be a striking proof of meritorious moderation.'<span class="pageno"><a +name="page637" id="page637"></a>{637}</span></p> + +<p>''I fear, Adéle, we are acting imprudently,' said Arthur, 'in +intrusting you to the tender mercies of such an unprincipled scoundrel, a man you +have seen but twice.</p> + +<p>''Good heavens! dearest Arthur, would it be less imprudent for that man +Percival to find me here? I shudder to think of ever again meeting him; and +moreover, by flattering this Pepito and pretending to place entire confidence in +him, I shall win him to a devoted submission to my every wish.'</p> + +<p>'After a somewhat protracted but by no means important conversation, I +retired, promising to see them in the morning, previous to Adéle's +departure.</p> + +<h4 class="center">XII.</h4> + +<p>'Shortly before the appointed hour, Pepito arrived, and announced that all his +preparations had been made. His fair charge quickly made her appearance, dressed +in complete Mexican costume. It suited her remarkably well, and I was not +surprised to observe the intense admiration with which Pepito gazed upon her, for +her beauty was truly fascinating. Notwithstanding my suspicions of the absence of +that inner spiritual beauty which should adorn all female loveliness, I myself +could scarce resist the spell she exercised on my feelings, even in spite of my +judgment.</p> + +<p>'Turning to Pepito, with a smile, she inquired gayly, 'Well, Señor, how +do you like my change of costume?'</p> + +<p>'The Mexican replied merely by putting his hand on his heart, and bowing +almost reverentially.</p> + +<p>'Having given Mr. Livermore an affectionate embrace, she exclaimed, in a firm, +determined voice: 'Let us be off: time is precious.'</p> + +<p>'It had been arranged that I should accompany them until they were out of the +city. I therefore left Mr. Livermore alone, and followed the two travelers. On +reaching the street, Adéle took the Mexican's arm; but as they turned the +corner of one of the streets running into the Cathedral Square, I noticed that +she raised her hood and lowered the veil attached to it. Surprised at this +apparently uncalled-for act of caution, I inquired the reason.</p> + +<p>''Do you not see Mr. Percival?' she exclaimed, in Spanish.</p> + +<p>''Who is he? Is that the man you said you dreaded? that melancholy-looking +man, who is walking so moodily ahead of us?' exclaimed Pepito. 'I must have a +good look at him.'</p> + +<p>''Be cautious, I beseech you; if he sees me, all is lost.'</p> + +<p>''Fear nothing, I will be discreet; I only want to get one good look at him.' +So saying, Pepito increased his speed, and was soon walking beside the +unconscious Percival.</p> + +<p>'In a few minutes, Pepito turned suddenly down a narrow street, into which we +followed, and there we found a carriage awaiting us.</p> + +<p>''Señora, I shall know your enemy among a thousand,' was Pepito's +remark, on again offering Adéle his arm, to assist her in entering the +vehicle.</p> + +<p>'We were soon safely out of the city, and taking advantage of the first +returning carriage we met, I returned with it, Adéle thanked me with much +apparent gratitude for my past services, and begged me to devote as much of my +leisure as possible to cheering and advising her dear Arthur.</p> + +<p>'On my return, I found him pacing his chamber with intense anxiety, and +evidently prostrated by the excitement he had undergone.</p> + +<p>''Well, what news?' said he, almost gasping for breath.</p> + +<p>''Adéle is beyond the reach of danger.'</p> + +<p>''You met no one?'</p> + +<p>''No one.'</p> + +<p>''Heaven be praised; and yet I feel a presentiment I shall never see her +again—never.'</p> + +<p>''Pshaw! love is always timorous; it delights in raising phantoms.'</p> + +<p>''This is no phantom; death is a reality, and, mark my words, on earth we +shall meet no more.'</p> + +<p>'Overcome by the violence of his emotions, he buried his face in his<span +class="pageno"><a name="page638" id="page638"></a>{638}</span> hands, and gave +way to an outburst of Intense grief. Yielding, finally, to my reiterated +entreaties, he threw himself upon his bed, and, as I had some private business to +settle, I left him to the care of our officious hostess, who was only too happy +to find one on whom she could display her self-acquired knowledge of the healing +art.</p> + +<p>'The next day, Arthur, though still feeble, was able to walk about his +apartments. Toward dusk, a letter arrived from Adéle. She announced her +safe arrival at Toluca, spoke in terms of praise of Pepito's devotion and +attention, and expressed herself agreeably surprised at the hospitality she had +received from his sister. The receipt of this letter produced a marked +improvement in my patient's health. In a postscript, reference was made to an +accident which had happened to poor Pepito, who was prevented from being the +bearer of this letter, by having sprained his ankle. This would retard his return +to the city for a day or two; nevertheless, she begged her 'dear Arthur' not to +be uneasy, as even this delay, annoying as it was, might prove of advantage, as +it would give him time to recover from the effects of the excitement of the past +few days.</p> + +<p>'After Adéle's departure, I again fastened up the door of +communication, and although I saw him at least once every day, to some extent I +carried out my determination of ceasing to be on such intimate terms with Mr. +Livermore. I fell back into my former course of life, and yet I felt a certain +envy of the colossal fortune upon which he had, as it were, stumbled. Though I +sincerely wished my poor sick neighbor might succeed in his enterprise, I +gradually grew restless and morose. The opal-mine became a painful and +distasteful topic of conversation, and as Arthur invariably adverted to it in +some way or other, I by degrees made my visits of shorter and shorter +duration.</p> + +<p>'In vain I strove to divert my mind from this one absorbing idea. I visited +the theatres, attended cock-pits and bull-fights, in the hope that the excitement +would afford me relief from the fascinating spell: but it was useless, I was a +haunted man.</p> + +<p>'One night, returning from the opera, at about ten o'clock, I was stopped by a +large crowd at the corner of the Calle Plateros. From an officer near me, I +ascertained that a foreigner, believed to be a heretic, had been stabbed, and was +either dead or dying.</p> + +<p>'The next morning, in the <i>Diario de Gobierno</i>, which Donna Teresa +brought up with my chocolate, I learned that 'at about ten on the previous night, +an American, named Percival, recently arrived from New-Orleans, was murdered in +the Calle Plateros.' His watch and purse were missing; it was therefore inferred +that robbery and not revenge had prompted the foul deed.</p> + +<p>'I instantly summoned Donna Teresa, and requested her to take the paper, which +I marked, to Mr. Livermore; and as soon as my breakfast was over, I hastened to +make my usual call. I found him looking very sombre.</p> + +<p>''God is my witness!' he exclaimed, the instant I entered the room, 'that I +did not seek this poor unfortunate man's death; but it relieves Adéle from +all fear. Have you heard any details of the event?'</p> + +<p>''I have not; but assassination is not so rare here that you need be under any +fear about it. No suspicion can possibly attach to you.'</p> + +<p>''I have no fear, for I know my own innocence; but it is inexplicable to me. +Poor Percival! he could have had no enemy in the city.'</p> + +<p>''Doubtless he was murdered for his money and his watch; but have you heard +from Toluca?'</p> + +<p>''Yes, and Adéle informs me that I may expect Pepito in the course of +the day. So I shall not delay my departure beyond to-morrow, perhaps to-night. +But there is some one at the door; doubtless it is Pepito.'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Livermore opened the door; but instead of Pepito it was his friend, +Pedro, who entered.<span class="pageno"><a name="page639" +id="page639"></a>{639}</span></p> + +<p>''My presence surprises you, Caballero,' said Pedro, drawing a long sigh; 'but +alas! I have bad news.'</p> + +<p>'What! bad news? speak, speak, quick!' exclaimed Arthur, turning dealy [sic] +pale.</p> + +<p>'Pedro, before deigning to answer, drew forth a very soiled rag, which served +him as a handkerchief, and proceeded to rub his eyes with no little vigor, a +pantomime which was intended no doubt to convey the idea of tears having dimmed +his eyes.</p> + +<p>''Alas! Excellency,' said he at length, in a lugubrious tone; 'poor Pepito is +in sad trouble.'</p> + +<p>''Have you been fighting again? Have you killed him?' I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>''Killed him? <i>I</i> kill him!' he repeated indignantly; 'how can you imagine +such an outrage, Caballero? Kill my best friend! No, Señor; but poor +Pepito has been pressed into a military company. To-morrow, they will uniform him +and march him off to some frontier regiment.'</p> + +<p>''Is there no way of buying him off?' inquired Arthur.</p> + +<p>''Nothing more easy, Caballero. You have simply to write to the General who +commands the department, and state that Pepito is attached to your person, as a +personal attendant, and that will suffice to set him at liberty. They never press +people in service.'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Livermore lost no time in following Pedro's advice. As soon as the letter +was handed to him, the latter waved it in triumph over his head, and rushed forth +to effect the deliverance of his dear compadre, Pepito.</p> + +<p>'The impressment of Pepito surprised me, for I had not heard of their taking +any body who had reached the dignity of a pair of inexpressibles, and the luxury +of a pair of shoes. The Indians in the neighborhood of the capital, besotted by +drink and misery, almost naked, and living or rather burrowing in caves, were +usually the only victims of the recruiting sergeant. However, as the letter given +by Arthur to Pedro could be of no use to the latter, I saw no reasonable ground +to doubt the story.</p> + +<p>'As it seemed probable that Mr. Livermore would shortly leave the city, I +accepted his invitation, and promised to return and dine with him at five +o'clock, adding that I hoped then to meet Pepito, and receive from him a full +account of his adventures since we had parted.</p> + +<h4 class="center">XIII.</h4> + +<p>'About three o'clock, I returned home. I had ensconced myself, book in hand, +in my rocking-chair, when groans which seemed to proceed from Mr. Livermore's +room, attracted my attention. I listened at the door, and my fears were realized. +The groans were assuredly uttered by my neighbor. I rushed into his room, and as +I crossed toward his bed, a fearful spectacle met my gaze.</p> + +<p>'Lying across the bed, his face livid, every muscle in motion, a prey to the +most violent convulsions, I saw my unfortunate fellow-countryman. No sooner, +however, did the noise of my entrance fall upon his ear, than he summoned +strength enough to rise, and seizing a pistol that was beside him, pointed it at +me.</p> + +<p>''Ah! it is you?' said he, lowering his weapon, and falling back, 'you have +arrived just in time to see me die.'</p> + +<p>''Take courage, my friend; for heaven's sake, be of good cheer. It is only one +of your usual attacks, and will pass off; there is no danger.'</p> + +<p>''No danger!' repeated the unfortunate sufferer, biting the sheet and striving +to stifle the cry which agony drew from him; 'no danger? why, I am poisoned!'</p> + +<p>''Poisoned! you must be mad,' I exclaimed: but without loss of time, I +summoned Donna Lopez, and sent instantly for a doctor, who fortunately lived +within a few doors of our house.</p> + +<p>'Once more alone with Arthur, I inquired, during a momentary cessation of his +sufferings:</p> + +<p>''What reason have you for thinking you are poisoned?'<span class="pageno"><a +name="page640" id="page640"></a>{640}</span></p> + +<p>''I am <i>sure</i> of it,' he replied. 'About an hour since, I received a visit +from the Mexican General who is superintendent of the recruiting service. He +desired me to give him certain explanations relative to Pepito, which, of course, +I did. It was very warm, and he asked for a glass of iced water. I offered him +some claret to mix with it, and, at his request, joined him in the drink. But a +few moments elapsed after I had taken my draught, when I felt a weakness steal +over me; my eyelids grew heavy, my knees gave way, and an intolerable heat burned +my veins. I was compelled to sit down upon my bed. At that moment, the General +changed his tone, and imperiously demanded the key of my desk. 'I do not want +your money,' he said, 'but I must have the papers relative to the opal-mine.' I +can not express the effect these words produced upon me. 'To deal frankly with +you,' continued the General, 'you are poisoned, and the Indian poison that is now +coursing through your veins has no antidote. Ten minutes, and your strength will +begin to fail; two hours, and your earthly career will end. If you do not at once +give me your keys, I shall force the lock.' These words, which he doubtless +thought would crush me, filled me with boundless rage, and for a few moments +revived my sinking energies. I started to my feet, and seized my revolver.'</p> + +<p>'''The devil! it seems the dose was not strong enough,' exclaimed my assassin, +taking flight; 'but I will return, be sure of that.''</p> + +<p>'The doctor soon arrived. At the first glance at the patient, he knit his +brow, and his countenance became overcast.</p> + +<p>''How long have you been ill?' he inquired.</p> +<p>''I was poisoned, about an hour since.'</p> + +<p>''Ah! you know you have been poisoned?'</p> +<p>''Yes, doctor, and also the man who poisoned me. Tell me, I beseech you, how + +long I have to live? Speak! you need have no fear; I am prepared for the +worst.'</p> + +<p>'The doctor hesitated, and then said: 'I fear, my dear sir, another hour is +all you can hope for.'</p> + +<p>''I thank you, doctor, for your frankness. No antidote, then, can save +me?'</p> + +<p>''None. The poison you have taken, which the Indians call '<i>Leche de +palo</i>,' is deadly. Your present sufferings will soon cease, and gradually you +will sink, peacefully and painlessly, into the sleep of death.'</p> + +<p>''Send instantly, then, for a magistrate. I at least will be revenged on my +murderer,' said Arthur, 'let me at once make my statement.'</p> + +<p>''You will only be wasting your dying moments,' interposed the doctor; 'day +after day, I am called upon to witness the ravages of this insidious poison, but +never yet has the scaffold punished the assassin. My dear friend, think not of +your murderer; eternity is opening to receive you; in its solemn presence, mere +human vengeance shrinks into utter nothingness.'</p> + +<p>''Doctor, you speak wisely as well as kindly. Poor Adéle,' murmured +Arthur, and his eyes closed, though his lips still moved.</p> + +<p>'After the doctor's departure, I sent to the American Legation, urgently +requesting some official to return with my messenger. I took a chair beside the +bed, while Donna Teresa knelt in the adjoining room, and prayed and sobbed with +much fervor. In a short while, Arthur rallied from the stupor into which he had +fallen. His features became calm, his breathing regular though feeble, and the +tranquil, almost happy, expression of his eye made me for a time half doubt the +fearful prediction of the physician.</p> + +<p>''Do you feel better?' I inquired.</p> + +<p>''Much much; I am in no pain.'</p> + +<p>''Let us hope, then, for the best. I will send for another doctor.'</p> + +<p>''No, that would be useless. My lower extremities are swelling, and I can feel +the hand of death clutching at<span class="pageno"><a name="page641" +id="page641"></a>{641}</span> my vitals. The doctor was right; death is not +racking me with torture, it is gently embracing me. But I want your assistance; +sit down.'</p> + +<p>'I resumed my seat, and Arthur continued, in a feeble tone, but perfectly +calm:</p> + +<p>''How mean a thing is life! Good God! so mean, that at this moment I can not +explain to my own soul why man should cling to it. What do we meet during our +short career? Deceit, hypocrisy, and treachery. Ah! death reveals the hollowness +of life.'</p> + +<p>''My dear friend, you are exhausting yourself. Did you not say you wanted my +assistance? Rely on my zeal, my fidelity, and my discretion.'</p> + +<p>''Rely on you! How can I tell? You are only a man; perhaps avaricious and +treacherous as your fellow-mortals. No matter; though you should forswear +yourself; I, at least, will do what is right. Feel beneath my pillow, there is a +key; take it, open my desk. In the small drawer on the left is a package of +letters. Have you them? Good. Next to that there is a sealed letter. Now, read +aloud the direction on each.'</p> + +<p>''Papers to be burnt after my death,' said I, obeying his injunction.</p> + +<p>''Well, what do you intend doing with them?'</p> + +<p>''Can you for one moment doubt?' I replied.</p> + +<p>'What if I should tell you they contain the entire secret of my +opal-mine!'</p> + +<p>'I made no reply; but struck a match against the wall, and setting them on +fire, resumed my seat.</p> + +<p>''I could hardly have believed it; but you still have Pepito; from him you hope +to learn the secret,' said the dying man.</p> + +<p>''Shall I bind myself by an oath not to seek him?'</p> +<p>''No; I leave you at liberty. Act as you think best. I burned those papers + +because they were bought with blood, for no other reason.'</p> + +<p>''Bought with blood?' I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>''Yes; ten months ago, General Ramiro died at New-Orleans, by +poison—poison administered by Adéle. Do you wonder life has lost all +charm for me? Oh! life is the bitterness, not death.'</p> + +<p>'His voice momently grew fainter. I leaned closer, to catch his fading tones, +till he ceased to speak. I gazed intently at his glassy eyes; the lids closed for +a moment, then partially opened, the jaw fell, and he was no more.'</p> + +<p>'I know not how long I had stood beside his lifeless body, pondering over the +uncertainty of life, and the mystery of death, and the conflicting presentiments +he had uttered: that he should live to achieve success, yet die without again +seeing her who had lured him to his wretched end, when the door of the chamber +suddenly opened, and five or six dragoons entered, accompanied by an officer in +undress uniform.</p> + +<p>''What! you here, General?' I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>''Why not?' was the cool reply, 'I am in search of a deserter named Pepito, +who, I was informed, was concealed here. I see he is not here; but doubtless by +searching among the papers contained in this desk, I shall find some clue to +him.'</p> + +<p>''Your search, General, will be fruitless. The unfortunate young man whose +corpse lies here, instructed me, before he expired, to burn all the papers in his +possession, and I have obeyed his injunctions.'</p> + +<p>''Curses on his infernal obstinacy!' exclaimed General Valiente, 'but look you, +Seņor, I tell you I will search this desk.'</p> + +<p>''By what right?'</p> + +<p>''By the right of might.'</p> + +<p>'Taking my stand in front of the desk, I was protesting against the lawless +act of violence, when the Secretary of the American Legation fortunately arrived. +Finding his plans defeated, Valiente, with commendable prudence, decided on +beating a retreat, and with his followers, took rather an abrupt departure.</p> + +<p>'The ordinary formalities of attaching the seals of the Legation having been +performed, and having secured a<span class="pageno"><a name="page642" +id="page642"></a>{642}</span> faithful person to take charge of the remains of +the unfortunate Livermore, I sallied forth to make arrangements to leave, as soon +as possible, for Toluca.</p> + +<p>The first person I met was Pedro. It is impossible to express the horror I +felt of this villain. My hand was on my weapon before he had reached my side.</p> + +<p>''Have you heard the news, Caballero?' said he, in a low, mysterious tone.</p> + +<p>''No.'</p> + +<p>''I was not fortunate enough to release Pepito; when I arrived with his +master's letter, he had already escaped from the barracks.'</p> + +<p>''Tell me frankly, Pedro, did not General Valiente send you, this morning, for +that letter?'</p> + +<p>''Why? What makes you ask?' inquired Pedro, quite disconcerted by the +abruptness of my question.</p> + +<p>''Because Señor Pride is dead, and General Valiente has twice been to +his rooms.'</p> + +<p>''Dead! Señor Pride dead!' echoed Pedro, in unfeigned astonishment. +'Caballero, I must be off.' And he instantly turned away, and was soon lost to my +sight.</p> + +<p>'Before another hour had passed I was on horseback and on the way to Toluca. +The road was infested by gangs of robbers, but my pockets were empty, and my +brain was full, so I gave those gentry not even a passing thought. The evening +was fast closing in, and as the shadows gathered round me, the tragic event which +I had just witnessed gradually receded from my mind. As I journeyed on, it grew +more and more distant, until at last it faded into a dim memory of the past; and +through the long miles of my lonely ride there went before me the glorious vision +of an opal-mine of untold wealth—an opal-mine without an owner—a +countless fortune, untold riches, waiting to fall into my hands.</p> +<h4 class="center">XIV.</h4> +<p>'It was past midnight when I reached Toluca. As it was too late to call on +Adéle, I alighted at a tavern, where I passed the night, pacing my +chamber, and not closing my eyes. Soon after daybreak I sought the house of +Pepito's sister; and notwithstanding the earliness of the hour, found Mrs. +Percival standing at one of the windows.</p> + +<p>''You here, Mr. Rideau!' she exclaimed, with surprise, on seeing me. 'How did +you find my retreat?'</p> + +<p>''I was told of it by Mr. Livermore.'</p> + +<p>''Ah! 'tis he who sent you.'</p> + +<p>''Alas! not so, madame.'</p> + +<p>''Alas!—you say, alas! What do you mean? Have you ill news?'</p> + +<p>''I have, indeed, madame.'</p> + +<p>''Arthur is dead!' she cried. 'I know he is dead! But, tell me, I entreat you, +tell me all. How—when did this happen?'</p> + +<p>'I gave her a detailed account of Arthur's death, to which she listened with +rapt attention.</p> + +<p>''This opal-mine, like the Golden Fleece, brings misfortune to all who seek +it,' she said, when I had finished, 'Poor Arthur! I loved him fondly, devotedly; +and his image will live forever in my heart. But at such a crisis it is worse +than folly—it is madness to waste time by giving way to grief. Reason +teaches us to bow before the inevitable. It is idle to repine at the decrees of +Fate. I am alone, now—alone, without a friend or a protector. No matter; I +have a stout heart, and the mercy of Providence is above all. But to business: +After the death of Mr. Livermore, what became of the papers?'</p> + +<p>''I burned them before his death, in obedience to his injunctions.'</p> + +<p>''You burned them! I will not believe it!' she exclaimed, in a loud voice, and +with a penetrating glance.</p> + +<p>'I felt the blood rush to my face; she noticed my anger, and at once added, in +milder tone:</p> + +<p>''Pardon me! pardon me! I knew not what I said; I am well-nigh crazy; I do +believe you, I do indeed; forgive me, and think of the despair to which the loss +of those papers reduces me. I have no copy, and with them my secret perishes. I +am ruined—ruined irre<span class="pageno"><a name="page643" +id="page643"></a>{643}</span>trievably. The mine is known now only to +Pepito!'</p> + +<p>''Then, madame, on him you must hereafter rely.'</p> + +<p>''Explain to me, pray, how could Arthur, on his dying-bed, have been guilty of +so cruel, so mean an act? How could he despoil the woman who had trusted him, and +leave her not only forlorn, but destitute?'</p> + +<p>'This question embarrassed me, and I was conning an answer, when Adéle +resumed:</p> + +<p>''Let no false delicacy restrain you; speak out, Mr. Rideau; adversity has +taught me endurance, if not courage.'</p> + +<p>''Since, madame, you absolutely extort it from me, I must admit that a few +moments before he expired, Mr. Livermore—'</p> + +<p>''Speak out, plainly; I beg of you, conceal nothing.'</p> + +<p>''Well, madame, the words he used were: 'I destroy these papers because they +were bought with blood. Ten months ago General Ramiro died, at New-Orleans, by +poison—poison administered by Adéle!''</p> + +<p>''Poor Arthur! what agony he must have suffered—he must have been +delirious. O Arthur! why was I not beside you? Poor Arthur!' As she uttered these +words, she raised her streaming eyes to heaven; her lips moved as if in prayer, +and a deadly pallor overspread her countenance.</p> + +<p>'In a short time her fortitude returned, and turning toward me, she said, in a +voice which betrayed no emotion:</p> + +<p>''Let us turn from the past and look at the present. Difficulties surround and +threaten to overwhelm me. Before I can determine how they are to be met, I have a +proposition to make to you, Mr. Rideau, to which I must have an immediate answer. +Will you become my partner in this business?'</p> + +<p>''Have you enough confidence in me?'</p> + +<p>''I have; and for this reason: you have not sought to meddle in this matter, +but from the outset have striven to shun it; you have not obtruded yourself, but +been drawn into it in spite of your wishes. Do you accept my proposition? Yes, or +no?'</p> + +<p>''I accept,' I replied, moderating my joyful feelings as well as I possibly +could.</p> + +<p>''Such being your decision, what course do you advise?'</p> + +<p>''Immediate action, for minutes are precious.'</p> + +<p>''I foresee we shall agree perfectly. To-day my host purposes starting for the +capital; I shall accompany him. If you return without delay, the remainder of the +day will suffice to prepare for the journey, and to-morrow we will start for the +opal-mine.'</p> + +<p>''But where shall I meet you, madame?'</p> + +<p>''At the Hotel de las Diligencias.'</p> + +<p>''And where shall I find Pepito?'</p> + +<p>''At a tavern near the Barrier del Nino Perdido. But you will not, if you +please, inform him of my address. For—well, it is an unpleasant matter to +mention—but this Pepito seems to be—'</p> + +<p>''Desperately in love with you.'</p> + +<p>''I hardly meant that—but his attentions are too oppressive to be quite +agreeable.'</p> + +<p>''I fully understand you, madame. May I inquire if you have had any tidings of +Mr. Percival?'</p> + +<p>''Do not, I beg, Mr. Rideau, allude to that painful topic—all feelings +of resentment are hushed in the grave.'</p> + +<p>''What! have you heard of his assassination?'</p> + +<p>'' Yes; the news reached me yesterday; I read it in the newspaper.'</p> + +<p>'I shortly afterward took my leave—the last words of my new copartner +being:</p> + +<p>''At five, then, at the Hotel de las Diligencias. Be sure you are +punctual.'</p> + +<p>'Arrived in Mexico, my first thought was to seek for Pepito. Following the +directions given me by Mrs. Percival, I soon found him; and repeating to him a +portion of the interview I had with the lady, I finished by proposing to +take<span class="pageno"><a name="page644" id="page644"></a>{644}</span> the +place of Mr. Livermore in the bargain that had been made between them.</p> + +<p>''I ask nothing better,' was the reply. 'Here are my terms—two thousand +dollars the very day we return to Mexico, and I to hold the shells till you hand +over the money. That is fair, is it not?'</p> + +<p>''Quite. When shall I see you again?'</p> + +<p>''At eight to-night, on the Cathedral steps.'</p> + +<p>'Hastening home, I devoted the rest of the day to preparing for my journey, +and a little before five started for the Hotel de las Diligencias. Mrs. Percival +had not yet arrived. Twice again I called, but still in vain. The evening +gradually wore away, and at eight I paced the Cathedral Square, and for an hour +loitered around the steps; but Pepito, also, failed to keep the rendezvous.</p> +<p>'As the next day was Sunday, I felt assured the most likely place to find +Pepito, would be the bull-ring. On reaching it, I found a crowd assembled near +one of the entrances, and pushing my way through, I beheld Pepito lying on the +ground weltering in his blood. I rushed to him, and kneeling down, raised him in +my arms.</p> + +<p>''Ah! it is you, Señor,' said he, in a feeble tone. 'This is Pedro's +work, but it was his last; for I have killed the traitor.'</p> + +<p>''Pepito, tell me, for Heaven's sake, where did you find the shells?'I +inquired; for avarice and cupidity reigned, I am ashamed to own, paramount within +my breast.</p> + +<p>''Those shells? In the plains of Chiapa—three days' journey from the +sea—near the little river—in a brook—Ah! glory to God! here +comes a priest!'</p> + +<p>'At this moment a fat Franciscan friar pressed through the crowd.</p> + +<p>''Absolution, padre! absolution!' cried Pepito, to whom the sight of the friar +brought back new life.</p> + +<p>''Patience, my son, patience! I am very late—very late—and I must +not be detained. Wait a little—and after the sports of the day are over, I +will return.'</p> + +<p>''But, padre, I shall be dead!'</p> + +<p>''Well, then, be quick!'</p> + +<p>''I have only two sins on my conscience: I have not attended mass for three +weeks.'</p> + +<p>''That is sad! very sad! Well, what next?'</p> + +<p>''Three days ago I stabbed an Inglez—a heretic.'</p> + +<p>''Well, my dear son, your sins are venial sins; I absolve you.'</p> + +<p>''Pepito, how did that dagger come into your hands?' I exclaimed, for I was +astonished to see in his belt the dagger I had lost on the night when +Adéle took refuge in my room.</p> + +<p>''From my dear—Adéle.'</p> + +<p>''And the <i>Inglez</i>—the heretic you stabbed—who was he?'</p> + +<p>''Her husband—she wished it—promised to be mine—and I +obeyed. But, stand back—I want air—air.'</p> + +<p>'I turned away my head, sickened at the fearful revelation. When I again +looked, my eyes fell on a corpse. I snatched the dagger, which was still wet with +Pedro's blood, from his belt, and hurried almost frantic to the Hotel de las +Diligencias. Mrs. Percival had been waiting for me about two hours.</p> + +<p>'The violent emotions which raged within me must have been portrayed on my +countenance, for on my entering the apartment, she started back in dismay.</p> + +<p>''Mrs. Percival,' said I, striving to master the repulsive feeling which the +mere sight of her excited, 'Pepito has, within the past hour, been murdered.'</p> + +<p>''Murdered!' she repeated. 'And the secret—'</p> + +<p>''Is dead—for <i>you</i>—forever! Madame, that infernal mine has +for years been driving you to the blackest crime! It is time that the bait fell +from the devil's hook.'</p> + +<p>''What do you mean by this altered tone?'</p> + +<p>''I mean, madame, that, thanks to Heaven, your crimes have been revealed to +me. Shall I enumerate the list of your victims—General Ramiro, Arthur<span +class="pageno"><a name="page645" id="page645"></a>{645}</span> Livermore, Edward +Percival, your husband, and last of all, Pepito? Your path, since you have sought +this mine, is marked at every step by treachery and crime. The boldest heart must +shudder to look at the ghastly procession led on by the General you +poisoned.'</p> + +<p>'''Tis false! God help me, 'tis false!'</p> + +<p>''False—<i>is</i> it false—that three days since your husband was +murdered at your instigation, by Pepito? Stay—hear me! Look at this dagger! +did you not steal it from my room and give it to Pepito to perpetrate the crime? +Madame, pause, ere you dare to swear it is false.'</p> + +<p>'She trembled, and falling on her knees, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>''My God! my God! forgive me!'</p> + +<p>''It is not, madame, for erring man to limit the infinite mercy of Heaven; but +for such crimes as yours there must be a fearful retribution. Farewell; may you +go and sin no more.'</p> + +<p>'I left the room, but in a few moments heard a piercing shriek; and rushing +back, found the wretched woman extended on the floor in the agonies of death. She +had picked up the dagger which I had thrown away, and stabbed herself to the +heart.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>'And the opal-mine?'</p> + +<p>'I meant, at first, to leave the Nibelungen Hoard alone; but time tames all +things except the love of gold. I went there; it was rich, but not inexhaustible. +You have all had proof that I am neither poor nor parsimonious; but neither am I +extravagant. I have all that I want—a cottage at Newport, a neat house in +the Rue de la Paix, stocks, and real estate. The opal-mine started me; I have +kept myself going very well ever since.</p> + +<p>'Gentlemen, my tale is ended. I am sorry it has proved so long, and am +grateful to you all for the attentive hearing you have given me. I have been +constantly looking round expecting to detect some one of you falling into a +gentle slumber; I therefore feel really flattered at finding you all still +awake.'</p> + +<p>'But what became of the child that Percival was seeking?' shouted one.</p> + +<p>'Did you ever find out any thing about Adéle's previous history?' asked +another.</p> + +<p>'And look here, Rideau, what did you—?'</p> + +<p>'Gentlemen, take pity on me; while I have been spinning this long yarn, you +have been smoking and imbibing; I am very willing to join you in both; but +to-night I am tired out. The next time we meet, I shall be delighted to tell you +what particulars I learned on my return to New Orleans, relative to Adéle +and her poor orphan child; but no more to-night.'<span class="pageno"><a +name="page646" id="page646"></a>{646}</span></p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="THE_RED_WHITE_AND_BLUE" id="THE_RED_WHITE_AND_BLUE"> +</a>THE RED, WHITE, AND BLUE.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +Red was the lightning's flashing,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And down through the driving rain,</span><br /> +We saw the red eyes dashing<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the merciless midnight train;</span><br /> +Soon many crowded together,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under the lamp's red glow,</span><br /> +But I saw one figure only—<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah! why did I tremble so?</span><br /> +The eyes that gazed in the darkness<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">After the midnight train,</span><br /> +Are red with watching and weeping,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">For it brings none back again.</span><br /> +Clouds hang in the west like banners,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Red banners of war unfurled,</span><br /> +And the prairie sod is crimson<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the best blood of the world.</span><br /> +<br /> +White faces are pressed to the window,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Watching the sun go down,</span><br /> +Looking out to the coming darkness,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">That covers the noisy town.</span><br /> +White are the hands, too, and quiet,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over the pulseless breast;</span><br /> +No more will the vision of parting<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Disturb the white sleeper's rest.</span><br /> +Over sleeper, and grave, and tombstone,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a pitying mantle spread,</span><br /> +The snow comes down in the night-time,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a shy and noiseless tread.</span><br /> +<br /> +Blue smoke rolls away on the north-wind,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blue skies grow dusk in the din,</span><br /> +Blue waters look dark with the shadow<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">That gathers the world within.</span><br /> +Rigid and blue are the fingers<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">That clutch at the fading sky;</span><br /> +Blue lips in their agony mutter:<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">'O God! let this cup pass by.'</span><br /> +Blue eyes grow weary with watching;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Strong hands with waiting to do;</span><br /> +While brave hearts echo the watchword:<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Hurrah! for the Red, White, and +Blue.'</span><br /> +<br /> +</div> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<span class="pageno"><a name="page647" id="page647"></a>{647}</span> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="MACCARONI_AND_CANVAS" +id="MACCARONI_AND_CANVAS">MACCARONI AND CANVAS.</a></h2> + +<h4 class="center">IV.</h4> + +<h4 class="center">THE FAIR AT GROTTO FERRATA.</h4> + +<p>No matter how well and hearty you may be, if you are in Rome, in summer, when +the <i>scirócco</i> blows, you will feel as if convalescent from some +debilitating fever; in winter, however, this gentle-breathing south-east wind +will act more mildly; it will woo you to the country, induce you to sit down in a +shady place, smoke, and 'muse.' That incarnate essence of enterprise, business, +industry, economy, sharpness, shrewdness, and keenness—that Prometheus +whose liver was torn by the vulture of cent per cent—eternally tossing, +restless DOOLITTLE, was one day seen asleep, during bank hours, on a seat in the +Villa Madama. The <i>scirócco</i> blew that day: Doolittle fell.</p> + +<p>At breakfast, one morning in the latter part of the month of March, Caper +proposed to Roejean and another artist named Bagswell, to attend the fair held +that day at Grotto Ferrata.</p> + +<p>'What will you find there?' asked Roejean.</p> + +<p>'Find?—I remember, in the <i>Bohemian Girl</i>, a song that will answer +you,' replied Caper; 'the words were composed by the theatrical poet Bunn':</p> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Rank, in its halls, may not find</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The calm of a happy mind;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">So repair</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">To the Fair,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And they may be met with there.'</span><br /> + +<p>'Unsatisfactory, both the grammar and the sentiment,' said Bagswell; 'it won't +work; it's all wrong. In the first place, rank, in its hauls, <i>may</i> find the +calm of a happy mind: for instance, the captain of a herring-smack may find the +calm of a very happy mind in his hauls of No. 1 Digbys; more joy even than the +fair could afford him. Let us go!'</p> + +<p>Bagswell was a 'funny' Englishman.</p> + +<p>They went—taking the railroad. Dashing out of the station, the +locomotive carried them, in half an hour, to the station at Frascati, whirling +them across the Campagna, past long lines of ruined or half-ruined and repaired +aqueducts; past Roman tombs; past <i>Roma Vecchia</i>, the name given to the +ruins of an immense villa; landing them at the first slope of the mountains, +covered at their base with vineyards, olive and fruit-trees, and corn-fields, +while high over them gleamed glistening white snow-peaks.</p> + +<p>The walk from Frascati to the Grotto, about three miles, was beautiful, +winding over hills through a fine wood of huge old elms and plane-trees. In the +warm sun-light, the butterflies were flitting, while the road-side was purple +with violets, and white and blue with little flowers. From time to time, our +three artists had glimpses of the Campagna, rolling away like the ocean, to dash +on Rome, crowned by St. Peter's; the dome of which church towers above the +surrounding country, so that it can be seen, far and wide, for thirty miles or +more. The road was alive with walkers and riders; here a dashing, open carriage, +filled with rosy English; there a <i>contadino</i>, donkey-back, dressed in +holiday-suit, with short-clothes of blue woolen, a scarlet waistcoat, his coarse +blue-cloth jacket worn on one shoulder, and in his brown, conical-shaped hat, a +large carnation-pink. Then came more of the country-people, almost always called +<i>villani</i>, (hence our word, villains!) These poor villains had sacks on +their backs, or were carrying in their hands—if women, on their +heads—loads of bacon, sides of bacon, flitches of bacon, hams, loaves of +bread, cheese, and very loud-smelling <i>mortadella</i>; which they had bought +and were bringing away from the fair.</p> + +<p><span class="pageno"><a name="page648" id="page648"></a>{648}</span>'There was +one task,' said Roejean, 'that Hercules declined, and that was eating that vile +<i>mortadella</i>. He was a strong man; but that was stronger. Wait a moment, +till I fill a pipe with caporal, and have a smoke; for if I meet another man with +that delicacy, I shall have to give up the Grotto—unless I have a pipe +under my nose, as counter-irritant.'</p> + +<p>The three artists tramped along gayly, until they approached the town, when +they assumed the proud, disdainful mood, assuring spectators that they who wear +it are of gentle blood, and are tired of life and weary of traveling around with +pockets filled with gold. They only looked coldly at the pens filled with cattle +for sale; long-horned, mouse-colored oxen were there; groups of patient donkeys, +or the rough-maned, shaggy-fetlocked, bright-eyed small horses of the Campagna; +countless pigs, many goats; while above all, the loud-singing jackasses were +performing at the top of their lungs. Here were knots of country-people, buying +provisions or clothing; there were groups of carriages from Rome, which had +rolled out the wealthy <i>forestieri</i> or strangers, drawn up by the way-side, +in the midst of all sorts and kinds of hucksters. The road leading to the church, +shaded by trees, was crowded with country-people, in picturesque costumes, busily +engaged in buying and selling hams, bacon, bacon and hams, and a few more hams. +Here and there, a cheese-stand languished, for pork flourished. Now a +copper-smith exposed his wares, chief among which were the graceful-shaped +<i>conche</i> or water-vessels, the same you see so carefully poised on the heads +of so many black-eyed Italian girls, going to or coming from so many picturesque +fountains, in—paintings, and all wearing such brilliant costumes, as you +find at—Gigi's costume-class. Then came an ironmonger, whose wares were all +made by hand, even the smallest nails; for machinery, as yet, is in its first +infancy around Rome. At this stand, Roejean stopped to purchase a pallet-knife; +not one of the regular, artist-made tools, but a thin, pliable piece of steel, +without handle, which experience taught him was well adapted to his work. As +usual, the iron-man asked twice as much as he intended to take, and after a sharp +bargain, Roejean conquered. Then they came to a stand where there were piles of +coarse crockery, and some of a better kind, of classical shape.</p> + +<p>Caper particularly admired a beautiful white jug, intended for a +water-pitcher, and holding about two gallons. After asking its price, he offered +a quarter of the money for it; to Bagswell's horror, the crockery-man took it, +and Caper, passing his arm through the handle, was proceeding up the road, when +Bagswell energetically asked him what he was going to do with it.</p> +<p>'Enter Rome with it, like Titus with the <i>spolia opima</i>," replied +Caper.</p> + +<p>'Oh! I say, now,' said the former, who was an Englishman and an historical +painter; 'you aren't going to trot all over the fair with that old crockery on +your arm. Why, God bless me, they'll swear we are drunk. There comes the Duchess +of Brodneck; what the deuce will she say?'</p> + +<p>'Say?' said Caper, 'why, I'll go and ask her; this is not court-day.'</p> + +<p>Without another word, with water-pitcher on arm, he walked toward the Duchess. +Saluting her with marked politeness, he said:</p> + +<p>'A countryman of yours, madame, has objected to my carrying this <i>objet de +fantaisie</i>, assuring me that it would occasion remarks from the Duchess of +Brodneck. May I have the good fortune to know what she says of it?'</p> + +<p>'She says,' replied the lady, smiling and speaking slowly and quietly; 'that a +young man who has independence enough to carry it, has confidence enough +to—fill it.' She bowed, and passed on, Caper politely raising his hat, in +acknowledgment of the well-rounded sentence. When he returned to Bagswell, he +found the historical painter with eyes the size of grape-shot,<span +class="pageno"><a name="page649" id="page649"></a>{649}</span> at the sublime +impudence of the man. He told him what she had said.</p> + +<p>'Upon my honor, you Americans have a face of brass; to address a duchess you +don't know, and ask her a question like that!'</p> + +<p>'That's nothing,' said Caper, 'a little experience has taught me that the +higher you fly, in England, the nearer you approach true politeness and courtesy. +Believe me, I should never have asked that question of any Englishwoman whose +social position did not assure me she was cosmopolitan.'</p> + +<p>'Come,' said Bagswell, 'come, after such an adventure, if there is one drop of +any thing fit to drink in this town, we'll all go and get lushy.'</p> + +<p>They went. They found a door over which hung a green branch. Good wine needs +no bush, therefore Italian wine-shops hang it out; for the wine there is not over +good. But as luck was with our three artists, in the shop over the door of which +hung the green bough, they found that the <i>padrone</i> was an old acquaintance +of Roejean; he had married and moved to Grotto Ferrata. He had a barrel of +Frascati wine, which was bright, sparkling, sweet, and not watered. This the +<i>padrone</i> tapped in honor of his guests, and at their urgent request, sat +down and helped empty a couple of bottles. Moreover, he told them that as the +town was overcrowded, they would find it difficult to get a good dinner, unless +they would come and dine with him, at his private table, and be his guests; which +invitation Roejean accepted, to the tavern-keeper's great joy, promising to be +back at the appointed time.</p> + +<p>Our trio then sauntered forth to see the fair. Wandering among the crowded +booths, they came suddenly on a collection of <i>Zingare</i>, looking like their +Spanish cousins, the <i>Gitañas</i>. Wild black eyes, coarse black locks +of hair, brown as Indians, small hands, small feet—the Gipsies, children of +the storm—my Rommani pals, what are you doing here? Only one woman among +them was noticeable. Her face was startlingly handsome, with an aquiline nose, +thin nostrils, beautifully-arched eyebrows, and eyes like an eagle. She was tall, +straight, with exquisitely-rounded figure, and the full drapery of white around +her bosom fell from the shoulders in large hanging sleeves; over her head was +thrown a crimson and green shawl, folded like the <i>pane</i> of the +<i>ciociare</i>, and setting off her raven-black hair and rich red and swarthy +complexion.</p> + +<p>Roejean stood entranced, and Caper, noticing his rapt air, forbore breaking +silence; while the gipsy, who knew that she was the admiration of the +<i>forestieri</i>, stood immovable as a statue, looking steadily at them, without +changing a feature.</p> + +<p>'<i>Piu bellisima che la madonna!</i>' said Roejean, loud enough for her to +hear. Then turning to Caper, 'Let's <i>andiammo</i>,' (travel,) said he, 'that +woman's face will haunt me for a month. I've seen it before; yes, seen her shut +up in the Vatican, immortal on an old Etruscan vase. Egypt, Etruria, the Saracen +hordes who once overrun all this Southern Italy, I find, every hour, among live +people, some trace of you all; but of the old Roman, nothing!'</p> + +<p>'You find the old Roman cropping out in these church processions, festivals, +shrines, and superstitions, don't you?' asked Caper.</p> + +<p>'No! something of those who made the seal, nothing of the impression on the +wax remains for me. Before Rome was, the great East was, and shall be. The +Germans are right to call the East the Morning-Land; thence came light.... The +longer you live along the wave-washed shore of the Mediterranean, the more you +will see what a deep hold the East once had on the people of the coast. The +Romans, after all, were only opulent tradesmen, who could buy luxuries without +having the education to appreciate them. So utterly did they ignore the +Etruscans, who made them what they were, that you seek in vain to find in Roman +history any thing but the barest outline of the origin of a<span +class="pageno"><a name="page650" id="page650"></a>{650}</span> people so graceful +and refined that the Roman citizen was a boot-black in comparison to one of them. +The Saracens flashed light and life, in later days, once more into the Roman +leaven. What a dirty, filthy page the whole Gothic middle-age is at best! It lies +like a huge body struck with apoplexy, and only restored to its sensual life by +the sharp lancet, bringing blood, of these same infidels, these stinging +Saracens. Go into the mountains back of us, hunt up the costumes that still +remain, and see where they all come from—the East. Look at the crescent +earrings and graceful twisted gold-work, from—the East. All the commonest +household ware, the agricultural implements, the manner of cooking their food, +and all that is picturesque in life and religion—all from the East.'</p> + +<p>'Strikes me,' quoth Caper, 'that this question of food touches my weakest +point; therefore, let us go and dine, and continue the lecture at a more +un-hungry period. But where is Bagswell?'</p> + +<p>'He is seeking adventures, of course.'</p> + +<p>'Oh! yes, I sec him down there among the billy-goats; let's go and pick him +up, and then for mine host of the Green Bough.'</p> + +<p>Having found Bagswell, our trio at once marched to the Green Bough, which they +saw was filled to overflowing with country-people, eating and drinking, sitting +on rough benches, and stowing away food and wine as if in expectation of being +very soon shipwrecked on a desert island, where there would be nothing but +hard-shell clams and lemons to eat. The landlord at once took the trio up-stairs, +where, at a large table, were half-a-dozen of his friends, all of the cleanly +order of country-people, stout, and having a well-to-do look that deprecated any +thing like famine. A young lady of twenty and two hundred, as Caper summed up her +age and weight, was evidently the cynosure of all eyes; two other good-natured +women, of a few more years and a very little less weight, and three men, made up +the table. Any amount of compliments, as usual, passed between the first six and +the last three comers, prefacing every thing with desires that they would act +without ceremony; but Caper and Roejean were on a high horse, and they fairly +pumped the spring of Italian compliments so dry, that Bagswell could only make a +squeaking noise when he tried the handle. This verbifuge of our three artists put +their host into an ecstasy of delight, and he circulated all round, rubbing his +hands and telling his six friends that his three friends were <i>milordi</i>, in +very audible whispers, <i>milordi</i> of the most genial, courtly, polite, +complimentary, cosmopolitan, and exquisite description.</p> + +<p>After all this, down sat our trio, and for the sake of future ages which will +live on steam-bread, electrical beef, and magnetic fish, let us give them the +bill of fare set before them:</p> + +<p>ALL THE WINE THEY COULD DRINK.</p> + +<p>Maccaroni (<i>fettucia</i>) a la Milanese—dish two feet in diameter, one +foot and a half high.</p> + +<p>Mutton-chops, with tomato-sauce, (<i>pomo d'oro.</i>)</p> + +<p>Stewed celery, with Parmesan cheese.</p> + +<p>Stewed chickens.</p> + +<p>Mutton-chops, bird-fashion, (<i>Uccélli di Castrato.</i> They are made +of pieces of mutton rolled into a shape like a bird, and cooked, several at a +time, on a wooden spit. They are the <i>kibaubs</i> of the East.)</p> + +<p>Baked pie of cocks' combs and giblets.</p> + +<p>Roasted pig, a twelve-pounder.</p> + +<p>Roast squashes, stuffed with minced veal.</p> + +<p>Apples, oranges, figs, and <i>finocchio</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Crostata di visciola</i>, or wild-cherry pie, served on an iron plate the +size of a Roman warrior's shield; the dish evidently having been one +formerly.</p> + +<p>MORE WINE!</p> + +<p>The stout young lady rejoicing in the name of Angelucia, or large angel, was +fascinated by Roejean's conversational powers and Caper's attentions; the rest of +the company, perfectly at ease on finding out that the <i>milordi</i> were +not<span class="pageno"><a name="page651" id="page651"></a>{651}</span> +French—Roejean turning American to better please them—and that they +were moreover full of fun, talked and laughed as if they were brother Italians. A +jollier dinner Caper acknowledged he had never known. One of the Italians was +farmer-general for one of the Roman princes; he was a man of broad views, and +having traveled to Paris and London, came home with ultra-liberal sentiments, and +to Bagswell's astonishment, spoke his mind so clearly on the Roman rulers, that +our Englishman's eyes were slightly opened at the by no means complimentary +expressions used toward the wire-workers of the Papal government. One Italy, and +Rome its capital, was the only platform our princely farmer would take, and he +was willing to stake his fortune, a cool one hundred thousand scudi, on +regenerated Italy.</p> + +<p>Conversation then fell on the fair; and one of the Italians told several +stories which were broad enough to have shoved the generality of English and +American ladies out of the window of the room. But Angelucia and the two wives of +the stout gentlemen never winked; they had probably been to confession that +morning, had cleared out their old sins, and were now ready to take in a new +cargo. In a little while Roejean sent the waiter out to a café, and he +soon returned with coffee for the party, upon which Caper, who had the day before +bought some Havana cigars of the man in the Twelve Apostles, in the piazza +Dódici Apostoli, where there is a government cigar-store for the sale of +them, passed them around, and they were thoroughly appreciated by the diners. The +farmer-general gave our three artists a hearty invitation to visit him, promising +them all the horses they could ride, all the wine they could drink, and all the +maccaroni they could eat. The last clause was inserted for Roejean's benefit, who +had played a noble game with the grand dish they had had for dinner, and at which +Angelucia had made great fun, assuring Roejean he was Italian to the heart, <i>e +piu basso</i>.</p> + +<p>Then came good-by, and our artists were off—slowly, meditatively, and +extremely happy, but, so far, quite steady. They walked to the castellated +monastery of San Basilio, where in the chapel of Saint Nilus they saw the +celebrated frescoes of Domenichino, and gazed at them tranquilly and not quite so +appreciatingly as they would have done before dinner. Then they came out from the +gloom and the air heavy with incense of the chapel to the bright light and lively +scenes of the fair, with renewed pleasure. They noticed that every one wore in +the hat or in the lappel of the coat, if men—in their hair or in their +bosom, if women, artificial roses; and presently coming to a stand where such +flowers were for sale, our trio bought half-a-dozen each, and then turned to +where the crowd was thickest and the noise greatest. Three or four donkeys loaded +with tin-ware were standing near the crowd, when one of them, ambitious of +distinction, began clambering over the tops of the others in an insane attempt to +get at some greens, temptingly displayed before him. Rattle, bang! right and left +went the tins, and in rushed men and women with cudgels; but donkey was not to be +stopped, and for four or five minutes the whole fair seemed gathered around the +scene, cheering and laughing, with a spirit that set Caper wild with excitement, +and induced him to work his way through the crowd and present one old woman who +had finally conquered the donkey, with two large roses, an action which was +enthusiastically applauded by the entire assembly.</p> + +<p>'Bravo! bravo! well done, O Englishman!' went up the shout.</p> + +<p>A little farther on they came to a large traveling van, one end of which was +arranged as a platform in the open air. Here a female dentist, in a sea-green +dress, with her sleeves rolled up and a gold bracelet on her right arm, held in +both hands a tooth-extractor, bound round with a white handkerchief—to keep +her steady, as Caper explained, while she pulled a tooth from the head of a young +man who was down in front<span class="pageno"><a name="page652" +id="page652"></a>{652}</span> of her on his knees. Her assistant, a good-looking +young man, in very white teeth and livery, sold some patent toothache drops: +<i>Solo cinque baiocchi il fiasco, S'gnore</i>.</p> + +<p>Caper having seen the tooth extracted, cried, '<i>Bravissima!</i>' as if he +had been at the opera, and threw some roses at the <i>prima donna dentista</i>, +who acknowledged the applause with a bow, and requested the Signore to step up +and let her draw him out. This he declined, pleading the fact that he had sound +teeth. The <i>dentista</i> congratulated him, in spite of his teeth.</p> + +<p>'But come!' said Bagswell; 'look at that group of men and women in Albano +costume; there is a chance to make a deuced good sketch.'</p> + +<p>Two men and three women were seated in a circle; they were laughing and +talking, and cutting and eating large slices of raw ham and bread, while they +passed from one to another a three-gallon keg of wine, and drank out of the bung. +As one of the hearty, laughing, jolly, brown-eyed girls lifted up the keg, Caper +pulled out sketch-book and pencil to catch an outline sketch—of her head +thrown back, her fine full throat and breast heaving as the red wine ran out of +the barrel, and the half-closed, dreamy eyes, and pleasure in the face as the +wine slowly trickled down her throat. One of the men noted the artist making a +<i>ritratto</i>, and laughing heartily, cried out: 'Oh! but you'll have to pay us +well for taking our portraits!' And the girl, slowly finishing her long +draught, looked merrily round, shook her finger at the artist, laughed, +and—the sketch was finished. Then Caper taking Roejean's roses, went +laughingly up to the girl with brown eyes and fine throat, in Albano costume, and +begged that she would take the poor flowers, and putting them next her heart, +keep them where it is forever warm—'as the young man on your left knows +very well!' he concluded. This speech was received amid loud applause and cheers, +and thanks for the roses and an invitation to take a pull at the barrel. Caper +waved them <i>Adio</i>, and as our trio turned Rome-ward from the fair, the last +things he saw as he turned his head to take a farewell look, were the roses that +the Italian girl had placed next her heart.</p> + +<h4 class="center">THE TOMBOLA.</h4> + +<p>The exceedingly interesting amusement known as the Tombola is nothing more +than the game of Loto, or <i>Lótto</i>, 'Brobdignagified,' and played in +the open air of the Papal States, in Rome on Sundays, and in the Campagna on +certain saints' days, come they when they may.</p> + +<p>The English have made holiday from holy day, and call the Lord's day Sunday; +while the Italians call Sunday Lord's day, or <i>Domenica</i>. Their way of +keeping it holy, however, with tombolas, horse-races, and fire-works, strikes a +heretic, to say the least, oddly.</p> + +<p>The Roman tombola should be seen in the Piazza Navona democratically; in the +Villa Borghese, if not aristocratically at least middle classically, or +bourgeois-istically.</p> + +<p>In the month of November, when the English drown themselves, and the Italians +sit in the sun and smile, our friend Caper, one Sunday morning, putting his watch +and purse where pick-pockets could not reach them, walked with two or three +friends down to the Piazza Navona, stopping, as he went along, at the entrance of +a small street leading into it, to purchase a tombola-ticket. The ticket-seller, +seated behind a small table, a blank-book, and piles of blank tickets, charged +eleven <i>baiocchi</i> (cents) for a ticket, including one <i>baioccho</i> for +registering it. We give below a copy of Caper's ticket:</p> + +<div class="center" > + +<table style="margin: 0 auto;" border="1" summary="Copy of Caper's Ticket"> +<thead> + <tr> + <th colspan="5" align="center" rowspan="1"> + No. 17 D'ORDINE, LETTERA C</th></tr> + <tr> <th colspan="5" align="center" rowspan="1"> + CARTELLA DA RITENERSI DAL GIUOCATORE</th></tr></thead> +<tbody> +<tr> + <td align="right">8</td> + <td align="right">12</td> + <td align="right">32</td> + <td align="right">87</td> + <td align="right">60</td></tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">20</td> + <td align="right">4</td> + <td align="right">76</td> + <td align="right">30</td> + <td align="right">11</td></tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">45</td> + <td align="right">3</td> + <td align="right">90</td> + <td align="right">55</td> + <td align="right">63</td></tr> +</tbody> +</table> +</div> + +<p><span class="pageno"><a name="page653" id="page653"></a>{653}</span> The +numbers on this ticket the registrar filled up, after which it was his duty to +copy them in his book, and thus verify the ticket should it draw a prize.</p> + +<p>The total amount to be played for that day, the tombola being for the benefit +of the Cholera Orphans, was one thousand scudi, and was divided as follows:</p> + +<div class="tables"> + +<table style="margin: 0 auto;" summary="Division of one thousand scudi"> +<tbody> +<tr> + <td>Terno,</td> + <td align="right">. . . $50</td></tr> +<tr> + <td>Quaterno,</td> + <td align="right">. . . 100</td></tr> +<tr> + <td>Cinquina,</td> + <td align="right">. . . 200</td></tr> +<tr> + <td>Tombola,</td> + <td align="right">. . . <span class="underline"> 650</span></td></tr> +<tr> + <td></td> + <td align="right">$1000</td></tr> +</tbody> +</table> +</div> + +<p>How many tickets were issued, Caper was never able to find out; but he was +told that for a one thousand dollar tombola the number was limited to ninety +thousand.</p> + +<p>The tickets, as will be seen above, are divided into three lines, with five +divisions in each line, and you can fill up the fifteen divisions with any +numbers running from one to ninety, that you may see fit. Ninety tickets, with +numbers from one to ninety, are put in a revolving glass barrel, and after being +well shaken up, some one draws out one number at random, (the slips of paper +being rolled up in such manner that the numbers on them can not be seen.) It is +passed to the judges, and is then read aloud, and exposed to view, in conspicuous +figures, on a stand or stands; and so on until the tombola is won or the numbers +all drawn.</p> + +<p>Whoever has three consecutive figures on a line, beginning from left hand to +right, wins the <i>Terno</i>; if four consecutive figures, the <i>Quaterno</i>; +if five figures, or a full line, the <i>Cinquina</i>; and whoever has all fifteen +figures, wins the Tombola. It often happens that several persons win the +<i>Terno</i>, etc., at the same time, in which case the amount of the +<i>Terno</i>, etc., is equally divided among them. These public tombolas are like +too many thimble-rig tables, ostensibly started for charitable objects, and it is +popularly whispered that the Roman nobility and heads of the Church purchase vast +numbers of these tickets, and never fill them up; but then again, they are not +large enough for shaving, and are too small for curl-papers; besides, six hundred +and fifty <i>scudi</i>! Whew!</p> + +<p>The Piazza Navona, bearing on its face, on week-days, the most terrible +eruptions of piles of old iron, rags, paintings, books, boots, vegetables, +crockery, jackdaws, contadini, and occasional dead cats, wore on the Sunday of +the tombola—it was Advent Sunday—a clean, bright, and even joyful +look. From many windows hung gay cloths and banners; the three fountains were +making Roman pearls and diamonds of the first water; the entire length (seven +hundred and fifty feet) and breadth of the square was filled with the Roman +people; three bands of military music played uncensurable airs, since the public +censor permitted them; and several companies of soldiers, with loaded guns, stood +all ready to slaughter the <i>plebe</i>. It was a sublime spectacle.</p> + +<p>But the curtain rose; that is to say, the tombola commenced. At a raised +platform, a small boy, dressed in black, popularly supposed to be a cholera +orphan, rolled back his shirt-cuffs—he had a shirt—plunged his hand +into the glass barrel, and produced a slip of paper; an assistant carried it to +the judges—one resembled Mr. Pecksniff—and then the crier announced +the number, and, presto! on a large blackboard the number appeared, so that every +one could see it.</p> + +<p>Caper found the number on his ticket, and was marking it off, when a +countryman at his side asked him if he would see if the number was on his +ticket, as he could not read figures. Caper accordingly looked it over, and +finding that it was there, marked it off for him.</p> + +<p>'<i>Padrone mio</i>, thank you,' said the man, evidently determined, since he +had found out a scholar, to keep close by him.</p> + +<p>'Seventeen!' called out the tombola-crier.<span class="pageno"><a +name="page654" id="page654"></a>{654}</span></p> + +<p>'C——o!' said the contadino, with joy in his face; 'seventeen is +always my lucky number. My wife was seventeen years old when I married her. My +donkey was killed by the railroad cars the other day, and he gave just seventeen +groans before he died. I shall have luck to-day.'</p> + +<p>We refrain from writing the exclamation the contadino prefaced his remarks +with, for fear the reader might have a good Italian dictionary—an article, +by the way, the writer has never yet seen. Suffice it to say, that the +exclamations made use of by the Romans, men and women, not only of the lower but +even the middling class, are of a nature exceedingly natural, and plainly point +to Bacchic and Phallic sources. The <i>bestémmia</i> of the Romans is +viler than the blasphemy of English or Americans.</p> + +<p>It happened that the countryman had a seventeen on his ticket, and Caper +marked it off, at the same time asking him how much he would take for his +pantaloons. These pantaloons were made of a goat's skin; the long white wool, +inches in length, left on and hanging down below the knees of the man, gave him a +Pan-like look, and with the word tombola, suggested the lines of that good old +song—save the maledictory part of it:</p> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tombolin had no breeches to wear,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">So he bought him a goat's skin, to make him a +pair.'</span><br /> + +<p>These breeches were not for sale; they were evidently the joy and the pride of +the countryman, who had no heart for trade, having by this time two numbers in +one line marked off, only wanting an adjoining one to win the <i>terno</i>.</p> + +<p>'If you were to win the <i>terno</i>, what would you do with it?' Caper asked +him.</p> + +<p>'<i>Accidente!</i> I'd buy a barrel of wine, and a hog, and a—'</p> + +<p>'Thirty-two!' shouted the crier.</p> + +<p>'It's on your paper,' said Caper to him, marking it off; 'and you've won the +<i>terno</i>!'</p> + +<p>The eyes of the man gleamed wildly; he crossed himself, grasped the paper, and +the next thing Caper saw was the crowd dividing right and left, as the excited +owner of the goat-skin breeches made his way to the platform. When he had climbed +up, and stepping forward, stood ready to receive the <i>terno</i>, the crowd +jeered and cheered the <i>villano</i>, making fine fun of his goat-skin, and not +a little jealous that a <i>contadino</i> should take the money out of the +city.</p> + +<p>'It's always so,' said a fat man next to Caper, 'these <i>villani</i> take the +bread out of our mouths; but <i>ecco</i>! there is another one who has the +<i>terno</i>; blessed be the Madonna, there is a third! Oh! <i>diavolo</i>, the +<i>villano</i> will only have one third of the <i>terno</i>; and may he die of +apoplexy!'</p> + +<p>A vender of refreshments passing along, the fat man stopped him, and purchased +a <i>baioccho's</i> worth of—what?</p> + +<p>Pumpkin-seeds! These are extensively eaten in Rome, as well as the seeds of +pine-cones, acorns, and round yellow chick-peas; these supply the place occupied +by ground-nuts in our more favored land.</p> + +<p>There is this excitement about the tombolas in the Piazza Navona, that +occasionally a panic seizes the crowd, and in the rush of people to escape from +the square, some have their pockets picked, and some are trampled down, never to +rise again. Fortunately for Caper, no stampede took place on Advent Sunday, so +that he lived to attend another grand tombola in the Villa Borghese.</p> + +<p>This was held in the spring-time, and the promise of the ascension of a +balloon added to the attractions of the lottery. To enter the Villa, you had to +purchase a tombola-ticket, whereas, in the Piazza Navona, this was unnecessary. +At one end of the amphitheatre of the villa, under the shade of the ilex-trees, a +platform was erected, where the numbers were called out and the awards given.</p> + +<p>Caper, Roejean, and another French<span class="pageno"><a name="page655" +id="page655"></a>{655}</span> artist, not of the French Academy, named Achille +Légume, assisted at this entertainment. Légume was a very pleasant +companion, lively, good-natured, with a decided penchant for the pretty side of +humanity, and continually haunted with the idea that a princess was to carry him +off from his mistress in spectacles, Madame Art, and convey him to the land of +Cocaigne, where they never make, only buy, paintings—of which articles, in +parenthesis, Monsieur Achille had a number for sale.</p> + +<p>'Roejean,' said Légume, 'do you notice that distinguished lady on the +platform; isn't she the Princess Faniente? She certainly looked at <i>me</i> very +peculiarly a few minutes since.'</p> + +<p>'It is the Princess,' answered Roejean, 'and I also noticed, a few minutes +since, when I was on the other side of the circus, that she looked at ME with an +air.'</p> + +<p>'Don't quarrel,' spoke Caper,'she probably regards you both equally, for +—she squints.'</p> + +<p>This answer capsized Achille, who having a small red rose-bud in his +button-hole, hoped that at a distance he might pass for a chevalier of the Legion +of Honor, and had conquered something, say something noble.</p> + +<p>A wandering cigar-seller, with <i>zigarri scelti</i>, next demanded their +attention, and Roejean commenced an inspection of the selected cigars, which are +made by government, and sold at the fixed price of one and a half <i>baiocchi</i> +each; even at this low price, the stock of the tobacco-factory paid thirteen per +cent under Antonelli's direction.</p> + +<p>'Antonelli makes a pretty fair cigar,' said, 'but I wish he would wrap the +ends a little tighter. I'm sorry to hear he is going out of the business.'</p> + +<p>'Why, he would stay in,' answered Caper, 'but what with baking all the bread +for Rome, and attending to all the fire-wood sold, and trying to make Ostia a +seaport, and having to fight Monsieur About, and looking after his lotteries and +big pawnbroker's shop, and balancing himself on the end of a very sharp French +bayonet, his time is so occupied, he can not roll these cigars so well as they +ought to be rolled.... But they have called out number forty-nine; you've got it, +Légume, I remember you wrote it down. Yes, there it is.'</p> + +<p>'Forty-nine!'</p> + +<p>'I wonder they dare call out '49 in this villa; or have the people forgotten +the revolution already, forgotten that this spot was made ready for a +battleground for liberty. The public censor knows his business; give the Romans +bread, and the circus or tombola, they will be content—forever?'</p> + +<p>'<i>Au diable</i> with politics,' interrupted Achille; 'what a very pretty +girl that is alongside you, Caper. Look at her; how nicely that costume fits her, +the red boddice especially. Where, except in Italy, do you ever see such fine +black eyes, and such a splendid head of coal-black hair? This way of having +Italian nurses dressed in the Albano costume is very fine. That little boy with +her is English, certainly.'</p> + +<p>'Och! master Jamey, come in out of that grane grass; d'yiz want ter dirty the +clane pinafore I've put on yiz this blissed afthernoon?' spoke the nurse.</p> + +<p>'In the name of all that's awful, what kind of Italian is she speaking?' asked +Légume of Caper.</p> + +<p>'Irish-English,' he answered; 'she is not the first woman out of Old Ireland +masquerading as an Albanian nurse. She probably belongs to some English family +who have pretensions.'</p> + +<p>'Ah bah!' said Légume, 'it's monstrous, perfectly atrocious, ugh! Let +us make a little tour of a walk. The tombola is finished. An Irish dressed up as +an Italian—execrable!'</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="EN_AVANT" id="EN_AVANT"></a>EN AVANT!</h2> + +<p><span class="pageno"><a name="page656" id="page656"></a>{656}</span> </p> + +<div class="poem2"> +O God! let us not live these days in vain,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">This variegated life of doubt and hope;</span><br /> +And though, as day leads night, so joy leads pain,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let it be symbol of a broader scope.</span><br /> + <br /> +God! make us serve the monitor within;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cast off the trammels that bow manhood +down,</span><br /> +Of form or custom, appetite or sin,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The care for folly's smile or envy's +frown.</span><br /> +<br /> +Oh! that true nobleness that rises up,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And teaches man his kindredship to +Thee;</span><br /> +Which wakes the slaveling from the poison cup<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of passion, bidding him be grandly +free:</span><br /> +<br /> + May it be ours, in these the evil days,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">That fall upon our nation like a +pall;</span><br /> +May we have power each one himself to raise,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And place God's signet on the brow of +all!</span><br /> +<br /> + Not race nor color is the badge of slaves;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis manhood, after all, that makes men +free;</span><br /> +Weakness is slavery; 'tis but mind that saves<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">God's glorious image as he willed it +be.</span><br /> +<br /> + Out of the shadows thick, will coming day<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Send Peace and Plenty smiling o'er our +land;</span><br /> +And the events that fill us with dismay,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are but the implements in God's right +hand.</span><br /> +<br /> + Where patriot blood is poured as cheap as rain,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">A newer freedom, phoenix-like, will +spring;</span><br /> +Our Father never asks for us in vain:<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">From noble seed comes noble +harvesting.</span><br /> +<br /> + Then let, to-day, true nobleness be ours;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">That we be worthy of the day of +bliss,</span><br /> +When truth's, and love's, and freedom's allied powers<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall bind all nations with fraternal +kiss.</span><br /> +<br /> + Would we might see, as did the saint of old,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The heavens opening, and the starry +throng</span><br /> +Listening to have our tale of peace be told,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">That they may hymn man's resurrection +song!</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="DESPERATION_AND_COLONIZATION" +id="DESPERATION_AND_COLONIZATION"></a>DESPERATION AND COLONIZATION.</h2> + +<p><span class="pageno"><a name="page657" id="page657"></a>{657}</span></p> + +<p>As the war rolls on, and as the prospects of Federal victory increase, the +greater becomes the anxiety to know what must be done to secure our conquests. +How shall we reestablish the Union in its early strength? How shall we definitely +crush the possibility of renewed rebellion? The tremendous taxation which hangs +over us gives fearful meaning to these questions. And they must be answered +promptly and practically.</p> + +<p>The impossibility of Southern independence was from the first a foregone +conclusion to all who impartially studied the geography of this country and the +social progress of its inhabitants. The West, with its growing millions +vigorously working out the problem of free labor, and of Republicanism, will +<i>inevitably</i> control the Mississippi river and master the destinies of all +soil above the so-called isothermal line, and probably of much below it. The +cotton States, making comparatively almost no increase in population, receiving +no foreign immigration, and desiring none, have precipitated, by war, their +destined inferiority to the North. It has been from the beginning, only a +question of time, when they should become the weaker, and goaded by this +consciousness, they have set their all upon a throw, by appeal to wager of +battle, and are losing. It is not a question of abolitionism, for it would have +been brought on without abolition. It is not a question of Southern wrongs, for +the South never had a <i>right</i> disturbed; and in addition to controlling our +Government for years, and directly injuring our manufactures, it long swallowed a +disproportionably great share of government appointments, offices, and +emoluments. It is simply the last illustration in history of a smaller and +rebellious portion of a community forced by the onward march of civilization into +subordination to the greater. The men of the South were first to preach Manifest +Destiny and the subjugation of Cuba and Mexico—forgetting that as regarded +civilization, they themselves, on an average, only filled an intermediate station +between the Spanish Creole and the truly <i>white</i> man of the North. Before +manifest destiny can overtake the Mexican, it must first overtake the +Southerner.</p> + +<p>Despite all its external show of elan, courtesy, and chivalry, 'the South,' as +it exists, is and ever must be, in the very great aggregate, inferior to the +North in the elements of progress, and in nearly all that constitutes true +superiority. They boast incessantly of their superior education and culture; but +what literature or art has this education produced amid their thousands of ladies +and gentlemen of taste and of leisure? The Northern editor of any literary +magazine who has had any experience in by-gone days with the manuscripts of the +chivalry, will shrug his shoulders with a smile as he recalls the reams of +reechoes of Northern writers, and not unfrequently of mere 'sensation' third-rate +writers at that, which he was wont to receive from Dixie. And amid all his vaunts +and taunts, the consciousness of this intellectual inferiority never left the +Southerner. It stimulated his hatred—it rankled in his heart. He might +boast or lie—and his chief statistician, De Bow, was so notoriously +convicted of falsifying facts and figures that the assertion, as applied to him, +is merely historical—but it was of no avail. The Northern school and the +Northern college continued to be the great fountain of North-American intellect, +and the Southerner found himself year by year falling behind-hand intellectually +and<span class="pageno"><a name="page658" id="page658"></a>{658}</span> socially +as well as numerically. As a last resort, despairing of victory in the +<i>real</i>, he plunged after the wild chivalric dream of independence; of +Mexican and Cuban conquest; of an endless realm and a reopened +slave-trade—or at least of holding the cotton mart of the world. It is all +in vain. We of the same continent recognize no right in a very few millions to +seize on the land which belongs as much to our descendants and to the labor of +all Europe and of the world as it does to them. They have <i>no right</i> to +exclude white labor by slaves. A Doughface press may cry, Compromise; and try to +restore the <i>status quo ante bellum</i>, but all in vain. The best that can be +hoped for, is some ingenious temporary arrangement to break the fall of their old +slaveholding friends. It is not as <i>we</i> will, or as <i>we</i> or <i>you</i> +would <i>like</i>, that what the Southerners themselves term a conflict of races, +can be settled. People who burn their own cities and fire their own crops are +going to the dire and bitter end; and the Might which under God's providence is +generally found in the long run of history to be the Right—will triumph at +last.</p> + +<p>As has been intimated in the foregoing passages, the antipathy of the South to +the North is deeply seated, springing from such rancor as can only be bred +between a claim to social superiority mingled with a bitter consciousness of +inferiority in nearly all which the spirit of the age declares constitutes true +greatness. It is almost needless to say, that with such motives goading them on, +with an ignorant, unthinking mass for soldiers, and with unprincipled politicians +who have to a want of principle added the newly acquired lust for blood, any +prospect of conciliation becomes extremely remote. We may hope for it—we +may and should proceed cautiously, so that no possible opportunity of restoring +peace may be lost; but it is of the utmost importance that we be blind to no +facts; and every fact developed as the war advances seems to indicate that we +have to deal with a most intractable, crafty, and ferocious enemy, whom to trust +is to be deceived.</p> + +<p>There can be no doubt that the ultimatum of the South is secession or death. +We of the North can not contemplate such a picture with calmness, and therefore +evade it as amiably as we can. We say, it stands to reason that very few men will +burn their own homes and crops, yet every mail tells us of tremendous suicidal +sacrifices of this description. The ruin and misery which the South is preparing +for itself in every way is incalculable and incredible, and yet there is no +diminution of desperation. The prosperity which made a mock of honest poverty is +now, as by the retributive judgment of God, sinking itself into penury, and the +planter who spoke of the Northern serf as a creature just one remove above the +brute, is himself learning by bitter experience to be a mud-sill. Verily the +cause of the poor and lowly is being avenged. Yet with all this there is no hint +or hope of compromise; repeated defeats are, so far, of little avail. The +Northern Doughfaces tell us over and over again, that if we will 'only leave the +slave question untouched,' all will yet be right. 'Only spare them the negro, and +they, seeing that we do not intend to interfere with their rights, will +eventually settle down into the Union.' But what is there to guarantee this +assertion? What <i>proof</i> have we that the South can be in this manner +conciliated? None—positively none.</p> + +<p>There is nothing which the Southern press, and, so far as we can learn, the +Southern people, have so consistently and thoroughly disavowed since the war +began, as the assertion that a restoration of the Union may be effected on the +basis of undisturbed slavery. They have ridiculed the Democrats of the North with +as great contempt and as bitter sarcasm as were ever awarded of old to +Abolitionists, for continually urging this worn-out folly; for now that the mask +is finally thrown off, they make no secret of their scorn for their old tools and +dupes. Slavery is no<span class="pageno"><a name="page659" +id="page659"></a>{659}</span> longer the primary object; they are quite willing +to give up slavery if the growing prosperity of the South should require it; +their emissaries abroad in every <i>salon</i> have been vowing that manumission +of their slaves would soon follow recognition; and it was their rage at failure +after such wretched abasement and unprincipled inconsistency which, very +naturally, provoked the present ire of the South against England and France. +They, the proud, chivalrous Southrons, who had daringly rushed to battle as slave +lords, after eating abundant dirt as prospective Abolitionists, after promising +any thing and every thing for a recognition, received the cold shoulder. No +wonder that ill-will to England is openly avowed by the Richmond press as one of +the reasons for burning the cotton as the Northern armies advance.</p> + +<p>The only basis of peace with the North, as the South declares, is Disunion; +and they do most certainly mean it. No giving up the slave question, no enforcing +of fugitive slave laws; no, not the hanging of Messrs. Garrison and Phillips, or +any other punishment of all Emancipationists—as clamored for by thousands +of trembling cowards—would be of any avail. It is disunion or +nothing—and disunion they can not have. There shall be no disunion, no +settlement of any thing on <i>any</i> basis but the Union. Richmond papers, after +the battle of Pittsburgh Landing, proposed peace and separation. They do not know +us. The North was never so determined to push on as now; never so eager for +battle or for sacrifices. If the South is in earnest, so are we; if they have +deaths to avenge, so have we; if they cry for war to the knife, so surely as God +lives they can have it in full measure. For thirty years the blazing straw of +Southern insult has been heaped on the Northern steel; and now that the latter is +red-hot, it shall scorch and sear ere it cools, and they who heated it shall feel +it.</p> + +<p>We may as well make up our minds to it first as last, that we must at every +effort and at <i>any</i> cost, conquer this rebellion. There is no alternative. +This done, the great question which remains to settle, is, how shall we manage +the conquered provinces? There are fearful obstacles in the way; great +difficulties, such as no one has as yet calmly realized; difficulties at home and +abroad. We have a fierce and discontented population to keep under; increased +expenses in every department of government; but it is needless to sum them up. +The first and most apparent difficulty is that involved in the form of government +to be adopted. As the rebellious States have, by the mere act of secession, +forfeited all State rights, and thereby reduced themselves to territories, this +question would seem to settle itself without difficulty, were it not that a vast +body of the ever-mischief-making, ever-meddling, and never-contented politicians +(who continue to believe that the millennium would at once arrive were +Emancipation only extinguished) cry out against this measure as an infringement +of those Southern rights which are so dear to them. They argue and hope in vain. +Never more will the South come back to be served and toadied to by them as of +old; never more will they receive contemptuous patronage and dishonorable honors. +It is all passed. Those who look deepest into this battle, and into the future, +see a resistance, grim and terrible, to the death; and one which will call for +the strictest and sternest watch and ward. It will only be by putting fresh life +and fresh blood into Secessia, that union can be practically realized. Out of the +old Southern stock but little can be made. A great portion must be kept under by +the strong hand; a part may be induced to consult its own interests, and reform. +But the great future of the South, and the great hope of a revived and improved +Union will be found in colonizing certain portions of the conquered territory +with free white labor.</p> + +<p>A more important topic, and one so deeply concerning the most vital prosperity +of the United States, was never before submitted to the consideration<span +class="pageno"><a name="page660" id="page660"></a>{660}</span> of her citizens. +If entertained by Government and the people on a great, enterprising, and +vigorous scale, as such schemes were planned and executed by the giant minds of +antiquity, it may be made productive of such vast benefits, that in a few years +at most, the millions of Americans may look back to this war as one of the +greatest blessings that ever befell humanity, and Jefferson Davis and his +coadjutors be regarded as the blind implements by which God advanced human +progress, as it had never before advanced at one stride. But to effect this, it +should be planned and executed as a great, harmonious, and centrally powerful +scheme, not be tinkered over and frittered away by all the petty doughfaces in +every village. In great emergencies, great acts are required.</p> + +<p>It is evident that the only certain road to Union-izing the South is, to plant +in it colonies of Northern men. Thousands, hundreds of thousands now in the army, +would gladly remain in the land of tobacco or of cotton, if Government would only +provide them with the land whereon to live. Were they thus settled, and were +every slave in the South emancipated by the chances of war, there would be no +danger to apprehend as to the future of the latter. Give a Yankee a fat farm in +Dixie, and we may rely upon it that although a Southern nabob may not know how to +get work out of a 'free nigger', the Northerner will contrive to persuade Cuffy +to become industrious. We have somewhere heard of a Vermonter, who taught +ground-hogs or 'wood-chucks' to plant corn for him; the story has its +application. Were Cuffy ten times as lazy as he is, the free farmer would +contrive to get him to work. And in view of this, I am not sorry that the +Legislatures of the border wheat States are passing laws to prevent slaves from +entering their territories. The mission of the black is to labor as a free man in +the South, under the farmer, until capable of being a farmer on his own +account.</p> + +<p>The manner and method of colonizing free labor in the South deserves very +serious consideration, and is, it may be presumed, receiving it at the hands of +Government, in anticipation of further developments in this direction. We trust, +however, that the Administration will <i>lead</i>, as rapidly as possible, in +this matter, and that the President will soon make it the subject of a Message as +significant and as noble as that wherein this country first stood committed by +its chief officer to Emancipation, the noblest document which ever passed from +president or potentate to the people; a paper which, in the eyes of future ages, +will cast Magna Charta itself into the shade, and rank with the glorious +manumission of the Emperor of Russia.</p> + +<p>The primary question would be, whether it were more expedient to scatter free +labor all over the South, or simply form large colonies at such points as might +serve to effectually break up and surround the confederacy. Without venturing to +decide on the final merit of either plan, we would suggest that the latter would +be, for a beginning, probably most feasible. Should Virginia, certain points on +the Atlantic coast, embracing the larger cities and vicinity of forts, and Texas, +be largely or strongly occupied by free men, we should at once throw a chain +around the vanquished foe, whose links would grow stronger every year. With +slavery abolished—and it is at present abolishing itself with such rapidity +that it is almost time lost to discuss the subject—immigration from Europe +would stream in at an unprecedented rate, and in a few years, all the old +Southern system become entirely a tradition of the past, like that of the feudal +chivalry which the present chivalry so fondly ape.</p> + +<p>The enormous internal resources of Eastern Virginia, her proximity to free +soil, the arrogance and insubordination of her inhabitants, render her peculiarly +fitted for colonization. Not less attractive is Texas—a State which, be it +remembered, is capable of raising six times as much cotton as is now raised<span +class="pageno"><a name="page661" id="page661"></a>{661}</span> in the whole +South, and which, if only settled and railroaded-ed, would, in a few years, +become the wealthiest agricultural State in America. But let our army once settle +in the South, there will be little danger of its not retaining its possessions. +He who can win can wear.</p> + +<p>The country has thus far treated very gingerly the question of confiscation, +which is, however, destined to thrust itself very prominently forward among the +great issues of the day, and which is closely allied to colonization. That the +South, after forcing upon us such a war as this, with its enormous losses and +expenses, should be subjected to no penalty, is preposterous. Confiscation there +must be—not urged inhumanly on a wholesale scale, but in such a manner as +to properly punish those who were forward in aiding rebellion. When this war +broke out, the South was unanimous in crying for plunder, in speaking of wasting +our commerce and our cities on a grand scale. But it is needless to point out +that punishment of the most guilty alone would of itself half cover the expenses +of the war.</p> + +<p>It may be observed that already, since the decree of emancipation in the +District of Columbia, a fresh spirit of enterprise has manifested itself there. +Within a few days after the signature of the President to that act, Northern men +began to prepare for renewed industry and action in the old slave field. The tide +of free labor which will rush into Virginia, after the chances of war or other +action shall have emancipated that State, will be incalculable. Its worn-out +plantations will become thriving farms, its mines and inexhaustible water-powers +will call into play the incessant demand and supply of vigorous industry and +active capital. We may hasten the movement or we may not, by direct legislation. +For the present, it seems advisable to await the rapidly developing chances of +war and their results; but the great rush of free labor will come, and that +rapidly, and Virginia, disenthralled, become, in all probability, once more the +first among the States.</p> + +<p>We have spoken of the desperation of the rebels, and of the idleness of +expecting from them any peaceable compromise. Those who, in the South, will take +the oath of allegiance, and who have probably acted only under compulsion, should +be spared. But there is a vast number who are as yet under the dominion of a +madness, for which nothing but the most vigorous measures can be of any avail. It +is evident that at present, every where except in Halleck's department, +government is too indulgent. Traitors flaunt and boast openly in the border +States, and publicly scheme with their doughface allies, to defeat the Union +cause in every possible way, too often with signal success. The more mercy they +receive, the more insolent do they become, and yet every effort has been made, +and is making, 'to conciliate.' Let Government be vigorous, and rely only on its +strong hand, so far as the management of avowed traitors is concerned; such men +hold to no faith, and keep no oaths. With such, a threat of confiscation will be +found of more avail than all the lenity in the world.</p> + +<p>We may quote, in this connection, from a letter to the Salem <i>Register</i>, +from Captain Driver, who hoisted 'Old Glory' at Nashville, when our troops took +possession of that city. After speaking of the immense amount of property being +destroyed through the State, he asks:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em"> +'Is there one man North, who now expects to +make peace, based on compromise with such men as lead here? Is there +one who expects a lasting peace in this land, until the armed +heel of freedom's soldiers marks every inch of slave soil? If +there is, he knows little of the South or Southern men and women. +One defeat of the Federal forces, and madness would be rampant +here. In the hour of victory, they would destroy every Union family +in the South. We live on a volcanic mass, which at any moment +may upheave and blow us to glory without the benefit of the clergy, +the most of whom are in the army of Dixie.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em"> +'Our enemy is as bitter as death, as implacable +as the savage of the forest; he will do any thing to gain his +end. Twice has the 'Black Flag' been flaunted in our faces, and +cheered by a portion of our citizens. Our women are more bitter than +the men, and our +<span class="pageno"><a name="page662" id="page662"></a>{662}</span> + children are taught to hate the North, in church, in +school, and at the fireside. Our city still presents a sullen, +silent front; it will take as long time to root treason out of +Nashville us it did the household sins of Egypt out of +Israel.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em"> +'Had I my way, I would confiscate the property +of all traitors, work the slaves three or four years under +overseers, on the land of their masters, sell the crops thus raised, and +pay the war debt; this would save the people from taxation. The +fifth year's crop give to the slaves, and send them to Texas or +elsewhere; give them a governance, buy up the slaves of the loyal +men, and let them be sent to their brethren. The land confiscated, I +would divide among the soldiers of the North and the widows and +orphans of those deluded poor men of the South who fell victims +to false notions of 'Southern Rights;' compel the Northern man to +settle on his grant, or to send a settler of true, industrious +habits, and give him nopower to alienate his title for ten or more +years. This will insure an industrious, worthy, patriotic people for +the South. One man will make one bale of cotton, others ten; your +spindles and looms will be kept running by free men, and slavery +will cease forever, as it should do. Slavery is a curse, a crime, a +mildew, and must end, or war will blast our fair heritage for +all time to come.'</p> + +<p>Such are the views of one who seems to know what a real Southern-sympathizing +secessionist is made of. Let it not be forgotten that there are thousands of +native Tennesseeans, as of other borderers of intelligence, character, and +influence, who have offered to raise regiments to fight for the Union; and this +fact is urged by the doughface democrats as a reason for increased leniency to +traitors. We confess we do not see what connection exists between the two. If +these loyal borderers are sincere in their professions, they have certainly no +sympathy for the wretches around them, who visit with death or pillage every +friend of the Union. But it is idle to argue with traitors. Either we are at war, +or we are not; and if the history of the past eighteen months has not taught the +country the folly of procrastinating, nothing will do it. 'When you feel the +knife in your heart, <i>then</i> wish that you had fought!'</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="THE_EDUCATION_TO_BE" id="THE_EDUCATION_TO_BE"> +</a>THE EDUCATION TO BE.</h2> + +<h4 class="center">II.</h4> + +<p>A right intellectual education presupposes three essential features: the +selection of the most suitable subjects for study; the proper presentation of +these, in the order of their dependence, and in view of the gradual growth of the +pupil's powers of comprehension; and, not less important than either of these, +the finding out and following of the best method and order of presenting the +truths belonging to each subject to be studied. These are the problems with +which, as something apart from Metaphysics or Logic, the possible but yet +unachieved pedagogical science has to deal. To the first of these questions, What +shall we teach? or, as he phrases it, 'What knowledge is of most worth?' Mr. +Spencer (presuming the child already supplied with his bare implements, reading, +spelling, and penmanship) is led, after a long discussion, to conclude that 'the +uniform reply is, Science.' The 'counts' on which he bases this verdict, are, the +purposes of self-preservation; the gaining of a livelihood; the due discharge of +parental functions; qualification for political responsibilities; the production +and enjoyment of art; and discipline, whether intellectual, moral, or religious. +Taken at his own showing, Mr. Spencer seems to contemplate, as his model of an +educated man, a prodigiously capable and efficient mute. But can he deny that the +ability <i>to express</i> what one may know, and in speech, as well as in +production, is at once the final proof, and in a very real sense the +indispensable consummation of such knowing? <i>Language</i> is the counterpart +and complement of <i>Science</i>. The two are but two<span class="pageno"><a +name="page663" id="page663"></a>{663}</span> sides, and either separately an +incomplete one, of one thing; that one thing we may name <i>definite and +practical knowledge</i>; and it is the only sort of knowledge that has real +value. Language is yet larger than all the sciences proper which it embodies, +namely, those clustering about Philology, Grammar, and Rhetoric. Of these, all +deal with words, or those larger words—sentences; but under these forms +they deal, in reality, with the objective world as perceived or apprehended by +us, and as named and uttered in accordance with subjective aptitudes and laws. In +language, then, there stands revealed, in the degree in which we can ascend to +it, all that is yet known of the external world, and all that has yet evolved +itself of the human mind. Can we decry the study of that which, whether as +articulate breath, or through a symbolism of visible forms, mirrors to us at once +all of nature and all of humanity? But if we yield this claim in behalf of +language, noting meanwhile that the mathematics are already well represented in +our courses of instruction, then much of Mr. Spencer's eloquent appeal is simply +wasted by misdirection. All that he had really to claim is, that a +disproportionate time is now surrendered to the studies of the symbols, as such, +and too often to characteristics of them not yet brought in any way into +scientific coördination, nor of a kind having practical or peculiarly +disciplinary value. If Mr. Spencer had insisted on a more just division of the +school studies between the mathematical, physical, biological, and linguistic +sciences, he would have struck a chord yielding no uncertain sound, and one +finding response in a multitude of advanced and liberal minds. If he had gone yet +deeper, and disclosed to his readers the fact that the fundamental need is, not +that we study what in the more restricted sense is known as <i>Science</i>, but +that we begin to study all proper and profitable subjects, as we now do hardly +any of them, <i>in the true scientific spirit and method</i>, he would not merely +seem to have said, but would have succeeded in saying, something of the deepest +and most pressing import to all educators.</p> + +<p>The volume of republished papers from Mr. Barnard's able <i>Journal of +Education</i>—the first of a series of five under the general title of +'Papers for the Teacher'—will afford to those desirous of investigating the +second of the problems above proposed, some useful material and hints. Especially +will this be true, we think, of the first series of articles, by Mr. William +Russell, on the 'Cultivation of the Perceptive, Expressive, and Reflective +Faculties;' and of the second, by Rev. Dr. Hill, now President of Antioch +College, upon the 'True Order of Studies.' In the outset of his first essay, +(which appeared in March, 1859,) Dr. Hill takes it '<i>for granted</i> +[postulating, we think, a pretty large ground, and one that analysis and proof +would better have befitted] that there is a rational order of development in the +course of the sciences, and that it ought to be followed in common education.' +The order he finds is that of five great studies, Mathesis, [mathematics;] +Physics, or Natural History; History; Psychology; and Theology. 'We also take it +for granted,' he continues, 'that there is a natural order of development in the +human powers, and that studies should be so arranged as to develop the powers in +this order.' Here two very difficult problems are undertaken—the hierarchy +of the sciences, and the analysis of the intellect—and though we seem to +find in the elucidation of the subject traces of that 'harmony of results of the +two lines of inquiry,' on which the author relies as one source of confirmation +of the results themselves, yet we can not admit that the solutions given us +remove all, nor even all the main difficulties of the case. While we regard the +mathematics, physics, psychology, and theology as quite well individualized and +distinct lines of scientific research, we can not help feeling that the day has +hardly come for embracing <i>physiology</i> under either phys<span +class="pageno"><a name="page664" id="page664"></a>{664}</span>ics or psychology; +the forming of the bile and the growing and waste of brain are yet, to our +apprehension, too far removed from the gravitation of planets or the oxidation of +phosphorus, on the one hand, as they are from the scintillations of wit or the +severe march of reason on the other, for ready affiliation with either. We +question decidedly whether Theology proper can, at the most, be more than a very +restricted subject; and quite as decidedly whether the heterogeneous matters +grouped under History, namely, Agriculture, Trade, Manufactures, the Fine Arts, +Language, Education, Politics, and Political Economy, are or can be shown to be +linked by any principle of essential unity. Most of these have their historical +side; but their unhistorical and scientific side most interests the great body of +learners. And this latter aspect of some of them, Education and Politics +especially, belongs after, not before Psychology. Then, the great fact of +expression—Language—has not adequate justice done it by the position +it is here placed in. Want of space is the least among our reasons for forbearing +to attempt here a classification of the sciences—a work which Ramus, +D'Alembert, Stewart, Bentham, and Ampère successively essayed and left +unfinished. But the principle that the faculties in their order are called out by +the branches named in their order, is quite given up as the writer proceeds, and +distinctly so in his Tabular View of the studies adapted to successive ages. In +actual life, usually the first set teaching the infant receives is in language; +and even though it previously is and should be getting its ideas of forms, +colors, and other qualities, in the concrete, yet it remains far from true that +we should 'pay our earliest attention to the development of the child's power to +grasp the truths of space and time.' Dr. Hill has, however, taken in these papers +a step in a needful direction; and perhaps the best we could at first expect, are +hints and an approximation toward a much desired result.</p> + +<p>We may fairly assume that Mr. Willson's answer to the question, What to teach? +is in some good degree embodied in his elaborate series of 'School and Family +Readers,' of which the first six of the eight contemplated volumes have already +appeared. These Readers aim to replace in a good degree the more purely literary +materials of most of their predecessors, with a somewhat systematic and complete +view of the more generally useful branches of human knowledge. They begin, where +the child is sure to be interested, with studies of animals, illustrated with +good and often spirited drawings, and proceed through Physiology, Botany, +Architecture, Physical Geography, Chemistry, etc., up at last, as is promised, to +Mental and Moral Philosophy, Natural Theology, Rhetoric, Criticism, Logic, the +Fine Arts, including that one of those arts, as we presume we may class it, with +which pupils of the rural schools will have best cause to become acquainted, +namely, Gardening! Readers on this plan have long been known in the schools of +Prussia and Holland, and are even lately well received in England, in the form of +Mr. Constable's popular series; though apparently, when finished, the American +series will be more full and complete in topics and treatment of them than any +preceding one. Of course, restricted space, and the range of maturity of talents +addressed, compel the presentation in simplified form of scarcely more than 'a +little learning' under the several heads; and the compiler sensibly tells us his +aim is not to give a full exposition of any theme, but rather, 'to present a +<i>pleasing introduction</i> to science.' We may grant, in the outset, that most +pupils will really comprehend, in and through the reading of it, but a modicum of +all the high and large fields of knowledge here intimated to them; but who that +can now look on his school-days as in the past, does not remember how many +grandiose sentences he was then called on to utter in cadence duly swelling or +pathetic, but of the meaning of which he had not the most distant approach to a +true compre<span class="pageno"><a name="page665" +id="page665"></a>{665}</span>hension? It was <i>ours</i> once to be of a class +whose enunciative powers were disciplined by repeated goings 'through' of the +'Old English Reader,' and well do we remember how the accidental omission of the +full pause after 'shows' in the quotation ending the piece entitled 'Excellency +of the Holy Scriptures,' caused a certain teacher to understand(!) and direct us +to read the whole sentence thus: 'Compared, indeed, with this, all other moral +and theological wisdom</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Loses, discountenanced, and like folly shows' +BEATTIE.'</span><br /> + +<p>Now, it is true, the whole sentence, in its best state, would have shown to +our green understandings like enough to 'folly,' if we had once made the effort +to find meaning of any sort in it; nor can it be considered the most profitable +use of school time, thus to 'like folly show' to unknit juvenile brains the +abstract and high thought of mature and great minds, who uttered them with no +foolishness or frivolity in their intentions! We see reasons to expect +substantial advantages from Mr. Willson's books; and we believe teachers will +appreciate and use them. We could wish they had not gone so far to mechanicalize +the pupil's enunciation; by too freely introducing throughout the points of +inflection; but it is safe to predict that most pupils will take up with interest +the simplified readings in science; that they will comprehend and remember a +useful portion of what they read; that the lessons will afford both them and the +teachers points of suggestion from which the mind can profitably be led out to +other knowledge and its connections; and that they who go through the series can +at least leave school with some more distinct ideas as to what the fields of +human knowledge are, and what they embrace, than was ever possible under the +<i>régime</i> of merely fine writing, of pathetic, poetic, and generally +miscellaneous selections.</p> + +<p>The educational interest that grew up in our country between the years 1810 +and 1828, about the year 1835 gave place to a stagnation that has marked nearly +the whole of the period intervening between the last-named and the present date. +In the year 1858, the <i>New-York Teacher</i> was made the first medium of some +thoughts in substance agreeing with those set forth in the earlier part of this +paper, claiming the indispensableness to true education of a more true and +liberal <i>work</i> on the part of the learner's intellectual faculties, and of a +more true and logical <i>consecution</i> than has yet been attained, and one +corresponding to the natural order of the intellectual operations, in the books +and lessons through which the usual school studies are to be mastered. +'Make'—said the first of the articles setting forth this thought—'the +[form of the] facts and principles of any branch of study as simple as you +choose, and unless the order of their presentation be natural—be that +order, from observation to laws and causes, in which the mind naturally moves, +whenever it moves surely and successfully—the child, except in the rare +case of prodigies that find a pleasure in unraveling complexity, will still turn +from the book with loathing. He will do so because he must. It is not in his +nature to violate his nature for the sake of acquiring knowledge, however great +the incentives or threatenings attending the process.' 'The child's mind ... with +reference to all unacquired knowledge ... stands in precisely the attitude of the +experimenters and discoverers of riper years. It is to come to results not only +previously unknown, but not even conceived of. Because their nature and faculties +are identical, the law of their intellectual action must be the same.' 'Study is +research.' In subsequent articles, it was claimed that the law here indicated is +for intellectual education, the one true and comprehensive law; and it was +expressed more fully in the words: 'All true study is investigation; all true +learning is discovery.'</p> + +<p>We say, now, that when the first of these articles appeared, the leading +thought it contained, namely, that our pupils can and should learn by a +process<span class="pageno"><a name="page666" id="page666"></a>{666}</span> of +<i>re-discovery</i>, in the subjects they pursue, had not in distinct nor in +substantial statement in any way appeared in the educational treatises or +journals; and further, that it was not, so far as their uttered or published +expressions show, previously occupying the attention of teachers or of +educational writers, nor was it the subject or substance of remarks, speeches, or +debates, in the meetings of Teachers' Associations. We say further, and because +history and justice require it, that in our country, especially in the +educational movements in the State of New-York, and in the several national +associations of educators, a marked change and revolution in the course of much +of the thought and discussion touching matters of education has, since the year +1858, become apparent, and that to the most casual participant or observer, and +in the precise direction in which the thought above referred to points. The +essential issue itself—the practicability and desirableness of casting our +studies into the form of courses of re-discovery is somewhat distantly and +delicately approached, incorporated into speeches by an allusion or in the way of +<i>apercû</i>, or thrown out as a suggestion of a partial or auxiliary +method with the younger learners, all which is of a fashion highly patronizing to +the thought, spite of the scruples about confessing who was the suggester of it. +But other questions, which spring up in the train of this, which by themselves +had received attention long since, but had been mainly dropped and unheard of +among us during the past twenty-five years, have come again into full and +unconcealed prominence. Such are the questions about the natural order of +appearance of the faculties in childhood, as to what are the elementary faculties +of the mind, as to the adaptation of the kinds and order of studies to these, +etc. And thus, all at once, is disclosed that Education itself, which many had +thought quite a 'finished' thing, well and happily disposed of, or at least so +far perfected as to leave no work further save upon the veriest outskirts of +details, is in truth a giant superstructure with foundations in sand, or so +almost visibly lacking underneath it, that it threatens to fall. For, in the name +of the simplest of all common sense, how are we to educate to the best, <i>not +yet knowing</i>—and that is now acknowledged—<i>what are the</i> +FACULTIES <i>of the very minds we are dealing with, nor what are the</i> +PROCESSES <i>by which those minds begin and keep up their advance in +knowledge?</i> So, also, those who in the most charitable mood could see in +education only something too hum-drum and narrow for their better fancies, find +it now rising and expanding into a new and large field for intellectual effort, +full of interesting problems, and fraught with realizations as yet undreamed +of.</p> + +<p>It may be said, that the young mind had always learned what it did learn, by +discoveries; we answer, our methods and our books have not in any sufficient +degree recognized the fact, provided for it, nor taken advantage of it. It may be +said, that writers had previously acknowledged that the mind learns +well—some of them even, that it learns best—when it discovers: we +answer, that nevertheless, no one had recorded it as a well-grounded, universal +conclusion and positive law, that the mind only can learn, in all strictly +scientific matters, as it discovers, and that hence, the canons of the method of +discovery become rules for directing, in studies of this character, the education +of the young. Aristotle and Bacon have recognized and enforced upon the adult +mind its two master methods of advance by reasoning. But our children have their +knowing also to attain to, their discoveries to make, their logic of proof, on +occasions, to employ. Shall we lavish all the treasures of method on those who +have passed the formative stage of mind, and acquired the bent of its activities? +Rather, we think, the true intellectual method—combining both Baconian +<i>induction</i> and Aristotelian <i>deduction</i>—yet waits to realize +some of the best of the application and work for<span class="pageno"><a +name="page667" id="page667"></a>{667}</span> which its joint originators and +their co-workers have been preparing it; and that perhaps one of the highest +consummations of this one method of thought may yet appear in the carrying +forward, with more of certainty, pleasure, and success in their attaining of +knowledge, the lisping philosophers of our school-rooms and our firesides.</p> + +<p>From one source, disconnected latterly from those to which I have thus far +called attention, there has arisen a decidedly progressive movement in the +direction of right teaching, and one that, at least in geographical studies, +promises soon to result in a consummation of great importance. Though +Pestalozzianism, as further developed by the Prussian educators and schools, has +never yet realized the completely inductive and consecutive character here +contended for, it has been tending in a degree toward such a result; and this is +perhaps seen in the most marked way in the method of teaching geography developed +by Humboldt and Ritter, and represented in this country by their distinguished +pupil, Professor Guyot. This method subordinates political to physical geography, +proceeding from facts to laws, and by setting out with the grand natural features +of the globe, leads the learner to comprehend not only the existence, boundaries, +capitals, and strength of nations, but the reasons why these have come to be what +they are. As tending in the same true direction, we should not fail to mention +also the faithfully-executed series of raised or embossed maps of the late Mr. +Schroeter, presenting not only the profile but the comparative elevations of the +land-surfaces or continents and islands, and, in detail, of the several political +divisions of the globe, thus at once making the ocular study of geography +<i>real</i>, and not as formerly, leaving the right conception of the +land-surfaces to the pupil's unaided imagination.</p> + +<p>Among the decisive and important steps marking the revival of educational +interest among us, is that looking to the introduction into our primary schools +of the simple lessons for what is called the 'education of the senses,' and what +is in fact the solicitation of the perceptive faculties, and the storing of them, +with their proper ideas, through the avenues of sense. When employed about +observing or finding and naming the parts or qualities and uses of objects, as +<i>glass, leather, milk, wood, a tree, the human body</i>, etc., this sort of +teaching takes the name of 'Object Lessons;' when it rises to philosophizing in +the more obvious and easy stages about natural phenomena, as <i>rain, snow,</i> +etc., or about parts of the system of nature, as <i>oceans, mountains, stars,</i> +etc., it is sometimes termed 'Lessons in Common Things.' In the year 1860, Mr. +E.A. Sheldon, the enterprising superintendent of the schools of that city, first +introduced with some degree of completeness and system, this sort of teaching +into the primary schools of Oswego. In March, 1861, under the leadership also, as +we infer, of their superintendent, Mr. William H. Wells, the Educational Board of +the city of Chicago adopted a still more minutely systematized and more extensive +course of instruction of this sort, arranged in ten successive grades, and +intended to advance from the simple study of objects, forms, colors, etc., +gradually to the prosecution of the regular and higher studies. The greater +naturalness, life-likeness, and interest of this kind of mental occupation for +young learners, over the old plan of restricting them mainly to the bare +alphabet, with barren spelling, reading, definitions, and so on, is at once +obvious in principle and confirmed by the facts; and for the younger +classes—a stage of the utmost delicacy and importance to the future habits +of the learner—the fruits must appear in increased readiness of thought and +fullness of ideas, and in a preparation for more true and enlarged subsequent +comprehension of the proper branches of study; provided, we must add, that these +also, when reached, be taught by a method best suited to their subject-matter and +to the higher range of mental activity required to deal with<span +class="pageno"><a name="page668" id="page668"></a>{668}</span> it. Whether, now, +the object-lesson system and plan is the one competent to carry on the learner +through those later studies, is another and larger question, and one to which we +shall presently recur.</p> + +<p>Under the recall of the minds of educators among us to fundamental principles +of methods and tendencies in teaching, which we have pointed out, it was but +natural to expect attempts to be made toward remedying the defects and supplying +the needs that could not fail to be detected in our teaching processes. +Naturally, too, such attempts would result in the bringing forward, sooner or +later, of novelties in the topics and form of the school-books. What the +pen—which, in the outset, proposed the necessity of molding the school-work +into a course of re-discoveries of the scientific truths—should reasonably +be expected to do toward supplying the want it had indicated; or what it may, in +the interim, have actually accomplished toward furnishing the working implements +requisite to realizing in practice the possible results foreshadowed by the best +educational theories, it may be neither in place nor needful that we should here +intimate. Sometimes, indeed, there is in our social movements evidence of a +singular sort of intellectual <i>catalysis;</i> and a mute fact, so it <i>be</i> +a fact, and even under enforced continuance of muteness, through influence of +temporary and extraneous circumstances, may yet, like the innocent +<i>platinum</i> in a mixture of certain gases, or the equally innocent +<i>yeast-plant</i> vegetating in the 'lump' of dough, take effect in a variety of +ways, as if by mere presence.</p> + +<p>We shall remember how even Virgil had to write:</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Hos ego versiculos scripsi: tulit alter +honores!'</span><br /> + +<p>And the veriest bumpkin knows the force of the adage about one's shaking the +tree, for another to gather up the fruit. But Virgil was patient, and did well at +the last; though the chronicles do not tell us how many pears ever came to the +teeth of him that did the tree-shaking. At all events, it is satisfying to know +that time spins a long yarn, and comes to the end of it leisurely and at his own +wise motion!</p> + +<p>The English object-lesson system being now fairly and successfully +domesticated among us, and to such an extent as to call for the invitation and +temporary residence among us, in the city of Oswego, of a distinguished +lady-teacher from the English Training Schools, it is again but natural that the +system should call forth books adapted to its purposes; and it was scarcely +possible, under the circumstances we have now shown to exist, that such books +should come forth without presenting a more conscious aim toward embodying +something of the principle and order of <i>discovery</i> than has marked even +their English prototypes. These anticipations we find exactly realized in the +first book of the new pattern that has yet made its appearance—the 'Primary +Object-Lessons' of Mr. Calkins. Of this book, issued June, 1861, the author thus +states the motive: 'With an earnest desire to contribute something toward a +general radical change in the system of primary education in this country—a +change from the plan of exercising the memory chiefly to that of developing the +observing powers—a change from an artificial to a natural plan, one in +accordance with the philosophy of mind and its laws of development, the author +commenced the following pages.'</p> + +<p>Acknowledging his indebtedness to the manuals of Wilderspin, Stow, Currie, the +Home and Colonial School Society, and other sources, the author tells us that the +plan of developing the lessons 'corresponds more nearly to that given in Miss +Mayo's works than to either of the other systems;' and we understand him to claim +(and the feature is a valuable one) that in this book, which is not a text-book, +but one of suggestive or pattern lessons for teachers, he directs the teacher to +proceed less by telling the child what is before it and to be seen, and more by +requiring the child to<span class="pageno"><a name="page669" +id="page669"></a>{669}</span> find for itself what is present. Again, an +important circumstance, the purpose of the book does not terminate in describing +right processes of teaching, but on the contrary, <i>'in telling what ought to be +done, it proceeds to show how to do it by illustrative examples,' (sic.)</i> Now, +spite of some liberties with the President's English, which may properly be +screened by the author's proviso that he does not seek 'to produce a faultless +composition,' so much as to afford simple and clear examples for the teacher's +use, we are compelled to inquire, especially as this is matter addressed to +mature and not to immature minds, which it is the author really meant us to +understand; that is, whether, in fact, the book 'proceeds to show <i>how to do it +by</i> illustrative examples;' or whether, in reality, it does not aim <i>to show +by illustrative examples how to do it</i>—that, namely, which ought to be +done. If we still find Mr. Calkins's philosophy somewhat more faultless than his +practice, perhaps that is but one of the necessary incidents of all human effort; +and we can say with sincerity that, in some of its features, we believe this a +book better adapted to its intended uses—the age it is designed to meet +being that of the lowest classes in the primary schools, or say from four to +seven or eight years—than any of its predecessors. It will not, we hope, +therefore, be understood as in a captious spirit, that we take exception to +certain details.</p> + +<p>The author is clearly right in his principle that 'The chief object of primary +education is the development of the faculties;' though doubtless it would have +been better to say, <i>to begin</i> the development of the faculties; but then, +he recognizes, as the faculties specially active in children, those of +'sensation, perception, observation, and simple memory,' adding, for mature +years, those of 'abstraction, the higher powers of reason, imagination, +philosophical memory, generalization,' etc. But that any one of all these is in +the true psychological sense, a <i>faculty</i>—save, it may be, in the +single instance of imagination—we shall decidedly question; and Mr. Calkins +will see by the intent of his very lessons, that he does not contemplate any such +thing as 'sensation' or 'observation,' as being a faculty: but, on the other +hand, that he is so regarding certain individual powers of mind, by which we know +in nature Color and Form and Number and Change and so on.</p> + +<p>We must question whether 'in the natural order of the development of the human +faculties, the mind of the child takes cognizance first of the <i>forms</i> of +objects.' Form is a result of particular <i>extensions:</i> evidently, extension +must be known before form can be. But again, visibly, form is revealed through +kinds and degrees of light and shade; in one word, through <i>color</i>. +Evidently, then, color also must be appreciated before visible form can be. But +this 'natural order of the development of the human faculties,' is a seductive +thing. In phrase, it is mellifluous; in idea, impressively philosophical. It +would be well if this book, while cautiously applying developing processes to the +little learner, were to <i>dogmatise</i> less to the teacher. But when the +development-idea is carried into the titles of the sections, it becomes, we +think, yet more questionable. Thus, a section is headed, 'To develop the idea of +straight lines.' First, would not the idea of <i>a straight line</i> come nearer +to the thing actually had in view? Again, 'To develop the idea of right, acute, +and obtuse angles.' 'The idea,' taking in all these things, must be most mixed +and multifarious; it could not be <i>clear</i>, though that is a quality mainly +to be sought. Is not the intention rather, to develop <i>ideas</i> of <i>the +right, the acute,</i> and <i>the obtuse angle?</i> Instances of this sort, which +we can not understand otherwise than as showing a loose way of thinking, are +numerous. But then, again, it is assumed that the lessons <i>develop</i> all the +ideas successively discoursed about. Far otherwise, in fact. In many instances, +of course, a sharper, better idea of the object or quality discussed will be +elicited in the<span class="pageno"><a name="page670" +id="page670"></a>{670}</span> course of the lesson. This is, at best, only a sort +of quasi-development, individualizing an idea by turning it on all sides, +comparing with others, and sweeping away the rubbish that partly obscured it. In +others of the topics, the learner has the ideas before we begin our developing +operations. But the great misfortune of the usage of the term here is, that +<i>develop</i> properly implies to <i>unroll, uncover, or disclose</i> something +that is infolded, complicate, or hidden away; but mark, something that is always +THERE before the developing begins, and that by it is only brought into light, +freedom, or activity! Thus, we may develop faculties, for they were there before +we began; but we simply can not develop <i>objective ideas</i>, such as this book +deals with, but must impart them, or rather, give the mind the opportunity to get +them. First, then, this term thus employed is needlessly pretentious; secondly, +it is totally misapplied. Would it not help both teacher and pupil, then, if we +were to leave this stilted form of expression, and set forth the actual thing the +lessons undertake, by using such caption as for for example, <i>To give the idea, +of a triangle,</i> or to insure, or <i>to furnish the idea of a curve?</i> We +think the misnomer yet greater and worse, when we come to such captions as 'To +develop the idea of God, as a kind Father;' especially when the amount of the +development is this: 'Now, children, listen very attentively to what I say, and I +will <i>tell you</i> about a Friend that <i>you all have</i>, one who is kind to +all of you, one who <i>loves you better</i> than your father or your mother +does,' and so on. All this, and what precedes and follows, is 'telling,' as the +author acknowledges; of course, then, it is not developing. How is the child here +made to <i>find</i> and <i>know</i> that it has such a Friend?—that this +Friend <i>is</i> kind to all?—that this Friend loves it better than do +parents, or, in fact, at all? This is the way the nursery develops this and +kindred ideas, and if the child be yet too young for its own comprehension of the +most obvious truths of Natural Theology, then better defer the subject, or at +least cease to call the nursery method by too swelling a name!</p> + +<p>As to arrangement of topics, though the geographical lessons properly come +late, as they stand, the idea of <i>place</i>, as well as those of <i>weight and +size</i>, all belong earlier than the positions they are found in; and +<i>number</i>, later. Such mental anachronisms as talking of <i>solids</i> before +the attempt has been made to impart or insure the idea of a solid, should, where +practicable, be avoided; and more notably, such as bringing a subsequent and +complex idea, like that of 'square measure,' before scarcely any one of the +elementary ideas it involves, such as <i>measure, standard</i>, or even <i>length +or size</i>, is presented. As to the substance of the teaching, we will indicate +a few points that raise a question on perusal of them. What will the little +learner gain, if the teacher follows the book in this instance? 'Where is the +skin of the apple? <i>On</i> its surface.' ' This is in the lesson for +'developing the idea' of surface. When, by and by, the young mathematician gets +the true idea of a surface, as extension in two dimensions only, hence, without +thickness, then will follow this surprising result, that the whole thickness of +the apple-skin is <i>on</i>—outside—the apple's surface, and hence, +is nowhere: a singular converse of the teaching of those smart gentlemen who +waste reams of good paper in establishing, to their own satisfaction, that even +the mathematical surface itself has thickness! In the lesson on 'perpendicular +and horizontal,' the definition of perpendicular is correct; but all the +developing, before and after, unfortunately confounds the <i>perpendicular</i> +with the <i>vertical</i>—a bad way toward future accuracy of thought, or +toward making scientific ideas, as they should be, definite as well as +practically useful. If we judge by the brevity and incompleteness of the lesson +on 'Developing ideas of Drawing'(!), ideas of that particular 'stripe' must be +scarce. The Object<span class="pageno"><a name="page671" +id="page671"></a>{671}</span> Lessons at the close of the book we find generally +very good models of such exercises, clear and to the purpose. Once in a while +there is a <i>lapsus</i>, as in this: The criterion of a <i>liquid</i> is +presented as being in the circumstances that it does not '<i>hold together</i>' +when poured from a vessel, but 'forms drops.' Now, since it forms drops, it +<i>has cohesion</i>, and the criterion is wrongly taken; In fact, the same thing +appears in that the liquid, even in pouring out, does hold together in a stream, +and a stream that experiments with liquid jets show it really requires +considerable force to break up.</p> + +<p>Finally, Mr. Calkins's book, in the bands of discerning and skillful teachers, +can be made the instrument of a great deal of right and valuable discipline for +primary classes; but without some guarding and help from the teacher's own +thought, it will not always do the best work, nor in the best way. It is an +approach to a good book for early mental development; but it is not the +consummation to be desired. Many of its suggestions and patterns of lessons are +excellent; but there is too large a lack of true consecution of topics, of +accuracy of expression, and of really natural method of handling the subjects. We +say this with no unkindly feeling toward the attempt or the author, but because, +though no matter by how fortuitous circumstances, it comes to us as in this +country the <i>first effort</i> toward a certain new style of books and subjects, +and certain more rational teaching; and we hold it, as being the privilege of +teachers whose time may be too much consumed in applying, to criticise minutely, +as no less our right and duty, and that of every independent man, to recognize +and point out wherein this new venture meets, or fails to meet, the new and +positive demand of the pupils and the teachers in our time. If, in a degree, the +working out shows defects such as we have named, is it not yet a question, +whether we have in the book an illustration 'how this system of training may be +applied to the entire course of common school education'?—to say nothing +now of the question whether, even in its best form, it is a system that ought to +be so applied.</p> + +<p>After the author of a book for young learners is sure of the comprehensibility +of his subjects, and the accuracy of his ideas and expressions of them, the +highest need—and one the lack of which is fatal to true educative +value—is that of a natural and true synthesis and consecution of the +successive steps of fact and principle that are to be presented. We would not be +understood that every successive lesson and every act of voluntary thinking must +thus be consecutive: to say this, would be to confine the mind to one study, and +to make us dread even relaxation, lest it break the precious and fragile chain of +thought. Our growth in knowledge is not after that narrow pattern. We take food +at one time, work at another, and sleep at a third: and so, the mind too has its +variations of employment, and best grows by a like periodicity in them. This is +our point—that it is a peculiarity and law of mind, growing out of the very +nature of mind and of its knowings, that no truth or knowledge which is in its +nature a <i>consequent</i> on some other truths or knowledge, can by any +possibility be in reality attained by any mind until after that mind has first +secured and rightly appreciated those <i>antecedent</i> truths or knowings. No +later or more complex knowledge is ever comprehensible or acquirable, until after +the elements of knowledge constituting or involved in it have first been +definitely secured. To suppose otherwise, is precisely like supposing a +vigorously nourishing foliage and head of a tree with neither roots nor stem +under it; it is to suppose a majestic river, that had neither sufficient springs +nor tributaries. Now, for the pupil, the text-book maker, the educator, no truth +is more positive or profoundly important than this. He who fails of it, by just +so much as he does so, fails to educate. Let the pupil, as he must, alternately +study and not study—go<span class="pageno"><a name="page672" +id="page672"></a>{672}</span> even on the same day from one study to a second, +though seldom to more than a third or fourth. By all this he need lose nothing; +and he will tax and rest certain faculties in turn. But then, insist that each +subject shall recur frequently enough to perpetuate a healthy activity and growth +of the faculties it exercises, usually, daily for five days in a week, or every +other day at farthest; that each shall recur at a stated period, so that a habit +of mind running its daily, steady and productive round with the sun may be +formed; and that in and along the material of every subject pursued, whether it +be arithmetic, or grammar, or chemistry, or an ancient or modern language, the +mind shall so be enabled to advance consecutively, clearly and firmly from step +to step—from observation to law, from law to application, from analysis to +broader generalization, and its application, and so on—that every new step +shall just have been prepared for by the conceptions, the mental susceptibility +and fibre, gotten during the preceding ones, and that thus, every new step shall +be one forward upon new and yet sure ground, a source of intellectual delight, +and a further intellectual gain and triumph. Need we say, this is the +<i>ideal</i>? Practice must fall somewhat short of it; but Practice must first +aim at it; and as yet she has scarcely conceived about the thing, or begun to +attempt it. In truth, Practice is very busy, dashing on without a due amount of +consideration, striving to project in young minds noble rivers of knowledge +without their fountains; and building up therein grand trees of science, of which +either the roots are wanting, or all parts come together too much in +confusion.</p> + +<p>First, then, we are not to make the presentation of any topic or lesson, even +to the youngest learner, needlessly inconsecutive; but with the more advanced +learners—with those in the academic and collegiate courses—we should +insist on the display, and in so doing best insure the increase of the true +<i>robur</i> of the intellect, by positive requirement that all the topics shall +be developed logically; that sufficient facts shall come before all conclusions; +and rigid, sharp, and satisfactory analysis before every generalization or other +synthesis. So, the more advanced mind would learn induction, and logic, and +method, by use of them upon all topics; it would know by experience their +possibilities, requirements, and special advantages; and it would be able to +recognize their principles, when formally studied, as but the reflex and +expression of its own acquired habitudes. Such a mind, we may safely say, would +be <i>educated</i>. But secondly, the foregoing considerations show that we are +not unnecessarily to jumble together the topics and lessons; to vacillate from +one line of study to another; to wander, truant-like, among all sorts of good +things—exploiting, now, a <i>color</i>; then <i>milk</i>; then in due time +<i>gratitude</i> and <i>the pyramids</i>; then <i>leather</i>, (for, though +'there's nothing like leather,' it may be wisest to keep it in its place;) then +<i>sponge</i>, and <i>duty to parents, lying</i>, the <i>points of compass</i>, +etc.! And here, for all ages above nine or ten years, is a real drawback, or at +the least, a positive danger, of the Object-Lesson and Common-Things teaching. +Just here is shadowed forth a real peril that threatens the brains of the men and +women of the—we may say, 'rising' generation, through this fresh accession +of the object-lesson interest in our country. <i>Objects</i>, now, are +unquestionably good things; and yet, even objects can be 'run into the +ground.'</p> + +<p>We had put the essential thought here insisted on into words, before +object-lessons had acquired the impetus of the last and current year.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em"> +'The 'object lessons' of Pestalozzi and his numerous followers, had, +in a good degree,one needed element—they required WORK of the +pupil's own mind, not mere recipiency. But they have [almost] +wholly lacked another element, just as important—that of +CONSECUTION in the steps and results dealt with. In most of the +schools in our country—in a degree, in all of them—these two +fundamental elements of all right education, namely, true work of +<span class="pageno"><a name="page673" id="page673"></a>{673}</span> +the learner's mind, and a natural and true consecution in not only +the processes of each day or lesson, but of one day on another, and +of each term on the preceding, are things quite overlooked, and +undreamed of, or, at the best, imperfectly and fragmentarily +attempted. But these, in so far as, he can secure their benefits, +are just the elements that make the thinker, the scholar, the man +of real learning or intellectual power in any pursuit.—<i>New-York</i> +<i>Teacher, December,</i> 1859.</p> + +<p>A like view begins to show itself in the writings of some of the English +educationists. The object-teaching is recognized as being, in most instances, at +least, too promiscuous and disorderly for the ends of a true discipline and +development, and certainly, therefore, even for securing the largest amount of +information. It too much excludes the later, systematic study of the +indispensable branches, and supplants the due exercise of the reasoning powers, +by too habitual restriction of the mind's activities to the channels of sense and +perception. Isaac Taylor, in his <i>Home Education</i>, admits the benefits of +this teaching for the mere outset of the pupil's course, but adds: 'For the rest, +that is to say, whatever <i>reaches its end in the bodily perceptions</i>, I +think we can go but a very little way without so giving the mind a bent <i>toward +the lower faculties as must divert it from the exercise of the higher.</i>' This +thought is no mere fancy. It rests on a great law of <i>derivation</i>, true in +mind as in the body; that inanition and comparative loss of one set of powers +necessarily follows a too habitual activity of a different set. Thus it is that, +in the body, over-use of the nervous, saps the muscular energies, and excessive +muscular exertion detracts from the vivacity of the mind. Logically, then, when +carried to any excess over just sufficient to secure the needed clear perceptions +and the corresponding names for material objects and qualities, the object-lesson +system at once becomes the special and fitting education for the ditcher, the +'hewer of wood,' the mere human machine in any employment or station in life, +where a quick and right taking to the work at the hand is desirable, and any +thing higher is commonly thought to be in the way; but it is not the complete +education for the independent mind, the clear judgment and good taste, which must +grow out of habits of weighing and appreciating also thousands of +<i>non</i>-material considerations; and which are characteristics indispensable +in all the more responsible positions of life, and that in reality may adorn and +help even in the humblest. In a recently published report or address on a +recommendation respecting the teaching of Sciences, made by the English +'Committee of Council on Education,' in 1859, Mr. Buckmaster says:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'The object-lessons given in some schools are so vague and +unsystematic, that I doubt very much if they have any educational +or practical value. I have copied the following lessons from the +outline of a large elementary school; Monday, twenty minutes past +nine to ten, Oral Lesson—<i>The Tower of Babel</i>; Tuesday, <i>The</i> +<i>Senses</i>; Wednesday, <i>Noah's Ark</i>; Thursday, <i>Fire</i>; Friday, <i>The</i> +<i>Collect for Sunday</i>. What can come of this kind of teaching, I am +at a loss to understand. Now, a connected and systematic course of +lessons on any of the natural sciences, or on the specimens +contained in one of Mr. Dexter's cabinets, would have been of far +greater educational value, and more interesting to the children. +<i>This loose and desultory habit of teaching encourages a loose and</i> +<i>desultory habit of thought</i>; it is for this reason that I attach +great value to <i>consecutive courses</i> of instruction.... I think, it +will not be difficult to show that the study of <i>almost any branch</i> +<i>of elementary science</i> not only has a direct bearing on many of the +practical affairs of every-day life, but also <i>supplies all the</i> +<i>conditions necessary to stimulate and strengthen the intellectual</i> +<i>faculties in a much greater degree</i> than many of the subjects now +taught in our elementary schools.'</p> + +<p>All the lines of our investigation, as well as the most competent testimony, +thus converge in showing that the object-lesson and common-things teaching is but +a partial and preliminary resource in the business of education; that, to avoid +working positive harm, it must be restricted within due limits of age, capacity, +and subject; that it is not,<span class="pageno"><a name="page674" +id="page674"></a>{674}</span> therefore, the real and total present desideratum +of our schools; and that, subsequently to the completion of the more purely +sensuous and percipient phase of the mind, and to the acquirement of the store of +simpler ideas and information, and the degree of capacity, that ought to be +secured during that period—hence, from an age not later than eleven, or +according as circumstances may determine, thirteen years—all the true and +desirable ends of education, whether they be right mental habits and tastes, +discipline and power of the faculties, or a large information and practical +command of the acquisitions made—all these ends, we say, are thenceforward +most certainly secured by the systematic prosecution, in a proper method, of the +usually recognized distinct branches or departments of scientific knowledge. Let +then, 'common things,' <i>et id genus omne</i>, early enough give place to +thorough-going study of the elements of Geometry, of Geography, Arithmetic, +Language, (including Grammar,) of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, Botany, +Physiology, and something of their derivations and applications. Thus shall our +schools produce a race not of mere curious <i>gazers</i>, but of conscious and +purposive investigators; not a generation of intellectual truants and vagabonds, +but one of definitely skilled cultivators of definite domains in handicraft, art, +or science.</p> + +<p>We are compelled to take issue, therefore, with Mr. Spencer's recommendation, +indorsed in the Chicago Report, to the effect that object-lessons should, after a +'different fashion,' 'be extended to a range of things far wider, and continued +to a period far later than now.' Not so: after any possible fashion. But let us, +as early as the child's capacity and preparation will allow, have the +individualized, consecutive studies, and the very manner of studying which shall +be made to do <i>for the higher and the lower intellectual faculties together, +what well-conducted object-lessons can and now do perform, mainly for the +lower</i>. Of all school-method, this we conceive to be the true end and +consummation. This would be the ultimate fruitage of the Baconian philosophy, and +of philosophy larger than the Baconian—by as much as the whole is greater +than any part—in the school-life and work of every boy and girl admitted to +the benefits of our courses of instruction.</p> + +<p>Thus we have endeavored, with some particularity of examination and detail, to +find and state not only what <i>are</i>, but what <i>should be</i>, the +tendencies of educational thought and effort in our country and times. And we +seem to find that those tendencies <i>are</i>, in spite of a stand-still +conservatism or perplexed doubt in some quarters, and of a conflict of views and +practices in others, largely in the direction in which the ends to be sought show +that they <i>should be</i>. The <i>Education to be</i>, as far as the +intellectual being is concerned, when time and study shall better have determined +the conditions, and furnished the working instrumentalities, is to be, not in +name merely, but in fact, an education by simply natural employment and +development of all the perceiving, reasoning, originative, and productive +faculties of the mind. It is to be such, because it is to insist on proceeding, +after proper age, and then upon every suitable topic, by observation and +investigation, and so, by discovery of the principles and results the mind is +desired to attain; because it will be an education by rigidly consecutive, +comprehended and firm lines of advance, employing processes analytic and +synthetic, inductive and deductive, each in its requisite place and in accordance +with the nature and stage of the topics under investigation. For the like +reasons, it will have become, what we have long foreseen and desired that +education should be, rightly progressive in form, and in character such as must +develop, strengthen, and store the mind; such as must best fit, so far as the +merely scholastic education can do this, for practical expression and use of what +is learned, showing all our acquired know<span class="pageno"><a name="page675" +id="page675"></a>{675}</span>ledge in the light of its actual and various +relationships, and conferring true serviceableness and the largest value, whether +for enjoyment or execution.</p> + +<p>Such an education would be <i>real</i> in its method as well as in its +substance. We have fairly entered upon the era in which education must be, and, +spite of any temporary recoil of timorous despotisms, must continue to be, +popular and universal. But many are too apt to forget that, upon our planet, this +thing of popular and universal education is comparatively a new and untried +experience; that, so far as its mode and substance are concerned, it is, in +truth, still in course of experiment. There is at present a very general and but +too just complaint of the popular education, as tending to inflate rather than to +inform; as prompting large numbers of young men especially to aim at scaling to +positions above those in which the school found them, a thing that would be well +enough were it not inevitable that, in the general scramble, the positions +aspired to are at the same time too frequently those above their capabilities, +and quite too full without them: as, in few words, inspiring youth with a +disrelish for those less responsible pursuits to which a large majority should +devote their lives, rather than with a desire to qualify themselves for their +proper work. The tendency is admitted; and it has become, in overcrowded +professions and commercial pursuits, the fruitful source of superficiality, of +charlatanry, of poverty at once of pocket and of honor, of empty speculations, +and of the worst crimes.</p> + +<p>But, appreciating the unquestionable fact that universal education is to be +henceforth the rule in the most advanced nations, and that, in spite of its +apparent consequences or our fears, and remembering also that the experience is, +for the world, a new one, is there not some hope left us in the thought that +possibly the alarmists have been attributing to the <i>fact</i> of popular +education itself what in truth is only a temporary consequence of a false, an +abnormally-educating <i>method and procedure</i> on the part of our schools? Nay, +more; does not the latter afford the true solution of the evil? We believe it has +been shown that our teaching methods not only fail in great part, but in a degree +positively mis-educate; that the very 'head and front' of this failure and +non-developing appears in the want of bringing into just prominence the +discriminating and the applicative powers of the mind, the judgment, and reason; +in a word, the thinking as distinguished from the merely receptive and retentive +powers. Now, what are we to expect from a people too many of whom are put in +possession of stores of fact quite beyond the degree in which their capacities to +discriminate clearly, to judge wisely, and to draw conclusions rationally have +been strengthened and furnished with the requisite guiding principles? What but a +shallow shrewdness that should run into all the evils we have above named? But +discipline all to think and reason more and more justly and assuredly upon their +facts, and to men so educated, the very thought of an inordinate crowding of the +so-called genteeler avocations, to the neglect of the more substantial, +<i>becomes appreciated in its true light, as absurd and unfortunate in every way, +and, in all its bearings upon the individual as well as the social +welfare</i>.</p> + +<p>So, let us have popular education; and let a due proportion of fit minds enter +the professions, the posts of office, and commercial pursuits; let a few even +live by mere work of thought; but let all enjoy the luxury of a degree of thought +and rationality that shall forbid their richest blessing turning to their rankest +curse. That such must be the result of a <i>true</i> education, our faith in a +wise Providence forbids us to doubt. Such an education being <i>real</i>, and +appealing to all the faculties, does not eventuate in vain aspirings; but fits +each for his place and work—fits for making that great and happy discovery, +that the best talents and the most complete cultivation of them can not only<span +class="pageno"><a name="page676" id="page676"></a>{676}</span> find in every +employment scope for real exercise, but in the commonest and simplest occupations +will be more expert and successful than uncultured ignorance can possibly be. In +this view, the true education tends not to <i>level</i> but to utilize, to make +the most of every man's special aptitudes for his special field. Such an +education monarchy and aristocracy might dread, and reäctive tendencies have +already, indeed, blighted the once pattern school-system of Prussia, while they +are believed to threaten a like step in England. But the idea of such an +education as we have striven to portray, harmonizes with the spirit and objects +of a commonwealth, and if we mistake not, to the perpetuity and perfection of +free institutions it may yet be found the condition precedent.</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="TRAVEL_PICTURES" id="TRAVEL_PICTURES"> +</a>TRAVEL-PICTURES.</h2> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="A_QUIET_COURT_IN_PARIS" id="A_QUIET_COURT_IN_PARIS"> +</a>A QUIET COURT IN PARIS.</h3> + +<p>No lodging on a village street could be quieter than my room in Paris, and yet +the court it opened upon was not more than an easy stone's throw from the gayest +part of the Boulevards. Once within the great wooden gate and up the narrow lane +conducting to the court, and you seemed to have left the great world as +completely behind you as if it had been a dream. It was one of the smallest of +Parisian courts, and—to me its chief recommendation—one of the +neatest. With its two or three small stuccoed houses built around, it reminded +one rather of inclosures that you see in provincial towns in France than of the +damp, high-walled courts, so common in the capital. In one of these small houses, +looking out upon the sunny, cheerful yard, I had my room, and as I often sat at +the window, I began by degrees to take some interest in the movements of my +neighbors, as we can hardly help doing when the same persons pass in and out +before our eyes for many days in succession. The house was rented or owned by an +elderly lady, who, with her niece and an old servant-woman, seemed to be its only +occupants, with the exception of two American boys, attending school by day at +one of the large <i>Pensions</i> so numerous in Paris. Kinder people can not be +found any where, and fortunate indeed is the sojourner in a strange land who +falls in with such good hearts. Their history was a singular one, and I did not +really learn it till my return to Paris, after a long absence. They interested me +very much, from the first day. The lady and her niece had seen better days, and +were notable partisans of the Orleans family, whose memory they deeply +reverenced. Politics, indeed, could make but little difference to them, passing, +as they did, most of their lives in their quiet rooms; but such interest as they +had in it clung to what they considered the model royal family of Europe, a +family that carried its affections and virtues equally through the saddest and +most splendid experiences. They could not sympathize with the oppressive and +military character of the present dynasty and the crowd of time-serving +adventurers that swarmed around it. The life of the younger lady was devoted to +her aunt, and all the spare hours that remained to her from those occupied by the +lessons she was compelled to give, to increase their scanty income, were passed +in her society. I have seldom seen a life of such entire self-denial as that led +by this refined and delicate woman. The third figure of this family group, the +old servant, Marie, was a character peculiar to France. She seemed rather a +companion than a servant, though she performed all the duties of the latter, +keeping<span class="pageno"><a name="page677" id="page677"></a>{677}</span> the +rooms in neatest order, and making better coffee than I found at the most +splendid restaurants. She had a clear blue eye, with one of the most faithful +expressions I ever saw on human face, and seemed to take as much interest in me +and the two American boys as if we had been her children. She was the +housekeeper, buying all their little supplies; but when her labors were over, +passing her leisure hours in the society of the ladies she had so long served. I +soon saw that the connection between these three beings would be terminated only +by death. The chief difference in the two ladies and their faithful old +<i>bonne</i>, beyond the circumstance of better education and greater refinement, +was that for the former the outer world no longer had much interest, while the +old Marie still seemed to retain a keen relish for what was going on around her, +and often amused me by the eagerness with which she would enter into trifling +details of gossip and general news. After sight-seeing all day, and the +experiences of a stranger in Paris, I was often glad to join the trio in their +little parlor, and talk over the Paris of former days, during its revolutions and +<i>fétes</i>, or answer their questions about my every-day ramblings or my +American home. I felt, during these evenings, a relief from the general routine +of places of amusement, enjoyed their home-like quiet, and knew I could always +give pleasure by varying the monotony of these ladies' every-day life. So the +three, so devoted to each other, lived quietly on, winning my respect and +sympathy. I left them, with many regrets on their part and my own, and on my +return, after an absence of nearly a year, one of my first visits was to these +kind-hearted people. To my sorrow, I learned that death had removed the elder +lady some months before. I could hardly imagine a death that would longer or more +painfully affect a family group than this, for they had so few outward +circumstances to distract their thoughts. They received me cordially; but grief +for their irreparable loss was always visible in every subsequent interview I had +with them. Meeting again one of the school-boys who had lodged there, he told me +the following circumstances of the death of the lady, and of the relationship +existing between them, which was so different from what I had always imagined. +Madame de B—— was the widow of a French officer of high rank, during +whose life she had been in affluent circumstances; but through various causes, +she had lost most of the property left her at his death, and retained at last +only enough to keep them in the humble style I have described. The manner of her +death was very singular. In her better days, she had lived with her husband in a +handsome house near the Champs Elyseés. On the day of her death, she was +walking with a gentleman from Boston, a friend of the two pupils I have +mentioned, and was speaking to him of her more affluent days, when, as they were +near the house where she had once lived, she proposed to walk on a little +further, that she might point it out. He consented, and as they drew near to it, +she exclaimed, '<i>Ah! nous l'apercevons</i>,' and, without another word, fell +suddenly in a sort of apoplectic fit, not living more than half an hour longer. +The circumstance of this lady dying suddenly so near the place where she had once +lived, and which she so seldom visited, was certainly very singular. To my +surprise, I learned that the younger lady was the daughter of old Marie, having +been adopted and educated by the person she had always supposed to be her aunt; +she having no children of her own. What made it more singular was, that the +younger lady had herself been in possession of this family secret only a few +years. It reminded me somewhat of Tennyson's Lady Clare, though in this case no +one had been kept out of an estate by the fiction. It was merely to give the +young lady the advantage of the supposed relationship. This, then, accounted for +the strong affection existing between them, and lest any reader<span +class="pageno"><a name="page678" id="page678"></a>{678}</span> might think this +conduct strange, I must again bear witness to the kindness and true affection +always displayed toward the real mother. I would not narrate this true story, did +I not feel how little chance there is of my humble pen writing any thing that +would reach the ears of this family, living so obscurely in the great world of +Paris.</p> + +<p>Just opposite us, in the court, lived another lady, who has played many +fictitious parts, as well as a somewhat prominent one, on the stage of real life. +This was Madame George, the once celebrated actress; in her younger days, a +famous beauty, and at one time mistress of the great Napoleon. Though long +retired from regular connection with the stage, she still makes an occasional +appearance upon it, almost always drawing a full audience, collected principally +from curiosity to see so noted a personage, or to remark what portion of her once +great dramatic power time has still left her. One of these appearances was made +at the Odéon, while we were in Paris. Marie informed us of the coming +event before it was announced on the bills, and seemed to take as much interest +in it as if it had been the <i>débût</i> of a near relative. We had +sometimes caught a glimpse of the great actress, tending her geraniums and roses +at the window, or going out to drive. On the evening in question, a very large +audience greeted the tragedienne, and she was received, with much enthusiasm. She +appeared in a tragedy of Racine, in which she had once been preëminently +distinguished. Magnificently dressed, and adorned with splendid jewels, trophies +of her younger days, when her favors were sought by those who could afford to +bestow such gifts, she did not look over thirty-five, though now more than twice +that age. I am no admirer of French tragedy, but I certainly thought Madame +George still showed the remains of a great actress, and in some passages produced +a decided impression. Her tall, commanding figure, expressive eyes, and features +of perfect regularity, must have given her every natural requisite for the higher +walks of her profession. As I watched her moving with majestic grace across the +stage, irrepressible though trite reflections upon her early career passed +through my mind. What audiences she has played before, in the days of the first +empire! How many soldiers and statesmen, now numbered with the +not-to-be-forgotten dead, have applauded her delivery of the same lines that we +applaud to-night. Napoleon and his brilliant military court, the ministers of +foreign nations, students such as are here this evening, themselves since +distinguished in various walks of life, have passed across the stage, and made +their final exit, leaving Madame George still upon it. And the not irreproachable +old character herself—what piquant anecdotes she could favor us with, would +she but draw some memory-pictures for us! Women in Europe, in losing virtue, do +not always lose worldly prudence, as with us, and go down to infamy and a +miserable old age. Better, however, make allowance for the manners of the +time—French manners at that—and contemplate the old lady from an +historical point of view, regarding her with interest, as I could not help doing, +as one of the few remaining links connecting the old Napoleon dynasty with the +new. How strange the closing of a life like hers! Except for the occasional +reäppearance on the scene of her old triumphs, not oftener than once or +twice a year, how quiet the life she now leads! what a contrast to the excitement +and brilliancy that mark the career of a leading actress in the zenith of her +reputation! <i>Then</i>, from the theatre she would drive in her splendid +equipage through streets illuminated perhaps for some fresh victory gained by the +invincible battalions of her imperial lover. <i>Now</i>, in a retired house, she +probably sometimes muses over the past, pronouncing, as few with better reason +can, 'all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players,' such +changes has she witnessed in the fortunes of the great actors by whom she was +once sur<span class="pageno"><a name="page679" +id="page679"></a>{679}</span>rounded. So here were the histories of two of the +occupants of our court. The others may have had experiences no less strange; and +in many another court in this great city, from the stately inclosures of the Rue +de Lille to the squalid dens of the Faubourg St. Antoine, (if the names have not +escaped me,) lives well worth the telling are passing away. Such is a great +city.<br /></p> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="THE_COUNTRY_OF_EUGENE_ARAM" id="THE_COUNTRY_OF_EUGENE_ARAM"> +</a>THE COUNTRY OF EUGENE ARAM</h3> + +<p>There is a little river in England called the Nidd, and on its high banks +stand the ruins of a castle. There is much in this part of it to remind one of +the Rhine; the banks rise up in bold, picturesque form; the river just here is +broad and deep, and the castle enough of a ruin to lead us to invest it with some +legend, such as belongs to every robber's nest on that famous river. No hawk-eyed +baron ready to pounce on the traveler, is recorded as having lived here; all that +seems to be remembered of it is, that the murderers of Thomas À Becket lay +secreted here for a time after that deed of blood, ere they ventured forth on +their pilgrimage, haunted by the accursed memory of it all their lives. This is +something, to be sure, in the way of historic incident, but the real interest of +this immediate region arises from the fact of its being the home and haunt of +Eugene Aram. A great English novelist has woven such a spell of enchantment +around the history of this celebrated criminal, that I could not help devoting a +day to the environs of the little town of Knaresboro', in and around which the +most eventful portion of Aram's life was passed. A famous dropping-well, whose +waters possess the power of rapidly petrifying every object exposed to them, is +one of the most noticeable things in the neighborhood. There are also one or two +curious rockcut cells, high up on precipitous slopes, which were inhabited years +ago by pious recluses who had withdrawn from the vanities of the world. Some were +highly esteemed here in their lives, and here their bones reposed; and the fact +of their remaining undiscovered sometimes for many years, was ingeniously used by +Aram in his defense, to account for the discovery of the bones of his victim in +the neighboring cave of St. Robert. This latter is one of the few places +connected with Aram's history that can be pointed out with certainty. It lies +about two miles below the castle before mentioned. It is even now a place that a +careless pedestrian might easily pass without remarking, notwithstanding that its +entrance is worn by many curious feet. The entrance is very narrow, and the +cavern, like caverns in general, exceedingly dark. The river flows by more +rapidly here than above; the grass grows long and wild, and there is a gloomy air +about it that would make it an unpleasant place for a night rendezvous even +without the horrid associations connected with it. The exact place where Clark's +hones were discovered is pointed out, and probably correctly, as the space is too +narrow to admit of much choice. Here they lay buried for years, while according +to Bulwer, this most refined of murderers was building up a high name as a +scholar and a stainless reputation as a man. A field not far off is pointed out +as the place where were found the bones which led to the detection of Aram. +Though but few places can now be indicated with certainty in connection with his +tragic story, a vague outline of the character of the man before the discovery of +his crime, is preserved in the neighborhood. As we read the true story of Eugene +Aram, lately published by an apparently reliable person, our sense of the poetic +is somewhat blunted; we feel that the lofty character drawn by Bulwer is in many +respects a creation of the novelist, while the whole story of his love is +demolished by the stern fact of his having a wife, of no reputable character, +with whom he lived unhappily; but he was still a man of talent, of great mental, +if not moral refinement, and of indomitable ardor in the pursuit of learning. The +chief fault of his character until his one great crime was<span class="pageno"><a +name="page680" id="page680"></a>{680}</span> discovered, seems to have been +recklessness in pecuniary transactions, by which he was often involved in petty +difficulties. He seems to have had a tenderness amounting to acute sensibility, +for dumb animals, and to have dreaded killing a fly more than many a man who +could not, like him, be brought to kill a fellow-being His mental acquirements, +though remarkable for an unaided man of obscure origin, would not probably have +attracted wide attention, had it not been for the notoriety caused by the +detection of his crime. How many fair girls have shed tears over 'his ill-starred +love' and melancholy fate, who little dreamed that he was a husband, in a very +humble rank of life. Bulwer speaks of his favorite walks with Madeline, and of a +rustic seat still called 'The Lovers' Scat.' It is not, I think, now pointed out, +nor is the account of his love probably more than an imaginary one, but it may be +founded upon fact, and some high-souled English girl may really, in his early +life, or when separated as he was for a long time from his wife, have called +forth all his better feelings and revealed glimpses of the beauty of the life of +two affectionate and pure beings keeping no secrets of the heart from each other. +How it must have tortured him to think that such a life never could be his, well +fitted for it as in some respects he was, and ever haunted by the fear that the +poor sham by which he was concealed must some day be torn away, and an +ignominious fate be apportioned him! No situation can be more deplorable than +that of a man of refined and lofty nature, who has made one fatal mistake +connecting him with men far worse than himself, who are masters of his secret and +ever ready to use it for their own base purposes. Are there not many men so +situated—men near us now, who walk through life haunted by the dreadful +spectres of past misdeeds hastily committed, bitterly repented—a phantom +that can blast every joy, and from whose presence death comes as a friendly +deliverer?<br /></p> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="THE_GREAT_ST_BERNARD" id="THE_GREAT_ST_BERNARD"> +</a>THE GREAT ST. BERNARD.</h3> + +<p>We reached the Hospice about an hour after dark, somewhat stiff, and very wet +from the rain and snow that commenced falling as we entered the region of clouds. +We had passed unpleasantly near some very considerable precipices, and though +unable to distinguish the ground below, knew they were deep enough to occasion us +decided 'inconvenience' had we gone over them. The long, low, substantial-looking +building finally loomed through the mist, and alighting, we were shown into a +room with a cheerful fire blazing on the hearth, and were soon joined by a priest +of cordial, gentlemanly manners and agreeable conversation. So this was the +famous monastery of St. Bernard, which we had read of all our lives, and the +stories of whose sagacious dogs had delighted our childish minds. A substantial +supper was provided for us, to which was added some excellent wine, made in the +valley below. Conversation was pretty general in French, and somewhat exclusive +in Latin; two of our party understanding the dead language, but ignorant of the +living, framed with great difficulty ponderous but by no means Ciceronian +sentences, which they launched at our host, who replied with great fluency, +showing that for conversational purposes, at least, his command of the language +was much better than theirs. Being anxious to attend the early mass in the +morning, and tired from our ride, we were soon shown to our rooms. Walking along +the passages and viewing the different apartments, we saw the house would +accommodate a great number of persons. The rooms were long and narrow, many of +them containing a number of beds; but in this bracing mountain air there is no +fear of bad ventilation. No crack of my window was open, but the wind blew +furiously outside, and there was a decidedly 'healthy coolness' about the +apartment. The room was uncarpeted and scantily furnished, but every thing was +spotlessly clean, and in pleasant contrast with the dirty luxury of some<span +class="pageno"><a name="page681" id="page681"></a>{681}</span> of the Continental +inns. A few small pictures of saints and representations of scriptural subjects +graced the white walls and constituted the only ornaments of the room. Looking +from my window I saw that the clouds had blown away, and the brilliant moon shone +on the sharp crags of the hills and on the patches of snow that lay scattered +about on the ground. The scene was beautiful, but very cold; the wind howled +around the house, and yet this was a balmy night compared with most they have +here. I thought of merciless snow-drifts overtaking the poor blinded traveler, +benumbed, fainting, and uncertain of his path; of the terrors of such a +situation, and then glancing around the plain but comfortable room, I could not +but feel grateful to the pious founders of this venerable institution. Long may +it stand a monument of their benevolence and of the shelter that poor wayfarers +have so often found within its hospitable walls!</p> +<p>At daybreak we made our way to the chapel, a large and beautiful room with +many pictures and rich ornaments, gifts of persons who have shared the +hospitality of the place. At the altar the brother who had welcomed us on our +arrival was officiating in his priestly robes, assisted by several others. A few +persons, servants of the establishment and peasants stopping for the night, with +ourselves, composed the congregation. Two of the women present, we were told, +were penitents; we asked no further of their history, but at this remote place +the incident gave us cause for reflection and surmise. Heaven grant that in this +sublime solitude their souls may have found the peace arising from the +consciousness of forgiveness. I have never been more impressed with the Catholic +service than I was this morning, when the voices of the priests blending with the +organ, rose on the stillness of that early hour in one of the familiar chants of +the Church. It seemed, indeed, like heavenly music. Here with the first dawn of +morning on these lofty mountaintops, where returning day is welcomed earlier than +in the great world below, men had assembled to pour forth their worship to God, +here so manifest in his mighty works. The ever-burning lamp swung in the dim +chapel, and it seemed a beautiful idea that morning after morning on these great +mountains, the song of gratitude and praise should ascend to Him who fashioned +them; that so it has been for years, while successive winters have beat in fury +on this house, and the snows have again and again shut out all signs of life from +nature. As my heart filled with emotion, I could not but think of the aptness to +the present scene of those beautiful lines of our poet:</p> + +<div class="poem"> + +'At break of day as heavenward<br /> + <span style="margin-left: .18em;">The pious monks of St. Bernard</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: .18em;">Chanted the oft-repeated prayer.'</span> +</div> + +<p>Time and place were the same, and the service seemed as beautiful and solemn +as might have been that chanted over the stiff, frozen body of the high-souled +but too aspiring boy. The service ended, and we were left alone in the chapel. In +one corner of it is the box in which those who can, leave a contribution for the +support of the establishment. No regular charge is made, but probably most +persons leave more than they would at a hotel—and our party certainly did. +I believe that the money is well applied; at any rate, for years the hospice +afforded shelter before travel became a fashionable summer amusement, and in +those days it expended far more than it received.</p> + +<p>Our breakfast was very simple, and the Superior of the establishment confined +himself to a small cup of coffee and morsel of bread. They have but one +substantial meal a day. I was interested in observing our host. His appearance +and manner were prepossessing and agreeable, but this morning something seemed to +weigh anxiously on his mind. He was abstracted in manner, and once as I looked up +suddenly, his lips were moving, and he half checked himself in an involuntary +gesture. Had the confession of the penitents, perhaps, troubled him? I +believe<span class="pageno"><a name="page682" id="page682"></a>{682}</span> he +was a sincere, self-sacrificing man, and I have often thought of his manner that +morning.</p> + +<p>We were, of course, very anxious to see the dogs, but were told they are now +becoming exceedingly scarce. They can not be kept very long in the piercing air +of the mountains, its rarefaction being as injurious to them as to human beings. +Most of them are therefore kept at Martigny, or some other place below. We were +told, however, that two 'pups' were now at the hospice; and as we sallied out for +a walk over the hills, we heard a violent scratching at an adjoining door, which +being opened, out burst the pups. They were perfect monsters, though very young, +with huge paws, lithe and graceful but compact forms, full of life and activity, +and faces beaming with instinct. Darting out with us, they seemed frantic with +joy, snuffed the keen air as they rushed about, sometimes tumbling over each +other, and at times bursting against us with a force that nearly knocked us down. +They reminded me of two young tigers at their gambols. I have never seen +nobler-looking brutes. What fine, honest, expressive countenances they had! At +times a peculiar sort of frown would ruffle the skin around their eyes, their +ears would prick up, and every nerve seem to be quickened. The face of a noble +dog appears to me to be capable of almost as great a variety of expression as the +human countenance, and these changes are sometimes more rapid. The inquisitive +and chagrined look when baffled in pursuit of prey, the keen relish of joy, the +look of supplication for food, of conscious guilt for misdemeanor, the eyes +beaming with intense affection for a master, and whining sorrow for his absence, +the meek look of endurance in sickness, the feeble, listless air, the resigned +expression of the glassy eye at the approach of death, blending even then with +indications of gratitude for kindness shown! These dumb brutes can often teach us +lessons of meek endurance and resignation as well as courage, and few things call +forth more just indignation than to see them abused by men far more brutish than +they.</p> + +<p>Accompanying one of the younger brethren on an errand to the valley below, we +watched them dashing along till the intervening rocks hid them from our view. In +the extensive museum of the Monastery we found much to interest us. Many of the +curiosities are gifts of former travelers, and some of them are of great value. +There is also a small collection of antiquities found in the immediate +neighborhood, where, I believe, are still traces of an ancient temple. The St. +Bernard has been a favorite pass with armies, and is thought by many to have been +that chosen by Hannibal.</p> + +<p>Not very far from the house is the 'morgue' so often noticed by travelers, +containing numerous bodies, which, though they have not decayed, are nevertheless +repulsive to look upon. The well-known figures of the woman and her babe show +that for once the warm refuge of a mother's breast chilled and fainted in the +pitiless storm.</p> + +<p>After cordial well—wishes from the brethren, we left the hospice, +bringing away remembrances of it as one of the most interesting places it has +been our privilege to visit. It has, of course, changed character within half a +century, and there is now less necessity for it than formerly. Many travelers +complain of it as now wearing too much the appearance of a hotel; but we were +there too late in the season to find it so; and even if true at other times, the +associations with the Monastery and the Pass are so interesting, the scenery so +bold, and the welcome one meets with so cordial, that he who regrets having made +the ascent must have had a very different experience from ourselves.</p> +<p>A few hours' ride brought us to the valley, where we met peasants driving +carts and bearing baskets piled up with luscious grapes. A trifle that the +poorest traveler could have spared, procured us an ample supply.<br /></p> + +<h3 class="center"><a name="THE_HUGUENOTS_OF_STATEN_ISLAND" +id="THE_HUGUENOTS_OF_STATEN_ISLAND"></a>THE HUGUENOTS OF STATEN ISLAND.</h3> + +<p><span class="pageno"><a name="page683" id="page683"></a>{683}</span></p> + +<p>Staten Island, that enchanting sea-girt spot in the beautiful Bay of New-York, +early became a favorite resort with the French Protestants. It should be called +the Huguenot Island; and for fine scenery, inland and water, natural beauties, +hill, dale, and streams, with a bracing, healthful climate, it strongly reminds +the traveler of some regions in France. No wonder that Frenchmen should select +such a spot in a new land, for their quiet homes. The very earliest settlers on +its shores were men of religious principles. Hudson, the great navigator, +discovered the Island, in 1609, when he first entered the noble river which bears +his undying name. It was called by its Indian owners, <i>Aquehioneja, +Manackong</i>, or <i>Eghquaous</i>, which, translated, means the place of <i>Bad +Woods</i>, referring, probably, to the character of its original savage +inhabitants. Among the very earliest patents granted for lands in New-Netherland, +we find one of June 19th, 1642, to Cornelius Melyn, a Dutch burgomaster. He thus +became a Patroon of Staten Island, and subsequently a few others obtained the +same honor and privileges. They were all connected with the Dutch Reformed +Church, in Holland; and when they emigrated to New-Netherland, always brought +with them their Bibles and the '<i>Kranek-besoecker</i>,' or 'Comforter of the +Sick,' who supplied the place of a regular clergyman. Twice were the earliest +settlers dispersed by the Raritan Indians, but they rallied again, until their +progress became uninterrupted and permanent.</p> + +<p>Between the Hollanders and the French Refugees, there existed an old and +intimate friendship. Holland, from the beginning of the Middle Ages, had been the +asylum for all the religious out-laws from all parts of Europe. But especially +the persecuting wars and troubles of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, +brought hither crowds of exiles. Not less than thirty thousand English, who had +embraced the Reformed faith, found here a shelter during the reign of Mary Tudor. +Hosts of Germans, during the 'Thirty Years' War,' obtained on the banks of the +Amstel and the Rhine, that religious liberty, which they had in vain claimed in +their own country. But the greatest emigration was that of the <i>Walloons</i>, +from the bloody tyranny of the Duke of Alba, and the Count of Parma. For a long +period the Reformed faith had found adherents in the Provinces of the Low +Countries. Here the first churches were <i>under the Cross</i>, or <i>in the +Secret</i>, as it was styled, and they concealed themselves from the raging +persecution, by hiding, as it were, their faith, under mystic names, the sense of +which believers only knew. We will mention only a few. That of Tournay, '<i>The +Palm-Tree</i>;' Antwerp, '<i>The Vine</i>;' Mons, '<i>The Olive</i>;' Lille, +'<i>The Rose</i>;' Douay, '<i>The Wheat-Sheaf</i>;' and the Church of Arras had +for its symbol '<i>The Hearts-Ease</i>.' In 1561, they published in French, their +Confession of Faith, and in 1563, their Deputies, from the Reformed Communities +of Flanders, Brabant, Artois, and Hainault, united in a single body, holding the +first Synod of which we have any account. These regions were an old part of the +French Netherlands, or Low Countries; and a small section of Brabant was called +<i>Walloon</i>; and here were found innumerable advocates of the Reformed faith. +The whole country would probably have become the most Protestant of all Europe, +were it not for the torrents of blood poured out for the maintenance of the Roman +religion by the Duke of Alba.</p> + +<p>Welcomed by the States General, Walloon Colonies were formed from the year +1578 to 1589, at Amsterdam, Harlaem, Leyden, Utrecht, and other places. But new +persecutions arising, the Re<span class="pageno"><a name="page684" +id="page684"></a>{684}</span>formed French retired to Holland, where new churches +arose at Rotterdam, in 1605, Nimeguen, 1621, and Tholen, in 1658. It was natural, +therefore, that the Huguenots of France should afterward settle in a country of +so much sympathy for the Walloon refugees, whom they regarded as their brethren. +When Henry III. commanded them to be converted to the Romish Church or to leave +the kingdom in six months, many of them repairing to Holland, joined the Walloon +communities, whose language and creed were their own. After the fall of La +Rochelle, this emigration recommenced, and was doubled under Louis XIV., when he +promulgated his first wicked and insane edict against his Protestant subjects. +From that unfortunate period, during a century, the Western Provinces of France +depopulated themselves to the benefit of the Dutch Republic. Many learned men and +preachers visited these Walloon churches, while endeavoring to escape the +persecuting perils of every kind, to which they were exposed. Among the ministers +we may mention the names of Basnage, Claude, Benoit, and Saurin, who surpassed +them all, by the superiority of his genius, who was the patriarch of 'The +Refuge,' and contributed more than all the rest to prevail on the Huguenots to +leave France.</p> + +<p>During the last twenty years of the seventeenth century, the French Protestant +emigration into Holland rose to a political event, and the first +'<i>Dragonades</i>' gave the signal in 1681. The Burgomasters of Amsterdam soon +perceived the golden advantages which the Hollanders would derive from the fatal +policy of Louis XIV. The city of Amsterdam announced to the refugees all the +rights of citizenship, with an exemption from taxes for three years. The States +of Holland soon followed the example of Amsterdam, and by a public declaration, +discharged all refugees who should settle there, from all taxes for twelve years. +In less than eight days all the Protestants of France were informed of this +favorable proclamation, which gave impulse to new emigration. In all the Dutch +provinces and towns collections were taken up for the benefit of the French +refugees, and a general fast proclaimed for Wednesday, November 21st, 1685, and +all Protestants were invited to thank God for the grace he gave them to worship +Him in liberty, and to entreat him to touch the heart of the French King, who had +inflicted such cruel persecutions on true believers.</p> + +<p>The Prince of Orange attached two preachers to his person from the church of +Paris, and the Huguenot ladies found a noble protectress in the Princess of +Orange. Thanks to her most generous care, more than one hundred ladies of noble +birth, who had lost all they possessed in France, and had seen their husbands or +fathers thrown into dungeons, now found comfortable homes at Harlaem, Delft, and +the Hague. At the Hague, the old convent of preaching monks was turned into an +establishment for French women. At Nort, a boarding-house for young ladies of +quality received an annual benefaction of two thousand florins from her liberal +hands. Nor did she forget these pious asylums, after the British Parliament had +decreed her the crown. Most of the refugees came from the Southern +provinces—brave officers, rich merchants of Amiens, Rouen, Bourdeaux, and +Nantes, artisans of Brittany and Normandy, with agriculturists from Provence, the +shores of Languedoc, Roussillon, and La Guienne. Thus were transported into +hospitable Holland, gentlemen and ladies of noble birth, with polished minds and +refined manners, simple mechanics and ministers of high renown, and all more +valuable than the golden mines of India or Peru. Thus Holland, of all lands, +received most of the French refugees, and Bayle calls it 'the grand ark of the +refugees.' No documents exist, by which their numbers can be correctly computed, +but they have been estimated from fifty-five to seventy-five thousand souls, and +the greatest number were to be found at Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and the Hague. In +1686, there were not<span class="pageno"><a name="page685" +id="page685"></a>{685}</span> less than <i>sixteen</i> French pastors to the +Walloon churches at Amsterdam.</p> + +<p>Thus intimately, by a common faith, friendship, and interest, did the +Huguenots unite themselves with the people of Holland, who, about this period, +commenced the establishment of New-Netherland in America. We have traced this +union the more fully for the better understanding of our general subject. The +Walloons and Huguenots were, in fact, the same people—oppressed and +persecuted French Protestants. Of the former, as early as the year 1622, several +Walloon families from the frontier, between Belgium and France, turned their +attention to America. They applied to Sir Dudley Carleton, for permission to +settle in the colony of Virginia, with the privilege of erecting a town and +governing themselves, by magistrates of their own election. The application was +referred to the Virginia Company,<a id="footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"> +</a><a href="#note_1"><span class="footnoteref"><sup>1</sup></span></a> +but its conditions seem to have been too +republican, and many of these Walloons looked, toward New-Netherland, where some +arrived in 1624, with the Dutch Director, Minuit.<br /></p> + +<p>At first, they settled on Staten Island, (1624,) but afterward removed to +<i>Wahle Bocht</i> or the 'Bay of Foreigners,' which has since been corrupted +into Wallabout. This settlement extended subsequently toward 'Breukelen,' named +after an ancient Dutch village on the river Veght, in the province of Utrecht; so +that Staten Island has the honor of having presented the first safe home, in +America, and on her beautiful shores, to the Walloons or Huguenots. The name of +Walloon itself is said to be derived either from Wall, (water or sea,) or more +probably, the old German word <i>Wahle</i>, signifying a foreigner. It must be +remembered that this is a part of the earliest chapter in the history of +New-Netherland, which the 'West-India Company' now resolved to erect into a +province. To the Chamber of Amsterdam the superintendence of this new and +extensive country was committed, and this body, during the previous year, had +sent out an expedition, in a vessel called the 'New-Netherland,' 'whereof +Cornelius Jacobs of Hoorn was skipper, <i>with thirty families, mostly Walloons, +to plant a colony there</i>.' They arrived in the beginning of May, (1623,) and +the old document, from which we quote, adds:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'God be praised, it hath so prospered, that the honorable Lords +Directors of the West-India Company have, with the consent of the +noble, high, and mighty Lords States General, undertaken to plant +some colonies,'<a id="footnotetag2" name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#note_2"><span +class="footnoteref"><sup>2</sup></span></a> ... 'The Honorable <i>Daniel Van +Kriecke-beeck</i>, +for brevity called <i>Beeck</i>, was commissary here, and so did his +duty that he was thanked.'</p> + +<p>In 1625, three ships and a yacht arrived at Manhattan, with more families, +farming implements, and one hundred and three head of cattle. Hitherto the +government of the settlement had been simple, but now, affairs assuming more +permanency, a proper 'Director' from Holland was appointed, and Peter Minuit, +then in the office, was instructed to organize a provincial government. He +arrived in May, 1626, and to his unfading honor be it recorded, that his first +official act was to secure possession of Manhattan Island, by fair and lawful +purchase of the Indians. It was estimated to contain twenty-two thousand acres, +and was bought for the sum of sixty guilders, or twenty-four dollars! Lands were +cheap then, where our proud and princely metropolis now stands, with her +millions, her churches, palatial stores, residences, and shipping.</p> + +<p>As yet there was no clergyman in the colony, but two visitors of the sick, +Sebastian Jansen Keol and Jan Huyck, were appointed for this important duty, and +also to read the Scriptures, on Sundays, to the people. Thus was laid, more than +two hundred years ago, the corner-stone of the Empire State, on the firm +foundation of justice, morality, and religion. This historical fact places the +character of the Dutch and French settlers in a most honorable light. They enjoy +the illustrious distinction of fair,<span class="pageno"><a name="page686" +id="page686"></a>{686}</span> honest dealing with the aborigines, the natural +owners of the lands.</p> + +<p>The purchase of Manhattan, in 1626, was only imitated when William Penn, +fifty-six years afterward, purchased the site of Philadelphia from the Indians, +under the famous Elm Tree. The Dutch and Huguenot settlers of New-Netherland were +grave, firm, persevering men, who brought with them the simplicity, industry, +integrity, economy, and bravery of their Belgic sires, and to these eminent +virtues were added the light of the civil law and the purity of the Protestant +faith. To such we can point with gratitude and respect, for the beginnings of our +western metropolis, and the works of our American forefathers.</p> + +<p>The Rev. Joannes Megapolensis, as early as the year 1642, took charge of the +Dutch Reformed Church in Albany, under the patronage of the Patroon of +Renssaelaerwick, and five years afterward became 'Domine' at Manhattan. In 1652, +he selected for a colleague, Samuel Drissius, on account of his knowledge of +French and English, and from his letters we learn that he went, once a month, to +preach to the French Protestants on Staten Island. These were Vaudois or +Waldenses, who had fled to Holland from severe persecutions in Piedmont, and by +the liberality of the city of Amsterdam, were forwarded to settle in +New-Netherland. We wish that more materials could be gathered to describe the +history of this minister and his early Huguenot flock upon Staten Island. His +ministry continued from 1652 to 1671, and I have recorded all that I can find +respecting him and his people. About the year 1690, the New-York Consistory +invited the Rev. Peter Daille, who had ministered among the Massachusetts +Huguenots, to preach occasionally on Staten Island.</p> + +<p>In August, 1661, a number of Dutch and French emigrants from the Palatinate +obtained grants of land on the south side of Staten Island, where a site for a +village was surveyed. In a short time its population increased to twelve or +fourteen families, and to protect them from the Indians, a block-house was +erected and garrisoned with three guns and ten soldiers. Domine Drissius visited +them, and from a letter of his to the Classis of Amsterdam, we learn the names of +these early emigrants, and some are familiar ones +<a id="footnotetag3" name="footnotetag3"> +</a><a href="#note_3"><span class="footnoteref"><sup>3</sup></span></a> +Jan Classen, Johannes Christoffels, Ryk +Hendricks, Meyndert Evertsen, Gerrit Cornelissen, Capt. Post, Govert Lockermans, +Wynant Peertersen, etc., etc. Previous to this period, the island had been twice +overrun by the savages and its population scattered; but now its progress became +uninterrupted and onward. Crowds of people from Germany, Norway, Austria, and +Westphalia had fled to Holland, and their number was increased by the religious +troubles of the Waldenses and Huguenots. Several families of the latter requested +permission to emigrate with the Dutch farmers to New-Netherland, at their own +expense. They only asked protection for a year or two from the Indians; and the +English, now in possession of the New-York colony, were most favorably disposed +toward them. This transfer from the Dutch to the British rule took place in 1664. +Fort Amsterdam became Fort James, and the city took its present name, imposed as +it was upon its rightful owners. Staten Island was called Richmond County, and +the province of New-Netherland New-York, the name of one known only in history as +a tyrant and a bigot, the enemy of both political and religious freedom.</p> + +<p>From 1656 to 1663, some Protestant emigrants from Savoy came to Staten Island, +and a large body of Rochelle Huguenots also reached New-York during the latter +year. This fertile and beautiful spot, with its gentle hills and wide-spread +surrounding waters, became a favorite asylum for the French refugees, and they +arrived in considerable numbers about the year 1675, with a pastor, and erected a +church near Richmond village. I have visited the place, but all that remains to +mark the vener<span class="pageno"><a name="page687" +id="page687"></a>{687}</span>able and sacred spot is a single dilapidated +grave-stone! The building, it is said, was burned down, and none of its records +have been discovered. At that period, there were only five or six congregations +in the province of New-York, and this must have been one of them. The Rev. David +Bonrepos accompanied some of the French Protestants in their flight from France +to this country, and in an early description of New-York, the Rev. John Miller +says: 'There is a meeting-house at Richmond, Staten Island, of which Dr. Bonrepos +is the minister. There are forty English, forty-four Dutch, and thirty-six French +families.' In 1695-1696, letters of denization were granted to David Bonrepos and +others. Among my autographs is a copy of his; he wrote a fair, clear hand.</p> + +<p>Under the tolerant rule of 'Good Queen Anne,' many French refugees obtained +peaceful abodes in Richmond county. In their escape from their own land, +multitudes had been kindly received in England, and afterward accepted a +permanent and safe shelter in the Province of New-York. What a noble origin had +the Staten Island Christian refugees! Their ancestors, the Waldenses, resided +several centuries, as a whole people, in the South of France, and like the +ancient Israelites of the land of Goshen, enjoyed the pure light of sacred truth, +while Egyptian darkness spread its gloom on every side. In vain have historians +endeavored to trace correctly their origin and progress. All, however, allow them +a very high antiquity, with what is far better, an uncontaminated, pure faith. A +very ancient record gives a beautiful picture of their simple manners and +devotions:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'They, kneeling on their knees, or leaning against some bank or +stay, do continue in their prayers with silence, as long as a man +may say thirty or forty <i>paternosters</i>. This they do every day, +with great reverence, being among themselves. Before meat, they +say, '<i>Benedicite</i>.' etc. Then the elders, in their own tongue, +repeat: 'God, which blessed the five loaves and two fishes, bless +this table and what is set upon it. In the name of the Father, Son, +and Holy Ghost. Amen.' After meat, they say: Blessing, and +worship, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, honor, virtue, and strength, +to God alone, for ever and ever. Amen. The Lord which has given us +corporeal feeding, grant, us his spiritual life; and God be with +us, and we always with him. Amen.' Thus saying grace, they hold +their hands upward, looking up to heaven; and afterward they teach +and exhort among themselves.'</p> + +<p>To Staten Islanders it must be a pleasant reminiscence, that among their +earliest settlers were these pious Waldenses.</p> + +<p>Like their brethren in Utrecht, the descendants of the Huguenots on the Island +sometimes occupy the same farms which their pious ancestors obtained more than a +century and a half ago. The Disosways, the Guions, the Seguines, on its beautiful +winding shores, are well-known examples of this kind. The Hollanders, Walloons, +Waldenses, and the Huguenots here all intermarried, and the noble, spiritual +races thus combined, ever have formed a most excellent, industrious, and +influential population. Judges, Assemblymen, members of Congress, and ministers, +again and again, in Richmond county, have been selected from these unions. During +the Revolutionary struggle, the husband of Mrs. Colonel Disosway had fallen into +the hands of the common enemy; she was the sister of the well-known and brave +Captain Fitz-Randolph, or Randell, as commonly called, who had greatly annoyed +the British. When one of their officers had consented to procure her husband's +release, if she would persuade her brother to quit the American ranks, she +indignantly replied: 'If I could act so dastardly a part, think you that General +Washington has but one Captain Randolph in his army?'</p> + +<p>The early history of some of the emigrants is almost the reality of romance. +Henri de La Tourette fled from La Vendee, after the Revolution, and to avoid +suspicion, gave a large entertainment. While the guests were assembled at his +house, he suddenly left, with his wife,<span class="pageno"><a name="page688" +id="page688"></a>{688}</span> for the sea-coast. This was not far off, and +reaching it, he escaped on board a vessel bound for Charleston. The ship was +either cast away upon the shores of Staten Island, or made a harbor in distress. +Here La Tourette landed, and a long list of exemplary, virtuous people trace +their origin to this source, and one of them has been pastor to the 'Huguenot,' a +Dutch Reformed church on the Island, and is now a useful minister among the +Episcopalians of the Western States. A branch of this family still exists at the +chateau of La Tourette, in France, and some years since, one of them visited this +country to obtain the 'Old Family Bible.' But he was unsuccessful, as the holy +and venerable volume had been sent long before to a French refugee in Germany. +But few of such holy books can now be found, printed in French, and very scarce; +wherever met with, they should he carefully perused and preserved.</p> + +<p>Dr. Channing Moore for a long time was the faithful pastor of St. Andrew's, +the Episcopal Church at Richmond. Afterward he was consecrated the Bishop of +Virginia. He was connected by marriage with an old Huguenot family of the Island, +and his son, the Rev. David Moore, D.D., succeeded him here, living and dying, a +striking example of fidelity to his most important duties. That eloquent divine, +the late Rev. Dr. Bedell, of Philadelphia, was a Staten Islander by birth, and of +the same French origin on the maternal side.</p> + +<p>His son is the present Bishop Bedell of Ohio. There are scarcely any of the +original Richmond county families but claim relationship to the French +Protestants either on the father or mother's side. In all the official records +are to be found such names as Disosway, Fontaine, (Fountain,) Reseau, Bedell, +Rutan, Poillon, Mercereau, La Conte, Britten, Maney, Perrin, (Perrine,) +Larselene, Curse, De Puy, (Depuy,) Corssen, Martineau, Morgane, (Morgan,) Le +Guine, (Leguine,) Journey, Teunise, Guion, Dubois, Andronette, Winant, Totten, La +Farge, Martling, De Decker, (Decker very numerous,) Barton, Ryers, Menell, +Hillyer, De Groot, Garretson, Vanderbilt, etc., etc.</p> + +<p>Few communities are blest with a better population than Richmond county, +moral, industrious, thrifty, and religious, and they should ever cherish the +remembrance of their virtuous and noble origin. The island is not more than +twelve or fourteen miles long, and about three wide, with some thirty thousand +inhabitants; and within these small limits there are over thirty churches, of +various denominations, each having a regular pastor; and most of the official +members in these congregations are lineal branches of the first settlers, the +French Protestants. What a rich and glorious, harvest, since the handful of +Holland, Walloon, Waldenses, and Huguenot emigrants, two centuries and a half +ago, first landed upon the wilderness shores of Staten Island!<span +class="pageno"><a name="page689" id="page689"></a>{689}</span></p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="RECOLLECTIONS_OF_WASHINGTON_IRVING" +id="RECOLLECTIONS_OF_WASHINGTON_IRVING"></a>RECOLLECTIONS OF WASHINGTON +IRVING.</h2> + +<h3 class="center">BY ONE OF HIS FRIENDS.</h3> + +<p>The appearance of the first volume of the long-expected <i>Life of Washington +Irving</i> has excited an interest which will not be satisfied until the whole +work shall have been completed. Its author, Pierre M. Irving, sets forth with the +announcement that his plan is to make the patriarch of American literature his +own biographer. It is nothing new that this branch of letters is beset with +peculiar difficulties. Some men suffer sadly at the hand of their chronicler. +Scott misrepresents Napoleon, and Southey fails equally in his Memoirs of Cowper +and of the Wesleys. Friendship's colors are too bright for correct portraiture, +and prejudice equally forbids acuracy. Mr. Pierre M. Irving, though an admirer of +his distinguished kinsman, (and who that knew him could fail of admiration?) +avoids the character of a mere eulogist, while at the same time he exhibits none +of the obsequiousness of a Boswell, fluttering like a moth about a huge candle. +Being a man of independent mind and of high culture, he brings out the character +he portrays in aspects true to life, and not exaggerated by excess of tone, while +he fully exhibits its exquisite finish.</p> + +<p>Among the many incidents of deep interest which are contained in this volume, +the episode of Matilda Hoffman stands forth in most striking relief. While +lifting the veil which for a half-century covered the most pathetic event in +Irving's life, his biographer touches with a scrupulous delicacy a theme so +sacredly enshrined in a life-long memory. In referring to this affair, which gave +a tender aspect to Irving's subsequent career, and in fact changed its whole +tenor, we may remark that the loves of literary men form a most interesting and, +in some cases, moving history. Some, like Petrarch, Earl Surrey, Burns, and +Byron, have embalmed the objects of their affection in the effusions of their +muse, while others have bequeathed that duty to others. Shakspeare says but +little about his sweetheart, while Milton, who was decidedly unsuccessful in +matters of the heart, seems to have acted on the motto, 'The least said, the +soonest mended.' Poor Pope, miserable invalid though he was, nervous, irritable, +and full of hate and spleen, was not beyond the power of the tender passion, and +confessed the charms of the lonely Martha Blount, who held the wretched genius +among her conquests. Swift, although an ogre at heart, had his chapter of love +matters, which never fail to give us the horrors when we bring them to mind, and +the episodes of Stella and Vanessa are among the minor tragedies in life's great +drama. Johnson had a great heart, and was born to love, though, like the lion, he +needed to have his claws pared, to fit him for female society. What a tender +attachment was that which he bore 'Tetty,' and with what solemn remembrance he +preserved her as his own, even after death had robbed him of her presence!</p> + +<p>The loves of these men exercised the strongest influence on their destinies, +while, on the other hand, disappointment and consequent celibacy have done the +same to their victims. To the bachelor list of modern days, which can boast of +Charles Lamb and Macaulay, America adds the proud name of Washington Irving, +whose early disappointment made him an author.</p> + +<p>My impressions of Irving's boyhood and youth are alive with the freshness of +an early memory, which conserves along with him the Crugers, Clintons, +Livingstons, Ogdens, and other old and honored names of New-York. The biography +which inspires this reminiscence gives a sketch of the early history of<span +class="pageno"><a name="page690" id="page690"></a>{690}</span> the family, and as +its author has thus opened the subject, it will not, we presume, be considered an +intrusion if I pursue the thread of domestic incident a little farther than he +has done.</p> + +<p>The Irving homestead, in William street, was, in its day, a place of some +pretension, when contrasted with the humble dwellings which surrounded it. The +street on which it stood was miserably built, but here, in the suburb of the +city, was a house whose appearance corresponded with the solid and high-toned +character of its owner. Old Mr. Irving was, at the time to which I refer, a hale +citizen of about three-score and ten, of grave and majestic bearing, and a form +and expression which, when once fixed in the mind, could not easily be forgotten. +As I remember him, his countenance was cast in that strong mould which +characterized the land of his birth, but the features were often mellowed by a +quiet smile. He was a man of deep piety, and was esteemed a pillar in the Brick +Church, then the leading Presbyterian church of the city.</p> + +<p>His mode of conducting family worship was peculiarly beautiful, and even to +his last days he maintained this service. On such occasions, it was a most +touching spectacle to see the majestic old man, bowed and hoary with extreme age, +leaning upon his staff, as he stood among his family and sung a closing hymn, +generally one appropriate to his condition, while tears of emotion ran down his +checks. One of these hymns we well remember. It runs in these lines,</p> + +<div class="poem2"> + +'Death may dissolve my body now,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bear my spirit home;</span><br /> +Why do my moments move so slow,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor my salvation come?</span><br /> +<br /> +'With heavenly weapons I have fought<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The battles of my Lord;</span><br /> +Finished my course, and kept the faith,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wait the sure reward.'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>In a few years, the words of this exquisite hymn were fulfilled; the old man +fell asleep, full of years and of honors, going to the grave like a shock of corn +in its season. His funeral was one of imposing simplicity, and he was buried just +at the entrance of that church where he had been so long a faithful attendant.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Irving, who survived him several years, was of a different type of +character, which, by its peculiar contrast, seemed to perfect the harmony of a +well-matched union. She was of elegant shape, with large English features, which +were permeated by an indescribable life and beauty. Her manners were full of +action, and her conversational powers were of a high order. All of these graces +appeared in the children, and were united with the vigor of intellect which +marked the character of the father.</p> + +<p>It would have been surprising if the offspring of such a union should not have +been distinguished, and it is only the peculiar relation which the biographer +sustains to it which prevents him from bringing this feature out more +prominently.</p> + +<p>It was, however, acknowledged, at an early day, that the family of William +Irving had no equal in the city, and when we consider its number, its personal +beauty, its moral excellence, its varied talents, without a single deficient or +unworthy member, we can not wonder at the general admiration which it commanded. +From the eldest son, William, and Ann, the eldest daughter, whom her father +fondly termed Nancy, to Washington, the youngest, all were endowed with beauty, +grace, amiability, and talent, yet in the latter they seemed to effloresce with +culminating fullness. Nancy Irving was the cynosure of William street, concerning +whose future destiny many a youth might have confessed an impassioned interest. +Her brother William had become connected commercially with a young revolutionary +soldier, (General Dodge,) who had opened a trading-station on the Mohawk +frontier, and the latter bore away the sister as his bride. The union was one of +happiness, and lasted twenty years, when it was terminated by her death. Of this, +Washington thus speaks, in a<span class="pageno"><a name="page691" +id="page691"></a>{691}</span> letter in 1808: 'On the road, as I was traveling in +high spirits, with the idea of home to inspire me, I had the shock of reading an +account of my dear sister's death, and never was a blow struck so near my heart +before.... One more heart lies cold and still that ever beat toward me with the +warmest affection, for she was the tenderest, best of sisters, and a woman of +whom a brother might be proud.' Little did the author of this letter then dream +of that more crushing blow which within one year was to fall upon him, and from +whose weight he was never wholly to recover.</p> + +<p>William Irving, the brother of the biographer, was a model of manly beauty, +and early remarkable for a brilliant and sparkling intellect, which overflowed in +conversation, and often bordered on eloquence. Had he been bred to the law, he +would have shone among its brightest stars; but those gifts, which so many +envied, were buried in trade, and though he became one of the merchant-princes of +the city, even this success could not compensate for so great a burial of gifts. +As one of the contributors to <i>Salmagundi</i>, he exhibits the keenness of a +flashing wit, while, in subsequent years, he represented New-York in Congress, +when such an office was a distinction.</p> + +<p>Peter Irving, like his brother, united personal elegance with talents, and +conducted the <i>Morning Chronicle</i>, amid the boisterous storms of early +politics. This journal favored the interests of Burr; but it must be remembered +that at that time Burr's name was free from infamy, and that, as a leader, he +enjoyed the highest prestige, being the centre of the Democracy of New-York. +Burr's powers of fascination were peculiarly great, and he had surrounded himself +with a circle of enthusiastic admirers. Indeed, such was his skill in politics, +that in 1800 he upset the Federalists, after a pitched battle of three days, (the +old duration of an election,) which was one of the most exciting scenes I ever +witnessed. Horatio Gates, of Saratoga fame, was one of his nominees for the State +Legislature, (Gates was then enjoying those undeserved laurels which posterity +has since taken away,) and it was surprising to see the veterans of the +Revolution abandoning their party to vote for their old comrade and leader. The +result was, that the Federalists were most thoroughly worsted, and the party +never recovered from the blow. Such were the exciting events which identified the +young politicians of the metropolis, and which inspired their speeches and their +press. Burr's headquarters were at Martling's Tavern, 87 Nassau street. On being +torn down, the business was removed to Tammany Hall, which has inherited a +political character from its predecessor. Besides this, he used to meet his +friends in more select numbers at a Coffee-house in Maiden Lane. His office was +Number 30 Partition street, (now Fulton,) and his residence was at Richmond Hill. +This place has lately been pulled down; it stood far away from the city, in a +wild, secluded neighborhood, and in bad going was quite an out of the way spot, +though now it would be in the densest part of the city. As there were no public +vehicles plying in this direction, except the Chelsea (Twenty-eighth street) +stage, which was very unreliable, one either had to hire a coach or else be +subjected to a walk of two miles. But such as had the <i>entrée</i> of +this establishment would be well rewarded, even for these difficulties, by an +interview with Theodosia Burr, the most charming creature of her day. She was +married early, and we saw but little of her. From the interest which the Irvings +felt in Burr's fortunes, it might have been expected that they should sympathize +with him in his subsequent reverses.</p> + +<p>The biographer presents Washington Irving as an attendant at the famous trial +at Richmond, where his indignation at some of Burr's privations are expressed in +a most interesting letter. This sympathy is the more touching from the fact that +Washington was a Federalist, and in this respect differed from his brothers. We +have an idea that his youthful politics were in no small de<span +class="pageno"><a name="page692" id="page692"></a>{692}</span>gree influenced by +those of that illustrious personage for whom he was named. Another of the sons +was John T., who became a successful and wealthy jurist, and for many years +presided at New-York Common Pleas, while Ebenezer was established in trade at an +early day. Such was the development of that family, which in rosy childhood +followed William Irving to the old Brick Church, and whose early progress he was +permitted to witness. The biographer passes lightly over the scenes of boyhood, +and there was hardly any need for his expatiating on that idolatry which +surrounded the youngest. He was no doubt the first child ever named after the +father of his country, and the touching incident of Lizzie's presenting the +chubby, bright-eyed boy to Washington, is hit off in a few touches. It was, +however, in itself a sublime thing. Nearly seventy years afterward, that child, +still feeling the hand of benediction resting upon him, concludes his <i>Life of +Washington</i> by a description of his reception in New-York, of which he had +been a witness. Why does he not (it would have been a most pardonable allusion) +bring in the incident referred to above? Ah! modesty forbade; yet, as he penned +that description, his heart must have rejoiced at the boldness of the servant who +broke through the crowd and presented to the General a boy honored with his name. +Glorious incident indeed!</p> + +<p>As the family grew up, the young men took to their different professions, +which we have briefly designated. Peter read medicine, and hence received the +title of 'doctor;' though he hated and finally abjured it, yet, as early as 1794, +he had opened an office at 208 Broadway. This, however, was more a resort for the +muses than for Hygeia, notwithstanding its sign, 'Peter Irving, M.D.' In 1796, +William Irving, who had been clerk in the loan office, established himself in +trade in Pearl—near Partition—street, and from his energy and +elegance of manners, he became immediately successful, while farther up the +street, near Old Slip, John T. opened a law office, which was subsequently +removed to Wall street, near Broadway. We mention these facts to show that Irving +entered life surrounded by protecting influences, and that the kindness which +sheltered him from the world's great battle had a tendency to increase his +natural delicacy and to expose him to more intense suffering, when the hand of +misfortune should visit him. One who had 'roughed it' with the world would have +better borne the killing disappointment of his affections; but he was rendered +peculiarly sensitive to suffering by his genial surroundings.</p> + +<p>This fact sets off in remarkable contrast, the noble resolution with which +such an one as he, when he had buried all the world held in the tomb with the +dead form of his beloved, rose above his sorrows. It is well observed by his +biographer, that 'it is an affecting evidence how little Mr. Irving was ever +disposed to cultivate or encourage sadness, that he should be engaged during this +period of sorrow and seclusion in revising and giving additional touches to his +<i>History of New-York</i>.' Those who may smile at the elegant humor which +pervades the pages of that history, will be surprised to learn that they were +nearly complete, yet their final revision and preparation for the press was by +one who was almost broken of heart, and who thus cultivated a spirit of +cheerfulness, lest he should become a burden to himself and others. As he writes +to Mrs. Hoffman: 'By constantly exercising my mind, never suffering it to prey +upon itself, and resolutely determining to be cheerful, I have, in a manner, +worked myself into a very enviable state of serenity and self-possession.'</p> + +<p>How truly has Wordsworth expressed this idea:</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +'If there be one who need bemoan<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">His kindred laid in earth,</span><br /> +The household hearts that were his own,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">It is the man of mirth.'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>We are glad to know that in time Irving sought a better consolation.<span +class="pageno"><a name="page693" id="page693"></a>{693}</span></p> + +<p>But to return from this digression, or rather anticipation of our subject. At +the time of which we now write, New-York was comparatively a small town; true, it +was the chief commercial city in America, and yet its limits proper could be +described by a line drawn across the island some distance below Canal street. Yet +even then New-York was full of life, and seemed to feel the promise of subsequent +greatness. Her streets echoed to the footsteps of men whom the present +generation, with all its progress, can not surpass. At Number 26 Broadway, might +have been daily seen the light-built but martial and elegant form of Alexander +Hamilton, while his mortal foe, Aaron Burr, as we have stated, held his office in +Partition street. John Jacob Astor was just becoming an established and solid +business man, and dwelt at 223 Broadway, the present site of the Astor House, and +which was one of the earliest purchases which led to the greatest landed estate +in America. Robert Lenox lived in Broadway, near Trinity Church, and was building +up that splendid commerce which has made his son one of the chief city +capitalists. De Witt Clinton was a young and ambitious lawyer, full of promise, +whose office (he was just elected Mayor) was Number 1 Broadway. Cadwallader D. +Colden was pursuing his brilliant career, and might be found immersed in law at +Number 59 Wall street. Such were the legal and political magnates of the day; +while to slake the thirst of their excited followers, Medcef Eden brewed ale in +Gold street, and Janeway carried on the same business in Magazine street; and his +empty establishment became notorious, in later years, as the 'Old Brewery.'</p> + +<p>About this time young Irving was developing as one of the most interesting +youth of the city. His manners were soft without being effeminate, his form +finely molded, and his countenance singularly beautiful. To this might be added +the general opinion that he was considerably gifted in the use of the pen. Yet +with all these promising features, the future was clothed with shadows, for his +health was failing, and his friends considered him too lovely a flower to last. +Little did his brothers and sisters think that that delicate youth would, with +one exception, outlive the whole family. It was at this time that he first went +abroad; and his experiences of travel are given by Pierre Irving in the sparkling +letters which he wrote to his brothers.</p> + +<p>In 1807 I used to meet him once more in social gatherings in the city, for he +had returned in full restoration of health, his mind expanded, and his manners +improved by intercourse with the European world, while <i>Salmagundi</i> had +electrified the city and given him the first rank among its satirists. The +question of profession crowded on him, and he alternated between the law and the +counting-room, in either of which he might find one or more of his brothers. The +former of these was a road to distinction, the latter was one to wealth; but +feeling the absence of practical business gifts, he shrank from trade, and took +refuge in the quiet readings of an office. Josiah Ogden Hoffman, of whose +daughter so much has recently been written, was a family friend, as well as a +lawyer of high character. He lived first at Number 68 Greenwich street, but +afterward moved up-town, his office being in Wall street, first Number 47, and +afterward Number 16. Young Irving finished his studies with Mr. Hoffman, and +immediately took office with his brother John, at Number 3 Wall street. To these +two was soon added the presence of Peter, who was still connected with the press, +and thus might have been found for a short time a most interesting and talented, +as well as fraternal trio.</p> + +<p>Washington was still, to a considerable degree an <i>habitué</i> of Mr. +Hoffman's office, and it seems quite amusing that one who was so dull at reading +law that he makes merry with his own deficiencies, should have a connection with +two offices. But the name of Matilda was the magnet which drew him to one +where<span class="pageno"><a name="page694" id="page694"></a>{694}</span> he +vainly struggled to climb Alp on Alp of difficulties in hope of love's fruition, +while at the other he might smile at the bewilderments of Coke, brush away the +cobwebs from his brain, and recreate himself with the rich humors of +<i>Salmagundi</i>.</p> + +<p>The place and time where this remarkable attachment had its inception, are not +known; but like all such affairs, it arose, no doubt, from felicitous accident. +In one of his sketches, Irving speaks of a mysterious footprint seen on the sward +of the Battery, which awoke a romantic interest in his breast. This youthful +incident comes to our mind when we remember that Mr. Hoffman lived at Number 68 +Greenwich street, not a stone's throw from the Battery, and we have sometimes +thought that the mysterious footprint might have been Matilda's. At any rate, the +Battery was at that day a place of fashionable resort, and hence the fair but +fragile form of Matilda Hoffman could almost any day have been seen tripping +among bevies of city girls in pursuit of health or pleasure. But whatever be the +history of its origin, the attachment became one of mutual strength; and while +young Irving was surrounded by piles of lawbooks and red tape, his hope of +success was identified with the name of Matilda. My remembrance of Matilda (her +name was Sarah Matilda, but the first was dropped in common intercourse) revives +a countenance of great sweetness, and an indescribable beauty of expression. Her +auburn hair played carelessly in the wind, and her features, though not of +classic outline, were radiant with life. Her eye was one of the finest I have +ever seen—rich, deep-toned, and eloquent, speaking volumes in each varying +expression, and generally suggestive of pensive emotion. Irving was about eight +years her senior, and this difference was just sufficient to draw out that fond +reliance of female character which he has so beautifully set forth in the sketch +of 'The Wife.' The brief period of this courtship was the sunny hour of his life, +for his tender and sensitive nature forbade any thing but the most ardent +attachment. What dreams of future bliss floated before his intoxicated vision, +soon to change to the stern realities of grieving sorrow!</p> + +<p>In 1809, Mr. Hoffman removed to a suburban residence in Broadway, (corner of +Leonard street,) and the frequent walks which the young lover took up that +sequestered avenue may have suggested some of the descriptions of the same street +in the pages of the <i>History of New-York</i>, and his allusions to the +front-gardens so adapted to ancient courtship. While at this mansion, amid all +the blandishments of hope, Matilda's health began to fail beyond the power of +restoratives, and the anxious eye both of parent and betrothed, marked the +advance of relentless disease. The maiden faded away from their affections until +both stood by her bed and saw her breathe her last.</p> + +<p>The biographer informs us that after Mr. Irving's death, there was found in a +repository of which he always kept the key, a memorial of this affair, which had +evidently been written to some friend, in explanation of his single life. Of the +memorial the following extract is given:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'We saw each other every day, and I became excessively attached to +her. Her shyness wore off by degrees. The more I saw of her the +more I had reason to admire her. Her mind seemed to unfold itself +leaf by leaf, and every time to discover new sweetness. Nobody knew +her so well as I, for she was generally timid and silent, but I, in +a manner, studied her excellence. Never did I meet more intuitive +rectitude of mind, more native delicacy, more exquisite propriety +in word, thought, or action, than in this young creature. I am not +exaggerating; what I say was acknowledged by all who knew her. Her +brilliant little sister used to say that people began by admiring +her, but ended by loving Matilda. For my part, I idolized her. I +felt at times rebuked by her superior delicacy and purity, as if I +was a coarse, unworthy being, in comparison.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'This passion was terribly against my studies. I felt my own +deficiency, and despaired of ever succeeding at the bar. I could +study any thing else rather than law, and had a fatal propensity to +belles-lettres. I had gone on blindly like a boy in love, but now +<span class="pageno"><a name="page695" id="page695"></a>{695}</span> +I began to open my eyes and be miserable. I had nothing in purse or +in expectation. I anticipated nothing from my legal pursuits, and +had done nothing to make me hope for public employment, or +political elevation. I had begun a satirical and humorous work, +(<i>The History of New-York</i>,) in company with one of my brothers; +but he had gone to Europe shortly after commencing it, and my +feelings had run in so different a vein that I could not go on with +it. I became low-spirited and disheartened, and did not know what +was to become of me. I made frequent attempts to apply myself to +the law; but it is a slow and tedious undertaking for a young man +to get into practice, and I had, unluckily, no turn for business. +The gentleman with whom I studied saw the state of my mind. He had +an affectionate regard for me—a paternal one, I may say. He had a +better opinion of my legal capacity than it merited. He urged me to +return to my studies, to apply myself, to become well acquainted +with the law, and that in case I could make myself capable of +undertaking legal concerns, he would take me into partnership with +him and give me his daughter. Nothing could be more generous. I set +to work with zeal to study anew, and I considered myself bound in +honor not to make farther advances with the daughter until I should +feel satisfied with my proficiency with the law. It was all in +vain. I had an insuperable repugnance to the study; my mind would +not take hold of it; or rather, by long despondency had become for +the time incapable of any application. I was in a wretched state of +doubt and self-distrust. I tried to finish the work which I was +secretly writing, hoping it would give me reputation and gain me +some public employment. In the mean time I saw Matilda every day, +and that helped distract me. In the midst of this struggle and +anxiety, she was taken ill with a cold. Nothing was thought of it +at first, but she grew rapidly worse, and fell into a consumption. +I can not tell you what I suffered. The ills that I have undergone +in this life have been dealt out to me drop by drop, and I have +tasted all their bitterness. I saw her fade rapidly away—beautiful +and more beautiful, and more angelic to the very last. I was often +by her bedside, and in her wandering state of mind she would talk +to me with a sweet, natural, and affecting eloquence that was +overpowering. I saw more of the beauty of her mind in that +delirious state than I had ever known before. Her malady was rapid +in its career, and hurried her off in two months. Her +dying-struggles were painful and protracted. For three days and +nights I did not leave the house, and scarcely slept. I was by her +when she died. All the family were assembled around her, some +praying, others weeping, for she was adored by them all. I was the +last one she looked upon. I have told you as briefly as I could, +what, if I were to tell with all the incidents and feelings that +accompanied it, would fill volumes. She was but seventeen years old +when she died.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'I can not tell you what a horrid state of mind I was in for a long +time. I seemed to care for nothing; the world was a blank to me. I +abandoned all thoughts of the law. I went into the country, but +could not bear solitude, yet could not enjoy society. There was a +dismal horror continually on my mind that made me fear to be alone. +I had often to get up in the night and seek the bedroom of my +brother, as if the having of a human being by me would relieve me +from the frightful gloom of my own thoughts.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'Months elapsed before my mind would resume any tone, but the +despondency I had suffered for a long time in the course of this +attachment, and the anguish that attended its final catastrophe, +seemed to give a turn to my whole character, and threw some clouds +into my disposition, which have ever since hung about it. When I +became more calm and collected, I applied myself, by way of +occupation, to the finishing of my work. I brought it to a close as +well as I could, and published it; but the time and circumstances +in which it was produced rendered me always unable to look upon it +with satisfaction. Still, it took with the public, and gave me +celebrity, as an original work was something remarkable and +uncommon in America. I was noticed, caressed, and for a time +elevated by the popularity I had gained. Wherever I went, I was +overwhelmed with attentions. I was full of youth and animation, far +different from the being I now am, and I was quite flushed with +this early taste of public favor. Still, however, the career of +gayety and notoriety soon palled upon me. I seemed to drift about +without aim or object, at the mercy of every breeze; my heart +wanted anchorage. I was naturally susceptible, and tried to form +other attachments, but my heart would not hold on. It would +continually revert to what it had lost; and whenever there was a +pause in the hurry of novelty and excitement, I would sink into +dismal dejection. For years I could not talk on the subject of this +hopeless regret; I could not even mention her name; but her image +was continually before me, and I dreamed of her incessantly.'</p> + +<p>The fragment of which the above is an extract, is doubly interesting as +not<span class="pageno"><a name="page696" id="page696"></a>{696}</span> only +clearing up a mystery which the world has long desired to penetrate, but also as +giving Irving's experience in his own words. It proves how deeply he felt the +pangs of a rooted sorrow, and how impossible it was, amid all the attractions of +society, for him to escape the power of one who had bidden to all earthly +societies an everlasting farewell. That his regrets over his early bereavement +did not arise from overwrought dreams of excellence in the departed, is evident +from the character she bore with others; and this is illustrated by the following +extract from a faded copy of the <i>Commercial Advertiser</i>, which reads as +follows:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;">'OBITUARY,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'Died, on the 26th instant, in the eighteenth year of her age, Miss +Sarah Matilda Hoffman, daughter of Josiah Ogden Hoffman. Thus +another youthful and lovely victim is added to the ravages of that +relentless and invincible enemy to earthly happiness, the +<i>consumption</i>. In the month of January we beheld this amiable and +interesting girl in the glow of health and spirits, the delight of +her friends, the joy and pride of her family; she is now cold and +lifeless as the clod of the valley. So falls the tender flower of +spring as it expands its bosom to the chilling blight of the +morning frost. Endowed by nature with a mind unusually +discriminating, and a docility of temper and disposition admirably +calculated to reap profit from instruction, Miss Hoffman very early +became an object of anxious care and solicitude to the fondest of +fathers. That care and solicitude he soon found richly rewarded by +the progress she made in her learning, and by every evidence of a +grateful and feeling heart. After completing the course of her +education in a highly respectable seminary in Philadelphia, she +returned to her father's house, where she diligently sought every +opportunity to improve her mind by various and useful reading. She +charmed the circle of her friends by the suavity of her disposition +and the most gentle and engaging manners. She delighted and blessed +her own family by her uniformly correct and +Though not formed to mingle and shine in the noisy haunts of +dissipation, she was eminently fitted to increase the store of +domestic happiness, to bring pleasure and tranquillity to the +fireside, and to gladden the fond heart of a parent.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'Religion, so necessary to our peace in this world and to our +happiness in the next, and which gives so high a lustre to the +charms and to the virtues of woman, constantly shed her benign +influence over the conduct of Miss Hoffman, nor could the insidious +attempts of the infidel for a moment weaken her confidence in its +heavenly doctrines. With a form rather slender and fragile was +united a beauty of face, which, though not dazzling, had so much +softness, such a touching sweetness in it, that the expression +which mantled over her features was in a high degree lovely and +interesting. Her countenance was indeed the faithful image of a +mind that was purity itself, and of a heart where compassion and +goodness had fixed their abode. To the sweetest disposition that +ever graced a woman, was joined a sensibility, not the fictitious +creature of the imagination, but the glowing offspring of a pure +and affectionate soul.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'Tenderness, that quality of the heart which gives such a charm to +every female virtue, was hers in an eminent degree. It diffused +itself over every action of her life. Sometimes blended with a +delicate and happy humor, characteristic of her nature, it would +delight the social circle; again, with the most assiduous offices +of affection, it would show itself at the sick couch of a parent, a +relative, or a friend. In this manner the writer of this brief +memorial witnessed those soothing acts of kindness which, under +peculiar circumstances, will ever be dear to his memory. Alas! +little did she then dream that in one short year she herself would +fall a sacrifice to the same disease under which the friend to whom +she so kindly ministered, sunk to the grave.'</p> + +<p>This testimony to departed worth bears the impress of deep sincerity, and its +freedom from the fulsome praise, which so often varnishes the dead, seems to add +to its force. Peter Irving, also, pays a tribute to her character in the +following utterance, in a letter to his bereaved brother: 'May her gentle spirit +have found that heaven to which it ever seemed to appertain. She was too spotless +for this contaminated world.'</p> +<p>The biographer states that 'Mr. Irving never alluded to this event, nor did +any of his relatives ever venture in his presence to introduce the name of +Matilda,' 'I have heard,' he adds, 'of but one instance in which it was ever +obtruded upon him, and that was by her father, nearly thirty years after her +death, and at his own house. A grand<span class="pageno"><a name="page697" +id="page697"></a>{697}</span>daughter had been requested to play for him some +favorite piece on the piano, and in extricating her music from the drawer, she +accidentally brought forth a piece of embroidery with it. 'Washington,' said Mr. +Hoffman, picking up the faded relic, 'this is a piece of poor Matilda's +workmanship.' The effect was electric. He had been conversing in the sprightliest +mood before, but he sunk at once into utter silence, and in a few moments got up +and left the house. It is evidence with what romantic tenderness Irving cherished +the memory of this early love, that he kept by him through life the Bible and +Prayer-Book of Matilda. He lay with them under his pillow in the first days of +keen and vivid anguish that followed her loss, and they were ever afterward, in +all changes of climate and country, his inseparable companions.'</p> +<p>The scene at the house of Mr. Hoffman, to which the biographer alludes, took +place after Irving's second return from Europe, and after an absence of nearly +twenty years from his native land. During this time he had become famous as an +author, and had been conceded the position of the first American gentleman in +Europe. He had been received at Courts as in his official position (Secretary of +Legation) and had received the admiration of the social and intellectual +aristocracy of England. Returning full of honors, he became at once the lion of +New-York, and was greeted by a public dinner at the City Hotel. How little could +it have been imagined, that amid all this harvest of honors, while he stood the +cynosure of a general admiration, he should still be under the power of a +youthful attachment, and that outliving all the glories of his splendid success, +a maiden, dead thirty years, held him with undying power. While others thought +him the happy object of a nation's popularity, his heart was stealing away from +noise and notice to the hallowed ground where Matilda lay.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'Oh! what are thousand living loves <br /> + To that which can not quit the dead?'</p> + +<p>The biographer observes that 'it is in the light of this event that we must +interpret portions of 'Rural Funerals,' in the <i>Sketch-Book</i>, and 'Saint +Mark's Eve,' in <i>Bracebridge Hull</i>.' From the former of these, we therefore +make an extract, which is now so powerfully illustrated by the experience of its +author:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to +be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal; every other +affliction to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep +open; this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. Where +is the mother that would willingly forget the infant that perished +like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang? +Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of +parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who in the hour of +agony would forget the friend over whom he mourns? Who, when the +tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved, when he +feels his heart, as it were, crushed, in the closing of its portal, +would accept of consolation that must be bought by forgetfulness? +No; the love that survives the tomb is one of the noblest +attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its +delights; and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into +the gentle tear of recollection; when the sudden anguish and the +convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved +is softened away into pensive meditation on all that it was in the +days of its loveliness, who would root out such a sorrow from the +heart? Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud over the +bright hour of gayety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of +gloom, yet who would exchange it even for the song of pleasure or +the burst of revelry? No; there is a voice from the tomb sweeter +than song; there is a remembrance of the dead to which we turn even +from the charms of the living.... But the grave of those we love, +what a place for meditation! There it is that we call up in long +review the whole history of virtue and goodness, and the thousand +endearments lavished upon us almost unheeded in the daily +intercourse of intimacy; there it is that we dwell upon the +tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness of the dying scene. The +bed of death, with all its stifled griefs, its noiseless +attendance, its mute, watchful assiduities. The last testimonies of +expiring love! The feeble, fluttering, thrilling—oh! how +thrilling—pressure of the hand! The last fond look of the glazing +eye turned upon us even from the threshold of existence! The +<span class="pageno"><a name="page698" id="page698"></a>{698}</span> +faint, faltering accents struggling in death to give one more +assurance of affection!'</p> + +<p>How truly is this passage 'to be interpreted in the light of the event in +Irving's history', when it is evident from a comparison of it with the memoranda, +that it is a sketch of that scene which wrecked his brightest hopes, and that +here he is renewing in this unequaled description of a dying-bed, the last hours +of Matilda Hoffman. The highly-wrought picture presents a complete detail to the +eye, and yet still more powerful is that simple utterance in the memoranda: '<i>I +was the last one she looked upon</i>.'</p> +<p><i>St. Mark's Eve</i>,' to which reference is also made, was written several +years subsequently, and as may be gathered from its tone, under circumstances of +peculiar loneliness. It was while a solitary occupant of his lodgings, a stranger +in a foreign city, that he felt the inspiration of precious memories, and +improved his lonely hours by this exquisite production. 'I am alone,' he writes, +'in my chamber; but these themes have taken such hold upon me that I can not +sleep. The room in which I sit is just fitted to foster such a state of mind. The +walls are hung with tapestry, the figures of which are faded and look like +unsubstantial shapes melting away from sight.... The murmur of voices and the peal +of remote laughter no longer reach the ear. The clock from the church, in which +so many of the former inhabitants of this house lie buried, has chimed the awful +hour of midnight.' It was a fitting time to yield to the power of that undying +affection which abode with him under all changes, and the serene presence of one +snatched from him years ago must at such times have invested him as with a spell. +Thus he writes:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'Even the doctrines of departed spirits returning to visit the +scenes and beings which were dear to them during the body's +existence, though it has been debased by the absurd superstitions +of the vulgar, in itself is awfully solemn and sublime.... Raise it +above the frivolous purposes to which it has been applied; strip it +of the gloom and horror with which it has been surrounded; and +there is none of the whole circle of visionary creeds that could +more delightfully elevate the imagination or more tenderly affect +the heart.... What could be more consoling than the idea that the +souls of those we once loved were permitted to return and watch +over our welfare?—that affectionate and guardian spirits sat by +our pillows while we slept, keeping a vigil over our most helpless +hours?—that beauty and innocence which had languished in the tomb +yet smiled unseen around us, revealing themselves in those blest +dreams wherein they live over again the hours of past +endearments?.... There are departed beings that I have loved as I +never shall love again in this world—that have loved me as I never +again shall be loved. If such beings do ever retain in their +blessed spheres the attachments they felt on earth; if they take an +interest in the poor concerns of transient mortality, and are +permitted to hold communion with those they have loved on earth, I +feel as if now, at this deep hour of night, in this silence and +solitude, I could receive their visitation with the most solemn but +unalloyed delight.'</p> + +<p>The use of the plural in the above extract obviated that publicity of his +especial bereavement which would have arisen from a reference to <i>one</i>, and +it is to be explained by the deaths of three persons to whom he sustained the +most endearing though varied relations of which man is capable: his mother, his +sister Nancy, and his betrothed. The first two had become sacred memories, and +were enshrined in the sanctuary of his soul; but the latter was a thing of life, +whose existence had become identified with his own, and was made sure beyond the +power of disease and mortality. Who, indeed, would have been so welcome to the +solitary tourist on that weird midnight as she whose Bible and Prayer-Book +accompanied his wanderings, whose miniature was his treasure, and of whom he +could say: 'She died in the beauty of her youth, and in my memory she will ever +be young and beautiful.'</p> +<p>That a reünion with all the beloved of earth was a controlling thought in +his mind, and one bearing an especial reference to this supreme bereavement, is +manifest from the following, from the same sketch:<span class="pageno"><a +name="page699" id="page699"></a>{699}</span></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'We take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few words and +looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few moments, and +then days, months, years intervene, and we see and know nothing of +each other. Or granting that we dwell together for the full season +of this mortal life, the grave soon closes its gates between us, +and then our spirits are doomed to remain in separation and +<i>widowhood</i> until they meet again in that more perfect state of +being, where soul will dwell with soul in blissful communion, and +there will be neither death, nor absence, nor any thing else to +interrupt our felicity.'</p> + +<p>Such was the view which cheered the life of one thus early stripped of +promised and expected happiness, and to which he dung during all changes of time +and place. Amid the infirmities of advancing years, while surrounded by an +endearing circle of relatives, who ministered to him with the most watchful +affection, there was one that abode in still closer communion with his heart. +While writing in his study at Sunnyside, or pacing, in quiet solitude, the +streets of New-York, at all times, a fair young form hovered over him and +beckoned him heavenward. Years passed on, until a half-century had been told. All +things had changed, the scenes and characters of early life had passed away. The +lover had become a kindly old man. The young essayist had become a great author +and an heir of fame. The story of life was complete. The hour of his departure +was at hand, when suddenly the same hand which had separated the lovers +reünited them forever. Who shall say that the last image which flitted +across his mind at the awful moment of dissolution, was not that fresh and lovely +form which he had cherished in unchanging affection for fifty years?</p> + +<p>I have stated my opinion that it was Irving's disappointment which made him +the great American author, and to this opinion I now return with increased +confidence. Had the plans of his youth been carried out; had he become a partner +of Mr. Hoffman, and had the hands of the lovers been united, the whole tenor of +his life would have been changed. He would have published some fine things, in +addition to the Knickerbocker history, and would have ranked high as a gentleman +of elegant humor; but where would have been his enduring works? We sympathize +with the disappointed lover; but we feel thankful that from his sorrow we gather +such precious fruit. The death of Matilda led him abroad—to Spain, where he +compiled his <i>Columbus</i> and gathered material for his +<i>Alhambra</i>—and to England, where the <i>Columbus</i> was finished and +published, and where his name became great, in spite of national prejudice. +Beside this, the sorrow which cast its sacred shadow upon him gave his writings +that endearing charm which fascinates the emotional nature and enabled him to +touch the hidden chords of the heart.</p> + +<p>If Ogilvie could congratulate him on the bankruptcy which drove him from the +details of trade to the richer fruition of literary promise, we may consider it a +beneficent working of Providence, which afforded to Irving a still earlier +emancipation from the law, cheered as it might have been by the kindness of Mr. +Hoffman and the society of Matilda.</p> + +<p>Such being the remarkable chain which unites the names of the author and his +love, we can not but consider her as a part of his character through the best +years of his life and amid all the splendid success of his literary career. +Indeed, through coming generations of readers, the names of Irving and Matilda +will be united in the loveliest and most romantic of associations.</p> + +<p>I have prolonged this reminiscence to an unexpected length, and yet can not +close without a few additional thoughts which grow out of the perusal of the +biography. Perhaps the chief of these is the nationality of Irving's character, +particularly while a resident of Europe. Neither the pungent bitterness of the +British press nor the patronage of the aristocracy could abate the firmness with +which he upheld the dignity of his country. He was not less her representative +when a struggling author in Liverpool or London than when Secre<span +class="pageno"><a name="page700" id="page700"></a>{700}</span>tary of Legation at +the Court of St. James, or Ambassador at Madrid. His first appearance abroad was +at a time of little foreign travel, and an American was an object of remark and +observation. His elegant simplicity reflected honor upon his native land, and +amid all classes, and in all places, love of country ruled him. This high tone +pervaded his views of public duty. A gross defaulter having been mentioned in his +presence, he replied, that 'next to robbing one's father it is, to rob one's +country.'</p> + +<p>It is also worthy of note that while Irving lived to unusual fullness of +years, yet he never was considered an old man. We do not so much refer to his +erect and vigorous frame as to the freshness of his mind. It is said that Goethe, +on being asked the definition of a poet, replied: 'One who preserves to old age +the feelings of youth.' Such was a leading feature in Mr. Irving's spirit, which, +notwithstanding his shadowed hours, was so buoyant and cheerful. His countenance +was penseroso when in repose, and allegro in action, and these graces clung to +him even in life's winter, like the flower at the base of the glacier.</p> + +<p>Among the varied elements which constituted Irving's popularity, one of them +might have been the beauty of his name, whose secret is revealed by the laws of +prosody. Washington is a stately <i>dactyl</i>; Irving is a sweet and mellow +<i>spondee</i>, and thus we have a combination which poets in ancient and modern +days have sought with sedulous care, and which should close every line of +hexameter verse. Hence a measure such, as that found in 'Washington Irving' +terminates every line in <i>Evangeline</i>, or the works of Virgil, thus:</p> + + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline <i>went from +the mission</i>,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">When, over green ways, by long and <i>perilous +marches</i>,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">She had attained at length the depth of the +<i>Michigan forest</i>.'</span><br /> + +<p>or</p> + + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Supplicia hausorem ecopulis: et <i>nomine +Dido</i>,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Et recidiva manu posuissem <i>Pergama +vetis</i>.'</span><br /> + +<p>It will be readily perceived that the name of the American author can be +substituted for the feet italicized above, without injuring the measure, while in +some of Moore's finest stansas beautifully alternates the same verse, thus:</p> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Oh! fair as the sea-flower, <i>close to thee +growing</i>,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">How light was thy heart till love's witchery +came!</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like the wind of the South, o'er a <i>summer lute +blowing</i>,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">And hushed all its music, and withered its +flame.'</span><br /> + +<p>At the close of his last great work, Mr. Irving sought for rest. He laid aside +his pen, even from correspondence, and felt that his work was done. When in +New-York, he was often to be found at the Astor Library, of which he was a +trustee; but his visits to the city became few, and he seemed to realize that his +time was come. To one who kindly remarked, 'I hope you will soon be better,' He +calmly replied, in an earnest tone: 'I shall never be better.' The words came +true too soon, and amid an unequaled pomp of unaffected sorrow, they bore him to +a place of rest, by the side of his parents and all of his kin who had gone +before him.</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="BYRONIC_MISANTHROPY" id="BYRONIC_MISANTHROPY"></a>BYRONIC +MISANTHROPY.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +He has a grief he can not speak;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">He wears his hat awry;</span><br /> +He blacks his boots but once a week;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And says he wants to die!</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +</div> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="NEW-ENGLANDS_ADVANCE" id="NEW-ENGLANDS_ADVANCE"> +</a>NEW-ENGLAND'S ADVANCE.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> + + <span class="pageno"><a name="page701" id="page701"></a>{701}</span> Hurrah! for +our New-England,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">When she rose up firm and grand,</span><br /> +In her calm, terrific beauty,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the stout sword in her hand;</span><br /> +When she raised her arm undaunted,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the sacred cause of Right,</span><br /> +Like a crowned queen of valor,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Strong in her faith and might.</span><br /> +<br /> +Hurrah! for our New-England!<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the war-cry shook the breeze,</span><br /> +She wore the garb of glory,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And quaffed the cup of ease;</span><br /> +But I saw a look of daring<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">On her proud features rise,</span><br /> +And the fire of will was flashing<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through the calm light of her eyes.</span><br /> +<br /> +From her brow serene, majestic,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wreath of peace she took,</span><br /> +And war's red rose sprang blooming,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And its bloody petals shook</span><br /> +On her heaving, beating bosom;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And with forehead crowned with +light,</span><br /> +Transfigured, she presented<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her proud form to the fight.</span><br /> +<br /> +Hurrah! for our New-England!<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">What lightning courage ran</span><br /> +Through her brave heart, as she bounded<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the battle's fearful van;</span><br /> +O'er her head the starry banner;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">While her loud, inspiring cry,</span><br /> +'Death or Freedom for our Nation,'<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rang against the clouded sky.</span><br /> +<br /> +I saw our own New-England<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dealing blows for Truth and Right,</span><br /> +And the grandeur of her purpose<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gave her eyes a sacred light;</span><br /> +Ah! name her 'the Invincible,'<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through rebel rank and host;</span><br /> +For Justice evermore is done,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Right comes uppermost.</span><br /> +<br /> +Hurrah for our New-England!<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through the battle's fearful brunt,</span><br /> +Through the red sea of the carnage,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still she struggles in the front;</span><br /> +And victory's war-eagle,<br /> + <span class="pageno"><a name="page702" id="page702"></a>{702}</span> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hovering o'er the fiery blast,</span><br /> +On her floating, starry standard.<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is settling down at last.</span><br /> +<br /> +There is glory for New-England,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Oppression's strife is done,</span><br /> +When the tools of Wrong are vanquished,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the cause of Freedom won;</span><br /> +She shall sit in garments spotless,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And shall breathe the odorous balm</span><br /> +Of the cool green of contentment,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the bowers of peace and calm.</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="WAS_HE_SUCCESSFUL" id="WAS_HE_SUCCESSFUL"></a>WAS HE +SUCCESSFUL?</h2> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> +'Do but grasp into the thick of human life! Every one <i>lives</i> +it—to many it is <i>known</i>; and seize it where you will, it is +interesting.—<i>Goethe</i>.<br /> +<br /> +'SUCCESSFUL.—Terminating in accomplishing what is wished or +intended.'—<i>Webster's Dictionary</i>.</p> + +<h3 class="center">CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p>The little village of Burnsville, in Connecticut, was thrown into a state of +excitement by the report that Hiram Meeker was about to remove to the city of +New-York. Two or three elderly maiden ladies with whom Hiram was an especial +favorite, declared there was not a word of truth in the ridiculous rumor. The +girls of the village very generally discredited it. The young men said Hiram was +not such a fool; he knew on which side his bread was buttered; he knew when to +let well enough alone, and so forth. Still the report was circulated. To be sure, +nobody believed it, yet it spread all the faster for being contradicted. I have +said that the young ladies of Burnsville put no faith in the story. Possibly +Sarah Burns was an exception, and Sarah, it was well understood, was an +interested party, and would be apt to know the truth. She did not contradict the +statement when made in her presence, and once, when appealed to for her opinion, +she looked very serious, and said it might be so for all she knew. At length +there were two parties formed in Burnsville. One on whose banner was inscribed: +'Hiram Meeker is going to New-York.' The other with flag bearing in large +letters: 'No such thing: Hiram is not going.'</p> + +<p>It would have been easy, one would suppose, to settle the important +controversy by a direct appeal to Hiram Meeker himself. Strange to say, this does +not appear to have been done, both sides fearing, like experienced generals, to +risk the result on a single issue. But numerous were the hints and innuendoes +conveyed to him, to which he always gave satisfactory replies—satisfactory +to both parties—both contending he had, by his answers, confirmed their own +particular view of the case.</p> + +<p>This state of things could not last forever. It was brought suddenly to an end +one Friday afternoon.</p> + +<p>Hiram Meeker was a member, in regular standing, of the Congregational Church +in Burnsville. The Preparatory Lecture, as it is called, that is, the lecture +delivered prior to 'Communion-Sabbath,' in the church, was always on the previous +Friday, at three o'clock P.M. On a pleasant day toward the end of April, Hiram +Meeker and Sarah Burns<span class="pageno"><a name="page703" +id="page703"></a>{703}</span> went in company to attend this lecture. The +exercises were especially interesting. Several young people, at the close of the +services, who had previously been propounded, were examined as to their +'experience,' and a vote was separately taken on the admission of each. This +over, the clergyman spoke as follows: 'Brother Hiram Meeker being about to remove +from among us, desires to dissolve his connection with the Congregational church +in Burnsville, and requests the usual certificate of membership and good +standing. Is it your pleasure that he receive it? Those in favor will please to +signify it.' Several 'right hands' were held up, and the matter was concluded. A +young man who sat nearly opposite Sarah Burns, observed that on the announcement, +her face became very pale.</p> + +<p>When the little company of church-members was dismissed, Hiram Meeker and +Sarah Burns walked away together as they came. No, not <i>as</i> they came, as +the following conversation will show.</p> + +<p>'Why did you not tell me, Hiram?'</p> + +<p>'Because, Sarah, I did not fully decide till the mail came in this very +afternoon. I had only time to speak to Mr. Chase, and there was no opportunity to +see you, and I could not tell you about it while we were walking along so happy +together.'</p> + +<p>Hiram Meeker lied.</p> + +<p>Sarah Burns could not disbelieve him; it was not possible Hiram would deceive +her, but her heart <i>felt</i> the lie, nevertheless.</p> + +<p>Hiram Meeker is the hero of this history. It is, therefore, necessary to give +some account of him previous to his introduction to the reader on the afternoon +of the preparatory lecture. At the date of the commencement of the narrative, he +was already twenty-two years old. He was the youngest of several children. His +father was a highly respectable man, who resided in Hampton, about fifteen miles +from Burnsville, and cultivated one of the most valuable farms in the county. Mr. +and Mrs. Meeker both had the reputation of being excellent people. They were +exemplary members of the church, and brought up their children with a great deal +of care. They were in every respect dissimilar. He was tall, thin, and +dark-complexioned; she was almost short, very fair, and portly in appearance. Mr. +Meeker was a kind-hearted, generous, unambitious man, who loved his home and his +children, and rejoiced when he could see every body happy around him. He was +neither close nor calculating. With a full share of natural ability, he did not +turn his talents to accumulation, quite content if he made the ends of the year +meet.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meeker was a woman who never took a step from impulse. She had a motive +for every act of her life. Exceedingly acute in her judgments of people, she +brought her shrewdness to bear on all occasions. She was a capital housekeeper, a +most excellent manager, a pattern wife and mother. I say, 'pattern wife and +mother,' for she was devoted to her husband's interests, which, to be sure, were +equally her own; she made every thing very comfortable for him indoors, and she +managed expenditures with an economy and closeness which Mr. Meeker was quite +incapable of. She looked after her children with unremitting care. They were sent +to better schools, and their associations were of a better description than those +of her neighbors. She took personal pains with their religious culture. Although +they were sent to Sunday-school, she herself taught them the Catechism, the +Commandments, the Lord's Prayer, and the Sermon on the Mount, beside a great +variety of Gospel hymns and Bible-stories. But along with these excellent +teachings they were taught—what is apt to be taught in almost every family, +to almost every child—to regard appearances, to make the best possible show +to the world, to <i>seem</i> what they ought to <i>be</i>; apparently a sort of +short-cut to goodness, but really a turnpike erected by the devil, which leads +any where rather than to the desired point. Mrs. Meeker was a religious woman, +scrupu<span class="pageno"><a name="page704" id="page704"></a>{704}</span>lous +and exact in every outward observance; in this respect severe with herself and +with all around her. Yet this never prevented her having an eye to the 'main +chance,' which was, to get on in the world. Indeed, to attempt to do so, was with +her a fundamental duty. She loved to pray the Lord to bless 'our basket and our +store.' She dwelt much on the promise of 'a hundred-fold' in this world in +addition to the 'inheritance of everlasting life.' She could repeat all the +practical maxims which abound in the book of Proverbs, and she was careful, when +she feared her husband was about to give way to a generous impulse in favor of a +poor relation or neighbor, to put him in mind of his own large and increasing +household, solemnly cautioning him that he who looked not well after it, was +'worse than an infidel.' In short, being fully convinced by application of her +natural shrewd sense that religion was the safest thing for her here and +hereafter, she became religious. In her piety there was manifested but one +idea—self. Whatever she did, was from a sense of duty, and she did her duty +because it was the way to prosperity and heaven.</p> + +<p>I have remarked how different were husband and wife. They lived together, +however, without discord, for Mr. Meeker yielded most points of controversy when +they arose, and for the rest his wife was neither disagreeable nor unamiable. But +the poor woman had experienced through life one great drawback; she had +half-a-dozen fine children. Alas! not one of them resembled her in temper, +character, or disposition. All possessed their father's happy traits, which were +developed more and more as they grew older, despite their mother's incessant +warnings and teachings.</p> + +<p>Frank, the first-born, exhibited fondness for books, and early manifested an +earnest desire for a liberal education with a view to the study of medicine. His +father resolved to gratify him. His mother was opposed to it. She wanted her boy +a merchant. 'Doctors,' she said, 'were mostly a poor set, who were obliged to +work very hard by day and by night, and got little for it. If Frank would only be +contented to go into her cousin's store, in New-York, (he was one of the +prominent wholesale dry-goods jobbers,) why, there would be some hope of him, +that is, if he could cure himself of certain extravagant notions; but to go +through college, and then study medicine! Why couldn't he, at least, be a lawyer, +then there might be a chance for him.'</p> + +<p>'But the boy has no taste for mercantile life, nor for the law,' said Mr. +Meeker.</p> + +<p>'Taste—fiddlesticks,' responded his wife, 'as if a boy has a right to +have any taste contrary to his parents' wish.'</p> + +<p>'But, Jane, it is not contrary to <i>my</i> wish.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meeker looked her husband steadily in the face. She saw there an unusual +expression of firmness; something which she knew it to be idle to contend with, +and with her usual good sense, she withdrew from the contest.</p> + +<p>'Have it your own way, Mr. Meeker. You know my opinion. It was my duty to +express it. Make of Frank what you like. I pray that he may be prospered in +whatever he undertakes.'</p> + +<p>So Frank was sent to college, with the understanding that, after graduating, +he was to pursue his favorite study of medicine.</p> + +<p>A few months after he entered, Mrs. Meeker gave birth to her seventh +child—the subject of the present narrative. Her disappointment at Frank's +destination was severe. Besides, she met with daily evidences that pained her. +None of her children were, to use her expression, 'after her own heart.' There +were two other boys, George and William, who she was accustomed to say, almost +bitterly, were 'clear father.' The three girls, Jane, Laura, and Mary, one would +suppose might represent the mother's side; but alas! they were 'clear father' +too.</p> + +<p>In her great distress, as Mrs. Meeker often afterward declared, she +resolved<span class="pageno"><a name="page705" id="page705"></a>{705}</span> to +'call upon the Lord.' She prayed that the child she was soon to give birth to +might be a boy, and become a joy and consolation to his mother. She read over +solicitously all the passages, of Scripture she could find, which she thought +might be applicable to her case. As the event approached, she exhibited still +greater faith and enthusiasm. She declared she had consecrated her child to God, +and felt a holy confidence that the offering was accepted. Do not suppose from +this, she intended to devote him to the ministry. <i>That</i> required a special +call, and it did not appear such a call had been revealed to her. But she prayed +earnestly that he might be chosen and favored of the Most High; that he might +stand before kings; that he might not be slothful in business; but fervent in +spirit, serving the Lord. The happy frame of mind Mrs. Meeker had attained, at +length became the subject of conversation in the neighborhood. The clergyman was +greatly interested. He even made allusion to it in the weekly prayer-meeting, +which, by the by, rather scandalized some of the unmarried ladies present.</p> + +<p>Mr. Meeker took all this in good part. The truth is, he regarded it as a very +innocent whim, which required to be indulged in his wife's delicate situation; so +he always joined in her hopeful anticipations, and endeavored to sympathize with +them. It was under these auspicious circumstances that Hiram Meeker first saw the +light. All his mother's prayers seemed to have been answered. The boy, from the +earliest manifestation of intelligence, exhibited traits which could belong only +to her. As he advanced into childhood, these became more and more apparent. He +had none of the openness of disposition which was possessed by the other +children. He gave much less trouble about the house than they ever did, and was +more easily managed than they had been at his age. It must not be inferred that +because he was his mother's favorite, he received any special indulgence, or was +not subject to every proper discipline. Indeed, the discipline was more severe, +the moral teachings more unremitting, the practical lessons more frequent than +with any of the rest. But there could not exist a more tractable child than +Hiram. He was apparently made for special training, he took to it so readily, as +if appreciating results and anxious to arrive at them. When he was six years +old, it was astonishing what a number of Bible-verses and Sunday-school hymns he +had committed to memory, and how much the child <i>knew</i>. He was especially +familiar with the uses of money. He knew the value of a dollar, and what could be +purchased with it. So of half a dollar, a quarter, ten cents, and five cents. He +had already established for himself a little savings bank, in which were placed +the small sums which were occasionally presented to him. He could tell the cost +of each of his playthings respectively, and, indeed, of every article about the +house; he learned the price of tea, sugar, coffee, and molasses. This +information, to be sure, formed a part of his mother's course of instruction; but +it was strange how he took to it. Systematically and unceasingly, she pursued it. +Oh! how she rejoiced in her youngest child. How she thanked God for answering her +prayers. I had forgotten to state that there was considerable difficulty in +deciding what name to give the boy. Mrs. Meeker had an uncle, a worthy minister, +by the name of Nathaniel. Mr. Meeker suggested that the new-comer be called after +him. His wife did not like to object; but she thought Nathaniel a very +disagreeable name. Her cousin, the rich dry-goods merchant in New-York, who had +four daughters and no sons, was named Hiram. Hiram was a good name, not too long +and very expressive. It sounded firm and strong. It was a Bible-name, too, as +well as the other. In fact, she liked it, and she thought her cousin would be +gratified when he learned that she had named a child for him. There were +advantages which might flow from it, it was not necessary to specify, Mr. Meeker +could understand to what<span class="pageno"><a name="page706" +id="page706"></a>{706}</span> she alluded Mr. Meeker did not understand; in fact, +he did not trouble his head to conjecture; but it was settled Hiram should be the +name, and our hero was baptized accordingly. He was a good boy; never in +mischief, never a truant, never disobedient, nor willful, nor irritable, nor +obstinate. 'Too good for this world;' that is what folks said. 'Such an +astonishing child—too wise to live long.' So it was prophesied; but Hiram +survived all these dismal forebodings, until the people gave up and concluded to +let him live.</p> + +<p>We pass over his earlier days at school. At twelve, he was sent to the academy +in the village, about a mile distant. He was to receive a first-rate English +education, 'no Latin, no Greek, no nonsense,' to use his mother's language; but +the real substantials. Hiram proved to be an excellent scholar. He was especially +good in figures. When he came to study bookkeeping, he seemed as happy as if he +were reading a romance. He mastered with ease the science of single and double +entry. He soon became fascinated with the beauties of his imaginary business. For +his instructor had prepared for him a regular set of books, and gave him +problems, from day to day, in mercantile dealings, which opened up to the youth +all the mysteries of 'Dr.' and 'Cr.' Out of these various problems, he +constructed quite a little library of account-books, which he numbered, and which +were representations of various descriptions of trade, and marked with the name +of some supposed company, and labeled 'Business Successful,' or 'Business +Unsuccessful,' as the case might be.</p> + +<p>We must now turn from Hiram, engaged in diligently pursuing his studies, and +enter on another topic.</p> + +<h3 class="center">CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p>Mrs. Meeker had been a church-member from the time she was fourteen years old. +There was an extensive revival throughout the country at that period, and she, +with a large number of young people of both sexes, were, or thought they were, +converted. She used to speak of this circumstance very often to her children, +especially when any one of them approached the age which witnessed, to use her +own language, 'her resignation of the pomps and vanities of life, and her +dedication to the service of her Saviour.' Still, notwithstanding her prayers and +painstaking, not one of them had ever been under 'conviction of sin;' at least, +none had ever manifested that agony and mental suffering which she considered +necessary to a genuine change of heart. She mourned much over such a state of +things in her household. What a scandal that not one of <i>her</i> children +should give any evidences of saving grace! What a subject for reproach in the +mouths of the ungodly! But it was not her fault; no, she often felt that Mr. +Meeker was too lax in discipline, (she had had fears of <i>him</i>, sometimes, +lest he might become a castaway,) and did not set that Christian example, at all +times, which she could desire. For instance, after church on Sunday afternoon, it +was his custom, when the season was favorable, frequently with a child holding +each hand, to walk leisurely over his fields, humming a cheerful hymn and taking +note of whatever was pleasant in the scene, perhaps the fresh vegetation just +bursting into life, or the opening flowers, or it might be the maturing fruit, or +the ripening yellow grain. On these occasions, he would endeavor to impress on +his children how good God was; how seed-time and harvest always came; how the sun +shone on the evil as well as on the good, and the rain descended both on the just +and on the unjust. He, too, would inculcate lessons of diligence and industry, +agreeable lessons, after quite a different model from those of his wife. He would +repeat, for example, not in an austere fashion, but in a way which interested and +even amused them, the dramatic description of the sluggard, from the hook of +Proverbs, commencing:<span class="pageno"><a name="page707" +id="page707"></a>{707}</span></p> + +<p><i>'I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard of the man, void +of understanding;</i></p> + +<p><i>'And lo! it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the +face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken down.'</i></p> + +<p>It is a memorable fact that Hiram was never in the habit of accompanying his +father on these Sunday-excursions. Not that his mother positively interdicted +him. She was too judicious a person to hold up to censure any habitual act of her +husband, whatever might have been her own opinion, or however she might have +remonstrated with him in private. She had no difficulty in keeping Hiram by her +side on Sunday afternoons, and the little fellow seemed instinctively to +appreciate why. Indeed, I doubt if the green fields and pleasant meadow, with the +pretty brook running through it, had any charms for him even then. At any rate, +he was satisfied with his mother's reason, that it was not good for him; he had +better stay at home with her.</p> + +<p>At fourteen, Hiram was to become 'pious.' So Mrs. Meeker fervently hoped, and +to this end her prayers were specially directed. Her son once secure and safe +within the pale of the church, she could be free to prosecute for him her earthly +plans, which could not be sanctioned or blessed of Heaven, so long as he was +still in the gall of sin and bonds of iniquity. So she labored to explain to him +how impossible it was for an unconverted person to think an acceptable thought or +do a single acceptable act in the sight of God. All his labor was sin, while he +was in a state of sin, whether it was at the plow, or in the shop, or store, or +office, or counting-room. She warned him of the wrath to come, and she explained +to him with minute vividness the everlasting despair and tortures of the damned. +Hiram was a good deal affected. He began to feel that his position personally was +perilous. He wanted to get out of it, especially as his mother assured him if he +should be taken away—and he was liable to die that very night—then +alas! his soul would lie down in everlasting burnings. At last, the youth was +thoroughly alarmed. His mother recollected she had continued just one week under +conviction, before light dawned in on her, and she considered that a proper +period for her son to go through. She contented herself, at first, by cautioning +him against a relapse into his old condition, for then seven other spirits more +wicked than the first would have possession of him, and his last state would be +worse than the first. Besides, he would run great risk of sinning away his day of +grace. It was soon understood in the church that Hiram was under concern of mind. +Mrs. Meeker, on the fourth day, withdrew him from school, and sent for the +minister to pray with him. He found him in great distress, I might say in great +bodily terror; for he was very much afraid when he got into bed at night, he +might awake in hell the next morning. The clergyman was a worthy and a sincere +man. He was anxious that a true repentance should flow from Hiram's present +distress, and the lively agony of the child awakened his strongest sympathy. He +talked very kindly to him, explained in a genuine, truthful manner, what was +necessary. He dwelt on the mercy of our heavenly Father, and on his love. He +prayed with the lad earnestly, and with many affectionate counsels he went away. +Hiram was comforted. Things began to look in a pleasanter light than ever before. +He had only to repent and believe, and it was his duty to repent and believe, and +all would be well. So it happened that when the week was out, Hiram felt that he +had cast his burden on the Lord, and was accepted by him.</p> + +<p>There were great rejoicings over this event. Mrs. Meeker exclaimed, while +tears streamed from her eyes, that she was ready to depart in peace. Mr. Meeker, +who had by no means been indifferent to his son's state of mind, and who had +sought from time to time to encourage him, (rather, it must be confessed, to his +wife's annoyance,) was thankful that he had obtained relief from the<span +class="pageno"><a name="page708" id="page708"></a>{708}</span> right source. The +happy subject himself became an object of a good deal of interest in the +congregation. There was not the usual attention, just then, to religious matters, +and Hiram's conversion was seized on as a token that more fruits were to be +gathered in from the same field, that is, among the young. In due course he was +propounded and admitted into the church. It happened on that day that he was the +only individual who joined, and he was the observed of all observers. Hiram +Meeker was a handsome boy, well formed, with an interesting face, blight blue +eyes, and a profusion of light hair shading a forehead indicative of much +intelligence. All this was disclosed to the casual observer; indeed, who would +stop to criticise the features of one so young—else you would have been +struck by something disagreeable about the corners of his mouth, something +repulsive in the curve of those thin lips, (he had his mother's lips,) something +forbidding in a certain latent expression of the eye, while you would remark with +pain the conscious, self-possessed air with which he took his place in the broad +aisle before the pulpit, to give his assent to the church articles and confession +of faith. The good minister preached from the text, 'Remember now thy Creator in +the days of thy youth,' and in the course of his sermon held up Hiram as an +example to all the unconverted youth of his flock. On Monday he returned to +school, prosecuting his studies more diligently than ever. He felt that he had +secured the true salvation, and was safe now in whatever he undertook. He was +very careful in the observance of all his religious exercises, and so far as I +can ascertain, never neglected any of them. Thus happily launched, Hiram +continued at school till he was nearly seventeen. He had, for the last two years, +been sent to Newton Institute, one of the best institutions in the State, where +his advantages would be superior to those of the academy in his native town. +There he learned the higher branches of mathematics, and studied with care +mercantile and descriptive geography with reference to the different products of +the earth. During this time his proficiency was excellent, and his conduct always +most exemplary.</p> + +<p>At length his course was completed, and Mrs. Meeker felt that her cousin, the +wholesale dry-goods jobber in New-York, would be proud of such an acquisition in +his establishment. He had been duly apprised that the boy was named for him, and +really appeared to manifest, by his inquiries, a good deal of interest in Hiram. +Although they generally met once or twice a year, Mrs. Meeker did not apprise her +cousin of her plans, preferring to wait till her son should have finished his +academical course before making them known. Her first idea was to send him to +New-York with a letter, in which she would fully explain her hopes and wishes. On +second thought, she concluded to write first, and await her cousin's reply. It +will be seen, from the perusal of it, she took the proper course.</p> + +<p>Here it is:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'<i>New-York, May 15th, 18—.</i></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'DEAR COUSIN: Your letter of May 12th is before me. I am glad to +hear you are all well at Hampton. We are much obliged for your kind +invitation for the summer. I think you may count confidently on a +visit from my wife and myself some time during the season, and I +have no doubt one of the girls will come with us. I know <i>I</i> shall +enjoy it for one, and I am sure we all shall.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'As to my namesake, I am glad to hear so good an account of him. +Now, cousin, I really take an interest in the lad, and beg you will +not make any wry faces over an honest expression of my opinion. If +you want the boy to make a first-rate merchant, and SUCCEED, don't +send him to me at present. Of course, I will receive him, if you +insist upon it. But, in my opinion, it will only spoil him. I tell +you frankly, I would not give a fig for a city-bred boy. But I will +enter into this compact with you: I will undertake to make a +first-class merchant of Hiram, if you will let me have my own way. +If you do not, I can not answer for it. What I recommend is, that +you put him into one of the stores in your own village. If I +remember right, there are two there which do a regular country +trade, and have a general stock of dry goods, groceries, crockery, +clothing, stationery, etc., etc., etc. Here he will learn two +<span class="pageno"><a name="page709" id="page709"></a>{709}</span> +things—detail and economy—without a practical knowledge of which, +no man can succeed in mercantile business. I presume you will +consider this a great falling off from your expectations. Perhaps +you will think it petty business for your boy to be behind a +counter in a small country store, selling a shilling's worth of +calico, a cent's worth of snuff, or taking in a dozen eggs in +exchange, but there is just where he ought to be, for the present. +I repeat, he will learn detail. He will understand the value of all +sorts of merchandise; he will get a real knowledge of barter and +trade. When he learns out there, put him in another retail store of +more magnitude. Keep him at this three or four years, and then I +agree to make a merchant of him. I repeat, don't be disappointed at +my letter. I tell you candidly, if I had a son, that's just what I +would do with him, and it is just what I want you to do with Hiram. +I hope you will write me that you approve of my plan. If you do, +you may rely on my advice at all times, and I think I have some +experience in these matters.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'We all desire to be remembered to your husband and family.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 17em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'Very truly, your cousin,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'HIRAM BENNETT.'</p> + +<p>He had added, from habit, '& Co.,' but this was erased.</p> + +<p>The letter <i>was</i> a heavy blow to the fond mother; but she recovered from +it quickly, like a sensible woman. In fact, she perceived her cousin was sincere, +and she herself appreciated the good sense of his suggestions. Her husband, whom +she thought best to consult, since matters were taking this turn, approved of +what her cousin had written, and so it was decided that Hiram should become a +clerk of Mr. Jessup, the most enterprising of the two 'store—keepers' in +Hampton. How he got along with Mr. Jessup, and finally entered the service of Mr. +Burns, at Burnsville, must be reserved for a separate chapter.</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="MONROE_TO_FARRAGUT" id="MONROE_TO_FARRAGUT"> +</a>MONROE TO FARRAGUT.</h2> + +<div class="poem2"> +By brutal force you've seized the town,<br /> +And therefore the flag shall not come down.<br /> +And having told you that it shan't,<br /> +Just let me show you why it can't.<br /> +The climate here is very queer,<br /> +In the matter of flags at this time of year.<br /> +If a Pelican touched the banner prized,<br /> +He would be <i>immediately</i> paralyzed.<br /> +I'm a gentleman born—though now on the shelf,<br /> +And I think you are almost one yourself.<br /> +For from my noble ancestry,<br /> +I can tell the <i>élite</i>, by sympathy.<br /> +Had you lived among <i>us</i>, sir, now and then,<br /> +No one can say what you might have been.<br /> +So refrain from any sneer or quiz,<br /> +Which may wound our susceptibilities.<br /> +For my people are all refined—like me,<br /> +While yours are all low as low can be.<br /> +As for shooting women or children either,<br /> +Or any such birds of the Union feather,<br /> +We shall in all things consult our ease,<br /> +And act exactly as we please.<br /> +For you've nothing to do with our laws, you know,<br /> +Yours, merely 'respectfully, + JOHN MONROE.' +</div> + +<p><span class="pageno"><a name="page710" id="page710"></a>{710}</span></p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="AMONG_THE_PINES" id="AMONG_THE_PINES"> +</a>AMONG THE PINES.</h2> + +<p>Alighting from the carriage, I entered, with the Colonel, the cabin of the +negro-hunter. So far as external appearance went, the shanty was a slight +improvement on the 'Mills House,' described in a previous chapter; but +internally, it was hard to say whether it resembled more a pig-sty or a +dog-kennel. The floor was of the bare earth, covered in patches with loose plank +of various descriptions, and littered over with billets of 'lightwood,' unwashed +cooking utensils, two or three cheap stools, a pine settee—made from the +rough log and hewn smooth on the upper-side—a full-grown blood-hound, two +younger canines, and nine dirt-encrusted juveniles, of the flax-head species. +Over against the fire-place three low beds afforded sleeping accommodation to +nearly a dozen human beings, (of assorted sizes, and dove-tailed together with +heads and feet alternating,) and in the opposite corner a lower couch, whose +finer furnishings told plainly it was the peculiar property of the 'wee-ones' of +her family—a mother's tenderness for the youngest thus cropping out even in +the midst of filth and degradation—furnished quarters for an unwashed, +uncombed, unclothed, saffron-hued little fellow about fifteen months old, +and—the dog 'Lady.'</p> + +<p>The dog was of a dark hazel-color—a cross between a setter and a +gray-hound—and one of the most beautiful creatures I ever saw. Her neck and +breast were bound about with a coarse cotton cloth, saturated with blood, and +emitting a strong odor of bad whisky; and her whole appearance showed the +desperate nature of the encounter with the overseer.</p> + +<p>The nine young democrats who were lolling about the room in various attitudes +rose as we entered, and with a familiar but rather deferential 'Howdy'ge,' to the +Colonel, huddled around and stared at me with open mouths and distended eyes, as +if I were a strange being dropped from some other sphere. The two eldest were of +the male gender, as was shown by their clothes—cast-off suits of the +inevitable reddish-gray—much too large, and out at the elbows and the +knees; but the sex of the others I was at a loss to determine, for they wore only +a single robe, reaching, like their mother's, from the neck to the knees. Not one +of the occupants of the cabin boasted a pair of stockings, but the father and +mother did enjoy the luxury of shoes—coarse, stout brogans, untanned, and +of the color of the legs which they encased.</p> + +<p>'Well, Sandy, how is Lady?' asked the Colonel, as he stepped to the bed of the +wounded dog.</p> + +<p>'Reckon she's a goner, Cunnel; the d——d Yankee orter swing fur +it.'</p> + +<p>This intimation that the overseer was a 'countryman' of mine, took me by +surprise, nothing I had observed in his speech or manners having indicated it, +but I consoled myself with the reflection that Connecticut had reared +him—as she makes wooden hams and nutmegs—expressly for the Southern +market.'</p> + +<p>'He <i>shall</i> swing for it, by ——. But are you sure the dog +will die?'</p> + +<p>'Not shore, Cunnel, but she can't stand, and the blood <i>will</i> run. I +reckon a hun'red and fifty ar done for thar, sartin.'</p> + +<p>'D—— the money—I'll make that right. Go to the house and get +some ointment from Madam—she can save her—go at once,' said my +host.</p> + +<p>'I will, Cunnel,' replied the dirt-eater, taking his broad-brim from the +wooden peg where it was reposing, and leisurely leaving the cabin. Making our way +over the piles of rubbish and crowds of children that cumbered the apartment, the +Colonel and I then returned to the carriage.</p> + +<p>'Dogs must be rare in this region,' I remarked, as we resumed our seats.<span +class="pageno"><a name="page711" id="page711"></a>{711}</span></p> + +<p>'Yes, well-trained bloodhounds are scarce every where. That dog is well worth +a hundred and fifty dollars.'</p> + +<p>'The business of nigger-catching, then, is brisk, just now?'</p> + +<p>'No, not more brisk than usual. We always have more or less runaways.'</p> + +<p>'Do most of them take to the swamps?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, nine out of ten do, though now and then one gets off on a +trading-vessel. It is almost impossible for a strange nigger to make his way by +land from here to the free States.'</p> + +<p>'Then why do you Carolinians make such an outcry about the violation of the +Fugitive Slave Law?'</p> + +<p>'For the same reason that dogs quarrel over a naked bone. We should be unhappy +if we couldn't growl at the Yankees,' replied the Colonel, laughing heartily.</p> + +<p>'<i>We</i>, you say; you mean by that, the hundred and eighty thousand nabobs +who own five sixths of your slaves?' <a id="footnotetag4" name="footnotetag4"></a> +<a href="#note_4"><span class="footnoteref"><sup>4</sup></span></a></p> + +<p>'Yes, I mean them, and the three or four millions of poor whites—the +ignorant, half-starved, lazy vermin you have just seen. <i>They</i> are the real +basis of our Southern oligarchy, as you call it,' continued the Colonel, still +laughing.</p> + +<p>'I thought the negro was the serf, in your feudal system?'</p> + +<p>'Both the negro and the poor whites are the serfs, but the white trash are its +real support. Their votes give the small minority of slave-owners all their +power. You say we control the Union. We do, and we do it by the votes of these +people, who are as far below our niggers as the niggers are below decent white +men. Who that reflects that this country has been controlled for fifty years by +such scum, would give a d—— for republican institutions?'</p> + +<p>'It does speak very badly for <i>your</i> institutions. A system that reduces +one half of a white population to the level of slaves can not stand in this +country. The late election shows that the power of your 'white trash' is +broken.'</p> + +<p>'Well, it does, that's a fact. If the States should remain together, the West +would in future control the Union. We see that, and are therefore determined on +dissolution. It is our only way to keep our niggers.'</p> + +<p>'You will have to get the consent of that same West to that project. My +opinion is, your present policy will, if carried out, free every one of your +slaves.'</p> + +<p>'I don't see how. Even if we are put down—which we can not be—and +are held in the Union against our will, Government can not, by the Constitution, +interfere with slavery in the States.'</p> + +<p>'I admit that, but it can confiscate the property of traitors. Every large +slaveholder is to-day, at heart, a traitor. If this movement goes on, you will +commit overt acts against the Government, and in self-defense it will punish +treason by taking from you the means of future mischief.'</p> + +<p><span class="pageno"><a name="page712" id="page712"></a>{712}</span>'The +Republicans and Abolitionists might do that if they had the power, but nearly one +half of the North is on our side, and will not fight us.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps so; but if <i>I</i> had this thing to manage, I'd put you down +without fighting.'</p> + +<p>'How would you do it—by preaching Abolition where even the niggers would +mob you? There's not a slave in South-Carolina but would shoot Garrison or +Greeley on sight.'</p> + +<p>'That may be, but if so, it is because you keep them in ignorance. Build a +free-school at every cross-road, and teach the poor whites, and what would become +of slavery? If these people were on a par with the farmers of New-England, would +it last for an hour? Would they not see that it stands in the way of their +advancement, and vote it out of existence as a nuisance?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, perhaps they would; but the school-houses are not at the cross-roads, +and, thank God, they will not be there in this generation.'</p> + +<p>'The greater the pity; but that which will not nourish alongside of a +school-house, can not, in the nature of things, outlast this century. Its time +must soon come.'</p> + +<p>'Enough for the day is the evil thereof, I'll risk the future of slavery, if +the South, in a body, goes out of the Union.'</p> + +<p>'In other words, you'll shut out schools and knowledge, in order to keep +slavery in existence. The Abolitionists claim it to be a relic of barbarism, and +you admit it could not exist with general education among the people.'</p> + +<p>'Of course it could not. If Sandy, for instance, knew he were as good a man as +I am—and he would be if he were educated—do you suppose he would vote +as I tell him, go and come at my bidding, and live on my charity? No sir! give a +man knowledge, and, however poor he may be, he'll act for himself.'</p> + +<p>'Then free-schools and general education would destroy slavery?'</p> + +<p>'Of course they would. The few can not rule when the many know their rights. +But the South, and the world, are a long, way off from general education. When it +conies to that, we shall need no laws, and no slavery, for the millennium will +have arrived.'</p> + +<p>'I'm glad you think slavery will not exist during the millennium,' I replied, +laughing; 'but how is it that you insist the negro is naturally inferior to the +white, and still admit that the 'white trash' are far below the black +slaves?'</p> + +<p>'Education makes the difference. We educate the negro enough to make him +useful to us, but the poor white man knows nothing. He can neither read nor +write, and not only that, he is not trained to any useful employment. Sandy, +here, who is a fair specimen of the tribe, obtains his living just like an +Indian, by hunting, fishing, and stealing, interspersed with nigger-catching. His +whole wealth consists of two hounds and their pups; his house—even the +wooden trough his miserable children eat from—belongs to me. If he didn't +catch a runaway nigger once in a while, he wouldn't see a dime from one year to +another.'</p> + +<p>'Then you have to support this man and his family?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, what I don't give him, he steals. Half-a-dozen others poach on me in the +same way.'</p> + +<p>'Why don't you set them at work?'</p> + +<p>'They can't be made to work. I have hired them time and again, hoping to make +something of them, but I never got one to work more than half-a-day at a time. +It's their nature to lounge and to steal.'</p> + +<p>'Then why do you keep them about you?'</p> + +<p>'Well, to be candid, their presence is of use in keeping the blacks in +subordination, and they are worth all they cost me, because I control their +votes.'</p> + +<p>'I thought the blacks were said to be entirely contented?'</p> + +<p>'No, not contented. I do not claim that. I only say that they are unfit for +freedom. I might cite a hundred instances in which it has been their ruin.'<span +class="pageno"><a name="page713" id="page713"></a>{713}</span></p> + +<p>'I have never heard of one. It seems strange to me that a man who can support +another can not support himself.'</p> + +<p>'Oh! no, it's not at all strange. The slave has hands, and when the master +gives him brains, he works well enough; but to support himself he needs both +hands and brains, and he has only hands. I'll give you a case in point: At +Wilmington, N.C., some years ago lived a negro by the name of Jack Campbell. He +was a slave, and he was employed, before the river below the town was deepened so +as to admit of the passage of large vessels, in lightering cargoes up to the +city. He hired his time of his master, and carried on business on his own +account. Every one knew him, and his character for honesty, sobriety, and +punctuality stood so high that his word was considered among merchants as good as +that of the first business-men of the place. Well, Jack's wife and children were +free, and he finally took it into his head to be free himself. He arranged with +his master to purchase himself within a specified time, at eight hundred dollars, +and was to deposit his earnings, till they reached the required sum, in the hands +of a certain merchant. He went on, and in three years had accumulated nearly +seven hundred dollars, <i>when his master failed</i>. As the slave has no right +to property, Jack's earnings belonged by law to his master, and they were +attached by the creditors, and taken to pay the master's debts. Jack then +'changed hands,' received a new owner, who also consented to his buying himself, +at about the price previously agreed on. Nothing discouraged, he went to work +again. Night and day, he toiled, and it surprised every one to see so much energy +and fixedness of purpose in a negro. At last, after four more years of labor, he +accomplished his purpose, and received his free-papers. He had worked seven +years—as long as Jacob toiled for Rachel—for his freedom, and like +the old patriarch found himself cheated at last. I was present when he received +his papers from his owner, a Mr. William H. Lippitt—who still resides at +Wilmington—and I shall never forget the ecstasy of joy which he showed on +the occasion; he sung and danced and laughed and wept, till my conscience smote +me for holding my own niggers, when freedom might give them so much happiness. +Well, he went off that day and treated some friends, and then, for three days +afterward, lay in the gutter, the entreaties of his wife and children having no +effect on him. He swore he was free, and would do as he 'd——d +pleased.' He had previously been a class-leader in his church, but after getting +free-papers, he forsook his previous associates, and spent his Sundays and +evenings in a bar-room. He neglected his business; people lost confidence in him, +and step by step he went down, till in five years he stink into a wretched grave. +That was the effect of freedom on <i>him</i>, and it would be so on all his +race.'</p> + +<p>'It is clear,' I replied, 'he could not bear freedom, but that does not prove +he might not have 'endured' it if he had never been a slave. His overjoy at +obtaining liberty, after so long a struggle for it, led to his excesses and his +ruin. According to your view, neither the black nor the poor white is competent +to take care of himself. The Almighty, therefore, has laid upon <i>you</i> a +triple burden; you not only have to provide for yourself and your children, but +for two races beneath you, the black and the clay-eating white man. The poor +nigger has a hard time, but it seems to me you have a harder one.'</p> + +<p>'Well, it's a fact, we do. I often think that if it wasn't for the color and +the odor, I'd be glad to exchange places with my man Jim.'</p> + +<p>The Colonel made this last remark in a half-serious, half-comic way, that +excited my risibilities amazingly, but before I could reply, the carriage +stopped, and Jim, opening the door, announced:</p> + +<p>'We's h'ar, massa, and de prayin' am gwine on.'<span class="pageno"><a +name="page714" id="page714"></a>{714}</span></p> + +<p>Had we not been absorbed in conversation, we might have discovered the latter +fact some time previous to our arrival at the church-door, for the preacher was +shouting at the top of his lungs. He evidently thought the good Lord either a +long way off, or very hard of hearing. Not wishing to disturb the congregation at +their devotions, we loitered near the doorway until the prayer was over, and in +the mean time I glanced around the premises.</p> + +<p>The 'meeting-house,' of large unhewed logs, was a story and a half in hight, +and about large enough to seat comfortably a congregation of two hundred persons. +It was covered with shingles, with a roof projecting some four feet over the +wall, and was surmounted at the front gable by a tower, about twelve feet square. +This also was built of logs, and contained a bell 'to call the erring to the +house of prayer,' though, unfortunately, all of that character thereabouts dwelt +beyond the sound of its voice. The building was located at a cross-roads about +equally distant from two little hamlets, (the nearest nine miles off,) neither of +which was populous enough to singly support a church and a preacher. The trees in +the vicinity had been thinned out, so that carriages could drive into the woods, +and find under the branches shelter from the rain and the sun, and at the time of +my visit, about twenty vehicles of all sorts and descriptions, from the Colonel's +magnificent barouche to the rude cart drawn by a single two-horned quadruped, +filled the openings. There was a rustic simplicity about the whole scene that +charmed me. The low, rude church, the grand old pines that towered in leafy +magnificence around it, and the soft, low wind, that sung a morning hymn in the +green, wavy woods, seemed to lift the soul up to Him who inhabiteth eternity, but +who also visits the erring children of men.</p> +<p>The preacher was about to 'line out' one of Watts' psalms, when we entered the +church, but he stopped short on perceiving us, and, bowing low, waited till we +had taken our seats. This action, and the sycophantic air which accompanied it, +disgusted me, and turning to the Colonel, I asked jocosely:</p> + +<p>'Do the chivalry exact so much obsequiousness from the country clergy'? Do you +require to be bowed up to heaven?'</p> + +<p>In a low voice, but high enough, I thought, for the preacher to hear, for we +sat very near, the Colonel replied:</p> + +<p>'He's a renegade Yankee—the meanest thing on earth.'</p> + +<p>I said no more, but entered into the services as seriously as the strange +gymnastic performances of the preacher would allow me to do, for the truth is, he +was quite as amusing as a circus clown.</p> + +<p>With the exception of the Colonel's and a few other pews in the vicinity of +the pulpit, all of the seats were mere rough benches, without backs, and placed +so closely together as to interfere uncomfortably with the knees of the sitters. +The house was full, and the congregation as attentive as any I ever saw. All +classes were there; the black serving-man away off by the doorway, the poor white +a little higher up, the small turpentine-farmer a little higher still, and the +wealthy planter, of the class to which the Colonel belonged, on 'the highest +seats of the synagogue,' and in close proximity to the preacher.</p> +<p>The 'man of prayer' was a tall, lean, raw-boned, angular-built individual, +with a thin, sharp, hatchet-face, a small sunken eye, and long, loose hair, +brushed back and falling over the collar of a seedy black coat. He looked like +nothing in the world I have ever seen, and his pale, sallow face, and cracked, +wheezy voice, were in comic keeping with his discourse. His text was: 'Speak unto +the children of Israel, that they go forward.' And addressing the motley +gathering of poor whites and small-planters before him as the 'chosen people of +God,' he urged them to press on in the mad course their State had chosen. It was +a political harangue, a genuine stump-speech, but its frequent allu<span +class="pageno"><a name="page715" id="page715"></a>{715}</span>sion to the +auditory as the legitimate children of the old patriarch, and the rightful heirs +of all the promises, struck me as out of place in a rural district of +South-Carolina, however appropriate it might have been in one of the large towns, +before an audience of merchants and traders, who are, almost to a man, Jews.</p> + +<p>The services over, the congregation slowly left the church. Gathered in groups +in front of the 'meeting-house,' they were engaging in a general discussion of +the affairs of the day, when the Colonel and I emerged from the doorway. The +better class greeted my host with considerable cordiality, but I noticed that the +well-to-do, small planters, who composed the greater part of the assemblage, +received him with decided coolness. These people were the 'North county folks' on +whom the overseer had invoked a hanging. Except that their clothing was more +uncouth and ill-fashioned, and their faces generally less 'cute' of expression, +they did not differ materially in appearance from the rustic citizens who may be +seen on any pleasant Sunday gathered around the door-ways of the rural +meeting-houses of New-England.</p> + +<p>One of them, who was leaning against a tree, quietly lighting a pipe, was a +fair type of the whole, and as he took a part in the scene which followed, I will +describe him. He was tall and spare, with a swinging, awkward gait, and a wiry, +athletic frame. His hair, which he wore almost as long as a woman's, was coarse +and black, and his face strongly marked, and of the precise color of two small +rivulets of tobacco-juice that escaped from the corners of his mouth. He had an +easy, self-possessed manner, and a careless, devil-may-care way about him, that +showed he had measured his powers, and was accustomed to 'rough it' with the +world. He wore a broadcloth coat of the fashion of some years ago, but his +waistcoat and nether garments of the common, reddish homespun, were loose and +ill-shaped, as if their owner did not waste thought on such trifles. His hat, as +shockingly bad as Horace Greeley's, had the inevitable broad brim, and fell over +his face like a calash-awning over a shop-window. As I approached him he extended +his hand with a pleasant 'How are ye, stranger?.'</p> + +<p>'Very well,' I replied, returning his grasp with equal warmth, 'how are +you?'</p> + +<p>'Right smart, right smart, thank ye. You're—' the rest of the +sentence was cut short by a gleeful exclamation from Jim, who, mounted on the box +of the carriage, which was drawn up on the cleared plot in front of the +meeting-house, waved an open newspaper over his head, and called out, as he +caught sight of the Colonel:</p> + +<p>'Great news, massa, great news from Charls'on!'</p> + +<p>(The darky, while we were in church, had gone to the post-office, some four +miles away, and got the Colonel's mail, consisting of letters from his New-York +and Charleston factors, the Charleston <i>Courier</i> and <i>Mercury</i> and the +New-York <i>Journal of Commerce</i>. The latter sheet, at the date of which I am +writing, was in wide circulation at the South, its piety (!) and its politics +being then calculated with mathematical precision for secession latitudes.)</p> + +<p>"What is it, Jim?' shouted his master. 'Give it to us.'</p> + +<p>The darky had somehow learned to read, but holding the paper at arm's length, +and throwing himself into a theatrical attitude, he belched out, with any amount +of gesticulation, the following:</p> + +<p>'De news am, massa, and gemmen and ladies, dat de ole fort fore Charls'on hab +hen devacuated by Major Andersin and de sogers, and dat dey hab stole 'way in de +dark night and gone to Sumter, whar dey can't be took; and dat de ole Gubner hab +got out a procdemation dat all dat don't lub de Aberlishen Yankees shill cum up +dar and clar 'em out; and de paper say dat lots ob sogers hab cum from Gorgia and +Al'bama and 'way down Souf, to help 'em. Dis am w'at de <i>Currer</i> say,' he +continued, hold<span class="pageno"><a name="page716" +id="page716"></a>{716}</span>ing the paper up to his eyes and reading: 'Major +Andersin, ob United States army hab 'chieved de 'stinction ob op'ning de cibil +war 'tween American citizens; he hab desarted Moulfrie, and by false fretexts hab +took de ole Garrison and all his millinery stores to Fort Sumter.'</p> + +<p>'Get down, you d——d nigger,' said the Colonel, laughing, and +mounting the carriage-box beside him. 'You can't read. Old Garrison isn't +there—he's the d——d Northern Abolitionist.'</p> + +<p>'I knows dat, Cunnel, but see dar,' holding the paper out to his master, +'don't dat say he'm dar? It'm him dat make all de trubble. P'raps dis nig' can't +read, but ef dat ain't readin' I'd like to know it!'</p> + +<p>'Clear out,' said the Colonel, now actually roaring with laughter; 'it's the +soldiers that the <i>Courier</i> speaks of, not the Abolitionist.'</p> + +<p>'Read it yoursef, den, massa, I don't seed it dat way.'</p> + +<p>Jim was altogether wiser than he appeared, and while he was equally as well +pleased with the news as the Colonel, he was so for an entirely different reason. +In the crisis which these tidings announced, he saw hope for his race.</p> + +<p>The Colonel then read the paper to the assemblage. The news was received with +a variety of manifestations by the auditory, the larger portion, I thought, +hearing it, as I did, with sincere regret.</p> + +<p>'Now is the time to stand by the State, my friends,' said my host as he +finished the reading. 'I hope every man here is ready to do his duty by old +South-Carolina.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, <i>sar!</i> if she does <i>har</i> duty by the Union. We'll go to the +death for har just so long as she's in the right, but not a d——d step +if she arn't,' said the long-legged native I have introduced to the reader.</p> + +<p>'And what have <i>you</i> to say about South-Carolina? What does, she owe to +<i>you?</i>' asked the Colonel, turning on the speaker with a proud and angry +look.</p> + +<p>'More, a darned sight than she'll pay, if ye cursed 'ristocrats run her to +h—— as ye'r doing. She owes me, and 'bout ten as likely niggers as ye +ever seed, a living, and we've d——d hard work to get it out on her +<i>now</i>, let alone what's comin'.</p> + +<p>'Don't talk to me, you ill-mannered cur,' said my host, turning his back on +his neighbor, and directing his attention to the remainder of the assemblage.</p> + +<p>'Look har, Cunnel,' replied the native, 'if ye'll jest come down from thar and +throw 'way yer shootin'-irons, I'll give ye the all-firedest thrashing ye ever +did get.'</p> + +<p>The Colonel gave no further heed to him, but the speaker mounted the steps of +the meeting-house and harangued the natives in a strain of rude and passionate +declamation, in which my host, the aristocrats, and the Secessionists came in for +about equal shares of abuse. Seeing that the native (who, it appeared, was quite +popular as a stump-speaker) was drawing away his audience, the Colonel descended +from the driver's seat, and motioning for me to follow, entered the carriage. +Turning the horses homeward, we rode off at a brisk pace.</p> + +<p>'Not much Secession about that fellow, Colonel,' I remarked, after a +while.</p> + +<p>'No,' he replied, 'he's a North-Carolina 'corn-cracker,' one of the meanest +specimens of humanity extant. They're as thick as fleas in this part of the +State, and about all of them are traitors.'</p> + +<p>'Traitors to the State, but true to the Union. As far as I've seen, that is +the case with the middling class throughout the South.'</p> + +<p>'Well, it may be, but they generally go with us, and I reckon they will now, +when it comes to the rub. Those in the towns—the traders and +mechanics—will, certain; it's only these half-way independent planters that +ever kick the traces. By the way,' continued my host, in a jocose way, 'what did +you think of the preaching?'</p> + +<p>'I thought it very poor. I'd rather have heard the stump-speech, had it not +been a little too personal on you.'</p> + +<p>'Well, it was the better of the two,'<span class="pageno"><a name="page717" +id="page717"></a>{717}</span> he replied, laughing, 'but the old devil can't +afford any thing good, he don't get enough pay.'</p> + +<p>'Why, how much does he get?'</p> + +<p>'Only a hundred dollars.'</p> + +<p>'That is small. How does the man live?'</p> + +<p>'Well, he teaches the daughter of my neighbor, Captain Randall, who believes +in praying, and gives him his board. Randall thinks that enough. The rest of the +parish can't afford to pay him, and I <i>won't</i>.'</p> + +<p>'Why won't you?'</p> + +<p>'Because he's a d——d old hypocrite. He believes in the Union with +all his heart—at least, so Randall, who's a sincere Union man, +says—and yet, he never sees me at meeting but he preaches a red-hot +secession sermon.'</p> + +<p>'He wants to keep you in the faith,' I replied.</p> + +<p>A few more miles of sandy road took us to the mansion, where we found dinner +in waiting. Meeting 'Massa Tommy'—who had staid at home with his +mother—as we entered the doorway, the Colonel asked after the overseer.</p> + +<p>'He seems well enough, sir; I believe he's coming the possum over mother.'</p> + +<p>'Ill bet on it, Tommy; but he won't fool you and me, will he, my boy?' said +his father, slapping him affectionately on the back.</p> + +<p>After dinner I went with my host to the room of the wounded man. His head was +still bound up, and he was groaning piteously, as if in great pain; but I thought +there was too fresh a color in his face to be entirely natural in one who had +lost so much blood, and been so severely wounded as he affected to be.</p> + +<p>The Colonel mentioned our suspicions to Madam P——, and suggested +that the shackles should be put on him.</p> + +<p>'Oh! no, don't do that; it would be inhuman,' said the lady; 'the color is the +effect of fever. If you fear he is plotting to get away, let him be watched.'</p> + +<p>The Colonel consented, but with evident reluctance, to the arrangement, and +retired to his room to take a <i>siesta</i>, while I lit a cigar, and strolled +out to the negro-quarters.</p> + +<p>Making my way through the woods to the scene of the morning's jollification, I +found about a hundred darkies gathered around Jim, on the little plot in front of +Old Lucy's cabin. Jim had evidently been giving them the news. Pausing when I +came near, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>'Har's Massa K——, he'll say dat I tells you de trufh;' then +turning to me, he said: 'Massa K——, dese darkies say dat Massa +Andersin am an ab'lisherner, and dat none but de ab'lisherners will fight for de +Union; am dat so, sar?'</p> + +<p>'No, I reckon not, Jim; I think the whole North would fight for it if it were +necessary.'</p> + +<p>'Am dat so, massa? am dat so?' eagerly inquired a dozen of the darkies; 'and +am dar great many folks at de Norf—more dan dar am down har?'</p> + +<p>'Yas, you fools, didn't I tell you dat?' said Jim, as I, not exactly relishing +the idea of preaching treason, in the Colonel's absence, to his slaves, hesitated +to reply. 'Hain't I tole you,' he continued, 'dat in de big city ob New-York +dar'm more folks dan dar am in all Car'lina? I'se been dar, and I knows; and +Massa K——'ll tell you dat dey—'most on 'em—feel mighty +sorry for de brack man.'</p> + +<p>'No he won't,' I replied, 'and besides, Jim, you should not talk in this way +before me; I might tell your master.'</p> + +<p>'No! you won't do dat; I knows you won't, massa. Scipio tole us he'd trust his +bery life wid <i>you</i>.'</p> + +<p>'Well, perhaps he might; it's true I would not injure <i>you</i>.' Saying +that, I turned away, though my curiosity was greatly excited to hear more.</p> + +<p>I wandered farther into the woods, and a half-hour found me near one of the +turpentine distilleries. Seating myself on a rosin barrel, I quietly finished my +cigar, and was about lighting another, when Jim made his appearance.</p> + +<p>'Beg pardon, Massa K——,' said the<span class="pageno"><a +name="page718" id="page718"></a>{718}</span> negro, bowing very low, 'but I wants +to ax you one or two tings, ef you please, sar.'</p> + +<p>'Well,' I replied, 'I'll answer any thing that I ought to.'</p> + +<p>'Der yer tink, den, massa, dat dey'll git to fightin' at Charls'on?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, judging by the tone of the Charleston papers you've read to-day, I think +they will.'</p> + +<p>'And der yer tink dat de rest ob de Souf will jine wid Souf Car'lina, if she +go at it fust?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, Jim, I'm inclined to think so.'</p> + +<p>'I hard you say to massa, dat ef dey goes to war,'twill free all de +niggers—der you raily b'lieve dat, sar?'</p> + +<p>'<i>You</i> heard me say that; how did you hear it?' I exclaimed, in +surprise.</p> + +<p>'Why, sar, de front winder ob de carriage war down jess a crack, and I hard +all you said.'</p> + +<p>'Did you let it down on purpose?'</p> + +<p>'P'r'aps so, massa. Whot's de use ob habin' ears, ef you don't h'ar?'</p> + +<p>'Well, I suppose not much; and you tell all you hear to the other +negroes?'</p> + +<p>'I reckon so, massa,' said the darky, looking very demure.</p> + +<p>'That's the use of having a tongue, eh?' I replied, laughing.</p> + +<p>'Dat's it 'zaxly, massa.'</p> + +<p>'Well, Jim, I do think the slaves will be finally freed; but it will cost more +white blood to do it than all the niggers in creation are worth. Do you think the +darkies would fight for their freedom?'</p> + +<p>'Fight, sar!' exclaimed the negro, straightening up his fine form, while his +usual good-natured look—passed from his face and gave way to an expression +that made him seem more like an incarnate fiend than a human being; 'FIGHT, sar; +gib dem de chance, and den see.'</p> + +<p>'Why are you discontented? You have been at the North, and you know the blacks +are as well off as the majority of the poor laboring men there.'</p> + +<p>'You say dat to me, Massa K——; you don't say it to de +<i>Cunnel</i>. We are not so well off as de pore man at de Norf! You knows dat, +sar. He hab his wife and children, and his own home; what hab we, sar? No wife, +no children, no home; all am de white man's. Der yer tink we wouldn't fight to be +free?' and he pressed his teeth together, and there passed again over his face +the same look it wore the moment before.</p> + +<p>'Come, come, Jim, this may be true of your race; but it don't apply to +yourself. Your master is kind and indulgent to <i>you</i>.'</p> + +<p>'He am kind to me, sar; he orter be,' said the negro, the savage expression +coming again into his eyes. For a moment he hesitated; then, taking a step toward +me, he placed his face down to mine, and hissed out these words, every syllable +seeming to come from the very bottom of his being. 'I tell you he orter be, sar, +FUR I AM HIS OWN FATHER'S SON!'</p> + +<p>'Your brother!' I exclaimed, springing to my feet, and looking at him in blank +amazement. 'It can't be true.'</p> + +<p>'It am true, sar—as true as there's a hell! His father had my mother: +when he got tired of her, he sold her Souf. <i>I was too young den eben to know +her</i>!'</p> + +<p>'This is horrible, too horrible!' I said.</p> + +<p>'It am slavery, sar! Shouldn't we be contented?' replied the negro with a grim +smile. Drawing, then, a large spring-knife from his pocket, he waved it above his +head, adding: 'Ef I had all de white race dar—right dar under dat knife, +don't yer tink I'd take all dar lives—all at one blow—to be +FREE!'</p> + +<p>'And yet you refused to run away when the Abolitionists tempted you, at the +North. Why didn't you go then?'</p> + +<p>''Cause I had promised, massa.'</p> + +<p>'Promised the Colonel before you went?'</p> + +<p>'No, sar, he neber axed me; but <i>I</i> can't tell you no more. P'raps Scipio +will, ef you ax him.'</p> + +<p>'Oh! I see; you're in that league, of which Scip is a leader. You'll get into +trouble, <i>sure</i>,' I replied, in a quick, decided tone, which startled +him.</p> + +<p>'You tole Scipio dat, sar, and what did <i>he</i> tell you?'<span +class="pageno"><a name="page719" id="page719"></a>{719}</span></p> + +<p>'That he didn't care for his life.'</p> + +<p>'No more do I, sar,' said the negro, as he turned on his heel with a proud, +almost defiant gesture, and started to go.</p> + +<p>'A moment, Jim. You are very imprudent; never say these things to any other +mortal; promise me that.'</p> + +<p>'You'se bery good, massa, bery good. Scipio say you's true, and he'm allers +right. I ortent to hab said what I hab; but sumhow, sar, dat news brought it all +up <i>har</i>,' (laying his hand on his breast,) 'and it wud come out.'</p> + +<p>The tears filled his eyes as he said this, and turning away without another +word, he passed from my sight behind the trees.</p> + +<p>I was almost stunned by this strange revelation, but the more I reflected on +it, the more probable it appeared. Now, too, that my thoughts were turned in that +direction, I called to mind a certain resemblance between the Colonel and the +negro that I had not heeded before. Though one was a high-bred Southern +gentleman, claiming an old and proud descent, and the other a poor African slave, +they had some striking peculiarities which might indicate a common origin. The +likeness was not in their features, for Jim's face was of the unmistakable negro +type, and his skin of a hue so dark that it seemed impossible he could be the son +of a white man, (I afterward learned that his mother was a black of the deepest +dye,) but it was in their form and general bearing. They had the same +closely-knit and sinewy frame, the same erect, elastic step, the same rare +blending of good-natured ease and dignity—to which I have already alluded +as characteristic of the Colonel—and in the wild burst of passion that +accompanied the negro's disclosure of their relationship, I saw the same fierce, +unbridled temper, whose outbreaks I had witnessed in my host.</p> + +<p>What a strange fate was theirs! Two brothers—the one the owner of three +hundred slaves, and the first man of his district—the other, a bonded +menial, and so poor that the very bread he ate, the clothes he wore, were +another's! How terribly on him had fallen the curse pronounced on his race!</p> + +<p>I passed the remainder of the afternoon in my room, and did not again meet my +host until the family assembled at the tea-table. Jim then occupied his +accustomed seat behind the Colonel's chair, and my host was in more than his +usual spirits, though Madam P——, I thought, wore a sad and absent +look.</p> + +<p>The conversation rambled over a wide range of subjects, and was carried on +mainly by the Colonel and myself; but toward the close of the meal the lady said +to me:</p> + +<p>'Mr. K——, Sam and young Junius are to be buried this evening. If +you have never seen a negro funeral, perhaps you'd like to attend.'</p> + +<p>'I will be happy to accompany you, Madam, if you go,' I replied.</p> + +<p>'Thank you,' said the lady.</p> + +<p>'Pshaw! Alice, you'll not go into the woods on so cold a night as this!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I think I ought to. Our people will expect me.'</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was about an hour after nightfall when we took our way to the +burial-ground. The moon had risen, but the clouds which gathered when the sun +went down, covered its face, and were fast spreading their thick, black shadows +over the little collection of negro-houses. Near two new-made graves were +gathered some two hundred men and women, as dark as the night that was setting +around them. As we entered the circle the old preacher pointed to the seats +reserved for us, and the sable crowd fell back a few paces, as if, even in the +presence of death, they did not forget the difference between their race and +ours.</p> + +<p>Scattered here and there among the trees, torches of lightwood threw a wild +and fitful light over the little cluster of graves, and revealed the long, +straight boxes of rough pine that held the remains of the two negroes, and lit up +the score of russet mounds beneath which slept the dusky kinsmen who had gone +before them.</p> + +<p>The simple head-boards that marked<span class="pageno"><a name="page720" +id="page720"></a>{720}</span> these humble graves chronicled no bad biography or +senseless rhyme, and told no false tales of lives that had better not have been, +but 'SAM, AGE 22;' 'POMPEY;' 'JAKE'S ELIZA;; 'AUNT SUE;' 'AUNT LUCY'S TOM;' +'JOE;' and other like inscriptions, scratched in rough characters on those +unplaned boards, were all the records there. The rude tenants had passed away and +'left no sign;' their birth, their age, their deeds, were alike +unknown—unknown, but not forgotten; for are they not written in the book of +His remembrance—and when He counteth up his jewels, may not some of them be +there?</p> + +<p>The queer, grotesque dress, and sad, earnest looks of the black group; the +red, fitful glare of the blazing pine, and the white faces of the tapped trees, +gleaming through the gloom like so many sheeted-ghosts gathered to some +death-carnival, made up a strange, wild scene—the strangest and the wildest +I had ever witnessed.</p> + +<p>The covers of the rude coffins were not yet nailed down, and when we arrived, +the blacks were one by one passing before them, taking a last look at the faces +of the dead. Soon, Junius, holding his weeping wife by the hand, approached the +smaller of the two boxes, which held all that was left of their first-born. The +mother kneeling by its side, kissed again and again the cold, shrunken lips, and +sobbed as if her heart would break; while the strong frame of the father shook +convulsively, as, choking down the great sorrow which welled up in his throat, he +turned away from his boy forever. As he did so, old Pompey said:</p> + +<p>'Don't grebe, June, he'm whar de wicked cease from trubbling, whar de weary am +at rest.'</p> + +<p>'I knows it; I knows it, Uncle. I knows de Lord am bery good to take 'im 'way; +but why did he take de young chile, and leab de ole man har?'</p> + +<p>'De little sapling dat grow in de shade may die while it'm young; de great +tree dat grow in de sun must lib till de ax cut him down.'</p> + +<p>These words were the one drop wanting to make the great grief which was +swelling in the negro's heart overflow. Giving one low, wild cry, he folded his +wife in his arms, and burst into a paroxysm of tears.</p> + +<p>'Come now, my chil'ren,' said the old preacher, kneeling down, 'let us +pray.'</p> + +<p>The whole assemblage then knelt on the cold ground, while the old man prayed, +and a more sincere, heart-touching prayer never went up from human lips to that +God 'who hath made of one blood all nations that dwell on the face of the earth.' +Though clothed in rags, and in feeble old age, a slave, at the mercy of a cruel +task-master, that old man was richer far than his master. His simple faith, which +looked through the darkness surrounding him into the clear and radiant light of +the unseen land, was of far more worth than all the wealth and glory of this +world. I know not why it was, but as I looked at him in the dim, red light which +fell on his upturned face, and cast a strange halo around his bent form, I +thought of Stephen, as he gazed upward and saw heaven open, and 'the Son of Man +seated at the right hand of the throne of God.'</p> + +<p>Rising from his knees, the old preacher turned slowly to the black mass that +encircled him, and said:</p> + +<p>'My dear bredderin and sisters, de Lord say dat 'de dust shill return to de +earth as it war, and de spirit to Him who gabe it,' and now, 'cordin' to dat +text, my friends, we'm gwine to put dis dust (pointing to the two coffins) in de +groun' whar it cum from, and whar it shill lay till de blessed Lord blow de great +trumpet on de resumrection mornin'. De spirits of our brudders har de Lord hab +already took to hisseff. 'Our brudders,' I say, my chil'ren, 'case ebery one dat +de Lord hab made am brudders to you and to me, whedder dey'm bad or good, white +or brack.</p> + +<p>'Dis young chile, who hab gone 'way and leff his pore fader and mudder +suffrin' all ober wid grief, <i>he</i> hab gone to de Lord, <i>shore</i>. +<i>He</i> neber did no wrong;<span class="pageno"><a name="page721" +id="page721"></a>{721}</span> he allers 'bey'd his massa, and he neber said no +hard word, nor found no fault, not eben w'en de cruel, bad oberseer put de load +so heaby on him dat it kill him. Yes, my bredderin and sisters, <i>he</i> hab +gone to de Lord; gone whar dey don't work in de swamps; whar de little chil'ren +don't tote de big shingles fru de water up to dar knees. No swamps am dar; no +shingles am cut dar; dey doan't need 'em, 'case dar hous'n haint builded wid +hands, for dey'm all built by de Lord, and gib'n to de good niggers, ready-made, +and for nuffin'. De Lord don't say, like as our massa do, 'Pomp, dar's de logs +and de shingles,' (dey'm allers pore shingles, de kine dat woant sell; but he +say, '<i>dey'm</i> good 'nuff for niggers, ef de roof do leak.) De Lord doan't +say: 'Now, Pomp, you go to work and build you' own house; but mine dat you does +you task all de time, jess de same!' But de Lord—de bressed Lord—He +say, w'en we goes up dar, 'Dar, Pomp, dar's de house dat I'se been a buildin' for +you eber sence 'de foundation ob de worle.' It'm done now, and you kin cum in; +your room am jess ready, and ole Sal and de chil'ren dat I tuk 'way from you eber +so long ago, and dat you mourned ober and cried ober as ef you'd neber see dem +agin, <i>dar dey am, all on 'em, a waiting for you</i>. Dey'm been fixin' up de +house 'spressly for you all dese long years, and dey'be got it all nice and +comfible now.' Yas, my frens, glory be to Him, dat's what our Heabenly massa say, +and who ob you wouldn't hab sich a massa as dat? a massa dat don't set you no +hard tasks, and dat gibs you 'nuff to eat, and time to rest and to sing and to +play. A massa dat doan't keep no Yankee oberseer to foller you 'bout wid de big +free-lashed whip; but dat leads you hisseff round to de green pastures and de +still waters; and w'en you'm a-faint and a-tired, and can't go no furder, dat +takes you up in his arms, and carries you in his bosom. What pore darky am dar +dat wudn't hab sich a massa? What one ob us, eben ef we had to work so hard as we +does now, wudn't tink hisseff de happiest nigger in de hull worle, ef he could +hab sich hous'n to lib in as dem? dem hous'n 'not made wid hands, eternal in de +heabens!'</p> + +<p>'But glory, glory to de Lord! my chil'ren, wese all got dat massa, ef we only +knowd it, and he'm buildin' dem housn up dar, now, for ebery one ob us dat am +tryin' to be good and to lub one anoder. <i>For ebery one ob us</i>, I say, and +we kin all git de fine hous'n ef we try.</p> + +<p>'Recolember, too, my brudders, dat our great Massa am rich, bery rich, and He +kin do all he promise. <i>He</i> won't say, w'en wese worked ober time to git +some little ting to comfort de sick chile, 'I knows, Pomp, you'se done de work, +and I did 'gree to gib you de pay; but de fact am, Pomp, de frost hab come so +sudden dis yar, dat I'se loss de hull ob de sebenfh dippin', and I'se pore, so +pore, de chile must go widout dis time.' No, no, brudders, de bressed Lord He +neber talk so. He neber break, 'case de sebenfh dip am shet off, or 'case de +price of turpentime gwo down at de Norf. He neber sell his niggers down Souf, +'case he lose his money on de hoss-race. No, my chil'ren, our HEABENLY Massa am +rich, RICH, I say. He own all dis worle, and all de odor worles dat am shinin' up +dar in de sky. He own dem all; but he tink more ob one ob you, more ob one ob +you—pore, ignorant brack folks dat you am—dan ob all dem great +worles! Who wouldn't belong, to sich a Massa as dat? Who wouldn't be his +nigger—not his slave—He don't hab no slaves—but his chile; and +'ef his chile, den his heir, de heir ob God, and de joint heir wid Christ.' O my +chil'ren! tink of dat! de heir ob de Lord ob all de earth and all de sky! What +white man kin be more'n dat?</p> + +<p>'Don't none ob you say you'm too wicked to be His chile; 'ca'se you an't. He +lubs de wicked ones de best, 'ca'se dey need his lub de most. Yas, my brudders, +eben de wickedest, ef dey's only sorry, and turn roun' and leab off dar bad ways, +he lub de bery best ob all, 'ca'se he'm all lub and pity.</p> + +<p><span class="pageno"><a name="page722" id="page722"></a>{722}</span>'Sam, har, +my children, war wicked, but don't <i>we</i> pity him; don't <i>we</i> tink he +had a hard time, and don't we tink de bad oberseer, who'm layin' dar in de house +jess ready to gwo and answer for it—don't we tink he gabe Sam bery great +probincation?'</p> + +<p>'Dat's so,' said a dozen of the auditors.</p> + +<p>'Den don't you 'spose dat de blessed Lord know all dat, and dat He pity Sam +too? If we pore sinners feel sorry for him, an't de Lord's heart bigger'n our'n, +and an't he more sorry for him? Don't you tink dat ef He lub and pity de bery +worse whites, dat He lub and pity pore Sam, who warn't so bery bad, arter all? +Don't you think He'll gib Sam a house? P'r'aps 'twon't be one ob de fine hous'n, +but won't it be a comfible house, dat hain't no cracks, and one dat'll keep out +de wind and de rain? And don't you s'pose, my chil'ren, dat it'll be big 'nuff +for Jule, too—dat pore, repentin' chile, whose heart am clean broke, 'ca'se +she hab broughten dis on Sam—and won't de Lord—de good Lord—de +tender-hearted Lord—won't He touch Sam's heart, and coax him to forgib +Jule, and to take her inter his house up dar? I knows he will, my chil'ren. I +knows——'</p> + +<p>Here the old negro paused abruptly; for there was a quick swaying in the +crowd—a hasty rush—a wild cry—and Sam's wife burst into the +open space around the preacher, and fell at the old man's feet. Throwing her arms +wildly around him, she shrieked out:</p> + +<p>'Say dat agin, Uncle Pomp! for de lub ob de good Lord, oh! say dat agin!'</p> + +<p>Bending down, the old man raised her gently in his arms, and folding her +there, as he would have folded a child, he said, in a voice thick with +emotion:</p> + +<p>'It am so, Juley. I knows dat Sam will forgib you, and take you wid him up +dar.'</p> + +<p>Fastening her arms frantically around Pompey's neck, the poor woman burst into +a paroxysm of grief, while the old man's tears fell in great drops on her +upturned face, and many a dark cheek near was wet, as with rain.</p> + +<p>The scene had lasted a few minutes, and I was turning away to hide the emotion +that was fast filling my eyes, and creeping up, with a choking feeling, to my +throat, when the Colonel, from the farther edge of the group, called out:</p> + +<p>'Take that d——d —— away—take her away, +Pomp!'</p> + +<p>The old negro turned toward his master with a sad, grieved look, but gave no +heed to the words.</p> + +<p>'Take her away, some of you, I say,' again cried the Colonel. 'Pomp, you +mustn't keep these niggers all night in the cold.'</p> + +<p>At the sound of her master's voice the metif woman fell to the ground as if +struck by a Minie-ball. Soon several negroes lifted her up to bear her away; but +she struggled violently, and rent the woods with her wild cries for 'one more +look at Sam.'</p> + +<p>'Look at him, you d——d ——, then go, and don't let me +see you again.'</p> + +<p>She threw herself on the face of the dead, and covered the cold lips with her +kisses; then rose, and with a weak, uncertain step, staggered out into the +darkness.</p> + +<p>'The system' that had so seared and hardened that man's heart, must have been +begotten in the lowest hell.</p> + +<p>The old preacher said no more, but four stout negro men stepped forward, +nailed down the lids, and lowered the rough boxes into the ground. Turning to +Madam P——, I saw her face was red with weeping. She rose to go just +as the first earth fell, with a dull, heavy sound, on the rude coffins; and +giving her my arm, I led her from the scene.</p> + +<p>As we walked slowly back to the house, a low wail—half a chant, half a +dirge—rose from the black crowd, and floated off on the still night air, +till it died away amid the far woods, in a strange, wild moan. With that sad, +wild music in our ears, we entered the mansion.</p> + +<p>As we seated ourselves by the bright<span class="pageno"><a name="page723" +id="page723"></a>{723}</span> wood-fire on the library hearth, obeying a sudden +impulse which I could not restrain, I said to Madam P——:</p> + +<p>'The Colonel's treatment of that poor woman is inexplicable to me. Why is he +so hard with her? It is not in keeping with what I have seen of his +character.'</p> + +<p>'The Colonel is a peculiar man,' replied the lady. 'Noble, generous, and a +true friend, he is also a bitter, implacable enemy. When he once conceives a +dislike, his feelings become even vindictive; and never having had an ungratified +wish, he does not know how to feel for the sorrows of those beneath him. Sam, +though a proud, headstrong, unruly character, was a great favorite with him; he +felt his death much; and as he attributes it to Jule, he feels terribly bitter +toward her. She will have to be sold to get her out of his way, for he will +<i>never</i> forgive her.'</p> + +<p>It was some time before the Colonel joined us, and when he at last made his +appearance, he seemed in no mood for conversation. The lady soon retired; but +feeling unlike sleep, I took down a book from the shelves, drew my chair near the +fire, and fell to reading. The Colonel, too, was deep in the newspapers, till, +after a while, Jim entered the room:</p> + +<p>'I'se cum to ax ef you've nuffin more to-night, Cunnel?' said the negro.</p> + +<p>'No, nothing, Jim,' replied his master; 'but, stay—hadn't you better +sleep in front of Moye's door?'</p> + +<p>'Dunno, sar; jess as you say.'</p> + +<p>'I think you'd better,' returned the Colonel.</p> + +<p>With a 'Yas, massa,' the darky left the apartment.</p> + +<p>The Colonel shortly rose, and bade me 'good night.' I continued reading till +the clock struck eleven, when I laid the book aside and went to my room.</p> + +<p>I slept, as I have said before, on the lower floor, and was obliged to pass by +the door of the overseer's apartment as I went to mine. Wrapped in his blanket, +and stretched at full length on the ground, Jim lay there, fast asleep. I passed +on, thinking of the wisdom of placing a tired negro on guard over an acute and +desperate Yankee.</p> + +<p>I rose in the morning with the sun, and had partly donned my clothing, when I +heard a loud uproar in the hall. Opening my door, I saw Jim pounding vehemently +at the Colonel's room, and looking as pale as is possible with a person of his +completion.</p> + +<p>'What the d—-l is the matter?' asked his master, who now, partly +dressed, stepped into the hall.</p> + +<p>'Moye hab gone, sar; he'm gone and took Firefly (my host's +five-thousand-dollar thorough-bred) wid him.'</p> + +<p>For a moment the Colonel stood stupified; then, his face turning to a cold, +clayey white, he seized the black by the throat, and hurled him to the floor. +Planting his thick boot on the man's face, he seemed about to dash out his brains +with its ironed heel, when, at that instant, the octoroon woman rushed, in her +night-clothes, from his room, and with desperate energy pushed him aside, +exclaiming: 'What would you do? remember WHO HE IS!'</p> + +<p>The negro rose, and the Colonel, without a word, passed into his apartment. +What followed will be the subject of another chapter.</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="PICAYUNE_BUTLER" id="PICAYUNE_BUTLER"> +</a>PICAYUNE BUTLER.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +'General Butler was a barber,'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So the Pelicans were raving;</span><br /> +Now you've got him in your harbor,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tell us how you like his shaving?</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="LITERARY_NOTICES" id="LITERARY_NOTICES"> +</a>LITERARY NOTICES.</h2> + +<p><span class="pageno"><a name="page724" id="page724"></a>{724}</span> </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: -1em;"> +LECTURES ON THE SCIENCE OF LANGUAGE. Delivered at the royal Institution +of Great Britain in April, May, and June, 1861. By MAX MULLER, +Fellow of All Souls College, etc. From the second London edition, +revised. New-York: Charles Scribner, Boston: A.K. Loring. 1862.</p> + +<p>Within the memory of man one could in England or America be 'very well +educated,' as the word went, and yet remain grossly ignorant of the simplest +elements of the history of language. In those days Latin was held by scholars to +be derived from Greek—where the Greek came from nobody knew or cared, +though it was thought, from Hebrew. German was a jargon, Provençal a +'<i>patois</i>,' and Sanscrit an obsolete tongue, held in reverence by Hindoo +savages. The vast connections of language with history were generally ignored. +Hebrew was assumed, as a matter of course, to have been the primeval language, +and it was wicked to doubt it. Then came Sir William Jones, Carey, Wilkins, +Forster, Colebrooke, and the other Anglo-Indian scholars, and the world learned +what it ought to have learned from the Jesuits, that there was in the East a very +ancient language—Sanscrit—'of wonderful structure, more perfect than +Greek, more copious than Latin, more exquisitely refined than either; bearing to +both a strong affinity,' and stranger still, containing a vast amount of words +almost identical with many in all European and many Oriental tongues. This was an +apocalypse of truth to many—but a source of grief to the orthodox believers +that Greek and Latin were either aboriginal languages, or modifications of +Hebrew. Hence the blind, and in some cases untruthful warfare made on the +Sanscrit discoveries, as in the case of Dugald Stewart.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'Dugald Stewart was too wise not to see that the conclusions drawn +from the facts about Sanscrit were inevitable. He therefore <i>denied</i> +<i>the reality of such a language as Sanscrit altogether</i>, and wrote +his famous essay to prove that Sanscrit had been put together, +after the model of Greek and Latin, by those arch forgers and +liars, the Brahmins, and that the whole of Sanscrit literature was +an imposture.'</p> + +<p>But it was all of no avail. In 1808 Frederick Schlegel's work, <i>On the +Language and Wisdom of the Indians</i>, first 'boldly faced the facts and +conclusions of Sanscrit scholarship, and became,' with all its faults, the +'foundation for the science of language.' Its great result may be given in one +sentence—it embraced at a glance the languages of India, Persia, Greece, +Italy, and Northern Europe, and riveted them by the simple name 'Indo-Germanic.' +Then in this school, begun by English industry and shaped by German genius, came +Franz Bopp, with his great comparative grammar of the Indo-Germanic tongues, and +the enormous labors of Lassen, Rosen, Burnouf, and W. von Humboldt—a man to +whose incredible ability of every kind, as to his secret diplomatic influence, +history has never done justice. Grimm, and Rask—the first great Zend +scholar—were among these early explorers, who have been followed by so many +scholars, until some knowledge not merely of Greek and Latin, but of the +relations of <i>all</i> languages, has become essential to a truly good +education.</p> + +<p>Yet after all, Sanscrit, it was soon seen, was not the parent, but '<i>the +elder sister</i>' of the Indo-Germanic languages. Behind Greek, Latin, and +Sanscrit, Celtic, Teutonic, and Slavonic tongues, lurks a lost language—the +mysterious Aryan, which, reëchoed through the tones of those six remaining +Pleiades, its sisters,<span class="pageno"><a name="page725" +id="page725"></a>{725}</span> speaks of a mighty race which once, it may be, +ruled supreme over a hundred lands, or perchance sole in the Caucasus. It is +strange to see philologists slowly reconstructing, here and there, fragments of +the Aryan,</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'And speak in a tongue which man speaks no +more.'</span><br /> + +<p>Among the many excellent elementary and introductory works on philology which +have appeared of late years, this of Müller's is on several accounts the +best. It is clearly written, so as to be within the comprehension of any reader +of ordinary intelligence, and we can hardly conceive that any such person would +not find it an extremely entertaining book. Its author is a <i>genial</i> +writer—he writes with a relish and with real power—he loves +knowledge, and wishes others to share it with him. Language, he +holds—though the idea is not new with him—springs from a very few +hundred roots, which are the <i>phonetic types</i> produced by a power inherent +in human nature. Every substance has its peculiar <i>ring</i> when +struck—man, under the action of certain laws, must develop first +onomato-poietic sounds, and finally language. With this we take leave of this +excellent work, trusting that the public will extend to it the favor which it so +amply deserves.<br /></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: -1em;"> +THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF WASHINGTON IRVING. By his Nephew, PIERRE M. IRVING. +Vol. I. New-York: G.P. Putnam. Boston: A.K. Loring. 1862.</p> + +<p>This work has a strong, we might say an extraordinary claim to the interest of +the most general reader, in its very first paragraph, since in it we are told +that Washington Irving, on committing to his nephew Pierre the vast mass of +papers requisite to his biography, remarked: 'Somebody will be writing my life +when I am gone, and I wish you to do it. You must promise me that you will.' So +with unusual wealth of material, gathered together for the purpose by the subject +of the biography himself, the work has been begun, by the person whom Irving +judged best fitted for it.</p> + +<p>And a delightful work it is, not a page without something of special relish, +as might be anticipated in the chronicle of a life which is thickly studded with +personal association or correspondence with almost every intellectual eminence +either of Europe or America during the past half-century. But apart from this, +there is a racy Irving-y flavor from the very beginning, long before the wide +world had incorporated Irving into its fraternity of great men, in the details of +life, of home travel and of homely incident, as set forth in extracts from his +letters, which is irresistibly charming. Full as this portion of the life is, we +can not resist the hope that it will be greatly enlarged in subsequent editions, +and that more copious extracts will be given from those letters, to the humblest +of which the writer invariably communicates an indefinable fascination. In them, +as in his regular 'writings,' we find the simplest incident narrated always +without exaggeration—always as briefly as possible, yet told so quaintly +and humorously withal, that we wonder at the piquancy which it assumes. It is the +trouble with great men that they are, for lack of authentic anecdotes and details +of their daily life, apt to retire into myths. Such will not be the case with +Irving. The <i>reality</i>, the life-likeness of these letters, and of the +<i>ana</i> drawn from them, will keep him, Washington Irving the New-Yorker, +alive and breathing before the world to all time. In these chapters a vail seems +lifted from what was growing obscure in our knowledge of social life in the youth +of our fathers. Our only wish, in reading, is for more of it. But the life +gathers interest as it proceeds. From America it extends to Europe, and we meet +the names of Humboldt, De Staël, Allston, Vanderlyn, Mrs. Siddons, as among +his associates even in early youth. So through Home Again and in Europe Again +there is a constant succession of personal experience and wide opportunity to +know the world. Did our limits permit, we would gladly cite largely from these +pages, for it is long since the<span class="pageno"><a name="page726" +id="page726"></a>{726}</span> press has given to the world a book so richly +quotable. But the best service we can render the reader is to refer him to the +work itself, which is as well worth reading as any thing that its illustrious +subject ever wrote, since in it we have most admirably reflected Irving himself; +the best loved of our writers, and the man who did more, so far as intellectual +effort is concerned, to honor our country than any American who ever lived.<br /></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: -1em;"> +BEAUTIES SELECTED FROM THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS DE QUINCKY. With a Portrait. +Boston: Ticknor and Fields.</p> + +<p>We are not sure that this is not the very first book of other than pictorial +beauties which we ever regarded with patience. Books of literary 'beauties' are +like musical matinées—the first act of one opera—the grand +dying-scene from another—all very pretty, but not on the whole +satisfactory, or entitling one to claim from it alone any real knowledge of the +original whole. Yet this volume we have found fascinating, have flitted from page +to page, backwards and forwards, [it is a great advantage in a book of +'unconnections' that one may <i>conscientiously</i> skip about,] and concluded by +thanking in our heart the judicious Eclectic, whoever he may be—who +mosaicked these bits into an enduring picture of De Quincey-ism. For really in +it, by virtue of selection, collection, and recollection, we have given an +authentic cabinet of specimens more directly suggestive of the course and +soul-idioms of the author than many minds would gather from reading <i>all</i> +that he ever wrote. Only one thing seems needed—the great original +commentary or essay on De Quincey, which these Beauties would most happily +illustrate. It seems to rise shadowy before us—a sort of dead-letter ghost +of a glorious book which craves life and has it not. We trust that our suggestion +may induce some admirer of the Opium-Eater to have prepared an interleaved copy +of these Beauties, and perfect the suggestion.</p> +<br /> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: -1em;"> +THE CHURCH IN THE ARMY; OR THE FOUR CENTURIONS. By Rev. WM. A. SCOTT, D.D., +of San Francisco. New-York: Carleton, No. 413 Broadway. Boston: +Crosby and Nichols. 1862.</p> + +<p>Since every one is doing their 'little utmost' for the army, Mr. Scott hath +contributed his mite in a work on the four captains of hundreds mentioned in the +Bible—the first whereof was he of Capernaum; the second, the one commanding +at the crucifixion; the third, that of Cesarea; and the fourth, Julius, the +centurion who had Paul in charge during his voyage to Rome. We are glad to learn, +from the close researches and critical acumen of Rev. Mr. Scott, that there is +very good ground for concluding that all of these centurions were so impressed by +the thrilling scenes which they witnessed, and the society with which they +mingled, as to have eventually been converted and saved, a consummation which may +possibly have escaped the observation of most readers, who, absorbed in their +contemplation of the great <i>dramatis personæ</i>, seldom give thought as +to what the effect on the minor characters must have been. It is worth observing +that our author is thoroughly earnest in his exhortations—at times almost +naively so. If he be often rather over-inclined to threaten grim damnation to an +alarming majority, and describe with a relish the eternal horrors which hang +around the second death, in good old-fashioned style, still we must remember that +he sincerely means what he says, and is a Puritan of the ancient stamp.<span +class="pageno"><a name="page727" id="page727"></a>{727}</span></p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="EDITORS_TABLE" id="EDITORS_TABLE"></a>EDITOR'S TABLE.</h2> + +<p>There is something intensely American in such phrases as 'manifest destiny,' +'mission,' and 'call,' and we may add, something very vigorous may be found in +the character of him who uses them. They are expressions which admit no +alternative, no second possibility. The man of a 'mission,' or of a 'manifest +destiny,' may be a fanatic, but he will be no flincher; he will strive to the +bitter end, and fall dead in the traces; <i>but he will succeed</i>.</p> + +<p>We are glad to learn that there is growing up in the army, and of course from +it in all the homes of the whole country, a fixed impression that the South is +inevitably destined to be 'Northed' or 'free-labored,' as the result of this war. +The intelligent farmer in the ranks, who has learned his superiority to 'Secesh,' +as a soldier, and who <i>knows</i> himself to be superior to any Southern in all +matters of information and practical creative <i>power</i>, looks with scorn at +the worn-out fields, wasteful agriculture, and general shiftlessness of the +natives, and says, with a contemptuous laugh: 'We will get better crops out of +the land, and manage it in another fashion, when <i>we</i> settle down here.' Not +less scornfully does the mechanic look down on the clumsy, labor-wasting +contrivances of the negro or negro-stupified white man, and agree with his mate +that 'these people will never be of much account until we take them in hand.'</p> + +<p>Master-mechanic, master-farmer, <i>you are right</i>. These people <i>are</i> +your inferiors; with all their boasts and brags of 'culture,' you could teach +them, by your shrewder intelligence, at a glance, the short cut to almost any +thing at which their intellects might be employed; and you indulge in a very +natural feeling, when, as conquerors, in glancing over their Canaan, you +involuntarily plan what you will do some day, <i>if</i> a farm should by chance +be your share of the bounty-money, when the war is over. For it is absurd to +suppose that such a country will continue forever a prey to the wasting and +exhaustive disease of the plantation-system, or that the black will always, as at +present, inefficiently and awkwardly fulfill those mechanic labors which a keen +white workman can better manage. Wherever the hand of the Northman touches, in +these times, it shows a superior touch, whether in improvising a six-action +cotton-gin, in repairing locomotives, or in sarcastically seizing a 'Secesh' +newspaper and reëditing it with a storm of fun and piquancy such as its +doleful columns never witnessed of old. In this and in a thousand ways, the +Northern soldier realizes that he is in a land of inferiors, and a very rich land +at that. At this point, his speculations on manifest destiny may very +appropriately begin. There is no harm in suffering this idea to take firm hold. +Like ultimate emancipation, it may be assumed as a fact, all to be determined in +due time, according to the progress of events, as wisely laid down by President +Lincoln, without hurry, without feverish haste, simply guided by the firm +determination that eventually it must be.</p> + +<p>We can not insist too strongly on this great truth, that when a nation makes +up its mind that a certain event <i>must</i> take place, and acts calmly in the +spirit of perfect persuasion, very little is really needed to hasten the +wished-for consummation. Events suddenly spring up to aid, and in due time all is +accomplished. Those who strive to hurry it retard it, those who work to drag it +back hasten<span class="pageno"><a name="page728" id="page728"></a>{728}</span> +it. Never yet on earth was a real conviction crushed or prematurely realized. So +it is, so it will be with this 'Northing' of the South. Let the country simply +familiarize itself with the idea, and the idea will advance as rapidly as need +be. In it lies the only solution of the great problem of reconciling the South +and the North; the sooner we make up our minds to the fact, the better; and, on +the other hand, the more deliberately and calmly we proceed to the work, the more +certain will its accomplishment be. Events are now working to aid us with +tremendous power and rapidity—faith, a judicious guiding of the current as +it runs, is all that is at present required to insure a happy fulfillment.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The degree to which a vindictive and malignant opposition to every thing for +the sake of 'the party' can be carried, has been well illustrated in the amount +and variety of slander which has been heaped by the Southern-rights, sympathizing +Democratic press on the efforts of those noble-hearted women who have endeavored +to do something to alleviate the condition of the thousands of contrabands, who +are many without clothes, employment, or the slightest idea of what they are to +do. It would be hard to imagine any thing more harmless or more perfectly free +from any thing like sinister or selfish motives than have been the conduct and +motives of the noble women who have assumed this mission. Florence Nightingale +undertook nothing nobler; and the world will some day recognize the deserts of +those who strove against every obstacle to relieve the sufferings and enlighten +the ignorance of the blacks—among whom were thousands of women and little +children. Such being the literal truth, what does the reader think of such a +paragraph as the following, which we find going the rounds of the Boston Courier +and other journals of the same political faith?</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'<i>On dit</i>, that some of the schoolmarms who went to South-Carolina +several weeks ago, are not so intent upon teaching the young ideas +how to shoot,' as upon flirting with the officers, in a manner not +entirely consistent with morality. General Hunter is going to send +some of the misbehaving misses home.'</p> + +<p>If there is a loathsome, cowardly, infamous phrase, it is that of <i>on +dit</i>, 'they say,' 'it is said,' when used to assail the virtue of +women—above all, of women engaged in such a cause as that in question. We +believe in our heart, this whole story to be a slander of the meanest description +possible—a piece of as dirty innuendo as ever disgraced a Democratic paper. +The spirit of the viper is apparent in every line of it. Yet it is in perfect +keeping with the storm of abuse and falsehood which has been heaped on these +'contraband' missionaries, teachers, and nurses, since they went their way. They +have been accused of pilfering, of lying, of doing nothing, of corrupting the +blacks, of going out only to speculate, and, as might have been expected, we have +at last the unfailing resort of the lying coward—a dirty hint as to +breaking the seventh commandment—all according to the devilish old Jesuit precept +of, '<i>Calumniare fortiter aliquis kœrebit</i>'—'Slander boldly, +something will be sure to stick.' And to such a depth of degradation—to the +hinting away the characters of young ladies because they try to teach the poor +contrabands—can <i>men</i> descend 'for the sake of the <i>party'!</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Of late years, those soundest of philanthropists, the men of common-sense who +labor unweariedly to facilitate exchanges between civilized nations, have +endeavored to promote in every possible manner the adoption of the same system of +currency, weights and measures among civilized nations. It has been accepted as a +rule beyond all debate, that if such mediums of business could be +adopted—nay, if a common language even were in use, industry would receive +an incalculable impulse, and the<span class="pageno"><a name="page729" +id="page729"></a>{729}</span> production of capital be enormously increased.</p> + +<p>Not so, however, thinks John M. Vernon, of New-Orleans, who, stimulated by the +purest secession sentiments, and urged by the most legitimate secession and +'State rights' logic, has developed a new principle of exclusiveness by devising +a new system of decimal currency, which he thus recommends to the rebel +Congress:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'We are a separate and distinct people, influenced by different +interests and sentiments from the vandals who would subjugate us. +Our manners and customs are different; our tastes and talents are +different; our geographical position is different; and in +conformity with natural laws, nature and instinct, our +currency,—weights and measures, should be different. + 'The basis of integral limit of value proposed for our currency, is +the star, which is to be divided into one hundred equal parts, each +part to be called a centime, namely: 10 centimes—1 tropic; +10 tropics—1 star; 10 stars—1 sol. + 'These denominations for our currency have been selected for three +reasons: first, they are appropriate to ourselves as a people; +second, they are emblems of cheerfulness, honor, honesty of +purpose, solidity, and stability; and third, the words used are +simple, easily remembered, and are common to several languages. I +will, in addition, observe that similar characteristics distinguish +the proposed tables of weights and measures.'</p> + +<p>'Stars'—'centimes'—'tropics,' and 'sols.' Why these words should +be more significant of cheerfulness, honor, honesty, and solidity, than dollars +and dimes, cents and mills, is not, as yet, apparent. As set forth in this +recommendation, it would really appear that the root of all evil would have its +evil properties extracted by giving the radical a different name. To be sure, the +wages of sin thus far in the world's history, have generally been found +equivalent to death, whether they are termed guineas, francs, thalers, cobangs, +pesos, sequins, ducats, or dollars. But in Dixie—happy Dixie!—they +only need another name, and lo! a miracle is to be wrought at once.</p> + +<p>There is something in this whole proposition which accurately embodies the +whole Southern policy. While the rest of the world is working to assimilate into +civilization, they are laboring to get away and apart—to be different from +everybody else—to remain provincial and 'peculiar.' It is the working of +the same spirit which inspires the desire to substitute 'State rights' or +individual will, or, in plain terms, lawlessness and barbarism for enlightenment +and common rights. It is a craving for darkness instead of light, for antiquated +feudal falsehood instead of republican truth; and it will meet with the destiny +which awaits every struggle against the great and holy cause of humanity.</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="KYNG_COTEN" id="KYNG_COTEN"></a>KYNG COTEN.</h2> + +<p class="center">A 'DARK' CONCEIT.<br /> +(<i>Being an ensample of a longe poeme.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem2"> + +O muse! that did me somedeal favour erst,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereas I piped my silly oaten +reede,</span><br /> +And songs in homely guise to mine reherst,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well pleased with maiden's smilings for my +meed;</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sweet muse, do give my Pegasus good +speede,</span><br /> +And send to him of thy high, potent might,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whiles mortalls I all of my theme do +rede,</span><br /> +Thatte is the story of a doughty knight,<br /> +Who eftsoons wageth war, Kyng COTEN is he hight.<br /> +<br /> +Kyng Coten cometh of a goodly race,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though black it was, as records sothly +tell;</span><br /> +But thatte is nought, which only is the face,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And ne the hart, where alle goode beings +dwell;</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">For witness him the puissant +Hannibal,</span><br /> +Who was in veray sooth a Black-a-Moor;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Cleopatra, Egypt's darksome +belle,</span><br /> +And others, great on earth, a hundred score;<br /> +Howbeit, ilke kyng was white, which doth amaze me sore.<br /> +<br /> +Kyng Coten cometh of a goodly race,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">As born of fathers clean as many as</span><br /> +The sands thatte doe the mighty sea-shore grace,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">But black, as sayde, as dark is +Erebus.</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">His rule the Southron Federation +was,</span><br /> +Thatte was a part of great Columbia,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which was as fayre a clyme as man mote +pass;</span><br /> + <span class="pageno"><a name="page730" id="page730"></a>{730}</span> And situate +where Vesper holds his swaye,<br /> +But habited wilome by men of salvage fray.<br /> +<br /> +Farre in the North he had an enimie,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who certes was the knight's true +soveraine,</span><br /> +Who likéd not his wicked slaverie,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which 'cross God's will was counter-wisely +laine,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whiles he himself, it seemeth now right +playne,</span><br /> +Did seek to have a kyngdom of his kynde,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where he, as tyrant-like, mote lonly +raine;</span><br /> +So to a treacherie he fetched his mynde,<br /> +Which soon was rent in four, and sent upon each wynde.<br /> +<br /> +His enimie thatte liveth in the North,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who, after all, was not his enimie,</span><br /> +Ydeemed he was a gentilman of worth,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Too proud to make so vile a +villianie,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, therefore, did ne tent his +railerie,</span><br /> +But went his ways, as was his wont wilome;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Goliah, he turned out eftsoons, ah! +me,</span><br /> +Who leaned upon his speare when David come,<br /> +And laughed to scorn the sillie boy his threat'ning doom.<br /> +<br /> +But when his stronghold in ye Southron land,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of formidable front, Forte Sumter +hight,</span><br /> +Did fall into Kyng Coten's rebell hand,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who coward-wise did challenge to the +fight,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some several men again his host of +might;</span><br /> +Then Samuel, for so was he yclipt,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Begun in batail's gear himself to +dight,</span><br /> +As being fooled by him with whom he sippt,<br /> +And hied him out, loud crying, 'Treason must be nippt!'<br /> +<br /> +O ye who doe the crusades' musters tell,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">In wise that maketh myndes +incredulous,</span><br /> +And paynte how like Dan Neptune's sweeping swell<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The North bore down on the +perfidious!</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ne nigh so potent thatte as was with +us;</span><br /> +Where men, like locusts, darkened all the land,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">As marched they toward the place that's +treacherous,</span><br /> +And shippes, that eke did follow the command,<br /> +Like forests, motion-got, doe walk along the strand.<br /> +<br /> +Fierce battails ther were fought upon the ground,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thatte rob'd the heavens alle in ayer dunne;</span><br /> +And shoke the world as doth the thunder's sound,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till, soth to say, it well-nigh was +undone:</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">But of them alle, ther is an one</span><br /> +That frayle pen dispairs for to descrive,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which mortalls call the Battail of +Bull Run;</span><br /> +But why I mote ne tell, as I'm alive,<br /> +Unless it haply be ther <i>running</i> did most thrive.<br /> +</div> +<hr class="quarter" /> +<div class="poem2"> + <span style="margin-left: 10em;">LAWRENCE MINOT.</span> +</div> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<p><a name="Our_Orientalist_appears_this_month" +id="Our_Orientalist_appears_this_month"></a>'Our Orientalist' appears this month +with</p> + +<h3 class="center">EGYPT IN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS.</h3> + +<p class="center">BY A FAST TRAVELER.</p> + +<p>'You ought to go to the East,' said Mr. Swift, with a wave of his hand; 'I've +been there, and seen it under peculiar circumstances.'</p> + +<p>'Explain, O howaga! Give us the facts.</p> + +<p>'Immediately. Just place the punch-pitcher where I can reach it easily. That's +right! Light another Cabañas. So; now for it. In 1858, month of December, +I was settled in comfortable quarters in the Santa Lucia, Naples, and fully +expected to winter there at my ease, when, to my disgust, I received letters from +England, briefly ordering me by first steamer to Alexandria, thence per railroad +to Cairo, there to see the head of a certain banking-house; transact my business, +and return to Naples with all possible dispatch. No sooner said than done; there +was one of the Messagérie steamers up for Malta next day; got my passport +visaed, secured berth, all right. Next night I was steaming it past Stromboli, +next morning in Messina; then Malta, where I found steamer up for Alexandria that +night; in four days was off that port, at six o'clock in the morning, and at +half-past eight o'clock was in the cars, landing in Cairo at four o'clock in the +afternoon. Posted from the railroad-station to the banker's, saw my man, arranged +my business, was to receive instructions at seven o'clock the next morning, and +at eight o'clock take the return train to Alexandria, where a steamer was to sail +next day, that would carry me back to Naples, <i>presto</i>! as the jugglers +say.</p> + +<p>'There, breathe a little, and take another glass of punch, while I recall my +day in the East.</p> + +<p>'Through at the banker's, he recommended<span class="pageno"><a name="page731" +id="page731"></a>{731}</span> me to the Hotel ——, where I would find +a good table, clean rooms, and none of my English compatriots. I love my native +land and my countrymen <i>in it</i>, but as for them out of it, and as +Bohemians—ugh! I am too much of a wolf myself to love wolves. Arrived at +the hotel, with my head swimming with palm-trees, railroad, turbans, tarbooshes, +veiled women, camels, pipes, dust, donkeys, oceans of blue calico, groaning +water-wheels, the Nile, far-off view of the Pyramids, etc., I at once asked the +headwaiter for a room, water, towels; he passed me into the hands of a very tall +Berber answering to the name of Yusef, who was dressed in flowing garments and +tarboosh, and who was one of the gentlest beings entitled to wear breeches I have +ever seen; he had feet that in my recollection seem a yard long, and how he +managed to move so noiselessly, unless both pedals were soft-shod, worries me to +the present time. Well, at six o'clock the gong sounded for dinner, and out I +went over marble floors to the dining hall, where I found only three other +guests, who saluted me courteously when I entered, and at a signal from Yusef, a +compromise between a bow and a salaam, we seated ourselves at table. Of the three +guests, one was particularly a marked man, apart from his costume, that of a +cavalry officer in the Pacha's service; there was something grand in his face, +large blue eyes, full of humor and <i>bonhommie</i>, a prominent nose, a broad +forehead, burned brown with the sun, his head covered with the omnipresent +tarboosh, a mustache like Cartouche's; such was my <i>vis-à-vis</i> at the +hotel-table.</p> + +<p>'In conversation with this officer, it turned up that one of my most intimate +friends was his cousin, and so we had a bottle of old East-India pale sherry over +that; then we had another to finally cement our acquaintance; I said +finally—I should say, finally for dinner.</p> + +<p>'I have seen the interiors of more than three hundred hotels in Europe, +Africa, and America; but I have yet to see one that appeared so outrageously +romantic as that of the Hotel ——, at Cairo, after that second bottle +of sherry! The divans on which we reposed, the curious interlacing of the figures +on the ceiling, the raised marble floor at the end of the room overlooking the +street, the arabesques on the doors, and finally the never-ending masquerade-ball +going on in the street under the divans where we sat and smoked.</p> + +<p>'I can't tell you how it happened, but after very small cups of very black +coffee and a pousse café, in the officer's room, of genuine kirschwasser +and good curaçoa, I was mounted on a bay horse; there was a dapple-gray +alongside of me; and running ahead of us, to clear the way, the officer's +<i>sais</i> afoot, ready to hold our horses when we halted. We were quickly +mounted and off like the wind, past turbans, flowing bournouses, tarbooshes, past +grand old mosques, petty cafés, where the faithful were squatting on +bamboo-seats, smoking pipes or drinking coffee-grounds, while listening to a +storyteller, possibly relating some story in the <i>Arabian Nights</i>; then we +were through the bazaars, all closed now and silent; then up in the citadel, and +through the mosque of Yusef; then down and scouring over the flying sand among +the grand old tombs of the Mamelukes and of the caliphs; then off at break-neck +speed toward the Mokatamma mountains, from a rise on the lower spur of one of +which we saw, in the shadow of the coming night, the Pyramids and the +slow-flowing Nile.</p> + +<p>'Again we were in Cairo, and now threading narrow street after street, the +fall of our horses' hoofs hardly heard on the unpaved ways, as we were passing +under overhanging balconies covered with lace-work lattices. As it grew darker, +our <i>sais</i> preceded us with lighted lantern, shouting to pedestrians, blind +and halt, to clear the road for the coming effendis.</p> + +<p>'<i>Halte la!</i></p> + +<p>'My foaming bay was reined in with a strong hand, I leaped from the saddle, +and found the <i>sais</i> at hand to hold our horses, while we saw the seventh +heaven of the Koran, and by no means <i>al Hotama</i>.</p> + +<p>'With a foresight indicating an old campaigner, the officer produced a couple +of bottles of sherry from the capacious folds of the <i>sais</i>' mantle, and +unlocking the door of the house in front of which we stood, invited me to enter. +Two or three turns, a court-yard full of rose-bushes, and an enormous palm-tree, +a fountain shooting up its sparkling waters in the moonlight, a clapping of +hands, chibouks, sherry cooled in the fountain.</p> + +<p>'Then, in the moonlight, the gleam of white flowing garments, the nervous +thrill<span class="pageno"><a name="page732" id="page732"></a>{732}</span> +breathed in from perfumes filling the evening air; the great swimming eyes; the +kiss; the ah!—other bottles of sherry. The fingans of coffee, the pipe of +Latakiah tobacco, the blowing a cloud into dreamland, while Fatima or Zoe insists +on taking a puff with you.</p> + +<p>'But as she said, '<i>Hathih al-kissah moaththirah</i>, which, in the +vernacular, is. 'This history is affecting,' so let us pass it by. We finished +those two bottles of sherry, and if Mohammed, in his majesty, refuses admittance +to two Peris into paradise, because they drank sherry that night, let the sins be +on our shoulders, WE are to blame.</p> + +<p>'Next morning, at seven o'clock, I was at the banker's, and received his +orders, and at six o'clock that evening was steaming out of Alexandria, bound to +Naples <i>via</i> Malta. A little over twenty-four hours, and I had SEEN THE +ORIENT THROUGH SHERRY—pale, golden, and serenely beautiful!</p> + +<p>'Pass the punch.'</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<p><a name="Very_welcome_is_our_pleasant_contributor" +id="Very_welcome_is_our_pleasant_contributor"></a> Very welcome is our +pleasant contributor—he who of late discoursed on 'honeyed thefts' and +rural religious discipline—and now, in the present letter, he gives us his +views on meals, feeds, banquets, symposia, or by whatever name the reader may +choose to designate assemblies for the purpose of eating.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +Please make room at this table, right here, for me. Surely at a +table of such dimensions, there should be plenty of room. Many a +table-scene do I now recall, in days gone by, 'all of which I saw, +and part of which I was,' but nothing like this. Tables of all +sorts and sizes, but never a CONTINENTAL table before. I suppose +the nearest approach to it was <i>the</i> picnic dinner the wee +youngsters used to eat off the <i>ground</i>! A CONTINENTAL table! The +most hospitable idea imaginable. Give place! Do you demand my +credentials, my card, my ticket? Here we have it all; a little note +from mine host, Mr. LELAND, inviting the bearer to this monthly +repast, and requesting, very properly—it was the way we always +did, when we used to get up picnics—that the receiver of the note +bring some sort of refreshments along. Thank you. This seat is very +comfortable. What more appropriate, at such a time, than the +discussion of <i>the Meal?</i></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +I protest I am no glutton; in fact, I despise the man whose +meal-times are the epochs of his life; yet I frankly confess to +emotions of a very positive character, in contemplating the +associations of the table, and I admit farther, that I take +pleasure in the reality as well as in the imagination. I like to be +'one of the company,' whether in palace or in farm-house. I always +brighten up when I see the dining-room door thrown open to an angle +hospitably obtuse, and am pleased alike with the politely-worded +request, 'Will the ladies and gentlemen please walk out and partake +of some refreshments?' or the blunt, kindly voice of mine host, +'Come, friends; dinner's ready.' Still I assert my freedom from any +slavish fondness for the creature comforts. It is not the bill of +fare that so pleases me. In fact, some of the best meals of which I +have ever partaken, were those the materials of which I could not +have remembered twenty minutes after. Exquisite palatal pleasures, +then, are not a <i>sine qua non</i> in the enjoyment of table comforts. +No, indeed. There is a condiment which is calculated to impart a +high relish to the humblest fare; but without this charmed +seasoning, every banquet is a failure. Solomon was a man of nice +observation, even in so humble a matter as a meal. Let him reveal +the secret in his own words: 'Better is a dinner of herbs, where +LOVE is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +By a merciful arrangement of Providence, man is so constituted that +he may think, talk, and eat, all at one and the same time. Hence, +the table is often the scene of animated and very interesting +conversations, provided <i>love is there</i>. Many of our Saviour's most +interesting and instructive discourses were delivered while +'sitting at meat,' and the 'table-talk' of some authors is +decidedly the most meritorious of all their performances.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +But the truth is, there are not many meals where love <i>is</i> entirely +absent. Cheerfulness is naturally connected with eating; eating +begets it probably. It is difficult for a man to eat at all, if he +is in a bad humor. Quite impossible, if he is in a rage; especially +if he is obliged to sit down to his dinner in company with the man +he hates. There are so many little kind offices that guests must +perform for each other at table, so many delicate compliments may +be paid to those we love or revere, by polite attentions to them, +<span class="pageno"><a name="page733" id="page733"></a>{733}</span> +and so necessary, indeed, have these become to our notion of a +satisfactory repast, that to banish such amiable usages from our +tables would be not only to degrade us to the level of the brute, +but would deprive us of a most humanising and refining means of +enjoyment. How beautiful and necessary, then, is the arrangement by +which, morning, noon, and night, (I pity folks who only eat twice a +day,) the members of the household are brought together in such +kindly intercourse around the family board! How seldom would they +assemble thus pleasantly, were it not for the meal!</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +The little wounds and scratches which the sharp edges of our +characters will inflict upon each other, when brought together in +the necessary contact of daily intercourse, would otherwise be +suffered to fret and vex us sorely; but before they have had time +to fester and inflame, meal-time comes, and brings with it the +magic, mollifying oil.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +It is meet, then, (we spell the word with two e's, mind you,) that, +on any occasion of public rejoicing, the banquet should be an +indispensable accompaniment. The accomplishment of some important +public enterprise, the celebration of the birth-days of great and +good men, a nation's holidays, the reünions of friends engaged in a +common cause, are occasions in which the dinner, very properly, +constitutes one of the leading features.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +And what can be more exhilarating than the innocent mirthfulness, +the unaffected kindnesses, the witty speeches, the sprightly +conversations which are universally incident to such occasions? No +wonder Lycurgus decreed that the Spartans should eat in public. +Ostensibly, it was for the sake of the grave conversations of the +elders at such times, but really, I imagine, it was to keep the +citizens (who had been at swords' points with each other) in a good +humor, by bringing them around a common table.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +He knew that if any thing would soften their mutual asperities and +cultivate mutual good feeling, such a measure would. Would it not +be well for modern times to take a hint here? Had I been appointed +architect of the Capitol, I think I could have saved the feuds +which long ago sprang up, and which have resulted in, and will yet +bring about, alas! we know not how much bloodshed. I would have +constructed a couple of immense dining-rooms, with all the +necessary appurtenances. Just to think how different would have +been the aspect of things in the chamber where Sumner once lay +bleeding, and in the hall where a gentleman, in a mêlée, '<i>stubbed</i> +<i>his toe and fell</i>!' There would have been Mr. Breckinridge, in a +canopied seat at the head of one of the tables, rapping the Senate +to order with his knife-handle, and Mr. Orr at the head of the +other, uncovering an immense tureen, with the remark that '<i>the</i> +<i>House will now proceed to business</i>!' How strange it would be to +hear any angry debate at such a time! Imagine a Congressman helping +himself to a batter-cake and at the same time calling his +brother-member a liar! or throwing down his napkin, by way of +challenge to '<i>the gentleman on the opposite side of the table</i>!' +Think of Keitt politely handing Grow the cream-pitcher, and +attempting to knock him down before the meal was dispatched. Had +the discussion of the Lecompton Constitution been carried on +simultaneously with that of a couple of dozen roast turkeys, I +sometimes think we might have avoided this war.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +Not only in public but in private rejoicings, is the table the +scene of chief enjoyment. When was it that the fatted calf was +killed? On what occasion was the water turned into wine? What +better way to rejoice over the return of a long-absent one than to +meet him around the hospitable table? Ye gods! let your mouths +water! There's a feast ahead for our brave soldiers, when they come +home from this war, that will make your tables look beggarly. I +refer to that auspicious moment when the patriot now baring his +bosom to the bloody brunt of war, shall sit down once more to the +table, in his own dear home, however humble, and partake of the +cheerful meal in peace, with his wife and his little ones about +him. Oh! for the luxury of that first meal! I almost feel as if I +could endure the hardships of the fierce campaign that precedes it.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +There is no memory so pleasant to me as that of the annual reünion +of my aunts and uncles, with their respective troops of cousins, at +the house of my dear grandmother of blessed memory. It was pleasant +to watch the conveyances one by one coming in, laden with friends +who had traveled many a weary mile to be present on the great +occasion. It was pleasant to witness the mutual recognitions of +<span class="pageno"><a name="page734" id="page734"></a>{734}</span> +brothers and sisters with their respective wives and husbands; to +observe the transports of the little fellows, in their hearty +greetings, after a twelve months' separation, and to hear their +expressions of mingled surprise and delight on being introduced to +the strange <i>little</i> cousins, whose presence increased the number +considerably above the preceding census. But the culminating point +was yet to come. That was attained when all the brothers and +sisters had gathered around the great long table, just as they did +when they were children, with their dear mother at the head, +surveying the scene in quiet enjoyment, and one of the 'older boys' +at the foot, to ask a blessing. There were the waffle-cakes, baked +in the irons which had furnished every cake for that table for the +last quarter of a century. There was the roast-turkey, which +grandma had been putting through a generous system of dietetics for +weeks, preparatory to this occasion. It rested on the same old +turkey-plate, with its two great birds sitting on a rose-bush, and +by its side was the great old carving-knife, which had from time +immemorial been the instrument of dissection on such occasions. And +there was maple-molasses from Uncle D——'s 'sugar-camp,' and +cheese from Aunt N——'s press, and +honey from Uncle T——'s hives, +and oranges which Aunt I——, who lived in the city, had provided, +and all contained in the old-fashioned plates and dishes of a +preceding generation.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +I discover I am treating my subject in a very desultory manner. +Perhaps I should have stated that under the head of the complete +genus, <i>meal</i>, there are three distinct species, public, social, +and private. That the grand banquet, celebrating some great man's +birth, or the success of some noble public enterprise, with its +assemblages of the great and the good from every part of the +country; the Fourth of July festival, in honor of our nation's +independence, with its speeches, its drums, its toasts, and its +cannon; the '<i>table d'hôte</i>,' or in plain English, the hotel +dinner-table, so remarkable for the multitude of its dishes and the +meagreness of their contents; the harvest-feast, the exact opposite +of the last-named, even to the mellow thirds and fifths that come +floating over the valleys from the old-fashioned dinner-horn, +calling in the tired laborers; its musical invitation in such +striking contrast with the unimagined horrors of the gong that +bellows its expectant victims to their meals; the family repast, +where one so often feels gratified with the delicate compliment of +a mother, a sister, or a wife, in placing some favorite dish or +flower near his plate; the annual gatherings of jolly alumni; the +delightful concourse of relatives and friends; the gleesome picnic +lunch, with its grassy carpet and log seats; the luxurious +oyster-supper, with its temptations 'to carry the thing too far;' +the festival at the donation-party, which, in common parlance, +would be called a dish of 'all sorts;' the self-boarding student's +desolate corn-cake, baked in a pan of multifarious use: all these +are so many modifications under their respective species.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +Let me remark, in conclusion, that there are some meals from which +I pray to be delivered. There is the noisy dinner of the +country-town <i>tavern</i> or railroad station, where each individual +seems particularly anxious that number <i>one</i> should be provided +for, and where, in truth, he is obliged often to make pretty +vigorous efforts, if he succeeds. Again, have you ever observed how +gloomy is the look of those who for the first time gather around +the table, after the departure of a friend? The breakfast was +earlier than usual, and the dishes were suffered to stand and the +beds to go unmade, and housemaid, chamber-maid, cook, and +seamstress, all engaged in the <i>mélée</i> +of packing up, and of course +came in for their share of 'good-bys.' After the guests were fairly +off, 'things took a stand-still' for a while. All hands sat down +and rested, and looked very blank, and didn't know just where to +begin. Slowly, confusion began to relax <i>his</i> hold, and order, by +degrees, resumed <i>her</i> sway; (for the life of me, I can't bring +myself to determine the genders in any other way.) But when, at +last, the dinner-hour came, how strangely silent were the eaters! +Ah! if the departed one have gone to his long home, how <i>solemn</i> is +this first meeting of the family, after their return to their +lonely home! It may be the sire whose place at the head of the +table is now vacant, and whose silvery voice we no longer hear +humbly invoking the divine blessing; or perhaps the mother, and how +studiously we keep our eye away from the seat where her generous +hand was wont to pour our tea. Perhaps the little one, the idol of +the household, whose chirruping voice was wont to set us all +<span class="pageno"><a name="page735" id="page735"></a>{735}</span> +laughing with droll remarks, expressed in baby dialect. How we miss +the little high-chair that was always drawn up close by papa!' How +our eyes will swim and our hearts swell up and choke us when we see +it pushed back into the corner, now silent and vacant! Hast thou +not wept thus? Be grateful. Thou hast been spared one of life's +keenest pangs.</p> + +<p>Thou speakest well. Dr. Doran has pleased us with his <i>Table Traits</i>, but +a great book yet remains to be written on the social power of meals. The +immortals were never so lordly as when assembled at the celestial table, where +inextinguishable laughter went the rounds with the nectar. The heroes of Valhalla +were most glorious over the ever-growing roast-boar and never-failing mead. Heine +suggests a millennial banquet of all nations, where the French are to have the +place of honor, for their improvements in freedom and in cookery, and Master +Rabelais could imagine nothing more genial than when in the <i>Moyen de +Parvenir</i>, he placed all the gay, gallant, wise, brave, genial, joyous dames +and demoiselles, knights, and scholars of all ages at one eternal supper. Ah! +yes; it matters but little what is 'gatherounded,' as a quaint Americanism hath +it, so that the wit, and smiles, and good-fellowship be there.</p> +<hr class="page" /> + +<p><a name="It_is_stated_in_the_newspapers" +id="It_is_stated_in_the_newspapers"></a> It is stated in the +newspapers—we know not on what authority—that Charles A. Dana, +late of the New-York <i>Tribune</i>, will probably receive an important +appointment in the army. A man of iron will, of indomitable energy, undoubted +courage, and of an inexhaustible genius, which displays itself by mastering every +subject as by intuition, Dana is one whom, of all others, we would wish to see +actively employed in the war. We have described him in by-gone days as one who +was 'an editor by destiny and a soldier by nature,' and sincerely trust that his +career will yet happily confer upon him military honors. No man in +America—we speak advisedly—has labored more assiduously, or with more +sterling honest conviction in politics, than Charles A. Dana. The influence which +he has exerted has been immense, and it is fit that it be recognized. Men who, +like him, combine stern integrity with vigorous practical talent, have a claim to +lead.</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<p><a name="Among_the_most_striking_songs_which_the_war_has_brought_forth" +id="Among_the_most_striking_songs_which_the_war_has_brought_forth"></a>Among +the most striking songs which the war has brought forth, we must class that +grim Puritanical lyric, 'The Kansas John Brown,' which appeared originally in the +Kansas <i>Herald</i>, and which is, as we are informed, extensively sung in the +army. The words are as follows:</p> + +<p class="center">THE KANSAS JOHN BROWN SONG.</p> + +<div class="poem3"> + +<p>Old John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,<br /> +While the bondmen all are weeping whom he ventured for to save;<br /> +But though he lost his life a-fighting for the slave,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">His soul is marching on.</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Glory, glory, Hallelujah!</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Glory, glory, Hallelujah!</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Glory, glory, Hallelujah!</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">His soul is marching on.</span><br /> +<br /> +John Brown was a hero undaunted, true and brave,<br /> +And Kansas knew his valor when he fought her rights to save;<br /> +And now, though the grass grows green above his grave,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">His soul is marching on.</span><br /> +<br /> +He captured Harper's Ferry with his nineteen men so few,<br /> +And frightened Old Virginia till she trembled through and through;<br /> +They hung him for a traitor—themselves a traitor crew,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">But his soul is marching on.</span><br /> +<br /> +John Brown was John the Baptist of the Christ we are to see;<br /> +CHRIST, who of the bondmen shall the Liberator be;<br /> +And soon through all the South the slaves shall all be free,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">For his soul goes marching on.</span><br /> +<br /> +John Brown he was a soldier—a soldier of the LORD;<br /> +John Brown he was a martyr—a martyr to the WORD;<br /> + <span class="pageno"><a name="page736" id="page736"></a>{736}</span> And he made +the gallows holy when he perished by the cord,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">For his soul goes marching on.</span><br /> +<br /> +The battle that John Brown begun, he looks from heaven to view,<br /> +On the army of the Union with its flag, red, white and blue;<br /> +<i>And the angels shall sing hymns o'er the deeds we mean to do</i>,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>As we go marching on!</i></span><br /> +<br /> +Ye soldiers of JESUS, then strike it while you may,<br /> +The death-blow of Oppression in a better time and way,<br /> +For the dawn of Old John Brown is a-brightening into day,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">And his soul is marching on.</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Glory, glory, Hallelujah!</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Glory, glory, Hallelujah!</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Glory, glory, Hallelujah!</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3em;">His soul is marching on.</span><br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>There! if the soldiers of Cromwell and of Ireton had any lyric to beat +<i>that</i>, we should like to see it. Among its rough and rude rhymes gleams out +a fierce fire which we supposed was long since extinct. Verily, old Father +Puritan is <i>not</i> dead yet, neither does he sleep; and to judge from what we have +heard of the effects of this song among the soldiers, we should say that grim Old +John Brown himself, far from perishing, is even now terribly alive. There is +something fearful in the inspiration which can inspire songs like this.</p> +<hr class="page" /> + +<p><a name="GALLI_VAN_T_is_welcome" id="GALLI_VAN_T_is_welcome"></a> 'GALLI +VAN T' is welcome, and will be 'welcomer' when he again visits us in another +letter like this:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> + DEAR CONTINENTAL: I have a friend who is not an artful man, though + he be full of art; and yesterday evening he told me the following:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> + 'In my early days, when I took views of burly farmers and their + bouncing daughters in oil, and painted portraits of their favorite + horses for a very moderate <i>honorarium</i>, and in short, was the + artist of a small country town—why, then, to tell the truth, I was + held to be one of the greatest painters in existence. Since + studying abroad, and settling down in New-York mdash;—'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> + 'And getting your name up among the first,' I added.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> + 'Never mind that—I'm not 'the greatest painter that ever lived' + here. But in Spodunk, I was. Folks 'admired to see me.' I was a man + that 'had got talent into him,' and the village damsels invited me + to tea. There were occasional drawbacks, to be sure. One day a man + who had heard that I had painted Doctor Hewls's house, called and + asked me what I would charge to paint his little 'humsted.' I + offered to do it for twenty dollars.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> + 'He gave me a shrewd gimlet-look and said:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> + 'Find your own paint—o' course?' </p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> + ''Of course,' I replied. What color?'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> + ''Why, the same color you now have,' was my astonished answer.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +''Wall, I don't know. My wife kind o' thinks that turtle-color + would suit our house better than Spanish brown. You put on two + coats, of course?'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'I now saw what he meant, and roaring with laughter, explained to + him that there was a difference between apainter of houses and a + house-painter.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'One morning I was interrupted by a grim, Herculean, stern-looking + young fellow—one who was manifestly a man of facts—who, with a + brief introduction of himself, asked if I could teach 'the pictur + business.' I signified my assent, and while talking of terms, + continued painting away at a landscape. I noticed that my visitor + glanced at my work at first as if puzzled, and then with an air of + contempt. Finally he inquired:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> + '''S <i>that</i> the way you make your pictures?'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +''That is it,' I replied.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +''Do you have to keep workin' it in, bit by bit, <i>slow</i>—like as a + gal works woosted-patterns?'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +''Yes, and sometimes much slower, to paint well.'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +''How long 'll it take to learn your trade?'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +''Well, if you've any genius for it, you may become a tolerable + artist in two years.'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +''Two—<i>thunder</i>! Why, a man could learn to make shoes, in that + time!'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +''Very likely. There is not one man in a hundred, who can make + shoes, who would ever become even a middling sort of artist.'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +''<i>Darn</i> paintin'!' was the reply of my visitor, as he took up his +club to depart—his hat had not been removed during the whole of +<span class="pageno"><a name="page737" id="page737"></a>{737}</span> +the visit. 'Darn paintin'! I thought you did the thing with +stencils, and finished it up with a comb and a scraper. Mister, I + don't want to hurt your feeling—but cordin' to <i>my</i> way o' + thinkin', paintin' as <i>you</i> do it, an't a trade at all—it's + nothin' but a darned despisable <i>fine art!</i>'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'And with this candid statement of his views, my lost pupil turned + to go. I burst out laughing. He turned around squarely, and + presenting an angry front not unlike that of a mad bull, inquired + abruptly, as he glared at me:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +''Maybe you'd like to paint my portrit?'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'I looked at him steadily in the eyes, as I gravely took up my + spatula, (I knew he thought it some deadly kind of dagger,) and + answered:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +''I don't paint animals.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'He gave me a parting look, and abscondulated.' When I saw him +last, he was among the City Fathers! +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">GALLI VAN T.'</span></p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="A_SONG_OF_THE_PRESENT" id="A_SONG_OF_THE_PRESENT"> +</a>A SONG OF THE PRESENT.</h2> + +<p class="center">BY EDWARD S. RAND, JR.</p> + +<div class="poem3"> +Not to the Past whose smouldering embers lie,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Sad relics of the hopes we fondly +nursed,</span><br /> +Not to the moments that have hurried by,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Whose joys and griefs are lived, the best, the +worst.</span><br /> +<br /> +Not to the Future, 'tis a realm where dwell<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fair, misty ghosts, which fade as we draw +near,</span><br /> +Whose fair mirages coming hours dispel,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">A land whose hopes find no fruition +here.</span><br /> +<br /> +But to the Present: be it dark or bright,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stout-hearted greet it; turn its ill to +good;</span><br /> +Throw on its clouds a soul-reflected light;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its ills are blessings, rightly +understood.</span><br /> +<br /> +Prate not of failing hopes, of fading flowers;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whine not in melancholy, plaintive +lays,</span><br /> +Of joys departed, vanished sunny hours;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">A cheerful heart turns every thing to +praise.</span><br /> +<br /> +Clouds can not always lower, the sun must shine;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grief can not always last, joy's hour will +come;</span><br /> +Seize as you may, each sunbeam, make it thine,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make thy heart the sunshine's constant +home.</span><br /> +<br /> +Nor for thyself alone, a sunny smile<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Carries a magic nothing can +withstand;</span><br /> +A cheerful look may many a care beguile,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And to the weary be a helping hand.</span><br /> +<br /> +Be brave—clasp thy great sorrows in thy arms;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: .5em;">Though eagle-like, they threat, with lifted +crest,</span><br /> +The dread, the terror which thy soul alarms,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: .5em;">Shall turn a peaceful dove upon thy +breast.</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"> +<a name="A_STRANGE_STORY_ITS_SEQUEL" id="A_STRANGE_STORY_ITS_SEQUEL"> +</a>A STRANGE STORY—ITS SEQUEL.</h2> + +<h4 class="center">PREFACE.</h4> + +<p>The often expressed wish of the American Press for an explanation of the +meaning of 'A Strange Story,' shall be complied with. It is purely and simply +this: Many novels, most of them, in fact, treat of the World; the rest may be +divided into those vaguely attempting to describe the works of the Flesh and the +Devil. This division of subjects is fatal to their force; there was need to write +a novel embracing them all; therefore 'A Strange Story' was penned. Mrs. Colonel +Poyntz personated the World, Doctor Fenwick the Flesh, and Margrave, <i>alias</i> +Louis Grayle, certainly, I may be allowed to say, played the Devil with marked +ability. To give a fitting <i>morale</i> to all, the character of Lilian Ashleigh +was thrown in; the good genius, the conqueror of darkness, the positive of the +electrical battery meeting the negative and eliciting sparks of triumphant +light—such was the heroine.</p> + +<p>Man, conscious of a future life, and endowed with imagination, is not content +with things material, especially if his brain is crowded with the thoughts of the +brains of ten thousand dead authors, and his nervous system is over-tasked and +over-excited. In this condition he rushes away—away from cool, pure, and +lovely feature—burying himself in the hot, spicy, and gorgeous dreams of +Art. He would adore Cagliostro, while he mocked Doctor Watts! Infatuated dreamer! +Returning at last, by good chance—or, rather, let me say, by the directing +hand of Providence—from his evil search of things tabooed, to admiration of +the Real, the Tangible, and the True; he will show himself as Doctor Fenwick does +in this sequel, a strong, sensible, family-man, with a clear head and no-nonsense +about him.<span class="pageno"><a name="page738" +id="page738"></a>{738}</span></p> + +<h4 class="center">CHAPTER I.</h4> + +<p>'I think,' said Faber, with a sigh, 'that I must leave Australia and go to +other lands, where I can make more money. You remember when that Egyptian woman +bore the last—positively the last—remains of Margrave, or Louis +Grayle, to the vessel?'</p> + +<p>'I do,' quoth Doctor Fenwick.</p> + +<p>'Well, a pencil dropped from the pocket of the inanimate form. I picked it up, +and on it was stamped in gilded letters:</p> + +<p>'FABER, No. 4.'</p> + +<p>I believe it may belong to one of my family—lost, perhaps, in the ocean +of commerce.'</p> + +<p>'Who knows? We will think of this anon; but hark! the tea-bell is rung; let us +enter the house.'</p> + +<h4 class="center">CHAPTER II.</h4> + +<p>'Good gracious! Doctor Faber, I am so glad to see you. Sit right down in this +easy-chair. We've muffins for tea, and some preserves sent all the way from dear +Old England. Now, Allen, be lively to-night, and show us how that cold chicken +should be carved.'</p> + +<p>Thus Lilian, Doctor Fenwick's wife, rattled on. She had grown very stout in +the five years passed since 'A Strange Story' was written, and now weighed full +thirteen stone, was red-cheeked and merry as a cricket. Mrs. Ashleigh, too, had +grown very stout and red-cheeked, and was bustling around when the two doctors +entered the room.</p> + +<p>'How much do you think I weigh?' asked Fenwick of Doctor Faber.</p> + +<p>'About fifteen stone,' answered the old doctor, while he dissected a side-bone +of the chicken. 'I think you did well to begin farming in earnest. There is +nothing like good hard work to cure the dyspepsia and romantic dreams.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed, dear doctor, and you have reason, to be sure,' said Mrs. Ashleigh. +'And pray, don't you think, now, that Lilian is a great deal more comely since +she has given up worsted-work and dawdling, and taken to filling her duties as +housewife?'</p> + +<p>'To be sure I do.'</p> + +<p>The doctor here passed the muffins to Lilian. She helped herself to a brown +one, remarking:</p> + +<p>'It is such a blessed thing to have a fine appetite, and be able to eat +half-a-dozen muffins for tea! Oh! by the way, Allen, I wish you would buy three +or four more barrels of pale ale—we are nearly out.'</p> + +<h4 class="center">CHAPTER III.</h4> + +<p>'Here ye are, gen-till-men! This fine de-tersive soap—on-ly thrippence a +tab-let—takes stains out of all kinds of things. Step up while there air a +few tab-lets left of this in-im-a-table art-tickle unsold.'</p> + +<p>'Who's that guy in the soap-trade?' asked one policeman of another one as they +passed along Lowther Arcade and saw the man whose conversation is reported +above.</p> + +<p>'He's a deep one, hi know,' said the one asked. ''Is name is Grayle, Louis +Grayle. There's hodd stories 'bout 'im, werry hodd. 'E tries to work a werry wiry +dodge on the johnny-raws, bout bein' ha 'undred hand ten years hold. Says 'e's +got some kind o' water wot kips hun' from growink hold, My heye! strikes me if 'e +'ad, 'e wouldn't bein' sellin' soap 'bout 'ere. Go hup to 'im hand tell 'im to +move hon, 'e's ben wurkin this lay long enough, I <i>ham</i> thinkin'.</p> + +<p>Such, gentle reader, was the condition of Louis Grayle when I last saw him. By +the assistance of confederates and other means, he had imposed on our good friend +Doctor Fenwick, in former years, and nearly driven that poor gentleman crazy +during his celibacy, especially as the doctor in all this period would smoke +hasheesh and drink laudanum cocktails—two little facts neglected to be +mentioned in 'A Strange Story.' Now, he was poor as a crow, this Louis Grayle, +and was only too glad to turn the information he had learned of Haroun of Aleppo, +to profitable account—the most valuable knowledge he had gained from that +Oriental sage being the composition of a soap, good to erase stains from +habits.</p> + +<h4 class="center">CHAPTER IV.</h4> + +<p>Mrs. Colonel Poyntz having rendered herself generally disagreeable to even the +London world of fashion, by her commanding presence, has been quietly put aside, +and at latest accounts, every thing else having failed, had taken up fugitive +American secessionists for subjects, and reports of revolvers and pokers (a +slavish game of cards) were circulated as filling the air she ruled.<span +class="pageno"><a name="page739" id="page739"></a>{739}</span></p> + +<h4 class="center">CHAPTER V.</h4> + +<p>Doctor Fenwick is now the father of four small tow-headed children, who poss +the long Australian days teasing a tame Kangaroo and stoning the loud-laughing +great kingfisher and other birds, catalogue of which is mislaid. His wife has not +had a single nervous attack for years, and probably never will have another. +Doctor Faber married Mrs. Ashleigh!</p> + +<p>Doctor Fenwick, it is needless to say, has thrown his library of Alchemists, +Rosicrucianists, Mesmerists, Spiritualists, Transcendentalists, and all other +trashy lists into the fire, together with several pounds of bang, hasheesh, +cocculus indicus, and opium. He at this present time of writing, is an active, +industrious, intelligent, and practical man, finding in the truthful working out +THE great problem, Do unto others as you would have others do unto you, an +exceeding great reward.</p> + +<p class="center">THE END.</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="WHAT_THEN" id="WHAT_THEN"></a>WHAT THEN?</h2> +<p class="center">BY J. HAL. ELLIOT.</p> + +<div class="poem3"> +God's pity on them! Human souls, I mean,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Crushed down and hid 'neath squalid rags and +dirt,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bodies which no common sore can +hurt;</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">All this between</span><br /> +Those souls, and life—corrupt, defiled, unclean.<br /> +<br /> +And more—hard faces, pinched by starving years.<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cold, stolid, grimy faces—vacant +eyes,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wishful anon, as when one looks and +dies;</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">But never tears!</span><br /> +Tears would not help them—battling constant jeers.<br /> +<br /> +Forms, trained to bend and grovel from the first,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Crouching through life forever in the +dark,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aimlessly creeping toward an unseen +mark;</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">And no one durst</span><br /> +Deny their horrid dream, that they are curst.<br /> +<br /> +And life for them! dare we call life its name?<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">O God! an arid sea of burning sand,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eternal blackness! death on every +hand!</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">A smothered flame,</span><br /> +Writhing and blasting in the tortured frame.<br /> +<br /> +And death! we shudder when we speak the word;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis all the same to them—or life, or +death;</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">They breathe them both with every fevered +breath;</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">When have they heard,</span><br /> +That cool Bethesda's waters might be stirred!<br /> +<br /> +They live among us—live and die to-day;<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">We brush them with our garments on the +street,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And track their footsteps with our dainty +feet;</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">'Poor common clay!'</span><br /> +We curl our lips—and that is what we say.<br /> +<br /> +God's pity on them! and on us as well:<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">They live and die like brutes, and we like +men:</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Both go alone into the dark—what +then?</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Or heaven, or hell?</span><br /> +They suffered in this life! Stop! Who can tell?<br /> +</div> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<p><a name="The_last_stranger_who_visited_Washington_Irving" +id="The_last_stranger_who_visited_Washington_Irving"></a> The last stranger +who visited Washington Irving, before his death, was Theodore Tilton, who +published shortly afterward an account of the interview. Mr. Tilton wrote also a +private letter to a friend, giving an interesting reminiscence, which he did not +mention in his published account. The following is an extract from this letter, +now first made public:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +As I was about parting from Mr. Irving, at the door-step, he held +my hand a few moments, and said:<br /> +'You know Henry Ward Beecher?<br /> +'Yes,' I replied, 'he is an intimate friend.'<br /> +'I have never seen him,' said he, 'tell me how he looks.'<br /> +I described, in a few words, Mr. Beecher's personal appearance; +when Mr. Irving remarked:<br /> +'I take him to be a man always in fine health and cheery spirits.'<br /> +I replied that he was hale, vigorous, and full of life; that every +drop of his blood bubbled with good humor.<br /> +'His writings,' said Knickerbocker, 'are full of human kindness. I +think he must have a great power of enjoyment.'<br /> +'Yes,' I added, 'to hear him laugh is as if one had spilt over you +a pitcher of wine.'<br /> +'It is a good thing for a man to laugh well,' returned the old +gentleman, smiling. He then observed:<br /> +'I have read many of your friend's writings; he draws charming +pictures; he inspires and elevates one's mind; I wish I could once +take him by the hand.'<br /> +At which I instantly said:<br /> + <span class="pageno"><a name="page740" id="page740"></a>{740}</span> +'I will ask him to make you a visit.'<br /> +'Tell him I will give him a Scotch welcome; tell him that I love +him, though I never have seen his face.'</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +These words were spoken with such evident sincerity, that Sunnyside will +always have a sunnier place in my memory, because of the old man's genial tribute +to my dear friend.</p> +<span style="margin-left: 16em; margin-right: 2.5em;">I am ever yours,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em; margin-right: 2.5em;">THEODORE TILTON.</span> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<p><a name="The_following_paragraph_from_the_Boston_Traveller" +id="The_following_paragraph_from_the_Boston_Traveller"></a> The following +paragraph from the <i>Boston Traveller,</i> contains a few facts well worth +noting:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'The secession sympathizers in the North have two favorite dodges +for the service of their friends, the enemy. The first is, to +magnify the numbers of the rebel forces, placing them at 500,000 +men, whereas they never have had above half as many men in the +field, all told, and counting negroes as well as white men. The +other is, to magnify the cost of the war on the side of the +Federalists. They tell us that our public war-debt, by the close of +the current fiscal year, June 30, 1862, will be 1,200,000,000, +(twelve hundred million dollars.) They know better than this, for +that debt will, at the date named, be not much above $620,000,000, +which would be no greater burden on the country than was that which +it owed in 1815, perhaps not so great a burden as that was. People +should not allow themselves to be frightened by the prophecies of +men who, if they could be sure of preserving slavery in all its +force, would care for nothing else.'</p> + +<p>It is always easy to make up a gloomy statement, and this has been done of +late to perfection by the demo-secessionists among us. It is an easy matter to +assume, as has been done, the maximum war expenditure for one single day, and say +that it is the average. It is easy, too, to say that 'You can never whip the +South,' and point to Richmond 'bounce' in confirmation. It will all avail +nothing. Slavery is going—of <i>that</i> rest assured—and the South +is to be thoroughly Northed with new blood. <i>Delenda est Dixie.</i></p> +<p>Our 'private' readers in the army—of whom we have enough, we are proud +to say, to constitute a pretty large-sized public—may rest assured that +accounts will not be settled with the South without very serious consideration of +what is due to the soldier for his services 'in snatching the common-weal from +the jaws of hell,' as the Latin memorial to Pitt, on the Dedham stone hath it. It +has been said that republics are ungrateful; but in this instance the adage must +fall to the ground. The soldier will be as much needed after the war, to settle +the South, 'North it,' and preserve the Union by his intellect and his industry, +as he now is to reestablish it by his bravery.</p> +<p>We find the following in the Boston <i>Courier</i> of March 29th:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2.5em; margin-right: 2.5em;"> +'Our attention has been called to a statement in the <i>CONTINENTAL MONTHLY +MAGAZINE</i>, to the effect, that certain interesting 'Notes on the Gulf States,' +which have recently appeared in this paper were reproductions, with certain +alterations, of letters which were printed in the <i>Knickerbocker Magazine</i> +several years ago. The statement made is not positive, but made with such +qualifications as might lead to the inference that the comparison was not very +carefully made. We can only say, that we have had no opportunity to confer with +our distant correspondent, who handed us the whole series of 'Notes' together, in +manuscript, for publication; nor had we any reason to believe that they were ever +printed before, either in whole or in part. We can say nothing further, until we +know more about the grounds for the intimation of the CONTINENTAL MONTHLY.'</p> + +<p>We were guarded in our statement, not having at hand, when we wrote the +paragraph referred to, more than three or four numbers of the Courier containing +the Gulf States articles, and not desiring to give the accusation a needlessly +harsh expression, knowing well that the best informed editor may have at times +old literary notes passed upon him for new ones. What we <i>do</i> say, is simply +that several columns of the articles which appeared as original in the Boston +<i>Courier,</i> were <i>literal reprints</i> from a series which appeared in the +<i>Knickerbocker</i> Magazine in 1847.</p> +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="NOTES" id="NOTES"></a>Notes.</h2> + + +<div class="div" id="footnotes"> + <dl class="footnote"> + <dt><a id="note_1" name="note_1">1.</a></dt> + <dd> +<p>Lond. Doc. 1, 24. <a href="#footnotetag1">(Return)</a></p> + </dd> + <dt><a id="note_2" name="note_2">2.</a></dt> + <dd> +<p>Wassemaer's Historie Van Europa, Amsterdam, 1621-1628. + <a href="#footnotetag2">(Return)</a></p> + </dd> + <dt><a id="note_3" name="note_3">3.</a></dt> + <dd> +<p>Alb. Rec. xviii. <a href="#footnotetag3">(Return)</a></p> + </dd> + <dt><a id="note_4" name="note_4">4.</a></dt> + <dd> +<p>The statistics given above are correct. That small number of +slaveholders sustains the system of slavery, and has caused this terrible +rebellion. They are, almost to a man, rebels and secessionists, and we +may cover the South with armies, and keep a file of soldiers upon every +plantation, and not smother this insurrection unless we break down the +power of that class. Their wealth gives them their power, and their +wealth is in their slaves. Free their negroes by an act of Emancipation, +or Confiscation, and the rebellion will crumble to pieces in a day. Omit +to do it, and it will last till doomsday.</p> +<p>The power of this dominant class once broken; with landed property at +the South more equally divided, a new order of things will arise there. +Where now, with their large plantations, not one acre in ten is tilled, a +system of small farms will spring into existence, and the whole country +be covered with cultivation. The six hundred thousand men who have gone +there to fight our battles, will see the amazing fertility of the +Southern soil—into which the seed is thrown and springs up without +labor into a bountiful harvest—and many of them, if slavery is +crushed out, will remain there. Thus a new element will be introduced +into the South, an element that will speedily make it a loyal, +prosperous, and <i>intelligent</i> section of the Union.</p> +<p>I would interfere with no one's rights, but a rebel in arms against +his country has no rights; all that he has 'is confiscate.' Will the +loyal people of the North submit to be ground to the earth with taxes to +pay the expenditures of a war brought upon them by these Southern +oligarchists, while the traitors are left in undisturbed possession of +every thing, and even their slaves are exempted from taxation? It were +well that our legislators should ask this question now, and not wait till +it is asked of them by THE PEOPLE. <a href="#footnotetag4">(Return)</a></p> + </dd> + </dl> +</div> + +<hr class="page" /> +<h2 class="center"><a name="THE_OFFICIAL_WAR_MAP_NOW_READY" +id="THE_OFFICIAL_WAR_MAP_NOW_READY"></a>THE OFFICIAL WAR MAP—NOW READY</h2> + +<h3 class="center">HAZARD'S</h3> + +<h4 class="center">RAILROAD AND MILITARY MAP OF THE SOUTHERN STATES</h4> + +<p>Compiled from the most authentic sources, and the United States Coast Surveys, +by the Committee on Inland Transportation of the Board of Trade of Philadelphia, +and superbly engraved in the finest style of map making.</p> + +<p>The information for this map was recently obtained by A PERSONAL TOUR THROUGH +THE SOUTH, as well as by the information given by THE PRESIDENT OF EVERY +RAILROAD; the corrections make it COMPLETE TO THE PRESENT HOUR; and it gives so +recent and such valuable facts concerning all the Railroads, that the War +Department immediately authorized its publication, and distributed ONE THOUSAND +COPIES among the Generals and Colonels of the Army; that order having been +supplied, no further delay in issuing the map will occur, and subscribers can now +be supplied at the following prices:</p> + +<table style="margin: 0 auto;" summary="List of available maps"> + <tbody> + <tr> + <td align="left">In Sheets, Carefully Colored,</td> + <td align="right">$1.00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="left">In Sheets, Carefully Colored, in a Neat Cloth Case,</td> + <td align="right">1.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="left">The Same, Carefully Colored, Mounted on Muslin, Folded,</td> + <td align="right">2.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="left"> Do. + Carefully Colored, on Rollers, Varnished,</td> + <td align="right">2.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="left"> Do. Carefully Colored, + Beautifully Mounted and Framed for Office Use,</td> + <td align="right">3.00</td> + </tr> + </tbody> +</table> + +<p>Several weighty reasons for purchasing "HAZARD'S RAILROAD AND MILITARY MAP OF +THE SOUTHERN STATES."</p> + +<p>1st. It is the official map; and therefore must be the best and the most +reliable, which is everything, particularly at this time when a good map is of +such universal interest. This is the ONLY MAP that has been officially adopted +for Government purposes.</p> + +<p>2d. The Coast is so distinct and accurate, it shows every little island and +inlet, and is as correct as the large maps issued by the Coast Survey Office.</p> + +<p>3d. It is very cheap. It is thirty-two by fifty-five inches, and is one of the +best specimens of map engraving ever done in this country.</p> + +<p>4th. It presents the whole Southern States at one view, and the railroads are +so distinctly marked as to show at a glance the most important strategical +points.</p> + +<p>GENERAL MCCLELLAN has acknowledged in several communications the "<i>great +importance to his movements of the accurate information in regard to the Southern +Railroads, conveyed in this map</i>."</p> + +<p>Testimonials of the same character have been received from Prof. A.D. BACHE, +of the Coast Survey Department, as to the great accuracy of the coast line; and +<i>one hundred extra copies ordered "to distribute among the Commanders of the +Atlantic and Gulf Squadrons,"</i> which have been furnished.</p> + +<p>While ADOPTED FOR ITS ACCURACY by the MILITARY AUTHORITIES, as has been +stated, it is yet more especially a COMMERCIAL MAP, and was at first intended +expressly for that purpose. Hence, its value will be undiminished when the war is +over, and renewed attention is directed to that section.</p> +<p>After what has been said of THE GREAT VALUE OF THIS MAP TO EVERY INTELLIGENT +MAN, is there any one who will be without it? particularly since its price has +been made as low as that of inferior maps, in order to keep up with the times. We +are constantly told by those who already have several of the maps rushed upon the +public, that they have laid them aside and use only this one.</p> + +<p>ACCURACY AND DISTINCTNESS are the characteristics of this map, the only one +sanctioned by the Government.</p> + +<p>Just published and for sale by</p> +<p class="center">CHAS. T. EVANS, General Agent for New-York State,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 15em; margin-right: 2.5em;">532 BROADWAY, NEW-YORK</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="WASHINGTON" id="WASHINGTON"></a>WASHINGTON</h2> + +<h3 class="center">LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY,</h3> + +<h4 class="center">NO. 98 BROADWAY, NEW-YORK.</h4> + +<p class="center">THIS COMPANY ISSUES POLICIES OF ALL KINDS UPON THE MOST +FAVORABLE TERMS.</p> + +<p class="center">CLAIMS PROMPTLY SETTLED.</p> + +<div class="tables"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto;" summary="Directors of Washington Insurance Co."> +<tbody> +<tr> + <td colspan="4" align="center" rowspan="1"><b>Directors</b></td></tr> +<tr> + <td valign="top" align="left"> +Cyrus Curtiss,<br /> +Cleayton Newbold,<br /> +Robert B. Minturn,<br /> +George Griswold, Jr.,<br /> +Roland G. Mitchell,<br /> +Frederick G. Foster,<br /> +Henry S. Fearing,<br /> +John Caswell,<br /> +Arthur F. Willmarth,<br /> +Thomas Hope,<br /> +Ellwood Walter,<br /> +Benjamin W. Bonney,<br /></td> + + <td valign="top" align="left"> +Franklin F. Randolph,<br /> +Frederick W. Macy,<br /> +Henry Swift,<br /> +David A. Wood,<br /> +Frederick Tracy,<br /> +William H. Aspinwall,<br /> +Henry W. Peck,<br /> +George N. Lawrence,<br /> +Thomas H. Faile,<br /> +Lewis F. Battelle,<br /> +James Ponnett,<br /> +Levi P. Morton,<br /></td> + + <td valign="top" align="left"> +Effingham Townsend,<br /> +William F. Mott, Jr.,<br /> +Andrew V. Stout,<br /> +Abiel A. Low,<br /> +Gustav Schwab,<br /> +Wellington Clapp,<br /> +Merritt Trimble,<br /> +Leopold Bierwirth,<br /> +George A. Robbins,<br /> +Robert R. Willets,<br /> +James B. Johnston,<br /> +David Wagstaff,<br /></td> + + <td valign="top" align="left"> +Abraham Bininger,<br /> +James Thomson,<br /> +Thomas A. Patteson,<br /> +Robert H. Berdell,<br /> +John G. Vose,<br /> +John H. Sherwood,<br /> +W.A. Brewer, Jr.,<br /> +Jeremiah C. Garthwaite,<br /> +Frederick Wood,<br /> +Frederick Croswell,<br /> +Matthew Mitchell,<br /> +Thomas B. Fitch.</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" rowspan="1"> + CLEAYTON NEWBOLD, <i>Vice-President</i>.<br /> + GEO. T. ELLIOT, JR., M.D., <i>Medical Examiner</i>.</td> + <td colspan="2" align="center" rowspan="1"> + CYRUS CURTISS, <i>President</i>.<br /> + W.A. BREWER, Jr., <i>Sec'ty</i>.</td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="4" align="center" rowspan="1"> + GEO. M. GRIGGS, <i>General Agent for the State of New-York</i>.<br /> + <hr class="quarter" /> + AGENTS WANTED IN EVERY STATE.</td></tr> +</tbody> +</table> + +</div> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="HOME_INSURANCE_COMPANY" id="HOME_INSURANCE_COMPANY"></a> +HOME</h2> + +<h2 class="center">INSURANCE COMPANY</h2> + +<h3 class="center">OF NEW YORK,</h3> + +<h4 class="center">OFFICE, . . . . . . . . 112 and 114 BROADWAY.</h4> + +<div class="tables"> + +<table style="margin: 0 auto;" summary="home ins co"> +<tbody> + <tr><td align="left">CASH CAPITAL, </td><td align="left">$1,000,000.</td></tr> + <tr><td align="left">ASSETS, 1st January, 1860,</td> + <td align="right">$1,458,396 28</td></tr> + <tr><td align="left">LIABILITIES</td><td align="right">42,580 43</td></tr> + </tbody> +</table> +</div> + +<p class="center">THIS COMPANY INSURES AGAINST LOSS AND DAMAGE BY FIRE, +ON FAVORABLE TERMS.<br /> +LOSSES EQUITABLY ADJUSTED AND PROMPTLY PAID.</p> + +<table style="margin: 0 auto;" summary="Directors of Home Insurance Co."> +<tbody> +<tr> + <td colspan="4" valign="top" align="center" rowspan="1"><b>Directors</b></td></tr> +<tr> + <td align="left" valign="top"> +Charles J. Martin,<br /> +A.F. Willmarth,<br /> +William G. Lambert,<br /> +George C. Collins,<br /> +Danford N. Barney,<br /> +Lucius Hopkins,<br /> +Thomas Messenger,<br /> +William H. Mellen,<br /> +Charles B. Hatch,<br /> +B. Watson Bull,<br /> +Homer Morgan,<br /> +L. Roberts,<br /></td> + + <td align="left" valign="top" > +Levi P. Stone,<br /> +James Humphrey,<br /> +George Pearce,<br /> +Ward A. Work,<br /> +James Lowe,<br /> +Isaac H. Frothingham,<br /> +Charles A. Bulkley,<br /> +Albert Jewitt,<br /> +George D. Morgan,<br /> +Theodore McNamee,<br /> +Richard Bigelow,<br /></td> + + <td align="left" valign="top"> +Oliver E. Wood,<br /> +Alfred S. Barnes,<br /> +George Bliss,<br /> +Roe Lockwood,<br /> +Levi P. Morton,<br /> +Curtis Noble,<br /> +John B. Hutchinson,<br /> +Charles P. Baldwin,<br /> +Amos T. Dwight,<br /> +Henry A. Hurlbut,<br /> +Jesse Hoyt,<br /></td> + + <td align="left" valign="top"> +William Sturgis, Jr.,<br /> +John R. Ford,<br /> +Sidney Mason,<br /> +Geo. T. Stedman, Cinn.,<br /> +Cyrus Yale, Jr.,<br /> +William R. Fosdick,<br /> +F.H. Cossitt,<br /> +David I. Boyd, Albany,<br /> +S.B. Caldwell,<br /> +A.J. Wills,<br /> +W.H. Townsend.</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="left" rowspan="1"> </td> + <td colspan="2" align="left" rowspan="1"> + CHARLES J. MARTIN, PRESIDENT.</td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="left" rowspan="1">JOHN McGEE, SECRETARY.</td> + <td colspan="2" align="left" rowspan="1">A.F. WILLMARTH, VICE PRESIDENT.</td></tr> +</tbody> +</table> + +<hr class="page" /> +<div> +<a href="images/image01_full.png"><img src="images/image01_thumbnail.png" +style="float: right; border: 0; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: 2em;" +alt="Wilcox & Gibbs Advertisement" /></a> +</div> +<h2 class="center"><a name="WILCOX_GIBBS" id="WILCOX_GIBBS"></a> +WILCOX & GIBBS SEWING MACHINE</h2> + +<p class="center">PRICE, $30.</p> + +<p class="center">"Has evident points of superiority as a FAMILY MACHINE <br /> +over all others."—<i>Philadelphia Press</i>.</p> + +<p class="center">MANUFACTURED BY JAMES WILLCOX, No. 508 BROADWAY, <br /> +opposite St. Nicholas Hotel, New-York.</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h4 class="center"><a name="NOW_READY" id="NOW_READY"></a>NOW READY.</h4> + +<p class="center">In one Vol., 12mo. $1.25.</p> + +<h3 class="center">Undercurrents of Wall Street: The Romance of Business.</h3> + +<p class="center">BY RICHARD B. KIMBALL, AUTHOR OF "ST. LEGER."<br /><br /> +Also, in one Vol., 12mo. $1.25. A new edition of</p> + +<h3 class="center">St. Leger.</h3> + +<h4 class="center">G. P. PUTNAM, 532 BROADWAY.</h4> + +<p class="center">Orders should be sent at once to secure a prompt supply.</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h4 class="center"><a name="DESTINED_TO_BE_THE_BOOK_OF_THE_SEASON" +id="DESTINED_TO_BE_THE_BOOK_OF_THE_SEASON"></a> DESTINED TO BE THE BOOK OF THE +SEASON.</h4> + +<p class="center">As published in the pages of THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY, it has been +pronounced by the Press to be<br /> +"SUPERIOR TO UNCLE TOM'S CABIN."<br /> +"FULL OF ABSORBING INTEREST."<br /> +"Whether invented or not, True, because true to +Life."-HORACE GREELEY.<br /><br /> +WILL SHORTLY BE PUBLISHED,</p> + +<p class="center">In a handsome 12mo vol. of 330 pages, cloth, $1,</p> + +<h3 class="center">AMONG THE PINES,</h3> + +<p class="center">by EDMUND KIRKE.<br /><br /> +Read the following Notices from the Press:</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"It contains the most vivid and lifelike representation of a specimen family +of poor South-Carolina whites we have ever read."—E.P. WHIPPLE, in the +<i>Boston Transcript</i>.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"It is full of absorbing interest."—<i>Whig</i>, Quincy, Ill.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"It gives some curious Ideas of Southern Social Life."—<i>Post</i>, +Boston.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"The most lifelike delineations of Southern Life ever +written."—<i>Spy</i>, Columbia, Pa.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"One of the most attractive series of papers ever published, and embodying +only facts"—C.C. HAZEWELL, in the <i>Traveller</i>, Boston.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"A very graphic picture of life among the clay-eaters and +turpentine-makers."—<i>Lorain News</i>, Oberlin, Ohio.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"The author wields a ready and graphic pen."—<i>Times</i>, Armenia, +N.Y.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"There are passages in it of the most thrilling dramatic +power."—<i>Journal</i>, Roxbury, Mass.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"It is the best and most truthful sketch of Southern Life and Character we +have ever read"—R. SHELTON MACKENZIE; in the <i>Press</i>, +Philadelphia.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"Has a peculiar interest just now, and deserves a wide +reading."—<i>Dispatch</i>, Amsterdam, N.Y.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"An intensely vivid description of things as they occur on a Southern +Plantation"—<i>Union</i> Lancaster, Pa.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"The author is one of the finest descriptive writers in the +country."—<i>Journal</i>, Boston, Mass.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"It presents a vivid picture of Plantation Life, with something of the action +of a character that is more than likely to pass from story into history before +the cause of the Rebellion is rooted out."—<i>Gazette</i>, Taunton, +Mass.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 1em;"> +"A most powerful production, which can not be read without exciting great and +continued interest"—<i>Palladium</i>, New-Haven.</p> + +<p class="center">PUBLISHED BY</p> + +<p> + <span style="margin-left: 12em; margin-right: 1em;">J.R. GILMORE,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 15em; margin-right: 1em;">532 BROADWAY, + NEW-YORK,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 18em; margin-right: 1em;">And 110 TREMONT STREET, + BOSTON</span></p> + +<p class="center"> +C.T. EVANS, General Agent</p> +<hr class="quarter" /> +<p class="center"> +Orders from the Trade will be filled in the order in which they are +received.<br /> +Single Copies sent, postpaid, by mail, on receipt of $1.</p> + +<hr class="page" /> + +<h4 class="center">THE</h4> + +<h2 class="center"><a name="THE_CONTINENTAL_MONTHLY" id="THE_CONTINENTAL_MONTHLY"></a> +CONTINENTAL MONTHLY.</h2> + +<p class="center">PUBLISHER'S NOTICE.</p> + +<p>THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY Has passed its experimental ordeal, and stands firmly +established in popular regard. It was started at a period when any new literary +enterprise was deemed almost foolhardy, but the publisher believed that the time +had arrived for just such a Magazine. Fearlessly advocating the doctrine of +ultimate and gradual Emancipation, for the sake of the UNION and the WHITE MAN, +it has found favor in quarters where censure was expected, and patronage where +opposition only was looked for. While holding firmly to its <i>own opinions</i>, +it has opened its pages to POLITICAL WRITERS <i>of widely different views</i>, +and has made a feature of employing the literary labors of the <i>younger</i> +race of American writers. How much has been gained by thus giving, practically, +the fullest freedom to the expression of opinion, and by the infusion of fresh +blood into literature, has been felt from month to month in its constantly +increasing circulation.</p> + +<p>The most eminent of our Statesmen have furnished THE CONTINENTAL many of its +political articles, and the result is, it has not given labored essays fit only +for a place in ponderous encyclopedias, but fresh, vigorous, and practical +contributions on men and things as they exist.</p> + +<p>It will be our effort to go on in the path we have entered, and as a guarantee +of the future, we may point to the array of live and brilliant talent which has +brought so many encomiums on our Magazine. The able political articles which have +given it so much reputation will be continued in each issue, and in this number +is commenced a new Serial by Richard D. Kimball, the eminent author of the +'Under-Currents of Wall-Street,' 'St. Leger,' etc., entitled,</p> + +<p class="center"><b>WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?</b></p> + +<p>An account of the Life and Conduct of Hiram Meeker, one of the leading men in +the mercantile community, and 'a bright and shining light' in the Church, +recounting what he did, and how he made his money. This work which will excel the +previous brilliant productions of this author.</p> + +<p>The UNION—The Union of ALL THE STATES—that indicates our politics. +To be content with no ground lower than the highest—that is the standard of +our literary character.</p> + +<p>We hope all who are friendly to the spread of our political views, and all who +are favorable to the diffusion of a live, fresh, and energetic literature, will +lend us their aid to increase our circulation. There is not one of our readers +who may not influence one or two more, and there is in every town in the loyal +States some active person whose time might be profitably employed in procuring +subscribers to our work. To encourage such to act for us we offer the following +very liberal</p> + +<p class="center">TERMS TO CLUBS.</p> + +<table style="margin: 0 auto;" summary="terms to clubs"> +<tbody> + <tr><td align="left">Two copies for one year,</td> + <td align="left">Five dollars.</td></tr> + <tr><td align="left">Three copies for one year,</td> + <td align="left">Six dollars.</td></tr> + <tr><td align="left">Six copies for one year,</td> + <td align="left">Eleven dollars.</td></tr> + <tr><td align="left">Eleven copies for one year,</td> + <td align="left">Twenty dollars.</td></tr> + <tr><td align="left">Twenty copies for one year,</td> + <td align="left">Thirty-six dollars.</td></tr> +</tbody> +</table> + +<p class="center">PAID IN ADVANCE. <i>Postage, Thirty-six Cents a year</i>, +TO BE PAID BY THE SUBSCRIBER.</p> + +<p class="center">SINGLE COPIES. Three Dollars a year, IN ADVANCE.— +<i>Postage paid, by the Publisher</i>.</p> + +<p class="center">J. R. GILMORE, 532 Broadway, New-York,<br /> +and 110 Tremont Street, Boston.</p> + +<p class="center">CHARLES T. EVANS, 532 Broadway, New-York, GENERAL AGENT.</p> +<hr class="page" /> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Continental Monthly, Vol. I, No. VI, +June, 1862, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTINENTAL MONTHLY, VOL. I *** + +***** This file should be named 16151-h.htm or 16151-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/1/5/16151/ + +Produced by Cornell University, Joshua Hutchinson, Norma +Elliott and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** + + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> + |