initial commit of ebook 18914HEADmain

10 files changed, 27906 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/18914-8.txt b/18914-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a001d83
--- /dev/null
+++ b/18914-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9304 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No. 117,
+July, 1867., by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No. 117, July, 1867.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: July 26, 2006 [EBook #18914]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
+
+
+A MAGAZINE OF
+
+_Literature, Science, Art, and Politics._
+
+VOLUME XX.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+BOSTON: TICKNOR AND FIELDS, 124 TREMONT STREET.
+
+1867.
+
+
+Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
+
+TICKNOR AND FIELDS,
+
+in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
+Massachusetts.
+
+UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO., CAMBRIDGE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's note: Minor typos have been corrected. Footnotes have been
+moved to the end of the article.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                                        Page
+
+Artist's Dream, An  _T. W. Higginson_               100
+
+Autobiography of a Quack, The. I., II.              466, 586
+
+Bornoo, A Native of                                 485
+
+Bowery at Night, The  _Charles Dawson Shanly_       602
+
+By-Ways of Europe. From Perpignan to Montserrat.
+  _Bayard Taylor_                                   495
+
+    "        "     A Visit to the Balearic Islands. I.
+  _Bayard Taylor_                                   680
+
+Busy Brains  _Austin Abbott_                        570
+
+Canadian Woods and Waters  _Charles Dawson Shanly_  311
+
+Cincinnati  _James Parton_                          229
+
+Conspiracy at Washington, The                       633
+
+Cretan Days  _Wm. J. Stillman_                      533
+
+Dinner Speaking  _Edward Everett Hale_              507
+
+Doctor Molke  _Dr. I. I. Hayes_                      43
+
+Edisto, Up the  _T. W. Higginson_                   157
+
+Foster, Stephen C., and Negro Minstrelsy
+  _Robert P. Nevin_                                 608
+
+Fugitives from Labor  _F. Sheldon_                  370
+
+Grandmother's Story: The Great Snow                 716
+
+Gray Goth, In the  _Miss E. Stuart Phelps_          559
+
+Great Public Character, A  _James Russell Lowell_   618
+
+Growth, Limitations, and Toleration of Shakespeare's Genius
+  _E. P. Whipple_                                   178
+
+Guardian Angel, The. VII., VIII., IX., X., XI., XII.
+  _Oliver Wendell Holmes_    1, 129, 257, 385, 513, 641
+
+Hospital Memories. I., II.
+  _Miss Eudora Clark_                          144, 324
+
+International Copyright  _James Parton_             430
+
+Jesuits in North America, The  _George E. Ellis_    362
+
+Jonson, Ben  _E. P. Whipple_                        403
+
+Longfellow's Translation of Dante's Divina Commedia 188
+
+Liliput Province, A  _W. Winwood Reade_             247
+
+Literature as an Art  _T. W. Higginson_             745
+
+Little Land of Appenzell, The  _Bayard Taylor_      213
+
+Minor Elizabethan Dramatists  _E. P. Whipple_       692
+
+Minor Italian Travels  _W. D. Howells_              337
+
+Mysterious Personage, A  _John Neal_                658
+
+Opinions of the late Dr. Nott, respecting Books, Studies and Orators
+  _E. D. Sanborn_                                   527
+
+Pacific Railroads, Our  _J. K. Medbery_             704
+
+Padua, At  _W. D. Howells_                           25
+
+Passage from Hawthorne's English Note-Books, A       15
+
+Piano in the United States, The  _James Parton_      82
+
+Poor Richard. II., III.  _Henry James, Jr._     32, 166
+
+Prophetic Voices about America. A Monograph
+  _Charles Sumner_                                  275
+
+Religious Side of the Italian Question, The
+  _Joseph Mazzini_                                  108
+
+Rose Rollins, The. I., II.  _Alice Cary_       420, 545
+
+Sunshine and Petrarch  _T. W. Higginson_            307
+
+Struggle for Life, A  _T. B. Aldrich_                56
+
+"The Lie"  _C. J. Sprague_                          598
+
+Throne of the Golden Foot, The  _J. W. Palmer_      453
+
+T. Adolphus Trollope, Writings of
+  _H. T. Tuckerman_                                 476
+
+Tour in the Dark, A                                 670
+
+Uncharitableness                                    415
+
+Visit to Sybaris, My  _Edward Everett Hale_          63
+
+Week's Riding, A                                    200
+
+What we Feel  _C. J. Sprague_                       740
+
+Wife by Wager, A   _E. H. House_                    350
+
+Workers in Silver, Among the  _James Parton_        729
+
+Young Desperado, A  _T. B. Aldrich_                 755
+
+
+POETRY.
+
+Are the Children at Home?  _Mrs. M. E. M. Sangster_ 557
+
+Autumn Song, An  _Edgar Fawcett_                    679
+
+Blue and the Gray, The  _F. M. Finch_               369
+
+Chanson without Music  _Oliver Wendell Holmes_      543
+
+Dirge for a Sailor  _George H. Boker_               157
+
+Ember-Picture, An  _James Russell Lowell_            99
+
+Feast of Harvest, The  _E. C. Stedman_              616
+
+Flight of the Goddess, The  _T. B. Aldrich_         452
+
+Freedom in Brazil  _John G. Whittier_                62
+
+Lost Genius, The  _J. J. Piatt_                     228
+
+Mona's Mother  _Alice Cary_                          22
+
+Mystery of Nature, The  _Theodore Tilton_           349
+
+Nightingale in the Study, The
+  _James Russell Lowell_                            323
+
+Sonnet  _George H. Boker_                           744
+
+Themistocles  _William Everett_                     398
+
+The Old Story  _Alice Cary_                         199
+
+Toujours Amour  _E. C. Stedman_                     728
+
+
+REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+Browne's Land of Thor                                    256
+
+Charlevoix's History of New France                       125
+
+Codman's Ten Months in Brazil                            383
+
+Cozzens's Sayings of Doctor Bushwhacker
+  and other Learned Men                                  512
+
+Critical and Social Essays, from the New York "Nation"   384
+
+Dall's (Mrs.) The College, the Market, and the Court     255
+
+Du Chaillu's Journey to Ashango-Land                     122
+
+Emerson's May-Day and Other Pieces                       376
+
+Half-Tints                                               256
+
+Holland's Kathrina                                       762
+
+Hoppin's Old England                                     127
+
+Hymns by Harriet McEwen Kimball                          128
+
+Jean Ingelow's Story of Doom, and other Poems            383
+
+Lea's Historical Sketch of Sacerdotal Celibacy
+  in the Christian Church                                378
+
+Literary Life of James K. Paulding, The                  124
+
+Memoirs and Correspondence of Madame Récamier            127
+
+Miss Ravenel's Conversion from Secession to Loyalty      120
+
+Morris's Life and Death of Jason                         640
+
+Morse on the Poem "Rock me to Sleep, Mother"             252
+
+Norton's Translation of The New Life of Dante            638
+
+Parsons's Deus Homo                                      512
+
+Parsons's Translation of the Inferno                     759
+
+Paulding's The Bulls and the Jonathans                   639
+
+Purnell's Literature and its Professors                  254
+
+Richmond during the War                                  762
+
+Ritter's Comparative Geography of Palestine              125
+
+Samuels's Ornithology and Oölogy of New England          761
+
+Thackeray's Early and Late Papers                        252
+
+Tomes's Champagne Country                                511
+
+Webb's Liffith Lank, or Lunacy, and St. Twel'mo          123
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
+
+_A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics._
+
+VOL. XX.--JULY, 1867.--NO. CXVII.
+
+Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by TICKNOR AND
+FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
+Massachusetts.
+
+
+
+
+THE GUARDIAN ANGEL.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+SUSAN'S YOUNG MAN.
+
+There seems no reasonable doubt that Myrtle Hazard might have made a
+safe thing of it with Gifted Hopkins, (if so inclined,) provided that
+she had only been secured against interference. But the constant habit
+of reading his verses to Susan Posey was not without its risk to so
+excitable a nature as that of the young poet. Poets always were capable
+of divided affections, and Cowley's "Chronicle" is a confession that
+would fit the whole tribe of them. It is true that Gifted had no right
+to regard Susan's heart as open to the wiles of any new-comer. He knew
+that she considered herself, and was considered by another, as pledged
+and plighted. Yet she was such a devoted listener, her sympathies were
+so easily roused, her blue eyes glistened so tenderly at the least
+poetical hint, such as "Never, O never," "My aching heart," "Go, let me
+weep,"--any of those touching phrases out of the long catalogue which
+readily suggests itself,--that her influence was getting to be such that
+Myrtle (if really anxious to secure him) might look upon it with
+apprehension, and the owner of Susan's heart (if of a jealous
+disposition) might have thought it worth while to make a visit to Oxbow
+Village to see after his property.
+
+It may seem not impossible that some friend had suggested as much as
+this to the young lady's lover. The caution would have been unnecessary,
+or at least premature. Susan was loyal as ever to her absent friend.
+Gifted Hopkins had never yet presumed upon the familiar relations
+existing between them to attempt to shake her allegiance. It is quite as
+likely, after all, that the young gentleman about to make his appearance
+in Oxbow Village visited the place of his own accord, without a hint
+from anybody. But the fact concerns us more than the reason of it, just
+now.
+
+"Who do you think is coming, Mr. Gridley? Who _do_ you think is coming?"
+said Susan Posey, her face covered with a carnation such as the first
+season may see in a city belle, but not the second.
+
+"Well, Susan Posey, I suppose I must guess, though I am rather slow at
+that business. Perhaps the Governor. No, I don't think it can be the
+Governor, for you wouldn't look so happy if it was only his Excellency.
+It must be the President, Susan Posey,--President James Buchanan.
+Haven't I guessed right, now, tell me, my dear?"
+
+"O Mr. Gridley, you are too bad,--what do I care for governors and
+presidents? I know somebody that's worth fifty million thousand
+presidents,--and _he_'s coming,--my Clement is coming," said Susan, who
+had by this time learned to consider the awful Byles Gridley as her next
+friend and faithful counsellor.
+
+Susan could not stay long in the house after she got her note informing
+her that her friend was soon to be with her. Everybody told everything
+to Olive Eveleth, and Susan must run over to the Parsonage to tell her
+that there was a young gentleman coming to Oxbow Village; upon which
+Olive asked who it was, exactly as if she did not know; whereupon Susan
+dropped her eyes and said, "Clement,--I mean Mr. Lindsay."
+
+That was a fair piece of news now, and Olive had her bonnet on five
+minutes after Susan was gone, and was on her way to Bathsheba's,--it was
+too bad that the poor girl who lived so out of the world shouldn't know
+anything of what was going on in it. Bathsheba had been in all the
+morning, and the Doctor had said she must take the air every day; so
+Bathsheba had on _her_ bonnet a little after Olive had gone, and walked
+straight up to The Poplars to tell Myrtle Hazard that a certain young
+gentleman, Clement Lindsay, was coming to Oxbow Village.
+
+It was perhaps fortunate that there was no special significance to
+Myrtle in the name of Clement Lindsay. Since the adventure which had
+brought these two young persons together, and, after coming so near a
+disaster, had ended in a mere humiliation and disappointment, and but
+for Master Gridley's discreet kindness might have led to foolish
+scandal, Myrtle had never referred to it in any way. Nobody really knew
+what her plans had been except Olive and Cyprian, who had observed a
+very kind silence about the whole matter. The common version of the
+story was harmless, and near enough to the truth,--down the river,--boat
+upset,--pulled out,--taken care of by some women in a house farther
+down,--sick, brain fever,--pretty near it, anyhow,--old Dr. Hurlbut
+called in,--had her hair cut,--hystericky, etc., etc.
+
+Myrtle was contented with this statement, and asked no questions, and it
+was a perfectly understood thing that nobody alluded to the subject in
+her presence. It followed from all this that the name of Clement Lindsay
+had no peculiar meaning for her. Nor was she like to recognize him as
+the youth in whose company she had gone through her mortal peril, for
+all her recollections were confused and dream-like from the moment when
+she awoke and found herself in the foaming rapids just above the fall,
+until that when her senses returned, and she saw Master Byles Gridley
+standing over her with that look of tenderness in his square features
+which had lingered in her recollection, and made her feel towards him as
+if she were his daughter.
+
+Now this had its advantage; for as Clement was Susan's young man, and
+had been so for two or three years, it would have been a great pity to
+have any such curious relations established between him and Myrtle
+Hazard as a consciousness on both sides of what had happened would
+naturally suggest.
+
+"Who is this Clement Lindsay, Bathsheba?" Myrtle asked.
+
+"Why, Myrtle, don't you remember about Susan Posey's is-to-be,--the
+young man that has been--well, I don't know, but I suppose engaged to
+her ever since they were children almost?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I remember now. O dear! I have forgotten so many things I
+should think I had been dead and was coming back to life again. Do you
+know anything about him, Bathsheba? Didn't somebody say he was very
+handsome? I wonder if he is really in love with Susan Posey. Such a
+simple thing! I want to see him. I have seen so few young men."
+
+As Myrtle said these words, she lifted the sleeve a little on her left
+arm, by a half-instinctive and half-voluntary movement. The glimmering
+gold of Judith Pride's bracelet flashed out the yellow gleam which has
+been the reddening of so many hands and the blackening of so many souls
+since that innocent sin-breeder was first picked up in the land of
+Havilah. There came a sudden light into her eye, such as Bathsheba had
+never seen there before. It looked to her as if Myrtle were saying
+unconsciously to herself that she had the power of beauty, and would
+like to try its influence on the handsome young man whom she was soon to
+meet, even at the risk of unseating poor little Susan in his affections.
+This pained the gentle and humble-minded girl, who, without having
+tasted the world's pleasures, had meekly consecrated herself to the
+lowly duties which lay nearest to her. For Bathsheba's phrasing of life
+was in the monosyllables of a rigid faith. Her conceptions of the human
+soul were all simplicity and purity, but elementary. She could not
+conceive the vast license the creative energy allows itself in mingling
+the instincts which, after long conflict, may come into harmonious
+adjustment. The flash which Myrtle's eye had caught from the gleam of
+the golden bracelet filled Bathsheba with a sudden fear that she was
+like to be led away by the vanities of that world lying in wickedness of
+which the minister's daughter had heard so much and seen so little.
+
+Not that Bathsheba made any fine moral speeches to herself. She only
+felt a slight shock, such as a word or a look from one we love too often
+gives us,--such as a child's trivial gesture or movement makes a parent
+feel,--that impalpable something which in the slightest possible
+inflection of a syllable or gradation of a tone will sometimes leave a
+sting behind it, even in a trusting heart. This was all. But it was
+true that what she saw meant a great deal. It meant the dawning in
+Myrtle Hazard of one of her as yet unlived _secondary lives_.
+Bathsheba's virgin perceptions had caught a faint early ray of its
+glimmering twilight.
+
+She answered, after a very slight pause, which this explanation has made
+seem so long, that she had never seen the young gentleman, and that she
+did not know about Susan's sentiments. Only, as they had kept so long to
+each other, she supposed there must be love between them.
+
+Myrtle fell into a revery, with certain _tableaux_ glowing along its
+perspectives which poor little Susan Posey would have shivered to look
+upon, if they could have been transferred from the purple clouds of
+Myrtle's imagination to the pale silvery mists of Susan's pretty
+fancies. She sat in her day-dream long after Bathsheba had left her, her
+eyes fixed, not on the faded portrait of her beautiful ancestress, but
+on that other canvas where the dead Beauty seemed to live in all the
+splendors of her full-blown womanhood.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The young man whose name had set her thoughts roving _was_ handsome, as
+the glance at him already given might have foreshadowed. But his
+features had a graver impress than his age seemed to account for, and
+the sober tone of his letter to Susan implied that something had given
+him a maturity beyond his years. The story was not an uncommon one. At
+sixteen he had dreamed--and told his dream. At eighteen he had awoke,
+and found, as he believed, that a young heart had grown to his so that
+its life was dependent on his own. Whether it would have perished if its
+filaments had been gently disentangled from the object to which they had
+attached themselves, experienced judges of such matters may perhaps
+question. To justify Clement in his estimate of the danger of such an
+experiment, we must remember that to young people in their teens a first
+passion is a portentous and unprecedented phenomenon. The young man may
+have been mistaken in thinking that Susan would die if he left her, and
+may have done more than his duty in sacrificing himself; but if so, it
+was the mistake of a generous youth, who estimated the depth of
+another's feelings by his own. He measured the depth of his own rather
+by what he felt they might be, than by that of any abysses they had yet
+sounded.
+
+Clement was called a "genius" by those who knew him, and was
+consequently in danger of being spoiled early. The risk is great enough
+anywhere, but greatest in a new country, where there is an almost
+universal want of fixed standards of excellence.
+
+He was by nature an artist; a shaper with the pencil or the chisel, a
+planner, a contriver capable of turning his hand to almost any work of
+eye and hand. It would not have been strange if he thought he could do
+everything, having gifts which were capable of various application,--and
+being an American citizen. But though he was a good draughtsman, and had
+made some reliefs and modelled some figures, he called himself only an
+architect. He had given himself up to his art, not merely from a love of
+it and talent for it, but with a kind of heroic devotion, because he
+thought his country wanted a race of builders to clothe the new forms of
+religious, social, and national life afresh from the forest, the quarry,
+and the mine. Some thought he would succeed, others that he would be a
+brilliant failure.
+
+"Grand notions,--grand notions," the master with whom he studied said.
+"Large ground plan of life,--splendid elevation. A little wild in some
+of his fancies, perhaps, but he's only a boy, and he's the kind of boy
+that sometimes grows to be a pretty big man. Wait and see,--wait and
+see. He works days, and we can let him dream nights. There's a good deal
+of him, anyhow." His fellow-students were puzzled. Those who thought of
+their calling as a trade, and looked forward to the time when they
+should be embodying the ideals of municipal authorities in brick and
+stone, or making contracts with wealthy citizens, doubted whether
+Clement would have a sharp eye enough for business. "Too many whims, you
+know. All sorts of queer ideas in his head,--as if a boy like him was
+going to make things all over again!"
+
+No doubt there was something of youthful extravagance in his plans and
+expectations. But it was the untamed enthusiasm which is the source of
+all great thoughts and deeds,--a beautiful delirium which age commonly
+tames down, and for which the cold shower-bath the world furnishes
+_gratis_ proves a pretty certain cure.
+
+Creation is always preceded by chaos. The youthful architect's mind was
+confused by the multitude of suggestions which were crowding in upon it,
+and which he had not yet had time or developed mature strength
+sufficient to reduce to order. The young American of any freshness of
+intellect is stimulated to dangerous excess by the conditions of life
+into which he is born. There is a double proportion of oxygen in the
+New-World air. The chemists have not found it out yet, but human brains
+and breathing organs have long since made the discovery.
+
+Clement knew that his hasty entanglement had limited his possibilities
+of happiness in one direction, and he felt that there was a certain
+grandeur in the recompense of working out his defeated instincts through
+the ambitious medium of his noble art. Had not Pharaohs chosen it to
+proclaim their longings for immortality, Cćsars their passion for pomp
+and luxury, and the priesthood to symbolize their conceptions of the
+heavenly mansions? His dreams were on a grand scale; such, after all,
+are the best possessions of youth. Had he but been free, or mated with a
+nature akin to his own, he would have felt himself as truly the heir of
+creation as any young man that lived. But his lot was cast, and his
+youth had all the serious aspect to himself of thoughtful manhood. In
+the region of his art alone he hoped always to find freedom and a
+companionship which his home life could never give him.
+
+Clement meant to have visited his beloved before he left Alderbank, but
+was called unexpectedly back to the city. Happily Susan was not
+exacting; she looked up to him with too great a feeling of distance
+between them to dare to question his actions. Perhaps she found a
+partial consolation in the company of Mr. Gifted Hopkins, who tried his
+new poems on her, which was the next best thing to addressing them to
+her. "Would that you were with us at this delightful season," she wrote
+in the autumn; "but no, your Susan must not repine. Yet, in the
+beautiful words of our native poet,
+
+    'O would, O would that thou wast here,
+    For absence makes thee doubly dear;
+    Ah! what is life while thou'rt away?
+    'Tis night without the orb of day!'"
+
+The poet referred to, it need hardly be said, was our young and
+promising friend G. H., as he sometimes modestly signed himself. The
+letter, it is unnecessary to state, was voluminous,--for a woman can
+tell her love, or other matter of interest, over and over again in as
+many forms as another poet, not G. H., found for his grief in ringing
+the musical changes of "In Memoriam."
+
+The answers to Susan's letters were kind, but not very long. They
+convinced her that it was a simple impossibility that Clement could come
+to Oxbow Village, on account of the great pressure of the work he had to
+keep him in the city, and the plans he _must_ finish at any rate. But at
+last the work was partially got rid of, and Clement was coming; yes, it
+was so nice, and, O dear! shouldn't she be real happy to see him?
+
+To Susan he appeared as a kind of divinity,--almost too grand for human
+nature's daily food. Yet, if the simple-hearted girl could have told
+herself the whole truth in plain words, she would have confessed to
+certain doubts which from time to time, and oftener of late, cast a
+shadow on her seemingly bright future. With all the pleasure that the
+thought of meeting Clement gave her, she felt a little tremor, a
+certain degree of awe, in contemplating his visit. If she could have
+clothed her self-humiliation in the gold and purple of the "Portuguese
+Sonnets," it would have been another matter; but the trouble with the
+most common sources of disquiet is that they have no wardrobe of flaming
+phraseology to air themselves in; the inward burning goes on without the
+relief and gratifying display of the crater.
+
+"A _friend_ of mine is coming to the village," she said to Mr. Gifted
+Hopkins. "I want you to see him. He is a genius,--as some other young
+men are." (This was obviously personal, and the youthful poet blushed
+with ingenuous delight.) "I have known him for ever so many years. He
+and I are _very good friends_." The poet knew that this meant an
+exclusive relation between them; and though the fact was no surprise to
+him, his countenance fell a little. The truth was, that his admiration
+was divided between Myrtle, who seemed to him divine and adorable, but
+distant, and Susan, who listened to his frequent poems, whom he was in
+the habit of seeing in artless domestic costumes, and whose attractions
+had been gaining upon him of late in the enforced absence of his
+divinity.
+
+He retired pensive from this interview, and, flinging himself at his
+desk, attempted wreaking his thoughts upon expression, to borrow the
+language of one of his brother bards, in a passionate lyric which he
+began thus:--
+
+    "ANOTHER'S!
+
+    "Another's! O the pang, the smart!
+      Fate owes to Love a deathless grudge,--
+    The barbéd fang has rent a heart
+      Which--which--
+
+"judge--judge,--no, not judge. Budge, drudge, fudge--What a disgusting
+language English is! Nothing fit to couple with such a word as
+grudge! And the gush of an impassioned moment arrested in full
+flow, stopped short, corked up, for want of a paltry rhyme!
+Judge,--budge,--drudge,--nudge,--oh!--smudge,--misery!--fudge. In
+vain,--futile,--no use,--all up for to-night!"
+
+While the poet, headed off in this way by the poverty of his native
+tongue, sought inspiration by retiring into the world of dreams,--went
+to bed, in short,--his more fortunate rival was just entering the
+village, where he was to make his brief residence at the house of Deacon
+Rumrill, who, having been a loser by the devouring element, was glad to
+receive a stray boarder when any such were looking about for quarters.
+
+For some reason or other he was restless that evening, and took out a
+volume he had brought with him to beguile the earlier hours of the
+night. It was too late when he arrived to disturb the quiet of Mrs.
+Hopkins's household; and whatever may have been Clement's impatience, he
+held it in check, and sat tranquilly until midnight over the pages of
+the book with which he had prudently provided himself.
+
+"Hope you slept well last night," said the old Deacon, when Mr. Clement
+came down to breakfast the next morning.
+
+"Very well, thank you,--that is, after I got to bed. But I sat up pretty
+late reading my favorite Scott. I am apt to forget how the hours pass
+when I have one of his books in my hand."
+
+The worthy Deacon looked at Mr. Clement with a sudden accession of
+interest.
+
+"You couldn't find better reading, young man. Scott is _my_ favorite
+author. A great man. I have got his likeness in a gilt frame hanging up
+in the other room. I have read him all through three times."
+
+The young man's countenance brightened. He had not expected to find so
+much taste for elegant literature in an old village deacon.
+
+"What are your favorites among his writings, Deacon? I suppose you have
+your particular likings, as the rest of us have."
+
+The Deacon was flattered by the question. "Well," he answered, "I can
+hardly tell you. I like pretty much everything Scott ever wrote.
+Sometimes I think it is one thing, and sometimes another. Great on
+Paul's Epistles,--don't you think so?"
+
+The honest fact was, that Clement remembered very little about "Paul's
+Letters to his Kinsfolk,"--a book of Sir Walter's less famous than many
+of his others; but he signified his polite assent to the Deacon's
+statement, rather wondering at his choice of a favorite, and smiling at
+his queer way of talking about the Letters as Epistles.
+
+"I am afraid Scott is not so much read now-a-days as he once was, and as
+he ought to be," said Mr. Clement. "Such character, such nature and so
+much grace--"
+
+"That's it,--that's it, young man," the Deacon broke in,--"Natur' and
+Grace,--Natur' and Grace. Nobody ever knew better what those two words
+meant than Scott did, and I'm very glad to see you've chosen such good
+wholesome reading. You can't set up too late, young man, to read Scott.
+If I had twenty children, they should all begin reading Scott as soon as
+they were old enough to spell 'sin,'--and that's the first word my
+little ones learned, next to 'pa' and 'ma.' Nothing like beginning the
+lessons of life in good season."
+
+"What a grim old satirist!" Clement said to himself. "I wonder if the
+old man reads other novelists.--Do tell me, Deacon, if you have read
+Thackeray's last story?"
+
+"Thackery's story? Published by the American Tract Society?"
+
+"Not exactly," Clement answered, smiling, and quite delighted to find
+such an unexpected vein of grave pleasantry about the demure-looking
+church-dignitary; for the Deacon asked his question without moving a
+muscle, and took no cognizance whatever of the young man's tone and
+smile. First-class humorists are, as is well known, remarkable for the
+immovable solemnity of their features. Clement promised himself not a
+little amusement from the curiously sedate drollery of the venerable
+Deacon, who, it was plain from his conversation, had cultivated a
+literary taste which would make him a more agreeable companion than the
+common ecclesiastics of his grade in country villages.
+
+After breakfast, Mr. Clement walked forth in the direction of Mrs.
+Hopkins's house, thinking as he went of the pleasant surprise his visit
+would bring to his longing and doubtless pensive Susan; for though she
+knew he was coming, she did not know that he was at that moment in Oxbow
+Village.
+
+As he drew near the house, the first thing he saw was Susan Posey,
+almost running against her just as he turned a corner. She looked
+wonderfully lively and rosy, for the weather was getting keen and the
+frosts had begun to bite. A young gentleman was walking at her side, and
+reading to her from a paper he held in his hand. Both looked deeply
+interested,--so much so that Clement felt half ashamed of himself for
+intruding upon them so abruptly.
+
+But lovers are lovers, and Clement could not help joining them. The
+first thing, of course, was the utterance of two simultaneous
+exclamations, "Why, Clement!" "Why, Susan!" What might have come next in
+the programme, but for the presence of a third party, is matter of
+conjecture; but what did come next was a mighty awkward look on the part
+of Susan Posey, and the following short speech:--
+
+"Mr. Lindsay, let me introduce Mr. Hopkins, my friend, the poet I've
+written to you about. He was just reading two of his poems to me. Some
+other time, Gifted--Mr. Hopkins."
+
+"O no, Mr. Hopkins,--pray go on," said Clement. "I'm very fond of
+poetry."
+
+The poet did not require much urging, and began at once reciting over
+again the stanzas which were afterwards so much admired in the "Banner
+and Oracle,"--the first verse being, as the readers of that paper will
+remember,--
+
+    "She moves in splendor, like the ray
+      That flashes from unclouded skies,
+    And all the charms of night and day
+      Are mingled in her hair and eyes."
+
+Clement, who must have been in an agony of impatience to be alone with
+his beloved, commanded his feelings admirably. He signified his
+approbation of the poem by saying that the lines were smooth and the
+rhymes absolutely without blemish. The stanzas reminded him forcibly of
+one of the greatest poets of the century.
+
+Gifted flushed hot with pleasure. He had tasted the blood of his own
+rhymes; and when a poet gets as far as that, it is like wringing the bag
+of exhilarating gas from the lips of a fellow sucking at it, to drag his
+piece away from him.
+
+"Perhaps you will like these lines still better," he said; "the style is
+more modern:--
+
+    'O daughter of the spicéd South,
+      Her bubbly grapes have spilled the wine
+      That staineth with its hue divine
+    The red flower of thy perfect mouth.'"
+
+And so on, through a series of stanzas like these, with the pulp of two
+rhymes between the upper and lower crust of two others.
+
+Clement was cornered. It was necessary to say something for the poet's
+sake,--perhaps for Susan's; for she was in a certain sense responsible
+for the poems of a youth of genius, of whom she had spoken so often and
+so enthusiastically.
+
+"Very good, Mr. Hopkins, and a form of verse little used, I should
+think, until of late years. You modelled this piece on the style of a
+famous living English poet, did you not?"
+
+"Indeed I did not, Mr. Lindsay,--I never imitate. Originality is, if I
+may be allowed to say so much for myself, my peculiar _forte_. Why, the
+critics allow as much as that. See here, Mr. Lindsay."
+
+Mr. Gifted Hopkins pulled out his pocket-book, and, taking therefrom a
+cutting from a newspaper,--which dropped helplessly open of itself, as
+if tired of the process, being very tender in the joints or creases, by
+reason of having been often folded and unfolded,--read aloud as
+follows:--
+
+     "The bard of Oxbow Village--our valued correspondent who writes
+     over the signature of G. H.--is, in our opinion, more
+     remarkable for his _originality_ than for any other of his
+     numerous gifts."
+
+Clement was apparently silenced by this, and the poet a little elated
+with a sense of triumph. Susan could not help sharing his feeling of
+satisfaction, and without meaning it in the least, nay, without knowing
+it, for she was as simple and pure as new milk, edged a little bit--the
+merest infinitesimal atom--nearer to Gifted Hopkins, who was on one side
+of her, while Clement walked on the other. Women love the conquering
+party,--it is the way of their sex. And poets, as we have seen, are
+wellnigh irresistible when they exert their dangerous power of
+fascination upon the female heart. But Clement was above jealousy; and,
+if he perceived anything of this movement, took no notice of it.
+
+He saw a good deal of his pretty Susan that day. She was tender in her
+expressions and manners as usual, but there was a little something in
+her looks and language from time to time that Clement did not know
+exactly what to make of. She colored once or twice when the young poet's
+name was mentioned. She was not so full of her little plans for the
+future as she had sometimes been, "everything was so uncertain," she
+said. Clement asked himself whether she felt quite as sure that her
+attachment would last as she once did. But there were no reproaches, not
+even any explanations, which are about as bad between lovers. There was
+nothing but an undefined feeling on his side that she did not cling
+quite so closely to him, perhaps, as he had once thought, and that, if
+he had happened to have been drowned that day when he went down with the
+beautiful young woman, it was just conceivable that Susan, who would
+have cried dreadfully, no doubt, would in time have listened to
+consolation from some other young man,--possibly from the young poet
+whose verses he had been admiring. Easy-crying widows take new husbands
+soonest; there is nothing like wet weather for transplanting, as Master
+Gridley used to say. Susan had a fluent natural gift for tears, as
+Clement well knew, after the exercise of which she used to brighten up
+like the rose which had been washed, just washed in a shower, mentioned
+by Cowper.
+
+As for the poet, he learned more of his own sentiments during this visit
+of Clement's than he had ever before known. He wandered about with a
+dreadfully disconsolate look upon his countenance. He showed a
+falling-off in his appetite at tea-time, which surprised and disturbed
+his mother, for she had filled the house with fragrant suggestions of
+good things coming, in honor of Mr. Lindsay, who was to be her guest at
+tea. And chiefly the genteel form of doughnut called in the native
+dialect _cymbal_ (_Qu._ Symbol? B. G.) which graced the board with its
+plastic forms, suggestive of the most pleasing objects,--the spiral
+ringlets pendent from the brow of beauty,--the magic circlet, which is
+the pledge of plighted affection,--the indissoluble knot, which typifies
+the union of hearts, which organs were also largely represented; this
+exceptional delicacy would at any other time have claimed his special
+notice. But his mother remarked that he paid little attention to these,
+and his "No, I thank you," when it came to the preserved "damsels" as
+some call them, carried a pang with it to the maternal bosom. The most
+touching evidence of his unhappiness--whether intentional or the result
+of accident was not evident--was a _broken heart_, which he left upon
+his plate, the meaning of which was as plain as anything in the language
+of flowers. His thoughts were gloomy during that day, running a good
+deal on the more picturesque and impressive methods of bidding a
+voluntary farewell to a world which had allured him with visions of
+beauty only to snatch them from his impassioned gaze. His mother saw
+something of this, and got from him a few disjointed words, which led
+her to lock up the clothes-line and hide her late husband's razors,--an
+affectionate, yet perhaps unnecessary precaution, for self-elimination
+contemplated from this point of view by those who have the natural
+outlet of verse to relieve them is rarely followed by a casualty. It may
+rather be considered as implying a more than average chance for
+longevity; as those who meditate an imposing finish naturally save
+themselves for it, and are therefore careful of their health until the
+time comes, and this is apt to be indefinitely postponed so long as
+there is a poem to write or a proof to be corrected.
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE SECOND MEETING.
+
+"Miss Eveleth requests the pleasure of Mr. Lindsay's company to meet a
+few friends on the evening of the Feast of St. Ambrose, December 7th,
+Wednesday.
+
+"THE PARSONAGE, December 6th."
+
+It was the luckiest thing in the world. They always made a little
+festival of that evening at the Rev. Ambrose Eveleth's, in honor of his
+canonized namesake, and because they liked to have a good time. It came
+this year just at the right moment, for here was a distinguished
+stranger visiting in the place. Oxbow Village seemed to be running over
+with its one extra young man,--as may be seen sometimes in larger
+villages, and even in cities of moderate dimensions.
+
+Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had called on Clement the very day of his
+arrival. He had already met the Deacon in the street, and asked some
+questions about his transient boarder.
+
+A very interesting young man, the Deacon said, much given to the reading
+of pious books. Up late at night after he came, reading Scott's
+Commentary. Appeared to be as fond of serious works as other young folks
+were of their novels and romances and other immoral publications. He,
+the Deacon, thought of having a few religious friends to meet the young
+gentleman, if he felt so disposed; and should like to have him, Mr.
+Bradshaw, come in and take a part in the exercises.--Mr. Bradshaw was
+unfortunately engaged. He thought the young gentleman could hardly find
+time for such a meeting during his brief visit.
+
+Mr. Bradshaw expected naturally to see a youth of imperfect
+constitution, and cachectic or dyspeptic tendencies, who was in training
+to furnish one of those biographies beginning with the statement that,
+from his infancy, the subject of it showed no inclination for boyish
+amusements, and so on, until he dies out, for the simple reason that
+there was not enough of him to live. Very interesting, no doubt, Master
+Byles Gridley would have said, but had no more to do with good, hearty,
+sound life than the history of those very little people to be seen in
+museums, preserved in jars of alcohol, like brandy peaches.
+
+When Mr. Clement Lindsay presented himself, Mr. Bradshaw was a good deal
+surprised to see a young fellow of such a mould. He pleased himself with
+the idea that he knew a man of mark at sight, and he set down Clement in
+that category at his first glance. The young man met his penetrating and
+questioning look with a frank, ingenuous, open aspect, before which he
+felt himself disarmed, as it were, and thrown upon other means of
+analysis. He would try him a little in talk.
+
+"I hope you like these people you are with. What sort of a man do you
+find my old friend the Deacon?"
+
+Clement laughed. "A very queer old character. Loves his joke as well,
+and is as sly in making it, as if he had studied Joe Miller instead of
+the Catechism."
+
+Mr. Bradshaw looked at the young man to know what he meant. Mr. Lindsay
+talked in a very easy way for a serious young person. He was puzzled. He
+did not see to the bottom of this description of the Deacon. With a
+lawyer's instinct, he kept his doubts to himself and tried his witness
+with a new question.
+
+"Did you talk about books at all with the old man?"
+
+"To be sure I did. Would you believe it, that aged saint is a great
+novel-reader. So he tells me. What is more, he brings up his children to
+that sort of reading, from the time when they first begin to spell. If
+anybody else had told me such a story about an old country deacon, I
+wouldn't have believed it; but he said so himself, to me, at breakfast
+this morning."
+
+Mr. Bradshaw felt as if either he or Mr. Lindsay must certainly be in
+the first stage of mild insanity, and he did not think that he himself
+could be out of his wits. He must try one more question. He had become
+so mystified that he forgot himself, and began putting his interrogation
+in legal form.
+
+"Will you state, if you please--I beg your pardon--may I ask who is your
+own favorite author?"
+
+"I think just now I like to read Scott better than almost anybody."
+
+"Do you mean the Rev. Thomas Scott, author of the Commentary?"
+
+Clement stared at Mr. Bradshaw, and wondered whether he was trying to
+make a fool of him. The young lawyer hardly looked as if he could be a
+fool himself.
+
+"I mean Sir Walter Scott," he said, dryly.
+
+"Oh!" said Mr. Bradshaw. He saw that there had been a slight
+misunderstanding between the young man and his worthy host, but it was
+none of his business, and there were other subjects of interest to talk
+about.
+
+"You know one of our charming young ladies very well, I believe, Mr.
+Lindsay. I think you are an old acquaintance of Miss Posey, whom we all
+consider so pretty."
+
+Poor Clement! The question pierced to the very marrow of his soul, but
+it was put with the utmost suavity and courtesy, and honeyed with a
+compliment to the young lady, too, so that there was no avoiding a
+direct and pleasant answer to it.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I have known the young lady you speak of for a long
+time, and very well,--in fact, as you must have heard, we are something
+more than friends. My visit here is principally on her account."
+
+"You must give the rest of us a chance to see something of you during
+your visit, Mr. Lindsay. I hope you are invited to Miss Eveleth's this
+evening?"
+
+"Yes, I got a note this morning. Tell me, Mr. Bradshaw, who is there
+that I shall meet this evening if I go? I have no doubt there are girls
+here I should like to see, and perhaps some young fellows that I should
+like to talk with. You know all that's prettiest and pleasantest, of
+course."'
+
+"O, we're a little place, Mr. Lindsay. A few nice people, the rest
+_comme ça_, you know. High-bush blackberries and low-bush
+blackberries,--you understand,--just so everywhere,--high-bush here and
+there, low-bush plenty. You must see the two parsons' daughters,--Saint
+Ambrose's and Saint Joseph's,--and another girl I want particularly to
+introduce you to. You shall form your own opinion of her. _I_ call her
+handsome and stylish, but you have got spoiled, you know. Our young
+poet, too, one we raised in this place, Mr. Lindsay, and a superior
+article of poet, as we think,--that is, some of us, for the rest of us
+are jealous of him, because the girls are all dying for him and want his
+autograph.--And Cyp,--yes, you must talk to Cyp,--he has ideas. But
+don't forget to get hold of old Byles--Master Gridley I mean--before you
+go. Big head. Brains enough for a cabinet minister, and fit out a
+college faculty with what was left over. Be sure you see old Byles. Set
+him talking about his book,--'Thoughts on the Universe.' Didn't sell
+much, but has got knowing things in it. I'll show you a copy, and then
+you can tell him you know it, and he will take to you. Come in and get
+your dinner with me to-morrow. We will dine late, as the city folks do,
+and after that we will go over to the Rector's. I should like to show
+you some of our village people."
+
+Mr. Bradshaw liked the thought of showing the young man to some of his
+friends there. As Clement was already "done for," or "bowled out," as
+the young lawyer would have expressed the fact of his being pledged in
+the matrimonial direction, there was nothing to be apprehended on the
+score of rivalry. And although Clement was particularly good-looking,
+and would have been called a distinguishable youth anywhere, Mr.
+Bradshaw considered himself far more than his match, in all probability,
+in social accomplishments. He expected, therefore, a certain amount of
+reflex credit for bringing such a fine young fellow in his company, and
+a second instalment of reputation from outshining him in conversation.
+This was rather nice calculating, but Murray Bradshaw always calculated.
+With most men life is like backgammon, half skill and half luck, but
+with him it was like chess. He never pushed a pawn without reckoning the
+cost, and when his mind was least busy it was sure to be half a dozen
+moves ahead of the game as it was standing.
+
+Mr. Bradshaw gave Clement a pretty dinner enough for such a place as
+Oxbow Village. He offered him some good wine, and would have made him
+talk so as to show his lining, to use one of his own expressions, but
+Clement had apparently been through that trifling experience, and could
+not be coaxed into saying more than he meant to say. Murray Bradshaw was
+very curious to find out how it was that he had become the victim of
+such a rudimentary miss as Susan Posey. Could she be an heiress in
+disguise? Why no, of course not; had not he made all proper inquiries
+about that when Susan came to town? A small inheritance from an aunt or
+uncle, or some such relative, enough to make her a desirable party in
+the eyes of certain villagers perhaps, but nothing to allure a man like
+this, whose face and figure as marketable possessions were worth say a
+hundred thousand in the girl's own right, as Mr. Bradshaw put it
+roughly, with another hundred thousand if his talent is what some say,
+and if his connection is a desirable one, a fancy price,--anything he
+would fetch. Of course not. Must have got caught when he was a child.
+Why the _diavolo_ didn't he break it off, then?
+
+There was no fault to find with the modest entertainment at the
+Parsonage. A splendid banquet in a great house is an admirable thing,
+provided always its getting up did not cost the entertainer an inward
+conflict, nor its recollection a twinge of economical regret, nor its
+bills a cramp of anxiety. A simple evening party in the smallest village
+is just as admirable in its degree, when the parlor is cheerfully
+lighted, and the board prettily spread, and the guests are made to feel
+comfortable without being reminded that anybody is making a painful
+effort.
+
+We know several of the young people who were there, and need not trouble
+ourselves for the others. Myrtle Hazard had promised to come. She had
+her own way of late as never before; in fact, the women were afraid of
+her. Miss Silence felt that she could not be responsible for her any
+longer. She had hopes for a time that Myrtle would go through the
+customary spiritual paroxysm under the influence of the Rev. Mr.
+Stoker's assiduous exhortations; but since she had broken off with him,
+Miss Silence had looked upon her as little better than a backslider. And
+now that the girl was beginning to show the tendencies which seemed to
+come straight down to her from the belle of the last century, (whose
+rich physical developments seemed to the under-vitalized spinster as in
+themselves a kind of offence against propriety,) the forlorn woman
+folded her thin hands and looked on hopelessly, hardly venturing a
+remonstrance for fear of some new explosion. As for Cynthia, she was
+comparatively easy since she had, through Mr. Byles Gridley, upset the
+minister's questionable apparatus of religious intimacy. She had, in
+fact, in a quiet way, given Mr. Bradshaw to understand that he would
+probably meet Myrtle at the Parsonage if he dropped in at their small
+gathering.
+
+Clement walked over to Mrs. Hopkins's after his dinner with the young
+lawyer, and asked if Susan was ready to go with him. At the sound of his
+voice, Gifted Hopkins smote his forehead, and called himself, in subdued
+tones, a miserable being. His imagination wavered uncertain for a while
+between pictures of various modes of ridding himself of existence, and
+fearful deeds involving the life of others. He had no fell purpose of
+actually doing either, but there was a gloomy pleasure in contemplating
+them as possibilities, and in mentally sketching the "Lines written in
+Despair" which would be found in what was but an hour before the pocket
+of the youthful bard, G. H., victim of a hopeless passion. All this
+emotion was in the nature of a surprise to the young man. He had fully
+believed himself desperately in love with Myrtle Hazard; and it was not
+until Clement came into the family circle with the right of eminent
+domain over the realm of Susan's affections, that this unfortunate
+discovered that Susan's pretty ways and morning dress and love of poetry
+and liking for his company had been too much for him, and that he was
+henceforth to be wretched during the remainder of his natural life,
+except so far as he could unburden himself in song.
+
+Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had asked the privilege of waiting upon
+Myrtle to the little party at the Eveleths. Myrtle was not insensible to
+the attractions of the young lawyer, though she had never thought of
+herself except as a child in her relations with any of these older
+persons. But she was not the same girl that she had been but a few
+months before. She had achieved her independence by her audacious and
+most dangerous enterprise. She had gone through strange nervous trials
+and spiritual experiences, which had matured her more rapidly than years
+of common life would have done. She had got back her health, bringing
+with it a riper wealth of womanhood. She had found her destiny in the
+consciousness that she inherited the beauty belonging to her blood, and
+which, after sleeping for a generation or two as if to rest from the
+glare of the pageant that follows beauty through its long career of
+triumph, had come to the light again in her life, and was to repeat the
+legends of the olden time in her own history.
+
+Myrtle's wardrobe had very little of ornament, such as the _modistes_ of
+the town would have thought essential to render a young girl like her
+presentable. There were a few heirlooms of old date, however, which she
+had kept as curiosities until now, and which she looked over until she
+found some lace and other convertible material, with which she enlivened
+her costume a little for the evening. As she clasped the antique
+bracelet around her wrist, she felt as if it were an amulet that gave
+her the power of charming which had been so long obsolete in her
+lineage. At the bottom of her heart she cherished a secret longing to
+try her fascinations on the young lawyer. Who could blame her? It was
+not an inwardly expressed intention,--it was the mere blind instinctive
+movement to subjugate the strongest of the other sex who had come in her
+way, which, as already said, is as natural to a woman as it is to a man
+to be captivated by the loveliest of those to whom he dares to aspire.
+
+Before William Murray Bradshaw and Myrtle Hazard had reached the
+Parsonage, the girl's cheeks were flushed and her dark eyes were
+flashing with a new excitement. The young man had not made love to her
+directly, but he had interested her in herself by a delicate and tender
+flattery of manner, and so set her fancies working that she was taken
+with him as never before, and wishing that the Parsonage had been a mile
+farther from The Poplars. It was impossible for a young girl like Myrtle
+to conceal the pleasure she received from listening to her seductive
+admirer, who was trying all his trained skill upon his artless
+companion. Murray Bradshaw felt sure that the game was in his hands if
+he played it with only common prudence. There was no need of hurrying
+this child,--it might startle her to make downright love abruptly; and
+now that he had an ally in her own household, and was to have access to
+her with a freedom he had never before enjoyed, there was a refined
+pleasure in playing his fish,--this gamest of golden-scaled
+creatures,--which had risen to his fly, and which he wished to hook, but
+not to land, until he was sure it would be worth his while.
+
+They entered the little parlor at the Parsonage looking so beaming, that
+Olive and Bathsheba exchanged glances which implied so much that it
+would take a full page to tell it with all the potentialities involved.
+
+"How magnificent Myrtle is this evening, Bathsheba!" said Cyprian
+Eveleth, pensively.
+
+"What a handsome pair they are, Cyprian!" said Bathsheba cheerfully.
+
+Cyprian sighed. "She always fascinates me whenever I look upon her.
+Isn't she the very picture of what a poet's love should be,--a poem
+herself,--a glorious lyric,--all light and music! See what a smile the
+creature has! And her voice! When did you ever hear such tones? And when
+was it ever so full of life before?"
+
+Bathsheba sighed. "I do not know any poets but Gifted Hopkins. Does not
+Myrtle look more in her place by the side of Murray Bradshaw than she
+would with Gifted hitched on her arm?"
+
+Just then the poet made his appearance. He looked depressed, as if it
+had cost him an effort to come. He was, however, charged with a message
+which he must deliver to the hostess of the evening.
+
+"They're coming presently," he said. "That young man and Susan. Wants
+you to introduce him, Mr. Bradshaw."
+
+The bell rang presently, and Murray Bradshaw slipped out into the entry
+to meet the two lovers.
+
+"How are you, my fortunate friend?" he said, as he met them at the door.
+"Of course you're well and happy as mortal man can be in this vale of
+tears. Charming, ravishing, quite delicious, that way of dressing your
+hair, Miss Posey! Nice girls here this evening, Mr. Lindsay. Looked
+lovely when I came out of the parlor. Can't say how they will show after
+this young lady puts in an appearance." In reply to which florid
+speeches Susan blushed, not knowing what else to do, and Clement smiled
+as naturally as if he had been sitting for his photograph.
+
+He felt, in a vague way, that he and Susan were being patronized, which
+is not a pleasant feeling to persons with a certain pride of character.
+There was no expression of contempt about Mr. Bradshaw's manner or
+language at which he could take offence. Only he had the air of a man
+who praises his neighbor without stint, with a calm consciousness that
+he himself is out of reach of comparison in the possessions or qualities
+which he is admiring in the other. Clement was right in his obscure
+perception of Mr. Bradshaw's feeling while he was making his phrases.
+That gentleman was, in another moment, to have the tingling delight of
+showing the grand creature he had just begun to tame. He was going to
+extinguish the pallid light of Susan's prettiness in the brightness of
+Myrtle's beauty. He would bring this young man, neutralized and rendered
+entirely harmless by his irrevocable pledge to a slight girl, face to
+face with a masterpiece of young womanhood, and say to him, not in
+words, but as plainly as speech could have told him, "Behold my
+captive!"
+
+It was a proud moment for Murray Bradshaw. He had seen, or thought that
+he had seen, the assured evidence of a speedy triumph over all the
+obstacles of Myrtle's youth and his own present seeming slight excess of
+maturity. Unless he were very greatly mistaken, he could now walk the
+course; the plate was his, no matter what might be the entries. And this
+youth, this handsome, spirited-looking, noble-aired young fellow, whose
+artist-eye could not miss a line of Myrtle's proud and almost defiant
+beauty, was to be the witness of his power, and to look in admiration
+upon his prize! He introduced him to the others, reserving her for the
+last. She was at that moment talking with the worthy Rector, and turned
+when Mr. Bradshaw spoke to her.
+
+"Miss Hazard, will you allow me to present to you my friend, Mr. Clement
+Lindsay?"
+
+They looked full upon each other, and spoke the common words of
+salutation. It was a strange meeting; but we who profess to tell the
+truth must tell strange things, or we shall be liars.
+
+In poor little Susan's letter there was some allusion to a bust of
+Innocence which the young artist had begun, but of which he had said
+nothing in his answer to her. He had roughed out a block of marble for
+that impersonation; sculpture was a delight to him, though secondary to
+his main pursuit. After his memorable adventure, the features and the
+forms of the girl he had rescued so haunted him that the pale ideal
+which was to work itself out in the bust faded away in its perpetual
+presence, and--alas, poor Susan!--in obedience to the impulse that he
+could not control, he left Innocence sleeping in the marble, and began
+modelling a figure of proud and noble and imperious beauty, to which he
+gave the name of Liberty.
+
+The original which had inspired his conception was before him. These
+were the lips to which his own had clung when he brought her back from
+the land of shadows. The hyacinthine curl of her lengthening locks had
+added something to her beauty; but it was the same face which had
+haunted him. This was the form he had borne seemingly lifeless in his
+arms, and the bosom which heaved so visibly before him was that which
+his eyes--. They were the calm eyes of a sculptor, but of a sculptor
+hardly twenty years old.
+
+Yes,--her bosom was heaving. She had an unexplained feeling of
+suffocation, and drew great breaths,--she could not have said why,--but
+she could not help it; and presently she became giddy, and had a great
+noise in her ears, and rolled her eyes about, and was on the point of
+going into an hysteric spasm. They called Dr. Hurlbut, who was making
+himself agreeable to Olive just then, to come and see what was the
+matter with Myrtle.
+
+"A little nervous turn,--that is all," he said. "Open the window. Loose
+the ribbon round her neck. Rub her hands. Sprinkle some water on her
+forehead. A few drops of cologne. Room too warm for her,--that's all, I
+think."
+
+Myrtle came to herself after a time without anything like a regular
+paroxysm. But she was excitable, and whatever the cause of the
+disturbance may have been, it seemed prudent that she should go home
+early; and the excellent Rector insisted on caring for her, much to the
+discontent of Mr. William Murray Bradshaw.
+
+"Demonish odd," said this gentleman, "wasn't it, Mr. Lindsay, that Miss
+Hazard should go off in that way? Did you ever see her before?"
+
+"I--I--have seen that young lady before," Clement answered.
+
+"Where did you meet her?" Mr. Bradshaw asked, with eager interest.
+
+"I met her in the Valley of the Shadow of Death," Clement answered, very
+solemnly.--"I leave this place to-morrow morning. Have you any commands
+for the city?"
+
+("Knows how to shut a fellow up pretty well for a young one, doesn't
+he?" Mr. Bradshaw thought to himself.)
+
+"Thank you, no," he answered, recovering himself. "Rather a melancholy
+place to make acquaintance in, I should think, that Valley you spoke of.
+I should like to know about it."
+
+Mr. Clement had the power of looking steadily into another person's eyes
+in a way that was by no means encouraging to curiosity or favorable to
+the process of cross-examination. Mr. Bradshaw was not disposed to press
+his question in the face of the calm, repressive look the young man gave
+him.
+
+"If he wasn't bagged, I shouldn't like the shape of things any too
+well," he said to himself.
+
+The conversation between Mr. Clement Lindsay and Miss Susan Posey, as
+they walked home together, was not very brilliant. "I am going
+to-morrow morning," he said, "and I must bid you good by to-night."
+Perhaps it is as well to leave two lovers to themselves, under these
+circumstances.
+
+Before he went he spoke to his worthy host, whose moderate demands he
+had to satisfy, and with whom he wished to exchange a few words.
+
+"And by the way, Deacon, I have no use for this book, and as it is in a
+good type, perhaps you would like it. Your favorite, Scott, and one of
+his greatest works. I have another edition of it at home, and don't care
+for this volume."
+
+"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Lindsay, much obleeged. I shall read that
+copy for your sake,--the best of books next to the Bible itself."
+
+After Mr. Lindsay had gone, the Deacon looked at the back of the book.
+"Scott's Works, Vol. IX." He opened it at hazard, and happened to fall
+on a well-known page, from which he began reading aloud, slowly,
+
+    "When Izrul, of the Lord beloved,
+    Out of the land of bondage came."
+
+The whole hymn pleased the grave Deacon. He had never seen this work of
+the author of the Commentary. No matter; anything that such a good man
+wrote must be good reading, and he would save it up for Sunday. The
+consequence of this was, that, when the Rev. Mr. Stoker stopped in on
+his way to meeting on the "Sabbath," he turned white with horror at the
+spectacle of the senior Deacon of his church sitting, open-mouthed and
+wide-eyed, absorbed in the pages of "Ivanhoe," which he found enormously
+interesting; but, so far as he had yet read, not occupied with religious
+matters so much as he had expected.
+
+Myrtle had no explanation to give of her nervous attack. Mr. Bradshaw
+called the day after the party, but did not see her. He met her walking,
+and thought she seemed a little more distant than common. That would
+never do. He called again at The Poplars a few days afterwards, and was
+met in the entry by Miss Cynthia, with whom he had a long conversation
+on matters involving Myrtle's interests and their own.
+
+
+
+
+A PASSAGE FROM HAWTHORNE'S ENGLISH NOTEBOOKS.
+
+
+Our road to Rydal lay through Ambleside, which is certainly a very
+pretty town, and looks cheerfully on a sunny day. We saw Miss
+Martineau's residence, called the Knoll, standing high up on a hillock,
+and having at its foot a Methodist chapel, for which, or whatever place
+of Christian worship, this good lady can have no occasion. We stopped a
+moment in the street below her house, and deliberated a little whether
+to call on her, but concluded otherwise.
+
+After leaving Ambleside, the road winds in and out among the hills, and
+soon brings us to a sheet (or napkin, rather, than a sheet) of water,
+which the driver tells us is Rydal Lake! We had already heard that it
+was but three quarters of a mile long, and one quarter broad; still, it
+being an idea of considerable size in our minds, we had inevitably drawn
+its ideal physical proportions on a somewhat corresponding scale. It
+certainly did look very small; and I said, in my American scorn, that I
+could carry it away easily in a porringer; for it is nothing more than a
+grassy-bordered pool among the surrounding hills, which ascend directly
+from its margin; so that one might fancy it not a permanent body of
+water, but a rather extensive accumulation of recent rain. Moreover, it
+was rippled with a breeze, and so, as I remember it, though the sun
+shone, it looked dull and sulky, like a child out of humor. Now the best
+thing these small ponds can do is to keep perfectly calm and smooth, and
+not to attempt to show off any airs of their own, but content themselves
+with serving as a mirror for whatever of beautiful or picturesque there
+may be in the scenery around them. The hills about Rydal water are not
+very lofty, but are sufficiently so as objects of every-day
+view,--objects to live with,--and they are craggier than those we have
+hitherto seen, and bare of wood, which indeed would hardly grow on some
+of their precipitous sides.
+
+On the roadside, as we reach the foot of the lake, stands a spruce and
+rather large house of modern aspect, but with several gables, and much
+overgrown with ivy,--a very pretty and comfortable house, built,
+adorned, and cared for with commendable taste. We inquired whose it was,
+and the coachman said it was "Mr. Wordsworth's," and that Mrs.
+Wordsworth was still residing there. So we were much delighted to have
+seen his abode; and as we were to stay the night at Grasmere, about two
+miles farther on, we determined to come back and inspect it as
+particularly as should be allowable. Accordingly, after taking rooms at
+Brown's Hotel, we drove back in our return car, and, reaching the head
+of Rydal water, alighted to walk through this familiar scene of so many
+years of Wordsworth's life. We ought to have seen De Quincey's former
+residence, and Hartley Coleridge's cottage, I believe, on our way, but
+were not aware of it at the time. Near the lake there is a stone quarry,
+and a cavern of some extent, artificially formed, probably, by taking
+out the stone. Above the shore of the lake, not a great way from
+Wordsworth's residence, there is a flight of steps hewn in a rock, and
+ascending to a seat, where a good view of the lake may be attained; and
+as Wordsworth has doubtless sat there hundreds of times, so did we
+ascend and sit down and look at the hills and at the flags on the
+lake's shore.
+
+Reaching the house that had been pointed out to us as Wordsworth's
+residence, we began to peer about at its front and gables, and over the
+garden-wall on both sides of the road, quickening our enthusiasm as much
+as we could, and meditating to pilfer some flower or ivy-leaf from the
+house or its vicinity, to be kept as sacred memorials. At this juncture
+a man approached, who announced himself as the gardener of the place,
+and said, too, that this was not Wordsworth's house at all, but the
+residence of Mr. Ball, a Quaker gentleman; but that his ground adjoined
+Wordsworth's, and that he had liberty to take visitors through the
+latter. How absurd it would have been if we had carried away ivy-leaves
+and tender recollections from this domicile of a respectable Quaker! The
+gardener was an intelligent young man, of pleasant, sociable, and
+respectful address; and as we went along, he talked about the poet, whom
+he had known, and who, he said, was very familiar with the country
+people. He led us through Mr. Ball's grounds, up a steep hillside, by
+winding, gravelled walks, with summer-houses at points favorable for
+them. It was a very shady and pleasant spot, containing about an acre of
+ground, and all turned to good account by the manner of laying it out;
+so that it seemed more than it really was. In one place, on a small,
+smooth slab of slate let into a rock, there is an inscription by
+Wordsworth, which I think I have read in his works, claiming kindly
+regards from those who visit the spot, after his departure, because many
+trees had been spared at his intercession. His own grounds, or rather
+his ornamental garden, is separated from Mr. Ball's only by a wire
+fence, or some such barrier, and the gates have no fastening, so that
+the whole appears like one possession, and doubtless was so as regarded
+the poet's walks and enjoyments. We approached by paths so winding, that
+I hardly know how the house stands in relation to the road; but, after
+much circuity, we really did see Wordsworth's residence,--an old house,
+with an uneven ridge-pole, built of stone, no doubt, but plastered over
+with some neutral tint,--a house that would not have been remarkably
+pretty in itself, but so delightfully situated, so secluded, so hedged
+about with shrubbery and adorned with flowers, so ivy-grown on one side,
+so beautified with the personal care of him who lived in it and loved
+it, that it seemed the very place for a poet's residence; and as if,
+while he lived so long in it, his poetry had manifested itself in
+flowers, shrubbery, and ivy. I never smelt such a delightful fragrance
+of flowers as there was all through the garden. In front of the house,
+there is a circular terrace, of two ascents, in raising which Wordsworth
+had himself performed much of the labor; and here there are seats, from
+which we obtained a fine view down the valley of the Rothay, with
+Windermere in the distance,--a view of several miles, and which we did
+not suppose could be seen, after winding among the hills so far from the
+lake. It is very beautiful and picture-like. While we sat here, mamma
+happened to refer to the ballad of little Barbara Lewthwaite, and Julian
+began to repeat the poem concerning her; and the gardener said that
+little Barbara had died not a great while ago, an elderly woman, leaving
+grown-up children behind her. Her marriage-name was Thompson, and the
+gardener believed there was nothing remarkable in her character.
+
+There is a summer-house at one extremity of the grounds, in deepest
+shadow, but with glimpses of mountain-views through trees which shut it
+in, and which have spread intercepting boughs since Wordsworth died. It
+is lined with pine-cones, in a pretty way enough, but of doubtful taste.
+I rather wonder that people of real taste should help Nature out, and
+beautify her, or perhaps rather _prettify_ her so much as they
+do,--opening vistas, showing one thing, hiding another, making a scene
+picturesque whether or no. I cannot rid myself of the feeling that there
+is something false, a kind of humbug, in all this. At any rate, the
+traces of it do not contribute to my enjoyment, and, indeed, it ought to
+be done so exquisitely as to leave no trace. But I ought not to
+criticise in any way a spot which gave me so much pleasure, and where it
+is good to think of Wordsworth in quiet, past days, walking in his
+home-shadow of trees which he knew, and training flowers, and trimming
+shrubs, and chanting in an undertone his own verses, up and down the
+winding walks.
+
+The gardener gave Julian a cone from the summer-house, which had fallen
+on the seat, and mamma got some mignonette, and leaves of laurel and
+ivy, and we wended our way back to the hotel.
+
+Wordsworth was not the owner of this house, it being the property of
+Lady Fleming. Mrs. Wordsworth still lives there, and is now at home.
+
+_Five o'clock._--All day it has been cloudy and showery, with thunder
+now and then; the mists hang low on the surrounding hills, adown which,
+at various points, we can see the snow-white fall of little
+streamlets--forces they call them here--swollen by the rain. An overcast
+day is not so gloomy in the hill-country as in the lowlands; there are
+more breaks, more transfusion of sky-light through the gloom, as has
+been the case to-day; and, as I found in Lenox, we get better acquainted
+with clouds by seeing at what height they lie on the hillsides, and find
+that the difference betwixt a fair day and a cloudy and rainy one is
+very superficial, after all. Nevertheless, rain is rain, and wets a man
+just as much among the mountains as anywhere else; so we have been kept
+within doors all day, till an hour or so ago, when Julian and I went
+down to the village in quest of the post-office.
+
+We took a path that leads from the hotel across the fields, and, coming
+into a wood, crosses the Rothay by a one-arched bridge, and passes the
+village church. The Rothay is very swift and turbulent to-day, and
+hurries along with foam-specks on its surface, filling its banks from
+brim to brim, a stream perhaps twenty feet wide, perhaps more; for I am
+willing that the good little river should have all it can fairly claim.
+It is the St. Lawrence of several of these English lakes, through which
+it flows, and carries off their superfluous waters. In its haste, and
+with its rushing sound, it was pleasant both to see and hear; and it
+sweeps by one side of the old churchyard where Wordsworth lies
+buried,--the side where his grave is made. The church of Grasmere is a
+very plain structure, with a low body, on one side of which is a low
+porch with a pointed arch. The tower is square, and looks ancient; but
+the whole is overlaid with plaster of a buff or pale-yellow hue. It was
+originally built, I suppose, of rough, shingly stones, as many of the
+houses hereabouts are now, and the plaster is used to give a finish. We
+found the gate of the churchyard wide open; and the grass was lying on
+the graves, having probably been mowed yesterday. It is but a small
+churchyard, and with few monuments of any pretension in it, most of them
+being slate headstones, standing erect. From the gate at which we
+entered a distinct foot-track leads to the corner nearest the
+river-side, and I turned into it by a sort of instinct, the more readily
+as I saw a tourist-looking man approaching from that point, and a woman
+looking among the gravestones. Both of these persons had gone by the
+time I came up, so that Julian and I were left to find Wordsworth's
+grave all by ourselves.
+
+At this corner of the churchyard there is a hawthorn bush or tree, the
+extremest branches of which stretch as far as where Wordsworth lies.
+This whole corner seems to be devoted to himself and his family and
+friends; and they all lie very closely together, side by side, and head
+to foot, as room could conveniently be found. Hartley Coleridge lies a
+little behind, in the direction of the church, his feet being towards
+Wordsworth's head, who lies in the row of those of his own blood. I
+found out Hartley Coleridge's grave sooner than Wordsworth's; for it is
+of marble, and, though simple enough, has more of sculptured device
+about it, having been erected, as I think the inscription states, by his
+brother and sister. Wordsworth's has only the very simplest slab of
+slate, with "William Wordsworth" and nothing else upon it. As I
+recollect it, it is the midmost grave of the row. It is, or has been,
+well grass-grown, but the grass is quite worn away from the top, though
+sufficiently luxuriant at the sides. It looks as if people had stood
+upon it, and so does the grave next to it, which, I believe, is of one
+of his children. I plucked some grass and weeds from it; and as he was
+buried within so few years, they may fairly be supposed to have drawn
+their nutriment from his mortal remains, and I gathered them from just
+above his head. There is no fault to be found with his grave,--within
+view of the hills, within sound of the river, murmuring near by,--no
+fault, except that he is crowded so closely with his kindred; and,
+moreover, that, being so old a churchyard, the earth over him must all
+have been human once. He might have had fresh earth to himself, but he
+chose this grave deliberately. No very stately and broad-based monument
+can ever be erected over it, without infringing upon, covering, and
+overshadowing the graves, not only of his family, but of individuals who
+probably were quite disconnected with him. But it is pleasant to think
+and know--were it but on the evidence of this choice of a
+resting-place--that he did not care for a stately monument. After
+leaving the churchyard, we wandered about in quest of the post-office,
+and for a long time without success. This little town of Grasmere seems
+to me as pretty a place as ever I met with in my life. It is quite shut
+in by hills that rise up immediately around it, like a neighborhood of
+kindly giants. These hills descend steeply to the verge of the level on
+which the village stands, and there they terminate at once, the whole
+site of the little town being as even as a floor. I call it a village;
+but it is no village at all, all the dwellings standing apart, each in
+its own little domain, and each, I believe, with its own little lane
+leading to it, independently of the rest. Most of these are old
+cottages, plastered white, with antique porches, and roses and other
+vines trained against them, and shrubbery growing about them; and some
+are covered with ivy. There are a few edifices of more pretension and of
+modern build, but not so strikingly as to put the rest out of
+countenance. The post-office, when we found it, proved to be an ivied
+cottage, with a good deal of shrubbery round it, having its own pathway,
+like the other cottages. The whole looks like a real seclusion, shut out
+from the great world by these encircling hills, on the sides of which,
+whenever they are not too steep, you see the division-lines of property,
+and tokens of cultivation,--taking from them their pretensions to savage
+majesty, but bringing them nearer to the heart of man.
+
+Since writing the above, I have been again with S---- to see
+Wordsworth's grave, and, finding the door of the church open, we went
+in. A woman and little girl were sweeping at the farther end, and the
+woman came towards us out of the cloud of dust which she had raised. We
+were surprised at the extremely antique appearance of the church. It is
+paved with bluish-gray flagstones, over which uncounted generations have
+trodden, leaving the floor as well laid as ever. The walls are very
+thick, and the arched windows open through them at a considerable
+distance above the floor. And down through the centre of the church runs
+a row of five arches, very rude and round-headed, all of rough stone,
+supported by rough and massive pillars, or rather square stone blocks,
+which stand in the pews, and stood in the same places, probably, long
+before the wood of those pews began to grow. Above this row of arches is
+another row, built upon the same mass of stone, and almost as broad, but
+lower; and on this upper row rests the framework, the oaken beams, the
+black skeleton of the roof. It is a very clumsy contrivance for
+supporting the roof, and if it were modern we certainly should condemn
+it as very ugly; but being the relic of a simple age, it comes in well
+with the antique simplicity of the whole structure. The roof goes up,
+barn-like, into its natural angle, and all the rafters and cross-beams
+are visible. There is an old font; and in the chancel is a niche, where,
+judging from a similar one in Furness Abbey, the holy water used to be
+placed for the priest's use while celebrating mass. Around the inside of
+the porch is a stone bench, placed against the wall, narrow and uneasy,
+but where a great many people had sat who now have found quieter
+resting-places.
+
+The woman was a very intelligent-looking person, not of the usual
+English ruddiness, but rather thin and somewhat pale, though bright of
+aspect. Her way of talking was very agreeable. She inquired if we wished
+to see Wordsworth's monument, and at once showed it to us,--a slab of
+white marble fixed against the upper end of the central row of stone
+arches, with a pretty long inscription, and a profile bust, in
+bas-relief, of his aged countenance. The monument is placed directly
+over Wordsworth's pew, and could best be seen and read from the very
+corner-seat where he used to sit. The pew is one of those occupying the
+centre of the church, and is just across the aisle from the pulpit, and
+is the best of all for the purpose of seeing and hearing the clergyman,
+and likewise as convenient as any, from its neighborhood to the altar.
+On the other side of the aisle, beneath the pulpit, is Lady Fleming's
+pew. This and one or two others are curtained; Wordsworth's was not. I
+think I can bring up his image in that corner seat of his pew--a
+white-headed, tall, spare man, plain in aspect--better than in any other
+situation. The woman said that she had known him very well, and that he
+had made some verses on a sister of hers. She repeated the first lines,
+something about a lamb; but neither S---- nor I remembered them.
+
+On the walls of the chancel there are monuments to the Flemings, and
+painted escutcheons of their arms; and along the side walls also, and on
+the square pillars of the row of arches, there are other monuments,
+generally of white marble, with the letters of the inscription
+blackened. On these pillars, likewise, and in many places in the walls,
+were hung verses from Scripture, painted on boards. At one of the doors
+was a poor-box, an elaborately carved little box of oak, with the date
+1648, and the name of the church--St. Oswald's--upon it. The whole
+interior of the edifice was plain, simple, almost to grimness,--or would
+have been so, only that the foolish church-wardens, or other authority,
+have washed it over with the same buff color with which they have
+overlaid the exterior. It is a pity; it lightens it up, and desecrates
+it horribly, especially as the woman says that there were formerly
+paintings on the walls, now obliterated forever. I could have stayed in
+the old church much longer, and could write much more about it, but
+there must be an end to everything. Pacing it from the farther end to
+the elevation before the altar, I found that it was twenty-five paces
+long.
+
+On looking again at the Rothay, I find I did it some injustice; for at
+the bridge, in its present swollen state, it is nearer twenty yards than
+twenty feet across. Its waters are very clear, and it rushes along with
+a speed which is delightful to see, after an acquaintance with the muddy
+and sluggish Avon and Leam.
+
+Since tea, I have taken a stroll from the hotel in a different direction
+from usual, and passed the Swan Inn, where Scott used to go daily to get
+a draught of liquor when he was visiting Wordsworth, who had no wine nor
+other inspiriting fluid in his house. It stands directly on the wayside,
+a small, whitewashed house, with an addition in the rear that seems to
+have been built since Scott's time. On the door is the painted sign of
+a swan,--and the name "Scott's Swan Hotel." I walked a considerable
+distance beyond it; but a shower coming up, I turned back, entered the
+inn, and, following the mistress into a snug little room, was served
+with a glass of bitter ale. It is a very plain and homely inn, and
+certainly could not have satisfied Scott's wants, if he had required
+anything very farfetched or delicate in his potations. I found two
+Westmoreland peasants in the room with ale before them. One went away
+almost immediately; but the other remained, and, entering into
+conversation with him, he told me that he was going to New Zealand, and
+expected to sail in September. I announced myself as an American, and he
+said that a large party had lately gone from hereabouts to America; but
+he seemed not to understand that there was any distinction between
+Canada and the States. These people had gone to Quebec. He was a very
+civil, well-behaved, kindly sort of person, of a simple character, which
+I took to belong to the class and locality, rather than to himself
+individually. I could not very well understand all that he said, owing
+to his provincial dialect; and when he spoke to his own countrymen, or
+to the women of the house, I really could but just catch a word here and
+there. How long it takes to melt English down into a homogeneous mass!
+He told me that there was a public library in Grasmere, to which he has
+access in common with the other inhabitants, and a reading-room
+connected with it, where he reads the "Times" in the evening. There was
+no American smartness in his mind. When I left the house, it was
+showering briskly; but the drops quite ceased, and the clouds began to
+break away, before I reached my hotel, and I saw the new moon over my
+right shoulder.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_July 21._--We left Grasmere yesterday, after breakfast, it being a
+delightful morning, with some clouds, but the cheerfullest sunshine on
+great part of the mountain-sides and on ourselves. We returned, in the
+first place, to Ambleside, along the border of Grasmere Lake, which
+would be a pretty little piece of water, with its steep and
+high-surrounding hills, were it not that a stubborn and straight-lined
+stone fence, running along the eastern shore, by the roadside, quite
+spoils its appearance. Rydal water, though nothing can make a lake of
+it, looked prettier and less diminutive than at the first view; and, in
+fact, I find that it is impossible to know accurately how any prospect
+or other thing looks until after at least a second view, which always
+essentially corrects the first. This, I think, is especially true in
+regard to objects which we have heard much about, and exercised our
+imagination upon; the first view being a vain attempt to reconcile our
+idea with the reality, and at the second we begin to accept the thing
+for what it really is. Wordsworth's situation is really a beautiful one;
+and Nab Scaur behind his house rises with a grand, protecting air. We
+passed Nab's cottage, in which De Quincey formerly lived, and where
+Hartley Coleridge lived and died. It is a small, buff-tinted, plastered,
+stone cottage, immediately on the roadside, and originally, I should
+think, of a very humble class; but it now looks as if persons of taste
+might some time or other have sat down in it, and caused flowers to
+spring up about it. It is very agreeably situated, under the great,
+precipitous hill, and with Rydal water close at hand, on the other side
+of the road. An advertisement of lodgings to let was put up on this
+cottage.
+
+I question whether any part of the world looks so beautiful as
+England--this part of England, at least--on a fine summer morning. It
+makes one think the more cheerfully of human life to see such a bright,
+universal verdure; such sweet, rural, peaceful, flower-bordered
+cottages,--not cottages of gentility, but dwellings of the laboring
+poor; such nice villas along the roadside, so tastefully contrived for
+comfort and beauty, and adorned more and more, year after year, with the
+care and afterthought of people who mean to live in them a great while,
+and feel as if their children might live in them also. And so they plant
+trees to overshadow their walks, and train ivy and all beautiful vines
+up against their walls,--and thus live for the future in another sense
+than we Americans do. And the climate helps them out, and makes
+everything moist and green, and full of tender life, instead of dry and
+arid, as human life and vegetable life are so apt to be with us.
+Certainly, England can present a more attractive face than we can, even
+in its humbler modes of life,--to say nothing of the beautiful lives
+that might be led, one would think, by the higher classes, whose
+gateways, with broad, smooth gravelled drives leading through them, one
+sees every mile or two along the road, winding into some proud
+seclusion. All this is passing away, and society must assume new
+relations; but there is no harm in believing that there has been
+something very good in English life,--good for all classes, while the
+world was in a state out of which these forms naturally grew.
+
+
+
+
+MONA'S MOTHER.
+
+
+    In the porch that brier-vines smother,
+    At her wheel, sits Mona's mother.
+      O, the day is dying bright!
+    Roseate shadows, silver dimming,
+    Ruby lights through amber swimming,
+      Bring the still and starry night.
+
+    Sudden she is 'ware of shadows
+    Going out across the meadows
+      From the slowly sinking sun,--
+    Going through the misty spaces
+    That the rippling ruby laces,
+    Shadows, like the violets tangled,
+    Like the soft light, softly mingled,
+      Till the two seem just as one!
+
+    Every tell-tale wind doth waft her
+    Little breaths of maiden laughter.
+      O, divinely dies the day!
+    And the swallow, on the rafter,
+      In her nest of sticks and clay,--
+    On the rafter, up above her,
+    With her patience doth reprove her,
+      Twittering soft the time away;
+    Never stopping, never stopping,
+    With her wings so warmly dropping
+      Round her nest of sticks and clay.
+
+    "Take, my bird, O take some other
+      Eve than this to twitter gay!"
+    Sayeth, prayeth Mona's mother,
+    To the slender-throated swallow
+      On her nest of sticks and clay;
+    For her sad eyes needs must follow
+    Down the misty, mint-sweet hollow,
+      Where the ruby colors play
+      With the gold, and with the gray.
+    "Yet, my little Lady-feather,
+      You do well to sit and sing,"
+    Crieth, sigheth Mona's mother.
+    "If you would, you could no other.
+      Can the leaf fail with the spring?
+    Can the tendril stay from twining
+      When the sap begins to run?
+    Or the dew-drop keep from shining
+      With her body full o' the sun?
+    Nor can you, from gladness, either;
+      Therefore, you do well to sing.
+    Up and o'er the downy lining
+      Of your bird-bed I can see
+    Two round little heads together,
+    Pushed out softly through your wing.
+      But alas! my bird, for me!"
+
+    In the porch with roses burning
+      All across, she sitteth lonely.
+      O, her soul is dark with dread!
+    Round and round her slow wheel turning,
+    Lady brow down-dropped serenely,
+    Lady hand uplifted queenly,
+    Pausing in the spinning only
+      To rejoin the broken thread,--
+    Pausing only for the winding,
+    With the carded silken binding
+      Of the flax, the distaff-head.
+
+    All along the branches creeping,
+    To their leafy beds of sleeping
+      Go the blue-birds and the brown;
+    Blackbird stoppeth now his clamor,
+    And the little yellowhammer
+      Droppeth head in winglet down.
+    Now the rocks rise bleak and barren
+      Through the twilight, gray and still;
+    In the marsh-land now the heron
+      Clappeth close his horny bill.
+    Death-watch now begins his drumming
+    And the fire-fly, going, coming,
+      Weaveth zigzag lines of light,--
+    Lines of zigzag, golden-threaded,
+    Up the marshy valley, shaded
+      O'er and o'er with vapors white.
+    Now the lily, open-hearted,
+    Of her dragon-fly deserted,
+      Swinging on the wind so low,
+    Gives herself, with trust audacious,
+    To the wild warm wave that washes
+      Through her fingers, soft and slow.
+
+    O the eyes of Mona's mother!
+      Dim they grow with tears unshed;
+    For no longer may they follow
+    Down the misty mint-sweet hollow,
+    Down along the yellow mosses
+    That the brook with silver crosses.
+      Ah! the day is dead, is dead;
+    And the cold and curdling shadows,
+    Stretching from the long, low meadows,
+    Darker, deeper, nearer spread,
+    Till she cannot see the twining
+    Of the briers, nor see the lining
+    Round the porch of roses red,--
+    Till she cannot see the hollow,
+    Nor the little steel-winged swallow,
+      On her clay-built nest o'erhead.
+
+    Mona's mother falleth mourning:
+      O, 't is hard, so hard, to see
+    Prattling child to woman turning,
+      As to grander company!
+    Little heart she lulled with hushes
+    Beating, burning up with blushes,
+    All with meditative dreaming
+    On the dear delicious gleaming
+    Of the bridal veil and ring;
+    Finding in the sweet ovations
+    Of its new, untried relations
+      Better joys than she can bring.
+
+    In her hand her wheel she keepeth,
+    And her heart within her leapeth,
+    With a burdened, bashful yearning,
+      For the babe's weight on her knee,
+      For the loving lisp of glee,
+    Sweet as larks' throats in the morning,
+      Sweet as hum of honey-bee.
+
+    "O my child!" cries Mona's mother,
+    "Will you, can you take another
+      Name ere mine upon your lips?
+    Can you, only for the asking,
+    Give to other hands the clasping
+      Of your rosy finger-tips?"
+
+    Fear on fear her sad soul borrows,--
+      O the dews are falling fair!
+    But no fair thing now can move her;
+    Vainly walks the moon above her,
+    Turning out her golden furrows
+      On the cloudy fields of air.
+
+    Sudden she is 'ware of shadows,
+    Coming in across the meadows,
+      And of murmurs, low as love,--
+    Murmurs mingled like the meeting
+    Of the winds, or like the beating
+      Of the wings of dove with dove.
+
+    In her hand the slow wheel stoppeth,
+    Silken flax from distaff droppeth,
+    And a cruel, killing pain
+    Striketh up from heart to brain;
+    And she knoweth by that token
+      That the spinning all is vain,
+    That the troth-plight has been spoken,
+    And the thread of life thus broken
+      Never can be joined again.
+
+
+
+
+AT PADUA.
+
+
+I.
+
+Those of my readers who have frequented the garden of Doctor Rappaccini
+no doubt recall with perfect distinctness the quaint old city of Padua.
+They remember its miles and miles of dim arcade over-roofing the
+sidewalks everywhere, affording excellent opportunity for the flirtation
+of lovers by day and the vengeance of rivals by night. They have seen
+the now vacant streets thronged with maskers, and the Venetian Podestŕ
+going in gorgeous state to and from the vast Palazzo della Ragione. They
+have witnessed ringing tournaments in those sad, empty squares, and
+races in the Prato della Valle, and many other wonders of different
+epochs, and their pleasure makes me half sorry that I should have lived
+for several years within an hour by rail from Padua, and should know
+little or nothing of these great sights from actual observation. I take
+shame to myself for having visited Padua so often and so familiarly as I
+used to do,--for having been bored and hungry there,--for having had
+toothache there, upon one occasion,--for having rejoiced more in a cup
+of coffee at Pedrocchi's than in the whole history of Padua,--for having
+slept repeatedly in the bad-bedded hotels of Padua and never once dreamt
+of Portia,--for having been more taken by the _salti mortali_[A] of a
+waiter who summed up my account at a Paduan restaurant, than by all the
+strategies with which the city has been many times captured and
+recaptured. Had I viewed Padua only over the wall of Doctor Rappaccini's
+garden, how different my impressions of the city would now be! This is
+one of the drawbacks of actual knowledge.
+
+"Ah! how can you write about Spain when once you have been there?" asked
+Heine of Théophile Gautier setting out on a journey thither.
+
+Nevertheless it seems to me that I remember something about Padua with a
+sort of romantic pleasure. There was a certain charm which I can dimly
+recall, in sauntering along the top of the old wall of the city, and
+looking down upon the plumy crests of the Indian-corn that nourished up
+so mightily from the dry bed of the moat. At such times I could not help
+figuring to myself the many sieges that the wall had known, with the
+fierce assault by day, the secret attack by night, the swarming foe upon
+the plains below, the bristling arms of the besieged upon the wall, the
+boom of the great mortars made of ropes and leather and throwing mighty
+balls of stone, the stormy flight of arrows, the ladders planted against
+the defences and staggering headlong into the moat, enriched for future
+agriculture not only by its sluggish waters, but by the blood of many
+men. I suppose that most of these visions were old stage spectacles
+furbished up anew, and that my armies were chiefly equipped with their
+obsolete implements of warfare from museums of armor and from cabinets
+of antiquities; but they were very vivid, for all that.
+
+I was never able, in passing a certain one of the city gates, to divest
+myself of an historic interest in the great loads of hay waiting
+admission on the outside. For an instant they masked again the Venetian
+troops that, in the war of the League of Cambray, entered the city in
+the hay-carts, shot down the landsknechts at the gates, and, uniting
+with the citizens, cut the German garrison to pieces. But it was a thing
+long past. The German garrison was here again; and the heirs of the
+landsknechts went clanking through the gate to the parade-ground, with
+that fierce clamor of their kettle-drums which is so much fiercer
+because unmingled with the noise of fifes. Once more now the Germans are
+gone, and, let us trust, forever; but when I saw them, there seemed
+little hope of their going. They had a great Biergarten on the top of
+the wall, and they had set up the altars of their heavy Bacchus in many
+parts of the city.
+
+I please myself with thinking that, if I walked on such a spring day as
+this in the arcaded Paduan streets, I should catch glimpses, through the
+gateways of the palaces, of gardens full of vivid bloom, and of
+fountains that tinkle there forever. If it were autumn, and I were in
+the great market-place before the Palazzo della Ragione, I should hear
+the baskets of amber-hued and honeyed grapes humming with the murmur of
+multitudinous bees, and making a music as if the wine itself were
+already singing in their gentle hearts. It is a great field of succulent
+verdure, that wide old market-place; and fancy loves to browse about
+among its gay stores of fruits and vegetables, brought thither by the
+world-old peasant-women who have been bringing fruits and vegetables to
+the Paduan market for so many centuries. They sit upon the ground before
+their great panniers, and knit and doze, and wake up with a drowsy
+"_Comandala?_" as you linger to look at their grapes. They have each a
+pair of scales,--the emblem of Injustice,--and will weigh you out a
+scant measure of the fruit, if you like. Their faces are yellow as
+parchment, and Time has written them so full of wrinkles that there is
+not room for another line. Doubtless these old parchment visages are
+palimpsests, and would tell the whole history of Padua if you could get
+at each successive inscription. Among their primal records there must be
+some account of the Roman city, as each little contadinella, remembered
+it on market-days; and one might read of the terror of Attila's sack, a
+little later, with the peasant-maid's personal recollections of the bold
+Hunnish trooper who ate up the grapes in her basket, and kissed her
+hard, round red cheeks,--for in that time she was a blooming girl,--and
+paid nothing for either privilege. What wild and confused reminiscences
+on the wrinkled visage we should find thereafter of the fierce
+republican times, of Ecelino, of the Carraras, of the Venetian rule! And
+is it not sad to think of systems and peoples all passing away, and
+these ancient women lasting still, and still selling grapes in front of
+the Palazzo della Ragione? What a long mortality!
+
+The youngest of their number is a thousand years older than the palace,
+which was begun in the twelfth century, and which is much the same now
+as it was when first completed. I know that, if I entered it, I should
+be sure of finding the great hall of the palace--the vastest hall in the
+world--dim and dull and dusty and delightful, with nothing in it except
+at one end Donatello's colossal marble-headed wooden horse of Troy,
+stared at from the other end by the two dog-faced Egyptian women in
+basalt placed there by Belzoni.
+
+Late in the drowsy summer afternoons I should have the Court of the
+University all to myself, and might study unmolested the blazons of the
+noble youth who have attended the school in different centuries ever
+since 1200, and have left their escutcheons on the walls to commemorate
+them. At the foot of the stairway ascending to the schools from the
+court is the statue of the learned lady who was once a professor in the
+University, and who, if her likeness belie not her looks, must have
+given a great charm to student life in other times. At present there are
+no lady professors at Padua, any more than at Harvard; and during late
+years the schools have suffered greatly from the interference of the
+Austrian government, which frequently closed them for months, on account
+of political demonstrations among the students. But now there is an end
+of this and many other stupid oppressions; and the time-honored
+University will doubtless regain its ancient importance. Even in 1864 it
+had nearly fifteen hundred students, and one met them everywhere under
+the arcades, and could not well mistake them, with that blended air of
+pirate and dandy which these studious young men loved to assume. They
+were to be seen a good deal on the promenades outside the walls, where
+the Paduan ladies are driven in their carriages in the afternoon, and
+where one sees the blood-horses and fine equipages for which Padua is
+famous. There used once to be races in the Prato della Valle, after the
+Italian notion of horse-races; but these are now discontinued, and there
+is nothing to be found there but the statues of scholars and soldiers
+and statesmen, posted in a circle around the old race-course. If you
+strolled thither about dusk on such a day as this, you might see the
+statues unbend a little from their stony rigidity, and in the failing
+light nod to each other very pleasantly through the trees. And if you
+stayed in Padua over night, what could be better to-morrow morning than
+a stroll through the great Botanical Garden,--the oldest botanical
+garden in the world,--the garden which first received in Europe the
+strange and splendid growths of our hemisphere,--the garden where Doctor
+Rappaccini doubtless found the germ of his mortal plant?
+
+On the whole, I believe I would rather go this moment to Padua than to
+Lowell or Lawrence, or even to Worcester; and as to the disadvantage of
+having seen Padua, I begin to think the whole place has now assumed so
+fantastic a character in my mind that I am almost as well qualified to
+write of it as if I had merely dreamed it.
+
+The day that we first visited the city was very rainy, and we spent most
+of the time in viewing the churches. These, even after the churches of
+Venice, one finds rich in art and historic interest, and they in no
+instance fall into the maniacal excesses of the Renaissance to which
+some of the temples of the latter city abandon themselves. Their
+architecture forms a sort of border-land between the Byzantine of Venice
+and the Lombardic of Verona. The superb domes of St. Anthony's emulate
+those of St. Mark's, and the porticos of other Paduan churches rest
+upon the backs of bird-headed lions and leopards that fascinate with
+their mystery and beauty.
+
+It was the wish to see the attributive Giottos in the Chapter which drew
+us first to St. Anthony's, and we saw them with the satisfaction
+naturally attending the contemplation of frescos discovered only since
+1858, after having been hidden under plaster and whitewash for many
+centuries; but we could not believe that Giotto's fame was destined to
+gain much by their rescue from oblivion. They are in no wise to be
+compared with this master's frescos in the Chapel of the
+Annunziata,--which, indeed, is in every way a place of wonder and
+delight. You reach it by passing through a garden lane bordered with
+roses, and a taciturn gardener comes out with clinking keys, and lets
+you into the chapel, where there is nobody but Giotto and Dante, nor
+seems to have been for ages. Cool it is, and of a pulverous smell, as a
+sacred place should be; a blessed benching goes round the wall, and you
+sit down and take unlimited comfort in the frescos. The gardener leaves
+you alone to the solitude and the silence, in which the talk of the
+painter and the exile is plain enough. Their contemporaries and yours
+are cordial in their gay companionship; through the half-open door
+falls, in a pause of the rain, the same sunshine that they saw lie
+there; the deathless birds that they heard sing out in the garden trees;
+it is the fresh sweetness of the grass mown six hundred years ago that
+breathes through all the lovely garden grounds.
+
+How mistaken was Ponce de Leon, to seek the fountain of youth in the New
+World! It is there,--in the Old World,--far back in the past. We are all
+old men and decrepit together in the present; the future is full of
+death; in the past we are light and glad as boys turned barefoot in the
+spring. The work of the heroes is play to us; the pang of the martyr is
+a thrill of rapture; the exile's longing is a strain of plaintive music
+touching and delighting us. We are not only young again, we are
+immortal. It is this divine sense of superiority to fate which is the
+supreme good won from travel in historic lands, and from the presence of
+memorable things, and which no sublimity of natural aspects can bestow.
+It is this which forms the wide difference between Europe and
+America,--a gulf that it will take a thousand years to bridge.
+
+It is a shame that the immortals should be limited in their pleasures by
+the fact that they have hired their brougham by the hour; yet we early
+quit the Chapel of Giotto on this account. We had chosen our driver from
+among many other drivers of broughams in the vicinity of Pedrocchi's,
+because he had such an honest look, and was not likely, we thought, to
+deal unfairly with us.
+
+"But first," said the signor who had selected him, "how much is your
+brougham an hour?"
+
+So and so.
+
+"Show me the tariff of fares."
+
+"There is no tariff."
+
+"There is. Show it to me."
+
+"It is lost, signor."
+
+"I think not. It is here in this pocket Get it out."
+
+The tariff appears, and with it the fact that he had demanded just what
+the boatman of the ballad received in gift,--thrice his fee.
+
+The driver mounted his seat, and served us so faithfully that day in
+Padua that we took him the next day for Arquŕ. At the end, when he had
+received his due, and a handsome _mancia_ besides, he was still
+unsatisfied, and referred to the tariff in proof that he had been
+under-paid. On that confronted and defeated, he thanked us very
+cordially, gave us the number of his brougham, and begged us to ask for
+him when we came next to Padua and needed a carriage.
+
+From the Chapel of the Annunziata he drove us to the Church of Santa
+Giustina, where is a very famous and noble picture by Romanino. But as
+this paper has nothing in the world to do with art, I here dismiss that
+subject, and with a gross and idle delight follow the sacristan down
+under this church to the prison of Santa Giustina.
+
+Of all the faculties of the mind there is none so little fatiguing to
+exercise as mere wonder; and, for my own sake, I try always to wonder at
+things without the least critical reservation. I therefore, in the sense
+of deglutition, bolted this prison at once, though subsequent
+experiences led me to look with grave indigestion upon the whole idea of
+prisons, their authenticity, and even their existence.
+
+As far as mere dimensions are concerned, the prison of Santa Giustina
+was not a hard one to swallow, being only three feet wide by about ten
+feet in length. In this limited space, Santa Giustina passed five years
+of the paternal reign of Nero (a virtuous and a long-suffering prince,
+whom, singularly enough, no historic artist has yet arisen to
+whitewash), and was then brought out into the larger cell adjoining, to
+suffer a blessed martyrdom. I am not sure now whether the sacristan said
+she was dashed to death on the stones, or cut to pieces with knives; but
+whatever the form of martyrdom, an iron ring in the ceiling was employed
+in it, as I know from seeing the ring,--a curiously well-preserved piece
+of ironmongery. Within the narrow prison of the saint, and just under
+the grating, through which the sacristan thrust his candle to illuminate
+it, was a mountain of candle-drippings,--a monument to the fact that
+faith still largely exists in this doubting world. My own credulity, not
+only with regard to this prison, but also touching the coffin of St.
+Luke, which I saw in the church, had so wrought upon the esteem of the
+sacristan, that he now took me to a well, into which, he said, had been
+cast the bones of three thousand Christian martyrs. He lowered a lantern
+into the well, and assured me that, if I looked through a certain
+screenwork there, I could see the bones. On experiment I could not see
+the bones, but this circumstance did not cause me to doubt their
+presence, particularly as I did see upon the screen a great number of
+coins offered for the repose of the martyrs' souls. I threw down some
+_soldi_, and thus enthralled the sacristan.
+
+If the signor cared to see prisons, he said, the driver must take him to
+those of Ecelino, at present the property of a private gentleman near
+by. As I had just bought a history of Ecelino, at a great bargain, from
+a second-hand bookstall, and had a lively interest in all the enormities
+of that nobleman, I sped the driver instantly to the villa of the Signor
+Pacchiarotti.
+
+It depends here altogether upon the freshness or mustiness of the
+reader's historical reading whether he cares to be reminded more
+particularly who Ecelino was. He flourished balefully in the early half
+of the thirteenth century as lord of Vicenza, Verona, Padua, and
+Brescia, and was defeated and hurt to death in an attempt to possess
+himself of Milan. He was in every respect a remarkable man for that
+time,--fearless, abstemious, continent, avaricious, hardy, and
+unspeakably ambitious and cruel. He survived and suppressed innumerable
+conspiracies, escaping even the thrust of the assassin whom the fame of
+his enormous wickedness had caused the Old Man of the Mountain to send
+against him. As lord of Padua he was more incredibly severe and bloody
+in his rule than as lord of the other cities, for the Paduans had been
+latest free, and conspired most frequently against him. He extirpated
+whole families on suspicion that a single member had been concerned in a
+meditated revolt. Little children and helpless women suffered hideous
+mutilation and shame at his hands. Six prisons in Padua were constantly
+filled by his arrests. The whole country was traversed by witnesses of
+his cruelties,--men and women deprived of an arm or leg, and begging
+from door to door. He had long been excommunicated; at last the Church
+proclaimed a crusade against him, and his lieutenant and nephew--more
+demoniacal, if possible, than himself--was driven out of Padua while he
+was operating against Mantua. Ecelino retired to Verona, and maintained
+a struggle against the crusade for nearly two years longer, with a
+courage which never failed him. Wounded and taken prisoner, the soldiers
+of the victorious army gathered about him, and heaped insult and
+reproach upon him; and one furious peasant, whose brother's feet had
+been cut off by Ecelino's command, dealt the helpless monster four blows
+upon the head with a scythe. By some, Ecelino is said to have died of
+these wounds alone; but by others it is related that his death was a
+kind of suicide, inasmuch as he himself put the case past surgery by
+tearing off the bandages from his hurts, and refusing all medicines.
+
+
+II.
+
+Entering at the enchanted portal of the Villa P----, we found ourselves
+in a realm of wonder. It was our misfortune not to see the magician who
+compelled all the marvels on which we looked, but for that very reason,
+perhaps, we have the clearest sense of his greatness. Everywhere we
+beheld the evidences of his ingenious but lugubrious fancy, which
+everywhere tended to a monumental and mortuary effect. A sort of
+vestibule first received us, and beyond this dripped and glimmered the
+garden. The walls of the vestibule were covered with inscriptions
+setting forth the sentiments of the philosophy and piety of all ages
+concerning life and death; we began with Confucius, and we ended with
+Benjamino Franklino. But as if these ideas of mortality were not
+sufficiently depressing, the funereal Signor P----had collected into
+earthern _amphorć_ the ashes of the most famous men of ancient and
+modern times, and arranged them so that a sense of their number and
+variety should at once strike his visitor. Each jar was conspicuously
+labelled with the name its illustrious dust had borne in life; and if
+one escaped with comparative cheerfulness from the thought that Seneca
+had died, there were in the very next pot the cinders of Napoleon to
+bully him back to a sense of his mortality.
+
+We were glad to have the gloomy fascination of these objects broken by
+the custodian, who approached to ask if we wished to see the prisons of
+Ecelino, and we willingly followed him into the rain out of our
+sepulchral shelter.
+
+Between the vestibule and the towers of the tyrant lay that garden
+already mentioned, and our guide led us through ranks of weeping
+statuary, and rainy bowers, and showery lanes of shrubbery, until we
+reached the door of his cottage. While he entered to fetch the key to
+the prisons, we noted that the towers were freshly painted and in
+perfect repair; and indeed the custodian said frankly enough, on
+reappearing, that they were merely built over the prisons on the site of
+the original towers. The storied stream of the Bacchiglione sweeps
+through the grounds, and now, swollen by the rainfall, it roared, a
+yellow torrent, under a corner of the prisons. The towers rise from
+masses of foliage, and form no unpleasing feature of what must be, in
+spite of Signor P----, a delightful Italian garden in sunny weather. The
+ground is not so flat as elsewhere in Padua, and this inequality gives
+an additional picturesqueness to the place. But as we were come in
+search of horrors, we scorned these merely lovely things, and hastened
+to immure ourselves in the dungeons below. The custodian, lighting a
+candle, (which ought, we felt, to have been a torch,) went before.
+
+We found the cells, though narrow and dark, not uncomfortable, and the
+guide conceded that they had undergone some repairs since Ecelino's
+time. But all the horrors for which we had come were there in perfect
+grisliness, and labelled by the ingenious Signor P---- with Latin
+inscriptions.
+
+In the first cell was a shrine of the Virgin, set in the wall. Beneath
+this, while the wretched prisoner knelt in prayer, a trap-door opened
+and precipitated him down upon the points of knives, from which his body
+fell into the Bacchiglione below. In the next cell, held by some rusty
+iron rings to the wall, was a skeleton, hanging by the wrists.
+
+"This," said the guide, "was another punishment of which Ecelino was
+very fond."
+
+A dreadful doubt seized my mind. "Was this skeleton found here?" I
+demanded.
+
+Without faltering an instant, without so much as winking an eye, the
+custodian replied, "_Appunto_."
+
+It was a great relief, and restored me to confidence in the
+establishment. I am at a loss to explain how my faith should have been
+confirmed afterwards by coming upon a guillotine--an awful instrument in
+the likeness of a straw-cutter, with a decapitated wooden figure under
+its blade--which the custodian confessed to be a modern improvement
+placed there by Signor P----. Yet my credulity was so strengthened by
+his candor, that I accepted without hesitation the torture of the
+water-drop when we came to it. The water-jar was as well preserved as if
+placed there but yesterday, and the skeleton beneath it--found as we saw
+it--was entire and perfect.
+
+In the adjoining cell sat a skeleton--found as we saw it--with its neck
+in the clutch of the garrote, which was one of Ecelino's more merciful
+punishments; while in still another cell the ferocity of the tyrant
+appeared in the penalty inflicted upon the wretch whose skeleton had
+been hanging for ages--as we saw it--head downwards from the ceiling.
+
+Beyond these, in a yet darker and drearier dungeon, stood a heavy oblong
+wooden box, with two apertures near the top, peering through which we
+found that we were looking into the eyeless sockets of a skull. Within
+this box Ecelino had immured the victim we beheld there, and left him to
+perish in view of the platters of food and goblets of drink placed just
+beyond the reach of his hands. The food we saw was of course not the
+original food.
+
+At last we came to the crowning horror of Villa P----, the supreme
+excess of Ecelino's cruelty. The guide entered the cell before us, and,
+as we gained the threshold, threw the light of his taper vividly upon a
+block that stood in the middle of the floor. Fixed to the block by an
+immense spike driven through from the back was the little slender hand
+of a woman, which lay there just as it had been struck from the living
+arm, and which, after the lapse of so many centuries, was still as
+perfectly preserved as if it had been embalmed. The sight had a most
+cruel fascination; and while one of the horror-seekers stood helplessly
+conjuring to his vision that scene of unknown dread,--the shrinking,
+shrieking woman dragged to the block, the wild, shrill, horrible screech
+following the blow that drove in the spike, the merciful swoon after the
+mutilation,--his companion, with a sudden pallor, demanded to be taken
+instantly away.
+
+In their swift withdrawal, they only glanced at a few detached
+instruments of torture,--all original Ecelinos, but intended for the
+infliction of minor and comparatively unimportant torments,--and then
+they passed from that place of fear.
+
+
+III.
+
+In the evening we sat talking at the Caffč Pedrocchi with an abbate, an
+acquaintance of ours, who was a Professor in the University of Padua.
+Pedrocchi's is the great caffč of Padua, a granite edifice of Egyptian
+architecture, which is the mausoleum of the proprietor's fortune. The
+pecuniary skeleton at the feast, however, does not much trouble the
+guests. They begin early in the evening to gather into the elegant
+saloons of the caffč,--somewhat too large for so small a city as
+Padua,--and they sit there late in the night over their cheerful cups
+and their ices with their newspaper and their talk. Not so many ladies
+are to be seen as at the caffč in Venice, for it is only in the greater
+cities that they go much to these public places. There are few students
+at Pedrocchi's, for they frequent the cheaper caffč; but you may nearly
+always find there some Professor of the University, and on the evening
+of which I speak, there were two present besides our abbate. Our
+friend's great passion was the English language, which he understood too
+well to venture to speak a great deal. He had been translating from that
+tongue into Italian certain American poems, and our talk was of these at
+first. Then we began to talk of distinguished American writers, of whom
+intelligent Italians always know at least four, in this
+succession,--Cooper, Mrs. Stowe, Longfellow, and Irving. Mrs. Stowe's
+_Capanna di Zio Tom_ is, of course, universally read; and my friend had
+also read _Il Fiore di Maggio_,--"The Mayflower." Of Longfellow, the
+"Evangeline" is familiar to Italians, through a translation of the poem;
+but our abbate knew all the poet's works, and one of the other
+Professors present that evening had made such faithful study of them as
+to have produced some translations rendering the original with
+remarkable fidelity and spirit. I have before me here his _brochure_,
+printed last year at Padua, and containing versions of "Enceladus,"
+"Excelsior," "A Psalm of Life," "The Old Clock on the Stairs," "Sand of
+the Desert in an Hour-Glass," "Twilight," "Daybreak," "The Quadroon
+Girl," and "Torquemada,"--pieces which give the Italians a fair notion
+of our poet's lyrical range, and which bear witness to Professor
+Messadaglia's sympathetic and familiar knowledge of his works. A young
+and gifted lady of Parma, now unhappily no more, published only a few
+months since a translation of "The Golden Legend"; and Professor
+Messadaglia, in his Preface, mentions a version of another of our poet's
+longer works on which the translator of the "Evangeline" is now engaged.
+
+At last, turning from literature, we spoke with the gentle abbate of
+our day's adventures, and eagerly related that of the Ecelino prisons.
+To have seen them was the most terrific pleasure of our lives.
+
+"Eh!" said our friend, "I believe you."
+
+"We mean those under the Villa P----."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+There was a tone of politely suppressed amusement in the abbate's voice;
+and after a moment's pause, in which we felt our awful experience
+slipping and sliding away from us, we ventured to say, "You don't mean
+that those are _not_ the veritable Ecelino prisons?"
+
+"Certainly they are nothing of the kind. The Ecelino prisons were
+destroyed when the Crusaders took Padua, with the exception of the tower
+which the Venetian Republic converted into an observatory."
+
+"But at least these prisons are on the site of Ecelino's castle?"
+
+"Nothing of the sort. His castle in that case would have been outside of
+the old city walls."
+
+"And those tortures and the prisons are all--"
+
+"Things got up for show. No doubt, Ecelino used such things, and many
+worse, of which even the ingenuity of Signor P---- cannot conceive. But
+he is an eccentric man, loving the horrors of history, and what he can
+do to realize them he has done in his prisons."
+
+"But the custodian, how could he lie so?"
+
+Our friend shrugged his shoulders. "Eh! easily. And perhaps he even
+believed what he said."
+
+The world began to assume an aspect of bewildering ungenuineness, and
+there seemed to be a treacherous quality of fiction in the ground under
+our feet. Even the play at the pretty little Teatro Sociale, where we
+went to pass the rest of the evening, appeared hollow and improbable. We
+thought the hero something of a bore, with his patience and goodness;
+and as for the heroine, pursued by the attentions of the rich
+profligate, we doubted if she were any better than she should be.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote A: _Salti mortali_ are those prodigious efforts of mental
+arithmetic by which Italian waiters, in verbally presenting your
+account, arrive at six as the product of two and two.]
+
+
+
+
+POOR RICHARD.
+
+A STORY IN THREE PARTS.
+
+
+PART II.
+
+Richard got through the following week he hardly knew how. He found
+occupation, to a much greater extent than he was actually aware of, in a
+sordid and yet heroic struggle with himself. For several months now, he
+had been leading, under Gertrude's inspiration, a strictly decent and
+sober life. So long as he was at comparative peace with Gertrude and
+with himself, such a life was more than easy; it was delightful. It
+produced a moral buoyancy infinitely more delicate and more constant
+than the gross exhilaration of his old habits. There was a kind of
+fascination in adding hour to hour, and day to day, in this record of
+his new-born austerity. Having abjured excesses, he practised temperance
+after the fashion of a novice: he raised it (or reduced it) to
+abstinence. He was like an unclean man who, having washed himself clean,
+remains in the water for the love of it. He wished to be religiously,
+superstitiously pure. This was easy, as we have said, so long as his
+goddess smiled, even though it were as a goddess indeed,--as a creature
+unattainable. But when she frowned, and the heavens grew dark, Richard's
+sole dependence was in his own will,--as flimsy a trust for an upward
+scramble, one would have premised, as a tuft of grass on the face of a
+perpendicular cliff. Flimsy as it looked, however, it served him. It
+started and crumbled, but it held, if only by a single fibre. When
+Richard had cantered fifty yards away from Gertrude's gate in a fit of
+stupid rage, he suddenly pulled up his horse and gulped down his
+passion, and swore an oath, that, suffer what torments of feeling he
+might, he would not at least break the continuity of his gross physical
+soberness. It was enough to be drunk in mind; he would not be drunk in
+body. A singular, almost ridiculous feeling of antagonism to Gertrude
+lent force to this resolution. "No, madam," he cried within himself, "I
+shall _not_ fall back. Do your best! I shall keep straight." We often
+outweather great offences and afflictions through a certain healthy
+instinct of egotism. Richard went to bed that night as grim and sober as
+a Trappist monk; and his foremost impulse the next day was to plunge
+headlong into some physical labor which should not allow him a moment's
+interval of idleness. He found no labor to his taste; but he spent the
+day so actively, in the mechanical annihilation of the successive hours,
+that Gertrude's image found no chance squarely to face him. He was
+engaged in the work of self-preservation,--the most serious and
+absorbing work possible to man. Compared to the results here at stake,
+his passion for Gertrude seemed but a fiction. It is perhaps difficult
+to give a more lively impression of the vigor of this passion, of its
+maturity and its strength, than by simply stating that it discreetly
+held itself in abeyance until Richard had set at rest his doubts of that
+which lies nearer than all else to the heart of man,--his doubts of the
+strength of his will. He answered these doubts by subjecting his
+resolution to a course of such cruel temptations as were likely either
+to shiver it to a myriad of pieces, or to season it perfectly to all the
+possible requirements of life. He took long rides over the country,
+passing within a stone's throw of as many of the scattered wayside
+taverns as could be combined in a single circuit. As he drew near them
+he sometimes slackened his pace, as if he were about to dismount, pulled
+up his horse, gazed a moment, then, thrusting in his spurs, galloped
+away again like one pursued. At other times; in the late evening, when
+the window-panes were aglow with the ruddy light within, he would walk
+slowly by, looking at the stars, and, after maintaining this stoical
+pace for a couple of miles, would hurry home to his own lonely and
+black-windowed dwelling. Having successfully performed this feat a
+certain number of times, he found his love coming back to him, bereft in
+the interval of its attendant jealousy. In obedience to it, he one
+morning leaped upon his horse and repaired to Gertrude's abode, with no
+definite notion of the terms in which he should introduce himself.
+
+He had made himself comparatively sure of his will; but he was yet to
+acquire the mastery of his impulses. As he gave up his horse, according
+to his wont, to one of the men at the stable, he saw another steed
+stalled there which he recognized as Captain Severn's. "Steady, my boy,"
+he murmured to himself, as he would have done to a frightened horse. On
+his way across the broad court-yard toward the house, he encountered the
+Captain, who had just taken his leave. Richard gave him a generous
+salute (he could not trust himself to more), and Severn answered with
+what was at least a strictly just one. Richard observed, however, that
+he was very pale, and that he was pulling a rosebud to pieces as he
+walked; whereupon our young man quickened his step. Finding the parlor
+empty, he instinctively crossed over to a small room adjoining it, which
+Gertrude had converted into a modest conservatory; and as he did so,
+hardly knowing it, he lightened his heavy-shod tread. The glass door was
+open and Richard looked in. There stood Gertrude with her back to him,
+bending apart with her hands a couple of tall flowering plants, and
+looking through the glazed partition behind them. Advancing a step, and
+glancing over the young girl's shoulder, Richard had just time to see
+Severn mounting his horse at the stable door, before Gertrude, startled
+by his approach, turned hastily round. Her face was flushed hot, and her
+eyes brimming with tears.
+
+"You!" she exclaimed, sharply.
+
+Richard's head swam. That single word was so charged with cordial
+impatience that it seemed the death-knell of his hope. He stepped inside
+the room and closed the door, keeping his hand on the knob.
+
+"Gertrude," he said, "you love that man!"
+
+"Well, sir?"
+
+"Do you confess it?" cried Richard.
+
+"Confess it? Richard Clare, how dare you use such language? I'm in no
+humor for a scene. Let me pass."
+
+Gertrude was angry; but as for Richard, it may almost be said that he
+was mad. "One scene a day is enough, I suppose," he cried. "What are
+these tears about? Wouldn't he have you? Did he refuse you, as you
+refused me? Poor Gertrude!"
+
+Gertrude looked at him a moment with concentrated scorn. "You fool!" she
+said, for all answer. She pushed his hand from the latch, flung open the
+door, and moved rapidly away.
+
+Left alone, Richard sank down on a sofa and covered his face with his
+hands. It burned them, but he sat motionless, repeating to himself,
+mechanically, as if to avert thought, "You fool! you fool!" At last he
+got up and made his way out.
+
+It seemed to Gertrude, for several hours after this scene, that she had
+at this juncture a strong case against Fortune. It is not our purpose to
+repeat the words which she had exchanged with Captain Severn. They had
+come within a single step of an _éclaircissement_, and when but another
+movement would have flooded their souls with light, some malignant
+influence had seized them by the throats. Had they too much pride?--too
+little imagination? We must content ourselves with this hypothesis.
+Severn, then, had walked mechanically across the yard, saying to
+himself, "She belongs to another"; and adding, as he saw Richard, "and
+such another!" Gertrude had stood at her window, repeating, under her
+breath, "He belongs to himself, himself alone." And as if this was not
+enough, when misconceived, slighted, wounded, she had faced about to her
+old, passionless, dutiful past, there on the path of retreat to this
+asylum Richard Clare had arisen to forewarn her that she should find no
+peace even at home. There was something in the violent impertinence of
+his appearance at this moment which gave her a dreadful feeling that
+fate was against her. More than this. There entered into her emotions a
+certain minute particle of awe of the man whose passion was so
+uncompromising. She felt that it was out of place any longer to pity
+him. He was the slave of his passion; but his passion was strong. In her
+reaction against the splendid civility of Severn's silence, (the real
+antithesis of which would have been simply the perfect courtesy of
+explicit devotion,) she found herself touching with pleasure on the fact
+of Richard's brutality. He at least had ventured to insult her. He had
+loved her enough to forget himself. He had dared to make himself odious
+in her eyes, because he had cast away his sanity. What cared he for the
+impression he made? He cared only for the impression he received. The
+violence of this reaction, however, was the measure of its duration. It
+was impossible that she should walk backward so fast without stumbling.
+Brought to her senses by this accident, she became aware that her
+judgment was missing. She smiled to herself as she reflected that it had
+been taking holiday for a whole afternoon. "Richard was right," she said
+to herself. "I am no fool. I can't be a fool if I try. I'm too
+thoroughly my father's daughter for that. I love that man, but I love
+myself better. Of course, then, I don't deserve to have him. If I loved
+him in a way to merit his love, I would sit down this moment and write
+him a note telling him that if he does not come back to me, I shall die.
+But I shall neither write the note nor die. I shall live and grow stout,
+and look after my chickens and my flowers and my colts, and thank the
+Lord in my old age that I have never done anything unwomanly. Well! I'm
+as He made me. Whether I can deceive others, I know not; but I certainly
+can't deceive myself. I'm quite as sharp as Gertrude Whittaker; and this
+it is that has kept me from making a fool of myself and writing to poor
+Richard the note that I wouldn't write to Captain Severn. I needed to
+fancy myself wronged. I suffer so little! I needed a sensation! So,
+shrewd Yankee that I am, I thought I would get one cheaply by taking up
+that unhappy boy! Heaven preserve me from the heroics, especially the
+economical heroics! The one heroic course possible, I decline. What,
+then, have I to complain of? Must I tear my hair because a man of taste
+has resisted my unspeakable charms? To be charming, you must be charmed
+yourself, or at least you must be able to be charmed; and that
+apparently I'm not. I didn't love him, or he would have known it. Love
+gets love, and no-love gets none."
+
+But at this point of her meditations Gertrude almost broke down. She
+felt that she was assigning herself but a dreary future. Never to be
+loved but by such a one as Richard Clare was a cheerless prospect; for
+it was identical with an eternal spinsterhood. "Am I, then," she
+exclaimed, quite as passionately as a woman need do,--"am I, then, cut
+off from a woman's dearest joys? What blasphemous nonsense! One thing is
+plain: I am made to be a mother; the wife may take care of herself. I am
+made to be a wife; the mistress may take care of _her_self. I am in the
+Lord's hands," added the poor girl, who, whether or no she could forget
+herself in an earthly love, had at all events this mark of a spontaneous
+nature, that she could forget herself in a heavenly one. But in the
+midst of her pious emotion, she was unable to subdue her conscience. It
+smote her heavily for her meditated falsity to Richard, for her
+miserable readiness to succumb to the strong temptation to seek a
+momentary resting-place in his gaping heart. She recoiled from this
+thought as from an act cruel and immoral. Was Richard's heart the place
+for her now, any more than it had been a month before? Was she to apply
+for comfort where she would not apply for counsel? Was she to drown her
+decent sorrows and regrets in a base, a dishonest, an extemporized
+passion? Having done the young man so bitter a wrong in intention,
+nothing would appease her magnanimous remorse (as time went on) but to
+repair it in fact. She went so far as keenly to regret the harsh words
+she had cast upon him in the conservatory. He had been insolent and
+unmannerly; but he had an excuse. Much should be forgiven him, for he
+loved much. Even now that Gertrude had imposed upon her feelings a
+sterner regimen than ever, she could not defend herself from a sweet and
+sentimental thrill--a thrill in which, as we have intimated, there was
+something of a tremor--at the recollection of his strident accents and
+his angry eyes. It was yet far from her heart to desire a renewal,
+however brief, of this exhibition. She wished simply to efface from the
+young man's morbid soul the impression of a real contempt; for she
+knew--or she thought that she knew--that against such an impression he
+was capable of taking the most fatal and inconsiderate comfort.
+
+Before many mornings had passed, accordingly, she had a horse saddled,
+and, dispensing with attendance, she rode rapidly over to his farm. The
+house door and half the windows stood open; but no answer came to her
+repeated summons. She made her way to the rear of the house, to the
+barn-yard, thinly tenanted by a few common fowl, and across the yard to
+a road which skirted its lower extremity and was accessible by an open
+gate. No human figure was in sight; nothing was visible in the hot
+stillness but the scattered and ripening crops, over which, in spite of
+her nervous solicitude, Miss Whittaker cast the glance of a connoisseur.
+A great uneasiness filled her mind as she measured the rich domain
+apparently deserted of its young master, and reflected that she perhaps
+was the cause of its abandonment. Ah, where was Richard? As she looked
+and listened in vain, her heart rose to her throat, and she felt herself
+on the point of calling all too wistfully upon his name. But her voice
+was stayed by the sound of a heavy rumble, as of cart-wheels, beyond a
+turn in the road. She touched up her horse and cantered along until she
+reached the turn. A great four-wheeled cart, laden with masses of newly
+broken stone, and drawn by four oxen, was slowly advancing towards her.
+Beside it, patiently cracking his whip and shouting monotonously, walked
+a young man in a slouched hat and a red shirt, with his trousers thrust
+into his dusty boots. It was Richard. As he saw Gertrude, he halted a
+moment, amazed, and then advanced, flicking the air with his whip.
+Gertrude's heart went out towards him in a silent Thank God! Her next
+reflection was that he had never looked so well. The truth is, that, in
+this rough adjustment, the native barbarian was duly represented. His
+face and neck were browned by a week in the fields, his eye was clear,
+his step seemed to have learned a certain manly dignity from its
+attendance on the heavy bestial tramp. Gertrude, as he reached her side,
+pulled up her horse and held out her gloved fingers to his brown dusty
+hand. He took them, looked for a moment into her face, and for the
+second time raised them to his lips.
+
+"Excuse my glove," she said, with a little smile.
+
+"Excuse mine," he answered, exhibiting his sunburnt, work-stained hand.
+
+"Richard," said Gertrude, "you never had less need of excuse in your
+life. You never looked half so well."
+
+He fixed his eyes upon her a moment. "Why, you have forgiven me!" he
+exclaimed.
+
+"Yes," said Gertrude, "I have forgiven you,--both you and myself. We
+both of us behaved very absurdly, but we both of us had reason. I wish
+you had come back."
+
+Richard looked about him, apparently at loss for a rejoinder. "I have
+been very busy," he said, at last, with a simplicity of tone slightly
+studied. An odd sense of dramatic effect prompted him to say neither
+more nor less.
+
+An equally delicate instinct forbade Gertrude to express all the joy
+which this assurance gave her. Excessive joy would have implied undue
+surprise; and it was a part of her plan frankly to expect the best
+things of her companion. "If you have been busy," she said, "I
+congratulate you. What have you been doing?"
+
+"O, a hundred things. I have been quarrying, and draining, and clearing,
+and I don't know what all. I thought the best thing was just to put my
+own hands to it. I am going to make a stone fence along the great lot on
+the hill there. Wallace is forever grumbling about his boundaries. I'll
+fix them once for all. What are you laughing at?"
+
+"I am laughing at certain foolish apprehensions that I have been
+indulging for a week past. You're wiser than I, Richard. I have no
+imagination."
+
+"Do you mean that _I_ have? I haven't enough to guess what you _do_
+mean."
+
+"Why, do you suppose, have I come over this morning?"
+
+"Because you thought I was sulking on account of your having called me a
+fool."
+
+"Sulking, or worse. What do I deserve for the wrong I have done you?"
+
+"You have done me no wrong. You reasoned fairly enough. You are not
+obliged to know me better than I know myself. It's just like you to be
+ready to take back that bad word, and try to make yourself believe that
+it was unjust. But it was perfectly just, and therefore I have managed
+to bear it. I _was_ a fool at that moment,--a stupid, impudent fool. I
+don't know whether that man had been making love to you or not. But you
+had, I think, been feeling love for him,--you looked it; I should have
+been less than a man, I should be unworthy of your--your affection, if I
+had failed to see it. I did see it,--I saw it as clearly as I see those
+oxen now; and yet I bounced in with my own ill-timed claims. To do so
+was to be a fool. To have been other than a fool would have been to have
+waited, to have backed out, to have bitten my tongue off before I spoke,
+to have done anything but what I did. I have no right to claim you,
+Gertrude, until I can woo you better than that. It was the most
+fortunate thing in the world that you spoke as you did: it was even
+kind. It saved me all the misery of groping about for a starting-point.
+Not to have spoken as you did would have been to fail of justice; and
+then, probably, I should have sulked, or, as you very considerately say,
+done worse. I had made a false move in the game, and the only thing to
+do was to repair it. But you were not obliged to know that I would so
+readily admit my move to have been false. Whenever I have made a fool of
+myself before, I have been for sticking it out, and trying to turn all
+mankind--that is, _you_--into a a fool too, so that I shouldn't be an
+exception. But this time, I think, I had a kind of inspiration. I felt
+that my case was desperate. I felt that if I adopted my folly now I
+adopted it forever. The other day I met a man who had just come home
+from Europe, and who spent last summer in Switzerland. He was telling me
+about the mountain-climbing over there,--how they get over the glaciers,
+and all that. He said that you sometimes came upon great slippery,
+steep, snow-covered slopes that end short off in a precipice, and that
+if you stumble or lose your footing as you cross them horizontally, why
+you go shooting down, and you're gone; that is, but for one little
+dodge. You have a long walking-pole with a sharp end, you know, and as
+you feel yourself sliding,--it's as likely as not to be in a sitting
+posture,--you just take this and ram it into the snow before you, and
+there you are, stopped. The thing is, of course, to drive it in far
+enough, so that it won't yield or break; and in any case it hurts
+infernally to come whizzing down upon this upright pole. But the
+interruption gives you time to pick yourself up. Well, so it was with me
+the other day. I stumbled and fell; I slipped, and was whizzing
+downward; but I just drove in my pole and pulled up short. It nearly
+tore me in two; but it saved my life." Richard made this speech with one
+hand leaning on the neck of Gertrude's horse, and the other on his own
+side, and with his head slightly thrown back and his eyes on hers. She
+had sat quietly in her saddle, returning his gaze. He had spoken slowly
+and deliberately; but without hesitation and without heat. "This is not
+romance," thought Gertrude, "it's reality." And this feeling it was that
+dictated her reply, divesting it of romance so effectually as almost to
+make it sound trivial.
+
+"It was fortunate you had a walking-pole," she said.
+
+"I shall never travel without one again."
+
+"Never, at least," smiled Gertrude, "with a companion who has the bad
+habit of pushing you off the path."
+
+"O, you may push all you like," said Richard. "I give you leave. But
+isn't this enough about myself?"
+
+"That's as you think."
+
+"Well, it's all I have to say for the present, except that I am
+prodigiously glad to see you, and that of course you will stay awhile."
+
+"But you have your work to do."
+
+"Dear me, never you mind my work. I've earned my dinner this morning, if
+you have no objection; and I propose to share it with you. So we will
+go back to the house." He turned her horse's head about, started up his
+oxen with his voice, and walked along beside her on the grassy roadside,
+with one hand in the horse's mane, and the other swinging his whip.
+
+Before they reached the yard-gate, Gertrude had revolved his speech.
+"Enough about himself," she said, silently echoing his words. "Yes,
+Heaven be praised, it _is_ about himself. I am but a means in this
+matter,--he himself, his own character, his own happiness, is the end."
+Under this conviction it seemed to her that her part was appreciably
+simplified. Richard was learning wisdom and self-control, and to
+exercise his reason. Such was the suit that he was destined to gain. Her
+duty was as far as possible to remain passive, and not to interfere with
+the working of the gods who had selected her as the instrument of their
+prodigy. As they reached the gate, Richard made a trumpet of his hands,
+and sent a ringing summons into the fields; whereupon a farm-boy
+approached, and, with an undisguised stare of amazement at Gertrude,
+took charge of his master's team. Gertrude rode up to the door-step,
+where her host assisted her to dismount, and bade her go in and make
+herself at home, while he busied himself with the bestowal of her horse.
+She found that, in her absence, the old woman who administered her
+friend's household had reappeared, and had laid out the preparations for
+his mid-day meal. By the time he returned, with his face and head
+shining from a fresh ablution, and his shirt-sleeves decently concealed
+by a coat, Gertrude had apparently won the complete confidence of the
+good wife.
+
+Gertrude doffed her hat, and tucked up her riding-skirt, and sat down to
+a _tęte-ŕ-tęte_ over Richard's crumpled table-cloth. The young man
+played the host very soberly and naturally; and Gertrude hardly knew
+whether to augur from his perfect self-possession that her star was
+already on the wane, or that it had waxed into a steadfast and eternal
+sun. The solution of her doubts was not far to seek; Richard was
+absolutely at his ease in her presence. He had told her indeed that she
+intoxicated him; and truly, in those moments when she was compelled to
+oppose her dewy eloquence to his fervid importunities, her whole
+presence seemed to him to exhale a singularly potent sweetness. He had
+told her that she was an enchantress, and this assertion, too, had its
+measure of truth. But her spell was a steady one; it sprang not from her
+beauty, her wit, her figure,--it sprang from her character. When she
+found herself aroused to appeal or to resistance, Richard's pulses were
+quickened to what he had called intoxication, not by her smiles, her
+gestures, her glances, or any accession of that material beauty which
+she did not possess, but by a generous sense of her virtues in action.
+In other words, Gertrude exercised the magnificent power of making her
+lover forget her face. Agreeably to this fact, his habitual feeling in
+her presence was one of deep repose,--a sensation not unlike that which
+in the early afternoon, as he lounged in his orchard with a pipe, he
+derived from the sight of the hot and vaporous hills. He was innocent,
+then, of that delicious trouble which Gertrude's thoughts had touched
+upon as a not unnatural result of her visit, and which another woman's
+fancy would perhaps have dwelt upon as an indispensable proof of its
+success. "Porphyro grew faint," the poet assures us, as he stood in
+Madeline's chamber on Saint Agnes' eve. But Richard did not in the least
+grow faint now that his mistress was actually filling his musty old room
+with her voice, her touch, her looks; that she was sitting in his
+unfrequented chairs, trailing her skirt over his faded carpet, casting
+her perverted image upon his mirror, and breaking his daily bread. He
+was not fluttered when he sat at her well-served table, and trod her
+muffled floors. Why, then, should he be fluttered now? Gertrude was
+herself in all places, and (once granted that she was at peace) to be
+at her side was to drink peace as fully in one place as in another.
+
+Richard accordingly ate a great working-day dinner in Gertrude's
+despite, and she ate a small one for his sake. She asked questions
+moreover, and offered counsel with most sisterly freedom. She deplored
+the rents in his table-cloth, and the dismemberments of his furniture;
+and although by no means absurdly fastidious in the matter of household
+elegance, she could not but think that Richard would be a happier and a
+better man if he were a little more comfortable. She forbore, however,
+to criticise the poverty of his _entourage_, for she felt that the
+obvious answer was, that such a state of things was the penalty of his
+living alone; and it was desirable, under the circumstances, that this
+idea should remain implied.
+
+When at last Gertrude began to bethink herself of going, Richard broke a
+long silence by the following question: "Gertrude, _do_ you love that
+man?"
+
+"Richard," she answered, "I refused to tell you before, because you
+asked the question as a right. Of course you do so no longer. No. I do
+not love him. I have been near it,--but I have missed it. And now good
+by."
+
+For a week after her visit, Richard worked as bravely and steadily as he
+had done before it. But one morning he woke up lifeless, morally
+speaking. His strength had suddenly left him. He had been straining his
+faith in himself to a prodigious tension, and the chord had suddenly
+snapped. In the hope that Gertrude's tender fingers might repair it, he
+rode over to her towards evening. On his way through the village, he
+found people gathered in knots, reading fresh copies of the Boston
+newspapers over each other's shoulders, and learned that tidings had
+just come of a great battle in Virginia, which was also a great defeat.
+He procured a copy of the paper from a man who had read it out, and made
+haste to Gertrude's dwelling.
+
+Gertrude received his story with those passionate imprecations and
+regrets which were then in fashion. Before long, Major Luttrel presented
+himself, and for half an hour there was no talk but about the battle.
+The talk, however, was chiefly between Gertrude and the Major, who found
+considerable ground for difference, she being a great radical and he a
+decided conservative. Richard sat by, listening apparently, but with the
+appearance of one to whom the matter of the discourse was of much less
+interest than the manner of those engaged in it. At last, when tea was
+announced, Gertrude told her friends, very frankly, that she would not
+invite them to remain,--that her heart was too heavy with her country's
+woes, and with the thought of so great a butchery, to allow her to play
+the hostess,--and that, in short, she was in the humor to be alone. Of
+course there was nothing for the gentlemen but to obey; but Richard went
+out cursing the law, under which, in the hour of his mistress's sorrow,
+his company was a burden and not a relief. He watched in vain, as he
+bade her farewell, for some little sign that she would fain have him
+stay, but that as she wished to get rid of his companion civility
+demanded that she should dismiss them both. No such sign was
+forthcoming, for the simple reason that Gertrude was sensible of no
+conflict between her desires. The men mounted their horses in silence,
+and rode slowly along the lane which led from Miss Whittaker's stables
+to the high-road. As they approached the top of the lane, they perceived
+in the twilight a mounted figure coming towards them. Richard's heart
+began to beat with an angry foreboding, which was confirmed as the rider
+drew near and disclosed Captain Severn's features. Major Luttrel and he,
+being bound in courtesy to a brief greeting, pulled up their horses; and
+as an attempt to pass them in narrow quarters would have been a greater
+incivility than even Richard was prepared to commit, he likewise
+halted.
+
+"This is ugly news, isn't it?" said Severn. "It has determined me to go
+back to-morrow."
+
+"Go back where?" asked Richard.
+
+"To my regiment."
+
+"Are you well enough?" asked Major Luttrel. "How is that wound?"
+
+"It's so much better that I believe it can finish getting well down
+there as easily as here. Good by, Major. I hope we shall meet again."
+And he shook hands with Major Luttrel. "Good by, Mr. Clare." And,
+somewhat to Richard's surprise, he stretched over and held out his hand
+to him.
+
+Richard felt that it was tremulous, and, looking hard into his face, he
+thought it wore a certain unwonted look of excitement. And then his
+fancy coursed back to Gertrude, sitting where he had left her, in the
+sentimental twilight, alone with her heavy heart. With a word, he
+reflected, a single little word, a look, a motion, this happy man whose
+hand I hold can heal her sorrows. "Oh!" cried Richard, "that by this
+hand I might hold him fast forever!"
+
+It seemed to the Captain that Richard's grasp was needlessly protracted
+and severe. "What a grip the poor fellow has!" he thought. "Good by," he
+repeated aloud, disengaging himself.
+
+"Good by," said Richard. And then he added, he hardly knew why, "Are you
+going to bid good by to Miss Whittaker?"
+
+"Yes. Isn't she at home?"
+
+Whether Richard really paused or not before he answered, he never knew.
+There suddenly arose such a tumult in his bosom that it seemed to him
+several moments before he became conscious of his reply. But it is
+probable that to Severn it came only too soon.
+
+"No," said Richard; "she's not at home. We have just been calling." As
+he spoke, he shot a glance at his companion, armed with defiance of his
+impending denial. But the Major just met his glance and then dropped his
+eyes. This slight motion was a horrible revelation. He had served the
+Major too.
+
+"Ah? I'm sorry," said Severn, slacking his rein,--"I'm sorry." And from
+his saddle he looked down toward the house more longingly and
+regretfully than he knew.
+
+Richard felt himself turning from pale to consuming crimson. There was a
+simple sincerity in Severn's words which was almost irresistible. For a
+moment he felt like shouting out a loud denial of his falsehood: "She is
+there! she's alone and in tears, awaiting you. Go to her--and be
+damned!" But before he could gather his words into his throat, they were
+arrested by Major Luttrel's cool, clear voice, which in its calmness
+seemed to cast scorn upon his weakness.
+
+"Captain," said the Major, "I shall be very happy to take charge of your
+farewell."
+
+"Thank you, Major. Pray do. Say how extremely sorry I was. Good by
+again." And Captain Severn hastily turned his horse about, gave him his
+spurs, and galloped away, leaving his friends standing alone in the
+middle of the road. As the sound of his retreat expired, Richard, in
+spite of himself, drew a long breath. He sat motionless in the saddle,
+hanging his head.
+
+"Mr. Clare," said the Major, at last, "that was very cleverly done."
+
+Richard looked up. "I never told a lie before," said he.
+
+"Upon my soul, then, you did it uncommonly well. You did it so well I
+almost believed you. No wonder that Severn did."
+
+Richard was silent. Then suddenly he broke out, "In God's name, sir, why
+don't you call me a blackguard? I've done a beastly act!"
+
+"O, come," said the Major, "you needn't mind that, with me. We'll
+consider that said. I feel bound to let you know that I'm very, very
+much obliged to you. If you hadn't spoken, how do you know but that I
+might?"
+
+"If you had, I would have given you the lie, square in your teeth."
+
+"Would you, indeed? It's very fortunate, then, I held my tongue. If you
+will have it so, I won't deny that your little improvisation sounded
+very ugly. I'm devilish glad I didn't make it, if you come to that."
+
+Richard felt his wit sharpened by a most unholy scorn,--a scorn far
+greater for his companion than for himself. "I am glad to hear that it
+did sound ugly," he said. "To me, it seemed beautiful, holy, and just.
+For the space of a moment, it seemed absolutely right that I should say
+what I did. But you saw the lie in its horrid nakedness, and yet you let
+it pass. You have no excuse."
+
+"I beg your pardon. You are immensely ingenious, but you are immensely
+wrong. Are you going to make out that I am the guilty party? Upon my
+word, you're a cool hand. I _have_ an excuse. I have the excuse of being
+interested in Miss Whittaker's remaining unengaged."
+
+"So I suppose. But you don't love her. Otherwise--"
+
+Major Luttrel laid his hand on Richard's bridle. "Mr. Clare," said he,
+"I have no wish to talk metaphysics over this matter. You had better say
+no more. I know that your feelings are not of an enviable kind, and I am
+therefore prepared to be good-natured with you. But you must be civil
+yourself. You have done a shabby deed; you are ashamed of it, and you
+wish to shift the responsibility upon me, which is more shabby still. My
+advice is, that you behave like a man of spirit, and swallow your
+apprehensions. I trust that you are not going to make a fool of yourself
+by any apology or retraction in any quarter. As for its having seemed
+holy and just to do what you did, that is mere bosh. A lie is a lie, and
+as such is often excusable. As anything else,--as a thing beautiful,
+holy, or just,--it's quite inexcusable. Yours was a lie to you, and a
+lie to me. It serves me, and I accept it. I suppose you understand me. I
+adopt it. You don't suppose it was because I was frightened by those
+big black eyes of yours that I held my tongue. As for my loving or not
+loving Miss Whittaker, I have no report to make to you about it. I will
+simply say that I intend, if possible, to marry her."
+
+"She'll not have you. She'll never marry a cold-blooded rascal."
+
+"I think she'll prefer him to a hot-blooded one. Do you want to pick a
+quarrel with me? Do you want to make me lose my temper? I shall refuse
+you that satisfaction. You have been a coward, and you want to frighten
+some one before you go to bed to make up for it. Strike me, and I'll
+strike you in self-defence, but I'm not going to mind your talk. Have
+you anything to say? No? Well, then, good evening." And Major Luttrel
+started away.
+
+It was with rage that Richard was dumb. Had he been but a cat's-paw
+after all? Heaven forbid! He sat irresolute for an instant, and then
+turned suddenly and cantered back to Gertrude's gate. Here he stopped
+again; but after a short pause he went in over the gravel with a
+fast-beating heart. O, if Luttrel were but there to see him! For a
+moment he fancied he heard the sound of the Major's returning steps. If
+he would only come and find him at confession! It would be so easy to
+confess before him! He went along beside the house to the front, and
+stopped beneath the open drawing-room window.
+
+"Gertrude!" he cried softly, from his saddle.
+
+Gertrude immediately appeared. "You, Richard!" she exclaimed.
+
+Her voice was neither harsh nor sweet; but her words and her intonation
+recalled vividly to Richard's mind the scene in the conservatory. He
+fancied them keenly expressive of disappointment. He was invaded by a
+mischievous conviction that she had been expecting Captain Severn, or
+that at the least she had mistaken his voice for the Captain's. The
+truth is that she had half fancied it might be,--Richard's call having
+been little more than a loud whisper. The young man sat looking up at
+her, silent.
+
+"What do you want?" she asked. "Can I do anything for you?"
+
+Richard was not destined to do his duty that evening. A certain
+infinitesimal dryness of tone on Gertrude's part was the inevitable
+result of her finding that that whispered summons came only from
+Richard. She was preoccupied. Captain Severn had told her a fortnight
+before, that, in case of news of a defeat, he should not await the
+expiration of his leave of absence to return. Such news had now come,
+and her inference was that her friend would immediately take his
+departure. She could not but suppose that he would come and bid her
+farewell, and what might not be the incidents, the results, of such a
+visit? To tell the whole truth, it was under the pressure of these
+reflections that, twenty minutes before, Gertrude had dismissed our two
+gentlemen. That this long story should be told in the dozen words with
+which she greeted Richard, will seem unnatural to the disinterested
+reader. But in those words, poor Richard, with a lover's clairvoyance,
+read it at a single glance. The same resentful impulse, the same
+sickening of the heart, that he had felt in the conservatory, took
+possession of him once more. To be witness of Severn's passion for
+Gertrude,--that he could endure. To be witness of Gertrude's passion for
+Severn,--against that obligation his reason rebelled.
+
+"What is it you wish, Richard?" Gertrude repeated. "Have you forgotten
+anything?"
+
+"Nothing! nothing!" cried the young man. "It's no matter!"
+
+He gave a great pull at his bridle, and almost brought his horse back on
+his haunches, and then, wheeling him about on himself, he thrust in his
+spurs and galloped out of the gate.
+
+On the highway he came upon Major Luttrel, who stood looking down the
+lane.
+
+"I'm going to the Devil, sir!" cried Richard. "Give me your hand on it."
+
+Luttrel held out his hand. "My poor young man," said he, "you're out of
+your head. I'm sorry for you. You haven't been making a fool of
+yourself?"
+
+"Yes, a damnable fool of myself!"
+
+Luttrel breathed freely. "You'd better go home and go to bed," he said.
+"You'll make yourself ill by going on at this rate."
+
+"I--I'm afraid to go home," said Richard, in a broken voice. "For God's
+sake, come with me!"--and the wretched fellow burst into tears. "I'm too
+bad for any company but yours," he cried, in his sobs.
+
+The Major winced, but he took pity. "Come, come," said he, "we'll pull
+through. I'll go home with you."
+
+They rode off together. That night Richard went to bed miserably drunk;
+although Major Luttrel had left him at ten o'clock, adjuring him to
+drink no more. He awoke the next morning in a violent fever; and before
+evening the doctor, whom one of his hired men had brought to his
+bedside, had come and looked grave and pronounced him very ill.
+
+
+
+
+DOCTOR MOLKE.
+
+A SKETCH FROM LIFE.
+
+
+As my own fancy led me into the Greenland seas, so chance sent me into a
+Greenland port. It was a choice little harbor, a good way north of the
+Arctic Circle,--fairly within the realm of hyperborean barrenness,--very
+near the northernmost border of civilized settlement. But civilization
+was exhibited there by unmistakable evidences;--a very dilute
+civilization, it is true, yet, such as it was, outwardly recognizable;
+for Christian habitations and Christian beings were in sight from the
+vessel's deck,--at least some of the human beings who appeared upon the
+beach were dressed like Christians, and veritable smoke curled
+gracefully upward into the bright air above the roofs of houses from
+veritable chimneys.
+
+We had been fighting the Arctic ice and the Arctic storms for so long a
+time, that it was truly refreshing to get into this good harbor. The
+little craft which had borne us thither seemed positively to enjoy her
+repose, as she lay quietly to her anchors on the still waters, in the
+calm air and the blazing sunshine of the Arctic noonday. As for myself,
+I was simply wondering what I should find ashore. A slender fringe of
+European custom bordering native barbarism and dirt was what I
+anticipated; for, as I looked upon the naked rocks,--which there, as in
+other Greenland ports, afforded room for a few straggling huts of native
+fishermen and hunters, with only now and then a more pretentious white
+man's lodge,--I could hardly imagine that much would be found seductive
+to the fancy or inviting to the eye. A country where there is no soil to
+yield any part of man's subsistence seemed to offer such a slender
+chance for man in the battle of life, that I could well imagine it to be
+repulsive rather than attractive; yet I was eager to see how poor men
+might be, and live.
+
+While thus looking forward to a novel experience, I was unconsciously
+preparing myself for a great surprise. Whatever there might be of
+poverty in the condition of the few dozens of human beings who there
+forced a scanty subsistence from the sea, I was to discover one person
+in the place who did in no way share it,--who, born as it might seem to
+different destinies, yet, voluntarily choosing wild Nature for
+companionship, and rising superior to the forbidding climate and the
+general desolation, rejoiced here in his own strong manhood, and lived
+seemingly contented as well with himself as with the great world of
+which he heard from afar but the faint murmurs.
+
+The anchors had been down about an hour, and the bustle and confusion
+necessarily attending an entrance into port had subsided. The sails were
+stowed, the decks were cleared up, and the ropes were coiled. A port
+watch was set. The crew had received their "liberty," and there was much
+wondering among them whether Esquimau eyes could speak a tender welcome.
+Nor had the Danish flag been forgotten. That swallow-tailed emblem of a
+gallant nationality--which, according to song and tradition, has the
+enviable distinction of having
+
+    "Come from heaven down, my boys,
+    Ay, come from heaven down"--
+
+was fluttering from a white flag-staff at the front of the
+government-house, and we had answered its display by running up our own
+Danish colors at the fore, and saluting them with our signal-gun in all
+due form and courtesy.
+
+Soon after reaching the anchorage I had despatched an officer to look up
+the chief ruler of the place, and to assure him of the great pleasure I
+should have in calling upon him, if he would name an hour convenient to
+himself; and I was awaiting my messenger's return with some impatience,
+when suddenly I heard the thump of his heavy sea boots on the deck
+above. In a few moments he entered the cabin, and reported that the
+governor was absent, but that his office was temporarily filled by a
+gentleman who had been good enough to accompany him on board,--the
+surgeon of the settlement, Doctor Molke; and then stepping aside, Doctor
+Molke passed through the narrow doorway and stood before me, bowing. I
+bowed in return, and bade him welcome, saying, I suppose, just what any
+other person would have said under like circumstances, (not, however,
+supposing for a moment that I was understood,) and then, turning to the
+officer, I signified my wish that he should act as interpreter. But that
+was needless. My Greenland visitor answered me, in pure, unbroken
+English, with as little hesitation as if he had spoken no other language
+all his life; and in conclusion he said: "I come to invite you to my
+poor house, and to offer you my service. I can give you but a feeble
+welcome in this outlandish place, but such as I have is yours; and if
+you will accompany me ashore, I shall be much delighted."
+
+The delight was mutual; and it was not many minutes before, seated in
+the stern sheets of a whale-boat, we were pulling towards the land.
+
+My new-found friend interested me at once. The surprise at finding
+myself addressed in English was increased when I discovered that this
+Greenland official bore every mark of refinement, culture, and high
+breeding. His manner was wholly free from restraint; and it struck me as
+something odd that all the self-possession and ease of a thorough man of
+the world should be exhibited in this desert place. He did not seem to
+be at all aware that there was anything incongruous in either his dress
+or manner and his present situation; yet this man, who sat with me in
+the stern sheets of a battered whale-boat, pulling across a Greenland
+harbor to a Greenland settlement, might, with the simple addition of a
+pair of suitable gloves, have stepped as he was into a ball-room without
+giving rise to any other remark than would be excited by his bearing.
+
+His graceful figure was well set off by a neatly fitting and closely
+buttoned blue frock-coat, ornamented with gilt buttons, and embroidered
+cuffs, and heavily braided shoulder-knots. A decoration on his breast
+told that he was a favorite with his king. His finely shaped head was
+covered by a blue cloth cap, having a gilt band and the royal emblems.
+Over his shoulders was thrown a cloak of mottled seal-skins, lined with
+the warm and beautiful fur of the Arctic fox. His cleanly shaven face
+was finely formed and full of force, while a soft blue eye spoke of
+gentleness and good-nature, and with fair hair completed the evidences
+of Scandinavian birth.
+
+My curiosity became much excited. "How," thought I, "in the name of
+everything mysterious, has it happened that such a man should have
+turned up in such a place?" From curiosity I passed to amazement, as his
+mind unfolded itself, and his tastes were manifested. I was prepared to
+be received by a fur-clad hunter, a coppery-faced Esquimau, or a meek
+and pious missionary, upon whose face privation and penance had set
+their seal; but for this high-spirited, high-bred, graceful, and
+evidently accomplished gentleman, I was not prepared.
+
+I could not refrain from one leading observation. "I suppose, Doctor
+Molke," said I, "that you have not been here long enough to have yet
+wholly exhausted the novelty of these noble hills!"
+
+"Eleven years, one would think," replied he, "ought to pretty well
+exhaust anything; and yet I cannot say that these hills, upon which my
+eyes rest continually, have grown to be wearisome companions, even if
+they may appear something forbidding."
+
+Eleven years among these barren hills! Eleven years in Greenland!!
+Surely, thought I, this is something "passing strange."
+
+The scene around us as we crossed the bay was indeed imposing, and,
+though desolate enough, was certainly not without its bright and
+cheerful side. Behind us rose a majestic line of cliffs, climbing up
+into the clouds in giant steps, picturesque yet solid,--a great massive
+pedestal, as it were, supporting mountain piled on mountain, with caps
+of snow whitening their summits, and great glaciers hanging on their
+sides. Before us lay the town,--built upon a gnarled spur of primitive
+rock, which seemed to have crept from underneath the lofty cliffs, as a
+serpent from its hiding-place, and, after wriggling through the sea, to
+have stopped at length, when it had almost completely enclosed a
+beautiful sheet of water about a mile long by half a mile broad, leaving
+but one narrow, winding entrance to it. Through this entrance the swell
+of the sea could never come to disturb the silent bay, which lay there,
+nestling among the dark rocks beneath the mountain shadows, as calmly as
+a Swiss lake in an Alpine valley.
+
+But the rocky spur which supported on its rough back what there was of
+the town wore a most woe-begone and distressed aspect. A few little
+patches of grass and moss were visible, but generally there was nothing
+to be seen but the cold gray-red naked rocks, broken and twisted into
+knots and knobs, and cut across with deep and ugly cracks. I could but
+wonder that on such a dreary spot man should ever think of seeking a
+dwelling-place; and my companion must have interpreted my thoughts, for
+he pointed to the shore, and said playfully, "Ah! it is true, you behold
+at last the fruits of wisdom and instruction,--a city founded on a
+rock." And then, after a moment's pause, he added: "Let me point out to
+you the great features of this new wonder. First, to the right there,
+underneath that little, low, black, peaked roof, dwells the royal
+cook,--a Dane who came out here a long time ago, married a native of
+the country, and rejoices in a brood of half-breeds, among whom are four
+girls, rather dusky, but not ill-favored. Next in order is the
+government-house,--that pitch-coated structure near the flag-staff. This
+is the only building, you observe, that can boast of a double tier of
+windows. Next, a little higher up, you see, is my own lodge, bedaubed
+with pitch, like the other, to protect it against the assaults of the
+weather, and to stop the little cracks. Down by the beach, a little
+farther on, that largest building of all is the store-house, &c., where
+the Governor keeps all sorts of traps for trade with the natives, and
+where the shops are in which the cooper fixes up the oil-barrels, and
+where other like industrial pursuits are carried on. A little farther on
+you observe a low structure where the oil is stored. On the ledge above
+the shop you see another pitchy building. This furnishes quarters for
+the half-dozen Danish employees,--fellows who, not having married native
+wives, hunt and fish for the glory of Denmark. Near the den of these
+worthies you observe another,--a duplicate of that in which lives the
+cook. There lives the royal cooper; and not far from it are two others,
+not quite so pretentious, where dwell the carpenter and blacksmith,--all
+of whom have followed the worthy example of the cook, and have dusky
+sons and daughters to console their declining years. You may perhaps be
+able to distinguish a few moss-covered hovels dotted about here and
+there,--perhaps there may be twenty of them in all, though there are but
+few of them in sight. These are the huts of native hunters. At present
+they are not occupied, for, being without roofs that will turn water,
+the people are compelled to abandon them when the snow begins to melt in
+the spring, and betake themselves to seal-skin tents, some of which you
+observe scattered here and there among the rocks. And now I've shown you
+everything,--just in time, too, for here we are at the landing."
+
+We had drawn in close to the end of a narrow pier, run out into the
+water on slender piles, and, quickly ascending some steps, the Doctor
+led the way up to his house. The whole settlement had turned out to meet
+us, men, women, children, and dogs,--which latter, about two hundred in
+number, "little dogs and all," set up an ear-splitting cry, wild and
+strangely in keeping with every other part of the scene, and like
+nothing so much as the dismal evening concert of a pack of wolves. The
+children, on the other hand, kept quiet, and clung to their mothers, as
+all children do in exciting times; the mothers grinned and laughed and
+chattered, "as becomes the gentler sex" in the savage state; while the
+men, all smoking short clay pipes, (one of their customs borrowed from
+civilization,) looked on with that air of stolid indifference peculiar
+to the male barbarian. They were mostly dressed in suits of seal-skins,
+but some of them wore greasy Guernsey frocks and other European
+clothing. Many of the women carried cunning-looking babies strapped upon
+their backs in seal-skin pouches. The heads of men and women alike were
+for the most part capless; but every one of the dark, beardless faces
+was surmounted by a heavy mass of straight, uncombed, and tangled
+jet-black hair. There were some half-breed girls standing in little
+groups upon the rocks, who, adding something of taste to the simple need
+of an artificial covering for the body, were attired in dresses, which,
+although of the Esquimau fashion, were quite neatly ornamented. While
+passing through this curious crowd, the eye could not but find pleasure
+in the novel scene, the more especially as the delight of these
+half-barbarous people was excited to the highest pitch by the strange
+being who had come among them.
+
+But if what the eye drank in gave delight, less fortunate the nose; for
+from about the store-house and the native huts, and, indeed, from almost
+everywhere, welled up that horrid odor of decomposing oil and fish and
+flesh peculiar to a fishing-town. On this account, if on no other, I
+was not sorry when we reached our destination.
+
+"You like not this Greenland odor?" said my conductor. "Luckily it does
+not reach me here, or I should seek a still higher perch to roost
+on";--saying which, he opened the door and led the way inside, first
+through a little vestibule into a square hall, where we deposited our
+fur coats, and then to the right, into a small room furnished with a
+table, an old pine bench, a single chair, a case with glass doors
+containing white jars and glass bottles having Latin labels, and
+smelling dreadfully of doctor's stuffs.
+
+"I always come through here," said my host, "after passing the town. It
+gives the olfactories a new sensation. This, you observe, is the place
+where I physic the people."
+
+"Have you many patients, Doctor?" I inquired.
+
+"Not very many; but, considering that I go sometimes a hundred miles or
+so to see the suffering sinners, I have quite enough to satisfy me. Not
+much competition, you know. But come, we have some lunch waiting for us
+in the next room, and Sophy will be growing impatient."
+
+A lady, eh?
+
+The room into which the Doctor ushered me was neatly furnished. On the
+walls were hung some prints and paintings of fruits and animals and
+flowers, and in the centre stood a small round table covered with dishes
+carefully placed on a snowy cloth.
+
+All very nice, but who's Sophy?
+
+The Doctor tinkled a little bell, the tones of which told that it was
+silver; and then, all radiant with smiles and beaming with good-nature,
+Sophy entered. A strange apparition.
+
+"This is my housekeeper," said the Doctor, in explanation; "speak to the
+American, Sophy."
+
+And, without embarrassment or pausing for an instant, she advanced and
+bade me welcome, addressing me in fair English, and extending at the
+same time a delicate little hand, which peeped out from cuffs of
+eider-down. "I am glad," said she, "to see the American. I have been
+looking through the window at him ever since he left the ship."
+
+"Now, Sophy," said the Doctor, "let us see what you have got us for
+lunch."
+
+"O, I haven't anything at all, Doctor Molke," answered Sophy; "but I
+hope the American will excuse me until dinner, when I have some nice
+trout and venison."
+
+"'Pot-luck,' as I told you," exclaimed my host. "But never mind, Sophy,
+let's have it, be it what it may." And Sophy tripped lightly out of the
+room to do her master's bidding.
+
+"A right good girl that," said the Doctor, when the door was closed.
+"Takes capital care of me."
+
+Strange Sophy! A pretty face of dusky hue, and a fine figure attired in
+native costume, neatly ornamented and arranged with cultivated taste.
+Pantaloons of mottled seal-skin, and of silvery lustre, tapered down
+into long white boots, which enclosed the neatest of ankles and the
+daintiest of feet. A little jacket of Scotch plaid, with a collar and
+border of fur, covered the body to the waist, while from beneath the
+collar peeped up a pure white cambric handkerchief, covering the throat;
+and heavy masses of glossy black hair were intertwined with ribbons of
+gay red. Marvellous Sophy! Dusky daughter of a Danish father and a
+native mother. From her mother she had her rich brunette complexion and
+raven hair; from her father, Saxon features, and light blue Saxon eyes.
+
+If the housekeeper attracted my attention, so did the dishes which she
+set before me. Smoked salmon of exquisite delicacy, reindeer sausages,
+reindeer tongues nicely dried and thinly sliced, and fine fresh Danish
+bread, made up a style of "pot-luck" calculated to cause a hungry man
+from the high seas and sailors' "prog" to wish for the same style of
+luck for the remainder of his days. But when all this came to be washed
+down with the contents of sundry bottles with which Sophy dotted the
+clean white cloth, the "luck" was perfect, and there was nothing further
+to desire.
+
+"Ah! here we are," said my entertainer. "Sophy wishes to make amends for
+the dryness of her fare. This is a choice Margaux, and I can recommend
+it. But, Sophy, here, you haven't warmed this quite enough. Ah! my dear
+sir, you experience the trouble of a Greenland life. One can never get
+his wines properly tempered."
+
+One cannot get his wines properly tempered!--and this is the trouble of
+a Greenland life!! "Surely," thought I, "one might find something worse
+than this."
+
+"Here," picking up the next bottle, "we have some Johannisberg, very
+fine as I can assure you; but I have little fancy even for the best of
+these Rhenish wines. Too much like a pretty woman without soul. They
+never warm the imagination. There's something better to build upon there
+close beside your elbow. Since the claret's forbidden us for the
+present, I'll drink you welcome in that rich Madeira. Why, do you know,
+sir," rattled on the Doctor, as I passed the bottle, seemingly rejoiced
+in his very heart at having some one to talk to,--"do you know, sir,
+that I have kept that by me here these ten years past? My good old
+father sent it to me as a mark of special favor. Why, sir, it has a
+pedigree as long as one of Locksley's cloth-yard shafts. But the
+pedigree will keep: let's prove it,"--and he filled up two dainty French
+straw-stem glasses, and pledged me in the good old Danish style. Then,
+when the claret came back, this time all rightly tempered, the Doctor
+filled the glasses, and hoped that, when I "left this place, the girls
+would pull lustily on the tow-ropes."
+
+Hunger and thirst were soon appeased. "And now," said the Doctor, when
+this was done, "I know you are dying for the want of something fresh and
+green. You have probably tasted nothing that grew out of dear old Mother
+Earth since leaving home";--and he tinkled his silver bell again, and
+Sophy of the silver seal-skin pantaloons and dainty boots tripped softly
+through the door.
+
+"Sophy, haven't you a surprise for the American?"
+
+Sophy smiled knowingly, and said, "Yes," as she retreated. In a moment
+she came back, carrying a little silver dish, with a little green
+pyramid upon it. Out from the green peeped little round red
+globes,--_radishes_, as I lived!--round red radishes!--_ten_ round red
+radishes!
+
+"What! radishes in Greenland!" I exclaimed involuntarily.
+
+"Yes, and raised on my own farm, too; you shall see it by and by." The
+Doctor was enjoying my surprise, and Sophy looked on with undisguised
+satisfaction. Meanwhile I lost no time in tumbling the pyramid to
+pieces, and crunching the delicious bulbs. They disappeared in a
+twinkling. Their rich and luscious juices seemed to pour at once into
+the very blood, and to tingle at the very finger-tips. I never knew
+before the full enjoyment of the fresh growth of the soil. After so long
+a deprivation it was indeed a strange, as it will remain a lasting
+sensation. Never to my dying day shall I forget the ten radishes of
+Greenland.
+
+"You see that I was right," exclaimed my host, after the vigorous
+assault was ended. "And now," continued he, addressing Sophy, "bring the
+other things."
+
+The "other things" proved to be a plate of fine lettuce, a bit of
+Stilton cheese, and coffee in transparent little china cups, and sugar
+in a silver bowl, and then cigars,--everything of the best and purest;
+and as we passed from one thing to another, I became at length persuaded
+that the Arctic Circle was a myth, that my cruise among the icebergs was
+a dream, and that Greenland was set down wrongly on the maps. Long
+before this I had been convinced that Doctor Molke was a most mysterious
+character, and wholly unaccountable.
+
+After we had finished this sumptuous lunch and chatted for a while, the
+Doctor surprised me again by asking if I would like a game of billiards.
+(Billiards in Greenland, as well as radishes!) "But first," said he,
+"let us try this sunny Burgundy. Ah! these red wines are the only truly
+generous wines. They monopolize all the sensuous glories and
+associations of the fruit. With these red wines one drinks in the very
+soul and sentiment of the lands which grow the grapes that breed them."
+
+"Even if drank in Greenland?"
+
+"Yes, or at the very Pole. Geographical lines may confine our bodies;
+but nature is an untamed wild, where the spirit roams at will. If I am
+here hemmed in by barren hills, and live in a desert waste, yet, as one
+of your sweetest poets has put it, my
+
+            'Fancy, like the finger of a clock,
+    Runs the great circuit and is still at home';
+
+and truly, I believe that I have in this retreat about as much enjoyment
+of life as they who taste of it more freely; for while I can here feel
+all the world's warm pulsations, I am freed from its annoyances: if the
+sweet is less sweet, the bitter is less bitter. But--Well, let's have
+the billiards."
+
+My host now led the way into the billiard-room, which was tastefully
+ornamented with everything needful to harmonize with a handsome table
+standing in its centre, upon which we were soon knocking the balls about
+in an ill-matched game, for he beat me sadly. I was much surprised at
+the skilfulness of his play, and remarked that I thought it something
+singular that he "should there find any one to keep him so well in
+hand."
+
+"Ah! my dear sir," said he, "you have yet much to learn. This country is
+not so bad as you think for. Sophy--native-born Sophy--is my antagonist,
+and she beats me three times out of five." Wonderful Sophy!
+
+The game finished, my host next led the way into his study. A charming
+retreat as ever human wit and ingenuity devised. It was indeed rather a
+parlor than a study. The room was quite large, and was literally filled
+with odd bits of furniture, elegant and well kept. Heavy crimson
+curtains were draped about the windows, a rich crimson carpet covered
+the floor, and there were lounges and chairs of various patterns,
+adapted for every temper of mind or mood of body,--all of the same
+pleasing color. Odd _étagčres_, hanging and standing, and a large solid
+walnut case, were all well filled with books, and other books were
+carefully arranged on a table in the centre of the room. Among them my
+eye quickly detected the works of various English authors, conspicuous
+among which were Shakespeare, Byron, Scott, Dickens, Cooper, and
+Washington Irving. Sam Slick had a place there, and close beside him was
+the renowned Lemuel Gulliver; and in science there were, beside many
+others, Brewster, Murchison, and Lyell. The books all showed that they
+were well used, and they embraced the principal classical stores of the
+French and German tongues, beside the English and his own native Danish.
+In short, the collection was precisely such as one would expect to find
+in any civilized place, where means were not wanting, the disposition to
+read a habit and a pleasure, and the books themselves boon companions.
+
+A charming feature of the room was the air of refreshing _négligé_ with
+which sundry robes of bear and fox skins were tossed about upon the
+chairs and lounges and floor; while the blank spaces of the walls were
+broken by numerous pictures, some of them apparently family relics, and
+on little brackets were various souvenirs of art and travel.
+
+"I call this my study," said the Doctor; "but in truth there is the real
+shop";--and he led me into a little room adjoining, in which there was
+but one window, one table, one chair, no shelves, a great number of
+books, lying about in every direction, and great quantities of paper. On
+the wall hung about two dozen pipes of various shapes and sizes, and a
+fine assortment of guns and rifles and all the paraphernalia of a
+practised sportsman. It was easy to see that there was one place where
+the native-born Sophy did not come.
+
+The chamber of this singular Greenland recluse was in keeping with his
+study. The walls were painted light blue, a blue carpet adorned the
+floor, blue curtains softened the light which stole through the windows,
+and blue hangings cast a pleasant hue over a snowy pillow. Although
+small, there was indeed nothing wanting, not even a well-arranged
+bath-room,--nothing that the most fastidious taste could covet or
+desire.
+
+"And now," said my entertainer, when we had got seated in the study,
+"does this present attractions sufficient to tempt you from your narrow
+bunk on shipboard? You are most heartily welcome to that blue den which
+you admire so much, and which I am heartily sick of, while I can make
+for myself a capital 'shake-down' here, or _vice versa_. If neither of
+these will suit you, then cast your eyes out of the window, and you will
+observe snow enough to build a more truly Arctic lodging."
+
+I stepped to the window, and there, sure enough, piled up beneath it and
+against the house, was a great bank of snow, which the summer's sun had
+not yet dissolved; and as I saw this, and then looked beyond it over the
+wretched little village, and the desolate waste of rocks on which it
+stood, and then on up the craggy steeps to the great white-topped
+mountains, I could but wonder what strange occurrence had sent this
+luxury-loving man, with books only for companions, into such a howling
+wilderness. Was it his own fancy? or was it some cruel necessity? In
+truth, the surprise was so great that I found myself suddenly turning
+from the scene outside to that within, not indeed without an impulse
+that the whole thing might have vanished in the interval, as the palace
+of Aladdin in the Arabian tale.
+
+My host was watching me attentively, no doubt reading my thoughts, for
+as I turned round he asked if I "liked the contrast." To be quite
+candid, I was forced to own myself greatly wondering "that a den so well
+fitted for the latitude of Paris should be stumbled upon away up here so
+near the Pole."
+
+"Hardly in keeping with 'the eternal fitness of things,' eh?"
+
+"Precisely so."
+
+"You think, then, because a fellow chooses to live in barbarous
+Greenland, he must needs turn barbarian?"
+
+"Not exactly that, but we are in the habit of associating the
+appreciation of comfort and luxury with the desire for social
+intercourse,--certainly not with banishment like this."
+
+"Then you would be inclined to think there is something unnatural, in
+short, mysterious, in my being here,--tastes, fancies, inclinations, and
+all?"
+
+"I confess it would so strike me, if I took the liberty to speculate
+upon it."
+
+"Very far from the truth, I do assure you. I am not obliged to be here
+any more than you are. I came from pure choice, and am at liberty to
+return when I please. In truth, I do go home with the ship to
+Copenhagen, once in three or four years, and spend a winter there,
+living the while in a den much like what you here see; but I am always
+glad enough to get back again. The salary which I receive from the
+government does not support me as I live, so you see _that_ is not a
+motive. But I am perfectly independent, have capital health, lots of
+adventure, hardship enough (for you must know that, if I do sleep under
+a sky-blue canopy, I am esteemed one of the most hardy men in all
+Greenland) to satisfy the most insatiate appetite and perverse
+disposition."
+
+"Sufficient reason, I should say, for a year or so, but hardly one would
+think, for a lifetime."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because the novelty of adventure wears off in a little time. Good
+health never gives us satisfaction, for we do not give it thought until
+we lose it, so that can never be an impelling motive; and as for
+independence, what is that, when one can never be freed from himself? In
+short, I should say one so circumstanced as you are would die of ennui;
+that his mind, constantly thrown back upon itself, must, sooner or
+later, result in a weariness even worse than death itself. However, I am
+only curious, not critical."
+
+"But you forget these shelves. Those books are my friends; of them I
+never grow weary, they never grow weary of me; we understand each other
+perfectly,--they talk to me when I would listen, they sing to me when I
+would be charmed, they play for me when I would be amused. Ah! my dear
+sir, this country is great as all countries are great, each in its way;
+and this is a great country to read books in. Upon my word, I wonder
+everybody don't fill ships with books and come up here, burn the ships,
+as did the great Spaniard, and each spend the remainder of his days in
+devouring his ship-load of books."
+
+"A pretty picture of the country, truly; but let me ask how often do
+books reach you?"
+
+"Once a year,--when the Danish ship comes out to bring us bread, sugar,
+coffee, coal, and such-like things, and to take home the few little
+trifles, such as furs, oil, and fish, which the natives have picked up
+in the interval."
+
+"Books to the contrary, I should say the ship would not return more than
+once without me, were I in your situation."
+
+"So you would think me a sensible fellow, no doubt, if I would pick up
+this box and carry it off to Paris, or may be to New York?"
+
+"That's exactly what I was thinking; or rather it would certainly have
+appeared to me more reasonable if you had built it there in the first
+instance."
+
+"Quite the contrary, I do assure you,--quite the contrary. Indeed, I can
+prove to your entire satisfaction that I am a very sensible man; but
+wait until I have shown you all my possessions. Will you look at my
+farm?"
+
+Farm!--well, this was, after all, exhibiting some claims of the country
+to the consideration of a civilized man. A farm in Greenland was
+something I was hardly prepared for.
+
+The Doctor now rose and led the way to the rear of the house, into a
+yard about eighty feet square, enclosed by a high board fence.
+
+"This is my farm," said the Doctor.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Here, look. It isn't a large one." And he pointed to a patch of earth
+about thirty feet long by four wide, enclosed with boards and covered
+over with glass. Under the glass were growing lettuce, radishes, and
+pepper-grass, all looking as bright and fresh and green and well
+contented as if they, like the man for whose benefit they grew, cared
+little where they sprouted, so only they grew. The ten round red
+radishes of the recent luncheon were accounted for.
+
+"So you see," exclaimed the Doctor, "something besides a lover of books
+can take root in this country. Are you not growing reconciled to it? To
+be sure they are fed on pap from home; but so does the farmer who
+cultivates them get his books from the same quarter."
+
+"How is that? Do you mean to say you bring the earth they grow in from
+home?"
+
+"Even so. This is good rich Jutland earth, brought in barrels by ship
+from Copenhagen."
+
+An imported farm! One more novelty.
+
+"Now you shall see my barn";--and we passed over to a little tightly
+made building in the opposite corner, where the first thing that greeted
+my ears was the bleating of goats and the grunting of pigs; and as the
+door was opened, I heard the cackling and flutter of chickens. Twenty
+chickens, two pigs, and three goats!
+
+"All brought from Copenhagen with the farm";--and the Doctor began to
+talk to them in a very familiar manner in the Danish tongue. They all
+recognized the kindly voice of their master, and flocked round him to be
+fed; and while this was being done I observed that he had provided for
+the safety of his brood by securing in the centre of their house a large
+stove, which was now cold, but which in the winter must give them
+abundant heat. And so the Doctor, besides his round red radishes and his
+nice fresh butter, had pork and milk and eggs of native growth.
+
+The next object of interest to attract attention was the Doctor's
+"smoke-house," then in full operation. This was simply a large hogshead,
+with one head pierced with holes and the other head knocked out. The end
+without a head was set upon a circle of stones, which supported it about
+a foot above the ground, and inside of this circle a great volume of
+smoke was being generated, and which came puffing out through the holes
+in the head above. Inside of this simple contrivance were suspended a
+number of fine salmon, the delicate flesh of which was being dried by
+the heat, and penetrated by the sweet aroma of the smoke, which came
+puffing through the holes. The smoke arose from a smouldering fire of
+the leaves and branches of the Andromeda (_Andromeda tetrigona_), the
+heather of Greenland,--a trailing plant with a pretty purple blossom,
+which grows in sheltered places in great abundance. Besides moss, this
+is the only vegetable production of North Greenland that will burn, and
+it is sometimes used by the natives for fuel, after it is dried by the
+sun, for which purpose it is torn up and spread over the rocks. The
+perfume of the smoke is truly delicious, which accounts for the
+excellent flavor of the salmon which the Doctor had given me for lunch.
+Nothing, indeed, could exceed the delicacy of the fish thus prepared.
+
+The inspection of the Doctor's garden, or "farm," as he facetiously
+called it, occupied us during the remainder of the afternoon; and so
+novel was everything to me, from the Doctor down to his vegetables and
+perfumed fish, that the time passed away unnoticed, and I was quite
+astonished when Sophy came to announce "dinner."
+
+We were soon seated at the table where we had been before, and Sophy
+served the dinner. Her soup was excellent, the trout were of fine
+quality and well cooked, the haunch was done to a turn, the wines were
+this time rightly tempered, the champagne needed not to be iced, more of
+the round red radishes appeared in season, and then followed lettuce and
+cheese and coffee, and then we found ourselves at another game of
+billiards, and at length were settled for the evening in the Doctor's
+study, one on either side of a table, on which stood all the ingredients
+for an arrack punch, and a bundle of cigars.
+
+Our conversation naturally enough ran upon the affairs of the big world
+on the other side of the Arctic Circle,--upon its politics and
+literature and science and art, passing lightly from one to the other,
+lingering now and then over some book which we had mutually fancied. I
+found my companion perfectly posted up to within a year, and inquired
+how he managed so well. "Ah! you must know," answered he, "that is a
+clever little illusion of mine. I'm always precisely one year behind the
+rest of the world. The Danish ship brings me a file of papers for the
+past twelve months, the principal reviews and periodicals, the latest
+maps, such books as I have sent for the year previous, and, beside this,
+the bookseller and my other home friends make me up an assortment of
+what they think will please me. Now, you see, in devouring this, I
+pursue an absolute method. The books, of course, I take up as the fancy
+pleases me; but the reviews, periodicals, and newspapers I turn over to
+Sophy, and the faithful creature places on my breakfast-table every
+morning exactly what was published that day one year before. Clever,
+isn't it? You see I get every day the news, and go through the drama of
+the year with perhaps quite as much satisfaction as they who live the
+passing days in the midst of the occurring events. Each day's paper
+opens a new act in the play, and what matters it that the 'news' is one
+year old? It is none the less news to me; and, besides, are not Gibbon,
+Shakespeare, and Mother Goose still more ancient?"
+
+I could but smile at this ingenious device; and the Doctor, seeing
+plainly that I was deeply interested in his novel mode of life, loosened
+a tongue which, in truth, needed little encouragement, and rattled away
+over the rough and smooth of his Greenland experiences, with an
+enjoyment on his part perhaps scarcely less than mine; for it was easy
+to see that his love of wild adventure kept pace with his love of
+comfort, and that he heartily enjoyed the exposures of his career and
+the reputation which his hardihood had acquired for him. I perceived,
+too, that he possessed a warm and vivid imagination, and that, clothing
+everything he saw and everything he did with a fitting sentiment of
+strength or beauty, he had blended wild nature and his own strange life
+into a romantic scheme which completely filled his fancy,--apparently,
+at least, leaving nothing unsupplied,--and this he enjoyed to the very
+bottom of his soul.
+
+The hours glided swiftly away as we sat sipping our punch and smoking
+our cigars in that quaint study of the Doctor's, chatting of this and of
+that; and a novel feature of the evening was, that, as we talked on and
+on, the light grew not dim with the passing hours; for when the hand of
+a Danish clock which ticked above the mantel told nine, and ten, and
+eleven o'clock, it was still broad day; and then in the full blaze of
+sunshine the clock rang out the "witching hour" of midnight. The sun,
+low down upon the northern horizon, poured his bright rays over the
+hills and sea, throwing the dark shadow of the mountains over the town,
+but illuminating everything to right and left with that soft and
+pleasant light which we so often see at home in the early morning of the
+spring.
+
+After the clock had struck twelve, we threw our fur cloaks over our
+shoulders, and strolled out into this strange midnight. Passing through
+the town, I remarked the quiet which everywhere prevailed, and how all
+nature seemed to have caught the inspiration of the hour. Not a soul was
+stirring abroad; the dogs, crouching in clusters, were all asleep; and
+it seemed as if my little vessel lay under the shadows of the cliffs
+with a consciousness that midnight is a solemn thing even in sunshine;
+and never did the sun shine more brightly, or a more brilliantly
+illuminated landscape give stronger evidence of day. But wearied nature
+had sought repose, even though no "sable cloud with silver lining"
+turned upon the world its darkening shadow,--for the hour of rest was
+come. Walking on over the rough rocks, we came at length upon the sea,
+and I noticed that the very birds which were wont to paddle about in
+great flocks upon the waters, or fly gayly through the air, had crawled
+upon the shore, and, tucking their heads beneath their wings, had gone
+to sleep. Even the little flowers and blades of grass seemed to droop,
+as if wearied with the long hours of the day, and, defying the restless
+sun to rob them of their natural repose, had fallen to sleep with the
+beasts and birds. The very sea itself seemed to have caught the
+infection of the hour, dissolving in its blue depths the golden clouds
+of day.
+
+The night was far from cold, and, selecting the most tempting and sunny
+spot, we sat down upon a rock close beside the sea, watching the gentle
+wavelets playing on the sand, and the changing light as the sun rolled
+on, glistening upon the hills and upon the icebergs, which, in countless
+numbers, lay upon the watery plain before us, like great monoliths of
+Parian marble, waiting but for the sculptor's chisel to stand forth in
+fluted pillar and solid architrave,--floating Parthenons and Pantheons
+and Temples of the Sun.
+
+The scene was favorable to the conversation which had been broken off
+when we left the study, and the Doctor came back to it of his own
+accord. I was much absorbed with the grandeur of this midnight scene,
+and had remained for some time quiet. My companion, breaking in
+abruptly, said: "I think I promised to prove to you that I am the most
+sensible fellow alive. Now let me tell you, to begin with, that I would
+not exchange this view for any other I have ever seen. It is one of
+which I am very fond; for at this hour the repose which you here see is
+frequently repeated; and, to compare big things with little, it might be
+likened to some huge lion sleeping over his prey, which he is not yet
+prepared to eat, quick to catch the first sound of movement. There is
+something truly terrible in this untamed nature. Man's struggle here
+gives him something to rejoice in; and I would not barter it for the
+effeminate life to which I should be destined at home, on any account
+whatever. Perhaps, if I should there be compelled absolutely to earn my
+daily bread, the case might be different, for enforced occupation is
+quite too sober an affair to give time for much reflection; but I should
+most likely lead an idle sort of life there, and should simply live
+without--so far as I can see--a motive. I should encounter few perils,
+have few sorrows, fewer disappointments, and want for nothing,--nothing,
+indeed, but temptation to exert myself, or prove my own manhood in its
+strength, or enjoy the luxury of risking the precious breath of life,
+which is so little worth, and which is so easily knocked away. You have
+seen one side of me,--how I live. Well, I enjoy life and make the most
+of it, after my own fashion, as everybody should do. If it is a
+luxurious fashion, as you are pleased to say, it but gives me a keener
+relish for the opposite; and that it does not unfit me for encountering
+the hardships of the field is proved by the reputation for endurance
+which I have among the natives. If I sleep between well-aired sheets one
+night, I can coil myself up among my dogs on the ice-fields the next,
+and sleep there as well,--I care not if it's as cold as the frigid
+circle of Lucifer. If I have a _penchant_ for Burgundy, and like to
+drink it out of French glass, I can drink train-oil out of a tin cup
+when I am cold and hungry, and never murmur. I like well-fitting
+clothes, but rough furs suit me just as well in season. Why, it would
+make you laugh fit to kill yourself to see these Danish workingmen,--the
+laborers, you know, with whom I sometimes travel,--fellows that can't
+read nor write, poor mechanics, rough sailors, 'hewers of wood and
+drawers of water' generally for this poor settlement,--who never tasted
+Burgundy in all their lives, and would rather have one keg of corn
+brandy than a tun of it, and who never took their frugal fare off
+anything more tempting than tin. Do you think that these people can,
+under any circumstances, be induced to strengthen their limbs with
+eating blubber or drinking train-oil? Not a bit of it. Do you think they
+can be induced to sleep outside of their own not overly elegant
+lodgings, without groaning, and everlastingly desiring to get back
+again? Not they."
+
+I could not help asking the Doctor what impelled him to exposure, of
+which he had grown so fond.
+
+"The motives are various. I have done a good deal of exploring, have
+reached many of the glaciers, have dabbled in natural history,
+meteorology, magnetism, &c., &c., besides making many photographs and
+geographical surveys, and have sent home to various societies and
+museums many curiosities and much information. My name, as you know,
+stands well enough among the dons of science. But apart from this, my
+duties require me to travel about at all times and all seasons. You must
+know that everybody in this country lives upon the shore, and therefore
+the settlements are reached only by the sea. In the winter I travel over
+the ice with my dog sledge, and in the summer, when the ice has broken
+up, I go from place to place in that little five-ton yacht which you saw
+lying in the harbor. Sometimes I go from choice, stopping at the
+villages, and exhibiting my professional abilities upon Dane or native,
+as the case may be. Often I am sent for. The Greenlanders don't like to
+die any better than other people, and they all have an impression that,
+if Dr. Molke only looks upon them, they are safe. So if an old woman but
+gets the belly-ache, away goes her son or husband for the Doctor.
+Perhaps it is in summer, and the distance may be a hundred miles or
+more. No matter, he gets into his kayak and paddles through all sorts of
+weather, and, at the rate of seven knots an hour, comes for me. Glad of
+the excuse for a change, to say nothing (and the less perhaps any of us
+say on that score the better) of the claims of humanity, I send Sophy
+after Adam (a converted native), and directly along comes Adam with his
+son Carl; and my medicine and instrument cases, my gun and rifle, and a
+plentiful supply of ammunition, a tent, and some fur bedding, a lamp,
+and other camp fixtures, and a little simple food, are put into the
+boat, and off we go. Perhaps a gale springs up, and we are forced to
+make a harbor in some little island; or perhaps it falls calm, and we
+crawl into one, under oars. It is sure to be alive with ducks and geese
+and snipe. The shooting is superb. Happen what may, come storm or calm
+or fine weather, though often wet and cold, and frequently in danger,
+yet I have a grand time of it. I may be back in a day, two days, a week,
+or I may be gone a month. Then the winter comes back, and I have again
+to answer another summons. The same traps are put on the sledge, to
+which are harnessed the twelve finest dogs in the town,--my own
+team,--and, at the wildest pace with which this wolfish herd can rush
+along, Adam guides me to my destination. Perhaps it may be early in the
+winter, and the ice is in places thin. We very likely break through, and
+get wet, and are in danger of freezing. Perhaps we reach a crack which
+we cannot pass, and have to hold on, possibly in a hut of snow, waiting
+for the frost to build a bridge for us to pass. This is the wildest and
+most dangerous of my experiences,--this dog-sledging it from place to
+place in the early or late winter,--and I have had many wild adventures.
+In the middle of the winter, when it is dark pretty much all the time,
+and the snow is hard and crisp, and the clear, cold bracing air makes
+the blood run freely through the veins, is the best time for travelling;
+for then we may start a bear, and be pretty sure of catching him before
+he gets on rotten ice or across a crack defying us in the pursuit."
+
+By this time the sun had begun to climb above the hills, and the shadow
+of the cliffs had passed over the town, so we stole back again to the
+Doctor's house. The Doctor insisted that I should not sleep on board, so
+we returned to the study, where I was soon wrapt in a sound sleep on the
+Doctor's "shake-down," from which I never once awoke until there came a
+loud tapping on the door.
+
+"Who's there?"
+
+"Sophy."
+
+"What's Sophy want?"
+
+"Breakfast."
+
+Breakfast indeed! It was hard to believe that I was to come back to the
+experiences of life under such a summons, for I had dreamed that I was
+on a visit to the Man in the Moon, and was enjoying a genuine surprise
+at finding him happy and well contented, seated in the centre of an
+extinct volcano, with all the riches of the great satellite gathered
+round him, hanging in tempting clusters on its horns.
+
+But my eyes at length were opened wide enough to see, near by, the very
+terrestrial ruins of our evening's pastime; and if these had left any
+doubts upon my mind as to the reality of my present situation, those
+doubts would certainly have been removed by the cheerful voice of the
+Doctor; for a loud "Good morning!" came from out the painted chamber,
+and from beneath the sky-blue canopy a graceful query of the night.
+"What of the night, sleeper?--what of the night?" Then I was quickly out
+upon the floor, and dressed, and in the cosey little room where the
+fruits and flowers were hanging on the wall, and where the bright face
+of Sophy, and aromatic coffee, and a charming little breakfast, were
+awaiting us with a kindly welcome.
+
+Breakfast over, I left the Doctor to expend his skill and knowledge on a
+patient who had sent to claim his services, and strolled out over the
+rocks behind the town,--wondering all the while at the strangeness of
+the human fancy and its power on the will; and I reflected, too, and
+remembered that, in the explanation of the satisfying character of the
+life which my new-found friend was leading, there had been no clew given
+to the first great motive which had destined such a finely organized and
+altogether splendid man to such a career. Was he exempt from the lot of
+other mortals, or must he too own, like all the rest of us, when we own
+the truth, that every firm step we ever made in those days of our early
+lives when steps were critical, was made to please a woman, to win her
+slightest praise, to heal a wound or drown a sorrow of her making? I
+would have given much to have the question answered, for then a thing
+now mysterious would have become as plain as day; but there was no one
+there to heed the question, or to give the answer, and I could only
+wander on over the rough rocks, wondering more and more.
+
+
+
+
+A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.
+
+
+One morning last April, as I was passing through Boston Common, which
+lies pleasantly between my residence and my office, I met a gentleman
+lounging along The Mall. I am generally preoccupied when walking, and
+often thrid my way through crowded streets without distinctly observing
+a single soul. But this man's face forced itself upon me, and a very
+singular face it was. His eyes were faded, and his hair, which he wore
+long, was flecked with gray. His hair and eyes, if I may say so, were
+seventy years old, the rest of him not thirty. The youthfulness of his
+figure, the elasticity of his gait, and the venerable appearance of his
+head, were incongruities that drew more than one pair of curious eyes
+towards him. He was evidently an American,--the New England cut of
+countenance is unmistakable,--evidently a man who had seen something of
+the world; but strangely old and young.
+
+Before reaching the Park Street gate, I had taken up the thread of
+thought which he had unconsciously broken; yet throughout the day this
+old young man, with his unwrinkled brow and silvered locks, glided in
+like a phantom between me and my duties.
+
+The next morning I again encountered him on The Mall. He was resting
+lazily on the green rails, watching two little sloops in distress, which
+two ragged ship-owners had consigned to the mimic perils of the Pond.
+The vessels lay becalmed in the middle of the ocean, displaying a
+tantalizing lack of sympathy with the frantic helplessness of the owners
+on shore. As the gentleman observed their dilemma, a light came into his
+faded eyes, then died out, leaving them drearier than before. I wondered
+if he, too, in his time, had sent out ships that drifted and drifted and
+never came to port; and if these poor toys were to him types of his own
+losses.
+
+"I would like to know that man's story," I said, half aloud, halting in
+one of those winding paths which branch off from the quietness of the
+Pond, and end in the rush and tumult of Tremont Street.
+
+"Would you?" replied a voice at my side. I turned and faced Mr. H----, a
+neighbor of mine, who laughed heartily at finding me talking to myself.
+"Well," he added, reflectingly, "I can tell you this man's story; and if
+you will match the narrative with anything as curious, I shall be glad
+to hear it."
+
+"You know him then?"
+
+"Yes and no. I happened to be in Paris when he was buried."
+
+"Buried!"
+
+"Well, strictly speaking, not buried; but something quite like it. If
+you've a spare half-hour," continued my interlocutor, "we'll sit on this
+bench, and I will tell you all I know of an affair that made some noise
+in Paris a couple of years ago. The gentleman himself, standing yonder,
+will serve as a sort of frontispiece to the romance,--a full-page
+illustration, as it were."
+
+The following pages contain the story that Mr. H---- related to me.
+While he was telling it, a gentle wind arose; the miniature sloops
+drifted feebly about the ocean; the wretched owners flew from point to
+point, as the deceptive breeze promised to waft the barks to either
+shore; the early robins trilled now and then from the newly fringed
+elms; and the old young man leaned on the rail in the sunshine, wearily,
+little dreaming that two gossips were discussing his affairs within
+twenty yards of him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three people were sitting in a chamber whose one large window overlooked
+the Place Vendôme. M. Dorine, with his back half turned on the other two
+occupants of the apartment, was reading the _Moniteur_, pausing from
+time to time to wipe his glasses, and taking scrupulous pains not to
+glance towards the lounge at his right, on which were seated
+Mademoiselle Dorine and a young American gentleman, whose handsome face
+rather frankly told his position in the family. There was not a happier
+man in Paris that afternoon than Philip Wentworth. Life had become so
+delicious to him that he shrunk from looking beyond to-day. What could
+the future add to his full heart? what might it not take away? In
+certain natures the deepest joy has always something of melancholy in
+it, a presentiment, a fleeting sadness, a feeling without a name.
+Wentworth was conscious of this subtile shadow, that night, when he rose
+from the lounge, and thoughtfully held Julie's hand to his lip for a
+moment before parting. A careless observer would not have thought him,
+as he was, the happiest man in Paris.
+
+M. Dorine laid down his paper and came forward. "If the house," he said,
+"is such as M. Martin describes it, I advise you to close with him at
+once. I would accompany you, Philip, but the truth is, I am too sad at
+losing this little bird to assist you in selecting a cage for her.
+Remember, the last train for town leaves at five. Be sure not to miss
+it; for we have seats for M. Sardou's new comedy to-morrow night. By
+to-morrow night," he added laughingly, "little Julie here will be an old
+lady, ----'t is such an age from now until then."
+
+The next morning the train bore Philip to one of the loveliest spots
+within thirty miles of Paris. An hour's walk through green lanes brought
+him to M. Martin's estate. In a kind of dream the young man wandered
+from room to room, inspected the conservatory, the stables, the lawns,
+the strip of woodland through which a merry brook sang to itself
+continually; and, after dining with M. Martin, completed the purchase,
+and turned his steps towards the station, just in time to catch the
+express train.
+
+As Paris stretched out before him, with its million lights twinkling in
+the early dusk, and its sharp spires here and there pricking the sky, it
+seemed to Philip as if years had elapsed since he left the city. On
+reaching Paris he drove to his hotel, where he found several letters
+lying on the table. He did not trouble himself even to glance at their
+superscriptions as he threw aside his travelling surtout for a more
+appropriate dress.
+
+If, in his impatience to see Mademoiselle Dorine, the cars had appeared
+to walk, the fiacre which he had secured at the station appeared to
+creep. At last it turned into the Place Vendôme, and drew up before M.
+Dorine's residence. The door opened as Philip's foot touched the first
+step. The servant silently took his cloak and hat, with a special
+deference, Philip thought; but was he not now one of the family?
+
+"M. Dorine," said the servant slowly, "is unable to see Monsieur at
+present. He wishes Monsieur to be shown up to the _salon_."
+
+"Is Mademoiselle--"
+
+"Yes, Monsieur."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"Alone, Monsieur," repeated the man, looking curiously at Philip, who
+could scarcely repress an exclamation of pleasure.
+
+It was the first time that such a privilege had been accorded him. His
+interviews with Julie had always taken place in the presence of M.
+Dorine, or some member of the household. A well-bred Parisian girl has
+but a formal acquaintance with her lover.
+
+Philip did not linger on the staircase; his heart sang in his bosom as
+he flew up the steps, two at a time. Ah! this wine of air which one
+drinks at twenty, and seldom after! He hastened through the softly
+lighted hall, in which he detected the faint scent of her favorite
+flowers, and stealthily opened the door of the _salon_.
+
+The room was darkened. Underneath the chandelier stood a slim black
+casket on trestles. A lighted candle, a crucifix, and some white flowers
+were on a table near by. Julie Dorine was dead.
+
+When M. Dorine heard the indescribable cry that rang through the silent
+house, he hurried from the library, and found Philip standing like a
+ghost in the middle of the chamber.
+
+It was not until long afterwards that Wentworth learned the details of
+the calamity that had befallen him. On the previous night Mademoiselle
+Dorine had retired to her room in seemingly perfect health. She
+dismissed her maid with a request to be awakened early the next morning.
+At the appointed hour the girl entered the chamber. Mademoiselle Dorine
+was sitting in an arm-chair, apparently asleep. The candle had burnt
+down to the socket; a book lay half open on the carpet at her feet. The
+girl started when she saw that the bed had not been occupied, and that
+her mistress still wore an evening dress. She rushed to Mademoiselle
+Dorine's side. It was not slumber. It was death.
+
+Two messages were at once despatched to Philip, one to the station at
+G----, the other to his hotel. The first missed him on the road, the
+second he had neglected to open. On his arrival at M. Dorine's house,
+the servant, under the supposition that Wentworth had been advised of
+Mademoiselle Dorine's death, broke the intelligence with awkward
+cruelty, by showing him directly to the _salon_.
+
+Mademoiselle Dorine's wealth, her beauty, the suddenness of her death,
+and the romance that had in some way attached itself to her love for the
+young American, drew crowds to witness the funeral ceremonies which took
+place in the church in the Rue d'Aguesseau. The body was to be laid in
+M. Dorine's tomb, in the cemetery of Montmartre.
+
+This tomb requires a few words of description. First there was a grating
+of filigraned iron; through this you looked into a small vestibule or
+hall, at the end of which was a massive door of oak opening upon a short
+flight of stone steps descending into the tomb. The vault was fifteen or
+twenty feet square, ingeniously ventilated from the ceiling, but
+unlighted. It contained two sarcophagi: the first held the remains of
+Madame Dorine, long since dead; the other was new, and bore on one side
+the letters J. D., in monogram, interwoven with fleurs-de-lis.
+
+The funeral train stopped at the gate of the small garden that enclosed
+the place of burial, only the immediate relatives following the bearers
+into the tomb. A slender wax candle, such as is used in Catholic
+churches, burnt at the foot of the uncovered sarcophagus, casting a dim
+glow over the centre of the apartment, and deepening the shadows which
+seemed to huddle together in the corners. By this flickering light the
+coffin was placed in its granite shell, the heavy slab laid over it
+reverently, and the oaken door revolved on its rusty hinges, shutting
+out the uncertain ray of sunshine that had ventured to peep in on the
+darkness.
+
+M. Dorine, muffled in his cloak, threw himself on the back seat of the
+carriage, too abstracted in his grief to observe that he was the only
+occupant of the vehicle. There was a sound of wheels grating on the
+gravelled avenue, and then all was silence again in the cemetery of
+Montmartre. At the main entrance the carriages parted company, dashing
+off into various streets at a pace that seemed to express a sense of
+relief. The band plays a dead march going to the grave, but _Fra
+Diavolo_ coming from it.
+
+It is not with the retreating carriages that our interest lies. Nor yet
+wholly with the dead in her mysterious dream; but with Philip Wentworth.
+
+The rattle of wheels had died out of the air when Philip opened his
+eyes, bewildered, like a man abruptly roused from slumber. He raised
+himself on one arm and stared into the surrounding blackness. Where was
+he? In a second the truth flashed upon him. He had been left in the
+tomb! While kneeling on the farther side of the stone box, perhaps he
+had fainted, and in the last solemn rites his absence had been
+unnoticed.
+
+His first emotion was one of natural terror. But this passed as quickly
+as it came. Life had ceased to be so very precious to him; and if it
+were his fate to die at Julie's side, was not that the fulfilment of the
+desire which he had expressed to himself a hundred times that morning?
+What did it matter, a few years sooner or later? He must lay down the
+burden at last. Why not then? A pang of self-reproach followed the
+thought. Could he so lightly throw aside the love that had bent over his
+cradle. The sacred name of mother rose involuntarily to his lips. Was it
+not cowardly to yield up without a struggle the life which he should
+guard for her sake? Was it not his duty to the living and the dead to
+face the difficulties of his position, and overcome them if it were
+within human power?
+
+With an organization as delicate as a woman's, he had that spirit which,
+however sluggish in repose, can leap with a kind of exultation to
+measure its strength with disaster. The vague fear of the supernatural,
+that would affect most men in a similar situation, found no room in his
+heart. He was simply shut in a chamber from which it was necessary that
+he should obtain release within a given period. That this chamber
+contained the body of the woman he loved, so far from adding to the
+terror of the case, was a circumstance from which he drew consolation.
+She was a beautiful white statue now. Her soul was far hence; and if
+that pure spirit could return, would it not be to shield him with her
+love? It was impossible that the place should not engender some thought
+of the kind. He did not put the thought entirely from him as he rose to
+his feet and stretched out his hands in the darkness; but his mind was
+too healthy and practical to indulge long in such speculations.
+
+Philip chanced to have in his pocket a box of wax-tapers which smokers
+use. After several ineffectual attempts, he succeeded in igniting one
+against the dank wall, and by its momentary glare perceived that the
+candle had been left in the tomb. This would serve him in examining the
+fastenings of the vault. If he could force the inner door by any means,
+and reach the grating, of which he had an indistinct recollection, he
+might hope to make himself heard. But the oaken door was immovable, as
+solid as the wall itself, into which it fitted air-tight. Even if he had
+had the requisite tools, there were no fastenings to be removed: the
+hinges were set on the outside.
+
+Having ascertained this, he replaced the candle on the floor, and leaned
+against the wall thoughtfully, watching the blue fan of flame that
+wavered to and fro, threatening to detach itself from the wick. "At all
+events," he thought, "the place is ventilated." Suddenly Philip sprang
+forward and extinguished the light. His existence depended on that
+candle!
+
+He had read somewhere, in some account of shipwreck, how the survivors
+had lived for days upon a few candles which one of the passengers had
+insanely thrown into the long-boat. And here he had been burning away
+his very life.
+
+By the transient illumination of one of the tapers, he looked at his
+watch. It had stopped at eleven,--but at eleven that day, or the
+preceding night? The funeral, he knew, had left the church at ten. How
+many hours had passed since then? Of what duration had been his swoon?
+Alas! it was no longer possible for him to measure those hours which
+crawl like snails by the wretched, and fly like swallows over the happy.
+
+He picked up the candle, and seated himself on the stone steps. He was a
+sanguine man, this Wentworth, but, as he weighed the chances of escape,
+the prospect did not seem encouraging. Of course he would be missed. His
+disappearance under the circumstances would surely alarm his friends;
+they would instigate a search for him; but who would think of searching
+for a live man in the cemetery of Montmartre? The Prefect of Police
+would set a hundred intelligences at work to find him; the Seine might
+be dragged, _les misérables_ turned over at the dead-house; a minute
+description of him would be in every detective's pocket; and he--in M.
+Dorine's family tomb!
+
+Yet, on the other hand, it was here he was last seen; from this point a
+keen detective would naturally work up the case. Then might not the
+undertaker return for the candlestick, probably not left by design? Or,
+again, might not M. Dorine send fresh wreaths of flowers, to take the
+place of those which now diffused a pungent, aromatic odor throughout
+the chamber? Ah! what unlikely chances! But if one of these things did
+not happen speedily, it had better never happen. How long could he keep
+life in himself?
+
+With unaccelerated pulse, he quietly cut the half-burned candle into
+four equal parts. "To-night," he meditated, "I will eat the first of
+these pieces; to-morrow, the second; to-morrow evening, the third; the
+next day, the fourth; and then--then I'll wait!"
+
+He had taken no breakfast that morning, unless a cup of coffee can be
+called a breakfast. He had never been very hungry before. He was
+ravenously hungry now. But he postponed the meal as long as practicable.
+It must have been near midnight, according to his calculation, when he
+determined to try the first of his four singular repasts. The bit of
+white-wax was tasteless; but it served its purpose.
+
+His appetite for the time appeased, he found a new discomfort. The
+humidity of the walls, and the wind that crept through the unseen
+ventilator, chilled him to the bone. To keep walking was his only
+resource. A sort of drowsiness, too, occasionally came over him. It took
+all his will to fight it off. To sleep, he felt, was to die; and he had
+made up his mind to live.
+
+Very strange fancies flitted through his head as he groped up and down
+the stone floor of the dungeon, feeling his way along the wall to avoid
+the sepulchres. Voices that had long been silent spoke words that had
+long been forgotten; faces he had known in childhood grew palpable
+against the dark. His whole life in detail was unrolled before him like
+a panorama; the changes of a year, with its burden of love and death,
+its sweets and its bitternesses, were epitomized in a single second. The
+desire to sleep had left him. But the keen hunger came again.
+
+It must be near morning now, he mused; perhaps the sun is just gilding
+the pinnacles and domes of the city; or, may be, a dull, drizzling rain
+is beating on Paris, sobbing on these mounds above me. Paris! it seems
+like a dream. Did I ever walk in its gay streets in the golden air? O
+the delight and pain and passion of that sweet human life!
+
+Philip became conscious that the gloom, the silence, and the cold were
+gradually conquering him. The feverish activity of his brain brought on
+a reaction. He grew lethargic, he sunk down on the steps, and thought of
+nothing. His hand fell by chance on one of the pieces of candle; he
+grasped it and devoured it mechanically. This revived him. "How
+strange," he thought, "that I am not thirsty. Is it possible that the
+dampness of the walls, which I must inhale with every breath, has
+supplied the need of water? Not a drop has passed my lips for two days,
+and still I experience no thirst. That drowsiness, thank Heaven, has
+gone. I think I was never wide awake until this hour. It would be an
+anodyne like poison that could weigh down my eyelids. No doubt the dread
+of sleep has something to do with this."
+
+The minutes were like hours. Now he walked as briskly as he dared up and
+down the tomb; now he rested against the door. More than once he was
+tempted to throw himself upon the stone coffin that held Julie, and make
+no further struggle for his life.
+
+Only one piece of candle remained. He had eaten the third portion, not
+to satisfy hunger, but from a precautionary motive. He had taken it as a
+man takes some disagreeable drug upon the result of which hangs safety.
+The time was rapidly approaching when even this poor substitute for
+nourishment would be exhausted. He delayed that moment. He gave himself
+a long fast this time. The half-inch of candle which he held in his hand
+was a sacred thing to him. It was his last defence against death.
+
+At length, with such a sinking at heart as he had not known before, he
+raised it to his lips. Then he paused, then he hurled the fragment
+across the tomb, then the oaken door was flung open, and Philip, with
+dazzled eyes, saw M. Dorine's form sharply defined against the blue sky.
+
+When they led him out, half blinded, into the broad daylight, M. Dorine
+noticed that Philip's hair, which a short time since was as black as a
+crow's wing, had actually turned gray in places. The man's eyes, too,
+had faded; the darkness had spoiled their lustre.
+
+"And how long was he really confined in the tomb?" I asked, as Mr.
+H----concluded the story.
+
+_"Just one hour and twenty minutes!"_ replied Mr. H----, smiling
+blandly.
+
+As he spoke, the little sloops, with their sails all blown out like
+white roses, came floating bravely into port, and Philip Wentworth
+lounged by us, wearily, in the pleasant April sunshine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. H----'s narrative made a deep impression on me. Here was a man who
+had undergone a strange ordeal. Here was a man whose sufferings were
+unique. His was no threadbare experience. Eighty minutes had seemed like
+two days to him! If he had really been immured two days in the tomb, the
+story, from my point of view, would have lost its tragic element.
+
+After this it was but natural I should regard Mr. Wentworth with
+deepened interest. As I met him from day to day, passing through the
+Common with that same abstracted air, there was something in his
+loneliness which touched me. I wondered that I had not before read in
+his pale meditative face some such sad history as Mr. H---- had confided
+to me. I formed the resolution of speaking to him, though with what
+purpose was not very clear to my mind. One May morning we met at the
+intersection of two paths. He courteously halted to allow me the
+precedence.
+
+"Mr. Wentworth," I began, "I--"
+
+He interrupted me.
+
+"My name, sir," he said, in an off-hand manner, "is Jones."
+
+"Jo-Jo-Jones!" I gasped.
+
+"Not Jo Jones," he returned coldly, "Frederick."
+
+Mr. Jones, or whatever his name is, will never know, unless he reads
+these pages, why a man accosted him one morning as "Mr. Wentworth," and
+then abruptly rushed down the nearest path, and disappeared in the
+crowd.
+
+The fact is, I had been duped by Mr. H----. Mr. H---- occasionally
+contributes a story to the magazines. He had actually tried the effect
+of one of his romances on me!
+
+My hero, as I subsequently learned, is no hero at all, but a commonplace
+young man who has some connection with the building of that pretty
+granite bridge which will shortly span the crooked little lake in the
+Public Garden.
+
+When I think of the cool ingenuity and readiness with which Mr.
+H----built up his airy fabric on my credulity, I am half inclined to
+laugh; though I feel not slightly irritated at having been the
+unresisting victim of his Black Art.
+
+
+
+
+FREEDOM IN BRAZIL.
+
+
+    With clearer light, Cross of the South, shine forth
+      In blue Brazilian skies;
+    And thou, O river, cleaving half the earth
+      From sunset to sunrise,
+    From the great mountains to the Atlantic waves
+      Thy joy's long anthem pour.
+    Yet a few days (God make them less!) and slaves
+      Shall shame thy pride no more.
+    No fettered feet thy shaded margins press;
+      But all men shall walk free
+    Where thou, the high-priest of the wilderness,
+      Hast wedded sea to sea.
+
+    And thou, great-hearted ruler, through whose mouth
+      The word of God is said,
+    Once more, "Let there be light!"--Son of the South,
+      Lift up thy honored head,
+    Wear unashamed a crown by thy desert
+      More than by birth thy own,
+    Careless of watch and ward; thou art begirt
+      By grateful hearts alone.
+    The moated wall and battle-ship may fail,
+      But safe shall justice prove;
+    Stronger than greaves of brass or iron mail
+      The panoply of love.
+
+    Crowned doubly by man's blessing and God's grace,
+      Thy future is secure;
+    Who frees a people makes his statue's place
+      In Time's Valhalla sure.
+    Lo! from his Neva's banks the Scythian Czar
+      Stretches to thee his hand
+    Who, with the pencil of the Northern star,
+      Wrote freedom on his land.
+    And he whose grave is holy by our calm
+      And prairied Sangamon,
+    From his gaunt hand shall drop the martyr's palm
+      To greet thee with "Well done!"
+
+    And thou, O Earth, with smiles thy face make sweet,
+      And let thy wail be stilled,
+    To hear the Muse of prophecy repeat
+      Her promise half fulfilled.
+    The Voice that spake at Nazareth speaks still,
+      No sound thereof hath died;
+    Alike thy hope and Heaven's eternal will
+      Shall yet be satisfied.
+    The years are slow, the vision tarrieth long,
+      And far the end may be;
+    But, one by one, the fiends of ancient wrong
+      Go out and leave thee free.
+
+
+
+
+MY VISIT TO SYBARIS.
+
+
+It is a great while since I first took an interest in Sybaris. Sybarites
+have a bad name. But before I had heard of them anywhere else, I had
+painfully looked out the words in the three or four precious anecdotes
+about Sybaris in the old Greek Reader; and I had made up my boy's mind
+about the Sybarites. When I came to know the name they had got
+elsewhere, I could not but say that the world had been very unjust to
+them!
+
+O dear! I can see it now,--the old Latin school-room, where we used to
+sit, and hammer over that Greek, after the small boys had gone. They
+went at eleven; we--because we were twelve years old--stayed till
+twelve. From eleven to twelve we sat, with only those small boys who had
+been "kept" for their sins, and Mr. Dillaway. The room was long and
+narrow; how long and how narrow, you may see, if you will go and examine
+M. Duchesne's model of "Boston as it was," and pay twenty-five cents to
+the Richmond schools. For all this is of the past; and in the same spot
+in space where once a month the Examiner Club now meets at Parker's, and
+discusses the difference between religion and superstition, the folly of
+copyright, and the origin of things, the boys who did not then belong to
+the Examiner Club, say Fox and Clarke and Furness and Waldo Emerson,
+thumbed their Greek Readers in "Boston as it was," and learned the truth
+about Sybaris! A long, narrow room, I say, whose walls, when I knew them
+first, were of that tawny orange wash which is appropriated to kitchens.
+But by a master stroke of Mr. Dillaway's these walls were made lilac or
+purple one summer vacation. We sat, to recite, on long settees,
+pea-green in color, which would teeter slightly on the well-worn floor.
+There, for an hour daily, while brighter boys than I recited, I sat an
+hour musing, looking at the immense Jacobs's Greek Reader, and waiting
+my turn to come. If you did not look off your book much, no harm came to
+you. So, in the hour, you got fifty-three minutes and a few odd seconds
+of day-dream, for six minutes and two thirds of reciting, unless, which
+was unusual, some fellow above you broke down, and a question passed
+along of a sudden recalled you to modern life. I have been sitting on
+that old green settee, and at the same time riding on horseback in
+Virginia, through an open wooded country, with one of Lord Fairfax's
+grandsons and two pretty cousins of his, and a fallow deer has just
+appeared in the distance, when, by the failure of Hutchinson or Wheeler,
+just above me, poor Mr. Dillaway has had to ask me, "Ingham, what verbs
+omit the reduplication?" Talk of war! Where is versatility, otherwise
+called presence of mind, so needed as in recitation at a public school?
+
+Well, there, I say, I made acquaintance with Sybaris. Nay, strictly
+speaking, my first visits to Sybaris were made there and then. What the
+Greek Reader tells of Sybaris is in three or four anecdotes, woven into
+that strange, incoherent patchwork of "Geography." In that place are
+patched together a statement of Strabo and one of Athenćus about two
+things in Sybaris which may have belonged some eight hundred years
+apart. But what of that to a school-boy! Will your descendants, dear
+reader, in the year 3579 A. D., be much troubled, if, in the English
+Reader of their day, Queen Victoria shall be made to drink Spartan black
+broth with William the Conqueror out of a conch-shell in New Zealand?
+
+With regard to Sybaris, then, the old Jacobs's Greek Reader tells the
+following stories: "The Sybarites were distinguished for luxury. They
+did not permit the trades which made a loud noise, such as those of
+brass-workers, carpenters, and the like, to be carried on in the heart
+of the city, so that their sleep might be wholly undisturbed by
+noise.... And a Sybarite who had gone to Lacedćmon, and had been invited
+to the public meal, after he had sat on their wooden benches and
+partaken of their fare, said that he had been astonished at the
+fearlessness of the Lacedćmonians when he knew it only by report; but
+now that he had seen them, he thought that they did not excel other men,
+for he thought that any brave man had much rather die than be obliged to
+live such a life as they did." Then there is another story, among the
+"miscellaneous anecdotes," of a Sybarite who was asked if he had slept
+well. He said, No, that he believed he had a crumpled rose-leaf under
+him in the night. And there is yet another, of one of them who said that
+it made his back ache to see another man digging.
+
+I have asked Polly, as I write, to look in Mark Lemon's Jest-Book for
+these stories. They are not in the index there. But I dare say they are
+in Cotton Mather and Jeremy Taylor. Any way, they are bits of very cheap
+Greek. Now it is on these stories that the reputation of the Sybarites
+in modern times appears to depend.
+
+Now look at them. This Sybarite at Sparta said, that in war death was
+often easier than the hardships of life. Well, is not that true? Have
+not thousands of brave men said it? When the English and French got
+themselves established on the wrong side of Sebastopol, what did that
+engineer officer of the French say to somebody who came to inspect his
+works? He was talking of St. Arnaud, their first commander. "Cunning
+dog," said he, "he went and died." Death was easier than life. But
+nobody ever said he was a coward or effeminate because he said this.
+Why, if Mr. Fields would permit an excursus in twelve numbers here, on
+this theme, we would defer Sybaris to the 1st of April, 1868, while we
+illustrated the Sybarite's manly epigram, which these stupid Spartans
+could only gape at, but could not understand.
+
+Then take the rose-leaf story. Suppose by good luck you were
+breakfasting with General Grant, or Pelissier, or the Duke of
+Wellington. Suppose you said, "I hope you slept well," and the great
+soldier said, "No, I did not; I think a rose-leaf must have stood up
+edgewise under me." Would you go off and say in your book of travels
+that the Americans, or the French, or the English are all effeminate
+pleasure-seekers, because one of them made this nice little joke? Would
+you like to have the name "American" go down to all time, defined as
+Webster[B] defines Sybarite?
+
+     A-M[)E]R'I-CAN, _n._ [Fr. _Américain_, Lat. _Americanus_, from
+     Lat. _America_, a continent noted for the effeminacy and
+     voluptuousness of its inhabitants.] A person devoted to luxury
+     and pleasure.
+
+Should you think that was quite fair for your great-grandson's
+grandson's descendant in the twenty-seventh remove to read, who is going
+to be instructed about Queen Victoria and William the Conqueror?
+
+Worst of all, and most frequently quoted, is the story of the
+coppersmiths. The Sybarites, it is said, ordered that the coppersmiths
+and brass-founders should all reside in one part of the city, and bang
+their respective metals where the neighbors had voluntarily chosen to
+listen to banging. What if they did? Does not every manufacturing city
+practically do the same thing? What did Nicholas Tillinghast use to say
+to the boys and girls at Bridgewater? "The tendency of cities is to
+resolve themselves into order."
+
+Is not Wall Street at this hour a street of bankers? Is not the Boston
+Pearl Street a street of leather men? Is not the bridge at Florence
+given over to jewellers? Was not my valise, there, bought in Rome at the
+street of trunk-makers? Do not all booksellers like to huddle together
+as long as they can? And when Ticknor and Fields move a few inches from
+Washington Street to Tremont Street, do not Russell and Bates, and
+Childs and Jenks, and De Vries and Ibarra, follow them as soon as the
+shops can be got ready?
+
+"But it is the motive," pipes up the old gray ghost of propriety, who
+started this abuse of the Sybarites in some stupid Spartan black-broth
+shop (English that for _café_), two thousand two hundred and twenty-two
+years ago,--which ghost I am now belaboring,--"it is the motive. The
+Sybarites moved the brass-founders, because they wanted to sleep after
+the brass-founders got up in the morning." What if they did, you old rat
+in the arras? Is there any law, human or divine, which says that at one
+and the same hour all men shall rise from bed in this world? My
+excellent milkman, Mr. Whit, rises from bed daily at two o'clock. If he
+does not, my family, including Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and Acts, will
+not have their fresh milk at 7.37, at which time we breakfast or pretend
+to. But because he rises at two, must we all rise at two, and sit
+wretchedly whining on our respective camp-stools, waiting for Mr. Whit
+to arrive with the grateful beverage? Many is the time, when I have been
+watching with a sick child at five in a summer morning, when the little
+fellow had just dropped into a grateful morning doze, that I have
+listened and waited, dreading the arrival of the Providence morning
+express. Because I knew that, a mile and a half out of Boston, the
+engine would begin to blow its shrill whistle, for the purpose, I
+believe, of calling the Boston station-men to their duty. Three or four
+minutes of that _skre-e-e-e_ must there be, as that train swept by our
+end of the town. And hoping and wishing never did any good; the train
+would come, and the child would wake. Is not that a magnificent power
+for one engine-man to have over the morning rest of thirty thousand
+sleeping people, because you, old Spartan croaker, who can't sleep easy
+underground it seems, want to have everybody waked up at the same hour
+in the morning. When I hear that whistle, and the fifty other whistles
+of the factories that have since followed its wayward and unlicensed
+example, I have wished more than once that we had in Boston a little
+more of the firm government of Sybaris.
+
+For if, as it would appear from these instances, Sybaris were a city
+which grew to wealth and strength by the recognition of the personal
+rights of each individual in the state,--if Sybaris were a republic,
+where the individual was respected, had his rights, and was not left to
+the average chances of the majority of men,--then Sybaris had found out
+something which no modern city has found out, and which it is a pity we
+have all forgotten.
+
+I do not say that I went through all this speculation at the Latin
+school. I got no further there than to see that the Sybarites had got a
+very bad name, and that the causes did not appear in the Greek Reader. I
+supposed there were causes somewhere, which it was not proper to put
+into the Greek Reader. Perhaps there were. But if there were, I have
+never found them,--not being indeed very well acquainted with the lines
+of reading in which those who wanted to find them should look for them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+What I did find of Sybaris, when I could read Greek rather more easily,
+and could get access to some decent atlases, was briefly this.
+
+Well forward in the hollow of the arched foot of the boot of Italy, two
+little rivers run into the Gulf of Tarentum. One was named Crathis, one
+was named Sybaris. Here stood the ancient city of Sybaris, founded,
+about the time of Romulus or Numa Pompilius, by a colony from Greece.
+For two hundred years and more,--almost as long, dear Atlantic, as your
+beloved Boston has subsisted,--Sybaris flourished, and was the Rome of
+that region, ruling it from sea to sea.
+
+It was the capital of four states,--a sort of New England, if you will
+observe,--and could send three hundred thousand armed men into the
+field. The walls of the city were six miles in circumference, while the
+suburbs covered the banks of the Crathis for a space of seven miles. At
+last the neighboring state of Crotona, under the lead of Milon the
+Athlete (he of the calf and ox and split log), the Heenan or John
+Morrissey of his day, vanquished the more refined Sybarites, turned the
+waters of the Crathis upon their prosperous city, and destroyed it. But
+the Sybarites had had that thing happen too often to be discouraged.
+Five times, say the historians, had Sybaris been destroyed, and five
+times they built it up again. This time the Athenians sent ten vessels,
+with men to help them, under Lampon and Xenocritus. And they, with those
+who stood by the wreck, gave their new city the name of Thurii. Among
+the new colonists were Herodotus, and Lysias the orator, who was then a
+boy. The spirit that had given Sybaris its comfort and its immense
+population appeared in the legislation of the new state. It received its
+laws from CHARONDAS, one of the noblest legislators of the world. Study
+these laws and you will see that in the young Sybaris the individual had
+his rights, which the public preserved for him, though he were wholly in
+a minority. There is an evident determination that a man shall live
+while he lives, and that, too, in no sensual interpretation of the
+words.
+
+Of the laws made by Charondas for the new Sybaris a few are preserved.
+
+1. A calumniator was marched round the city in disgrace, crowned with
+tamarisk. "In consequence," says the Scholiast, "they all left the
+city." O for such a result, from whatever legislation, in our modern
+Pedlingtons, great or little!
+
+2. All persons were forbidden to associate with the bad.
+
+3. "He made another law, better than these, and neglected by the older
+legislators. For he enacted that all the sons of the citizens should be
+instructed in letters, the city paying the salaries of the teachers. For
+he held that the poor, not being able to pay their teachers from their
+own property, would be deprived of the most valuable discipline." There
+is FREE EDUCATION for you, two thousand and seventy-six years before the
+date of your first Massachusetts free school; and the theory of free
+education completely stated.
+
+4. Deserters or cowards in battle had to sit in women's dresses in the
+Forum three days.
+
+5. With regard to the amendment of laws, any man or woman who moved one
+did it with a noose round his neck, and was hanged if the people refused
+it. Only three laws were ever amended, therefore, all which are recorded
+in the history. Observe that the women might move amendments,--and think
+of the simplicity of legislation!
+
+6. The law provided for cash payments, and the government gave no
+protection for those who sold on credit.
+
+7. Their communication with other nations was perfectly free.
+
+I might give more instances. I should like to tell some of the curious
+stories which illustrate this simple legislation. Poor Charondas himself
+fell a victim to it. One of the laws provided that no man should wear a
+sword into the public assembly. No Cromwells there! Unfortunately, by
+accident, Charondas wore his own there one day. Brave fellow! when the
+fault was pointed out, he killed himself with it.
+
+Now do you wonder that a city where there were no calumniators, no long
+credit, no bills at the grocers, no fighting at town meetings, no
+amendments to the laws, no intentional and open association with
+profligates, and where everybody was educated by the state to letters,
+proved a comfortable place to live in? It is of the old Sybaris that the
+coppersmith and the rose-leaf stories are told; and it was the new
+Sybaris that made the laws. But do you not see that there is one spirit
+in the whole? Here was a nation which believed that the highest work of
+a nation was to train its people. It did not believe in fight, like
+Milon or Heenan or the old Spartans; it did not believe in legislation,
+like Massachusetts and New York; it did not believe in commerce, like
+Carthage and England. It believed in men and women. It respected men and
+women. It educated men and women. It gave their rights to men and women.
+And so the Spartans called them effeminate. And the Greek Reader made
+fun of them. But perhaps the people who lived there were indifferent to
+the opinions of the Spartans and of the Greek Reader. Herodotus lived
+there till he died; wrote his history there, among other things. Lysias,
+the orator, took part in the administration. It is not from them, you
+may be sure, that you get the anecdotes which ridicule the old city of
+Sybaris!
+
+You and I would probably be satisfied with such company as that of
+Herodotus and Charondas and Lysias. So we hunt the history down to see
+if there may be lodgings to let there this summer, but only to find that
+it all pales out in the ignorance of our modern days. The name gets
+changed into Lupić; but there it turns out that Pausanias made "a
+strange mistake," and should have written Copia,--which was perhaps
+Cossa, or sometimes Cosa. Pyrrhus appears, and Hadrian rebuilds
+something, and the "Oltramontani," whoever they may have been, ravage
+it, and finally the Saracens fire and sack it; and so, in the latest
+Italian itinerary you can find, there is no post-road goes near it, only
+a _strada rotabile_ (wheel-track) upon the hills; and, alas! even the
+_rotabile_ gives way at last, and all the map will own to is a _strada
+pedonale_, or foot-path. But the map is of the less consequence, when
+you find that the man who edited it had no later dates than the
+beginning of the last century, when the family of Serra had transferred
+the title to Sybaris to a Genoese family without a name, who received
+from it forty thousand ducats yearly, and would have received more, if
+their agents had been more faithful. There the place fades out of
+history, and you find in your Swinburne, "that the locality has _never_
+been thoroughly examined"; in your Smith's Dictionary, that "the whole
+subject is very obscure, and a careful examination still much needed";
+in the Cyclopćdia, that the site of Sybaris is lost. Craven saw the
+rivers Crathis and Sybaris. He seems not to have seen the wall of
+Sybaris, which he supposed to be under water. He does say of Cassano,
+the nearest town he came to, that "no other spot can boast of such
+advantages." In short, no man living who has written any book about it
+dares say that anybody has looked upon the certain site of Sybaris for
+more than a hundred years.[C] If a man wanted to write a mythical story,
+where could he find a better scene?
+
+Now is not this a very remarkable thing? Here was a city, which, under
+its two names of Sybaris or of Thurium, was for centuries the regnant
+city of all that part of the world. It could call into the field three
+hundred thousand men,--an army enough larger than Athens ever furnished,
+or Sparta. It was a far more populous and powerful state than ever
+Athens was, or Sparta, or the whole of Hellas. It invented and carried
+into effect free popular education,--a gift to the administration of
+free government larger than ever Rome rendered. It received and honored
+Charondas, the great practical legislator, from whose laws no man shall
+say how much has trickled down into the Code Napoleon or the Revised
+Statutes of New York, through the humble studies of the Roman jurists.
+It maintained in peace, prosperity, happiness, and, as its maligners
+say, in comfort, an immense population. If they had not been as
+comfortable as they were,--if a tenth part of them had received alms
+every year, and a tenth part were flogged in the public schools every
+year,--if one in forty had been sent to prison every year, as in the
+happy city which publishes the "Atlantic Monthly,"--then Sybaris,
+perhaps, would never have got its bad name for luxury. Such a city
+lived, flourished, ruled, for hundreds of years. Of such a city all that
+you know now with certainty is, that its coin is "the most beautifully
+finished in the cabinets of ancient coinage"; and that no traveller even
+pretends to be sure that he has been to the site of it for more than a
+hundred years. That speaks well for your nineteenth century.
+
+Now the reader who has come thus far will understand that I, having come
+thus far, in twenty-odd years since those days of teetering on the
+pea-green settee, had always kept Sybaris in the background of my head,
+as a problem to be solved, and an inquiry to be followed to its
+completion. There could hardly have been a man in the world better
+satisfied than I to be the hero of the adventure which I am now about to
+describe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If the reader remembers anything about Garibaldi's triumphal entry into
+Porto Cavallo in Sicily in the spring of 1859, he will remember that,
+between the months of March and April in that year, the great chieftain
+made, in that wretched little fishing haven, a long pause, which was not
+at the time understood by the journals or by their military critics, and
+which, indeed, to this hour has never been publicly explained. I suppose
+I know as much about it as any man now living. But I am not writing
+Garibaldi's memoirs, nor, indeed, my own, excepting so far as they
+relate to Sybaris; and it is strictly nobody's business to inquire as to
+that detention, unless it interest the ex-king of Naples, who may write
+to me, if he chooses, addressing Frederic Ingham, Esq., Waterville, N.
+H. Nor is it anybody's business how long I had then been on Garibaldi's
+staff. From the number of his staff-officers who have since visited me
+in America, very much in want of a pair of pantaloons, or a ticket to
+New York, or something with which they might buy a glass of whiskey, I
+should think that his staff alone must have made up a much more
+considerable army than Naples, or even Sybaris, ever brought into the
+field. But where these men were when I was with him, I do not know. I
+only know that there was but a handful of us then, hard-worked fellows,
+good-natured, and not above our work. Of its military details we knew
+wretchedly little. But as we had no artillery, ignorance was less
+dangerous in the chief of artillery; as we had no maps to draw, poor
+draughtsmanship did not much embarrass the engineer in chief. For me, I
+was nothing but an aid, and I was glad to do anything that fell to me as
+well as I knew how. And, as usual in human life, I found that a cool
+head, a steady resolve, a concentrated purpose, and an unselfish
+readiness to obey, carried me a great way. I listened instead of
+talking, and thus got a reputation for knowing a great deal. When the
+time to act came, I acted without waiting for the wave to recede; and
+thus I sprang into many a boat dry-shod, while people who believed in
+what is popularly called prudence missed their chance, and either lost
+the boat or fell into the water.
+
+This is by the way. It was under these circumstances that I received my
+orders, wholly secret and unexpected, to take a boat at once, pass the
+straits, and cross the Bay of Tarentum, to communicate at Gallipoli
+with--no matter whom. Perhaps I was going to the "Castle of Otranto." A
+hundred years hence anybody who chooses will know. Meanwhile, if there
+should be a reaction in Otranto, I do not choose to shorten anybody's
+neck for him.
+
+Well, it was five in the afternoon,--near sundown at that season. I
+went to dear old Frank Chaney,--the jolliest of jolly Englishmen, who
+was acting quartermaster-general,--and told him I must have
+transportation. I can see him and hear him now,--as he sat on his barrel
+head, smoked his vile Tunisian tobacco in his beloved short meerschaum,
+which was left to him ever since he was at Bonn, as he pretended, a
+student with Prince Albert. He did not swear,--I don't think he ever
+did. But he looked perplexed enough to swear. And very droll was the
+twinkle of his eye. The truth was, that every sort of a thing that would
+sail, and every wretch of a fisherman that could sail her, had been, as
+he knew, and as I knew, sent off that very morning to rendezvous at
+Carrara, for the contingent which we were hoping had slipped through
+Cavour's pretended neutrality. And here was an order for him to furnish
+me "transportation" in exactly the opposite direction.
+
+"Do you know of anything, yourself, Fred?" said he.
+
+"Not a coffin," said I.
+
+"Did the chief suggest anything?"
+
+"Not a nutshell," said I.
+
+"Could not you go by telegraph?" said Frank, pointing up to the dumb old
+semaphore in whose tower he had established himself. "Or has not the
+chief got a wishing carpet? Or can't you ride to Gallipoli? Here are
+some excellent white-tailed mules, good enough for Pindar, whom
+Colvocoressis has just brought in from the monastery. 'Transportation
+for one!' Is there anything to be brought back? Nitre, powder, lead,
+junk, hard-tack, mules, horses, pigs, _polenta_, or _olla podrida_, or
+other of the stores of war?"
+
+No; there was nothing to bring back except myself. Lucky enough if I
+came back to tell my own story. And so we walked up on the tower deck to
+take a look.
+
+Blessed St. Lazarus, chief of Naples and of beggars! a little felucca
+was just rounding the Horse Head and coming into the bay, wing-wing. The
+fishermen in her had no thought that they were ever going to get into
+the Atlantic. May be they had never heard of the Ocean or of the
+Monthly. Can that be possible? Frank nodded, and I. He filled up with
+more Tunisian, beckoned to an orderly, and we walked down to the
+landing-jetty to meet them.
+
+_"Viva Italia!"_ shouted Frank, as they drew near enough to hear.
+
+_"Viva Garibaldi!"_ cried the skipper, as he let his sheet fly and
+rounded to the well-worn stones. A good voyage had they made of it, he
+and his two brown, ragged boys. Large fish and small, pink fish, blue,
+yellow, orange, striped fish and mottled, wriggled together, and flapped
+their tails in the well of the little boat. There were even too many to
+lie there and wriggle. The bottom of the boat was well covered with
+them, and, if she had not shipped waves enough to keep them cool, the
+boy Battista had bailed a plenty on them. Father and son hurried on
+shore, and Battista on board began to fling the scaly fellows out to
+them.
+
+A very small craft it was to double all those capes in, run the straits,
+and stretch across the bay. If it had been mine "to make reply," I
+should undoubtedly have made this, that I would see the quartermaster
+hanged, and his superiors, before I risked myself in any such
+rattletrap. But as, unfortunately, it was mine to go where I was sent, I
+merely set the orderly to throwing out fish with the boys, and began to
+talk with the father.
+
+Queer enough, just at that moment, there came over me the feeling that,
+as a graduate of the University, it was my duty to put up those red,
+white, and blue scaly fellows, who were flopping about there so briskly,
+and send them in alcohol to Agassiz. But there are so many duties of
+that kind which one neglects in a hard-worked world! As a graduate, it
+is my duty to send annually to the College Librarian a list of all the
+graduates who have died in the town I live in, with their fathers' and
+mothers' names, and the motives that led them to College, with anecdotes
+of their career, and the date of their death. There are two thousand
+three hundred and forty-five of them I believe, and I have never sent
+one half-anecdote about one! Such failure in duty made me grimly smile
+as I omitted to stop and put up these fish in alcohol, and as I plied
+the unconscious skipper with inquiries about his boat. "Had she ever
+been outside?" "O signor, she had been outside this very day. You cannot
+catch _tonno_ till you have passed both capes,--least of all such fine
+fish as that is,"--and he kicked the poor wretch. Can it be true, as
+C---- says, that those dying flaps of theirs, are exquisite luxury to
+them, because for the first time they have their fill of oxygen? "Had he
+ever been beyond Peloro?" "O yes, signor; my wife, Caterina, was herself
+from Messina,"--and on great saints' days they had gone there often.
+Poor fellow, his great saint's day sealed his fate. I nodded to
+Frank,--Frank nodded to me,--and Frank blandly informed him that, by
+order of General Garibaldi, he would take the gentleman at once on
+board, pass the strait with him, "and then go where he tells you."
+
+The Southern Italian has the reputation, derived from Tom Moore, of
+being a coward. When I used to speak at school,
+
+    "Ay, down to the dust with them,--slaves as they are!"--
+
+stamping my foot at "dust," I certainly thought they were a very mean
+crew. But I dare say that Neapolitan school-boys have some similar
+school piece about the risings of Tom Moore's countrymen, which
+certainly have not been much more successful than the poor little
+Neapolitan revolution which he was pleased to satirize. Somehow or
+other, Victor Emanuel is, at this hour, king of Naples. Coward or not,
+this fine fellow of a fisherman did not flinch. It is my private opinion
+that he was not nearly as much afraid of the enterprise as I was. I made
+this observation at the moment with some satisfaction, sent Frank's man
+up to my lodgings with a note ordering my own traps sent down, and in an
+hour we were stretching out, under the twilight, across the little bay.
+
+No! I spare you the voyage. Sybaris is what we are after, all this time,
+if we can only get there. Very easy it would be for me to give you cheap
+scholarship from the Ćneid, about Palinurus and Scylla and Charybdis.
+Neither Scylla nor Charybdis bothered me,--as we passed wing-wing
+between them before a smart north wind. I had a little Hunter's Virgil
+with me, and read the whole voyage,--and confused Battista utterly by
+trying to make him remember something about Palinuro, of whom he had
+never heard. It was much as I afterwards asked my negro waiter at Fort
+Monroe about General Washington at Yorktown. "Never heard of him,
+sir,--was he in the Regular army?" So Battista thought Palinuro must
+have fished in the Italian fleet, with which the Sicilian boatmen were
+not well acquainted. Messina made no objections to us. Perhaps, if the
+sloop of war which lay there had known who was lying in the boat under
+her guns, I might not be writing these words to-day. Battista went
+ashore, got lemons, macaroni, hard bread, polenta, for themselves, the
+_Giornale di Messina_ for me, and more Tunisian; and, not to lose that
+splendid breeze, we cracked on all day, passed Reggio, hugged the shore
+bravely, though it was rough, ran close under those cliffs which are the
+very end of the Apennines,--will it shock the modest reader if I say the
+very toe-nails of the Italian foot?--hauled more and more eastward, made
+Spartivento blue in the distance, made it purple, made it brown, made it
+green, still running admirably,--ten knots an hour we must have got
+between four and five that afternoon,--and by the time the lighthouse at
+Spartivento was well ablaze we were abreast of it, and might begin to
+haul more northward, so that, though we had a long course before us, we
+should at last be sailing almost directly towards our voyage's end,
+Gallipoli.
+
+At that moment--as in any sea often happens, if you come out from the
+more land-locked channel into the larger body of water--the wind
+appeared to change. Really, I suppose, we came into the steady southwest
+wind which had probably been drawing all day up toward the Adriatic. In
+two hours more we made the lighthouse of Stilo, and I was then tired
+enough to crawl down into the fearfully smelling little cuddy, and,
+wrapping Battista's heavy storm-jacket round my feet, I caught some sort
+of sleep.
+
+But not for very long. I struck my watch at three in the morning. And
+the air was so unworthy of that name,--it was such a thick paste,
+seeming to me more like a mixture of tar and oil and fresh fish and
+decayed fish and bilge-water than air itself,--that I voted three
+morning, and crawled up into the clear starlight,--how wonderful it was,
+and the fresh wet breeze that washed my face so cheerily!--and I bade
+Battista take his turn below, while I would lie there and mind the helm.
+If--if he had done what I proposed, I suppose I should not be writing
+these lines; but his father, good fellow, said: "No, signor, not yet. We
+leave the shore now for the broad bay, you see; and if the wind haul
+southward, we may need to go on the other tack. We will all stay here,
+till we see what the deep-sea wind may be." So we lay there, humming,
+singing, and telling stories, still this rampant southwest wind behind,
+as if all the powers of the Mediterranean meant to favor my mission to
+Gallipoli. The boat was now running straight before it. We stretched out
+bravely into the gulf; but, before the wind, it was astonishing how
+easily the lugger ran. He said to me at last, however, that on that
+course we were running to leeward of our object; but that it was the
+best point for his boat, and if the wind held, he would keep on so an
+hour longer, and trust to the land breeze in the morning to run down the
+opposite shore of the bay.
+
+"If" again. The wind did not keep on. Either the pole-star, and the
+dipper, and all the rest of them, had rebelled and were drifting
+westward,--and so it seemed; or this steady southwest gale was giving
+out; or, as I said before, we had come into the sweep of a current even
+stronger, pouring from the Levantine shores of the Mediterranean full up
+the Gulf of Tarentum. Not ten minutes after the skipper spoke, it was
+clear enough to both of us that the boat must go about, whether we
+wanted to or not, and we waked the other boy, to send him forward,
+before we accepted the necessity. Half asleep, he got up, courteously
+declined my effort to help him by me as he crossed the boat, stepped
+round on the gunwale behind me as I sat, and then, either in a lurch or
+in some misstep, caught his foot in the tiller as his father held it
+firm, and pitched down directly behind Battista himself, and, as I
+thought, into the sea. I sprang to leeward to throw something after him,
+and found him in the sea indeed, but hanging by both hands to the
+gunwale, safe enough, and in a minute, with Battista's help and mine, on
+board again. I remember how pleased I was that his father did not swear
+at him, but only laughed prettily, and bade him be quick, and step
+forward; and then, turning to the helm, which he had left free for the
+moment, he did not swear indeed, but he did cry "Santa Madre!" when he
+found there was no tiller there. The boy's foot had fairly wrenched it,
+not only from his father's hand, but from the rudder-head,--and it was
+gone!
+
+We held the old fellow firmly by his feet and legs, as he lay over the
+stern of the boat, head down, examining the condition of the
+rudder-head. The report was not favorable. I renewed the investigation
+myself in the same uncomfortable attitude. The phosphorescence of the
+sea was but an unsteady light, but light enough there was to reveal what
+daylight made hardly more certain,--that the wrench which had been given
+to the rotten old fixtures, shaky enough at best, had split the head of
+the rudder, so that the pintle hung but loosely in its bed, and that
+there was nothing available for us to rig a jury-tiller on. This
+discovery, as it became more and more clear to each of us four in
+succession, abated successively the volleys of advice which we were
+offering, and sent us back to our more quiet "Santa Madres" or to
+meditations on "what was next to best."
+
+Meanwhile the boat was flying, under the sail she had before, straight
+before the wind, up the Gulf of Tarentum.
+
+If you cannot have what you like, it is best, in a finite world, to like
+what you have. And while the old man brought up from the cuddy his
+wretched and worthless stock of staves, rope-ends, and bits of iron, and
+contemplated them ruefully, as if asking them which would like to assume
+the shape of a rudder-head and tiller, if his fairy godmother would
+appear on the top of the mast for a moment, I was plying the boys with
+questions,--what would happen to us if we held on at this tearing rate,
+and rushed up the bay to the head thereof. The boys knew no more than
+they knew of Palinuro. Far enough, indeed, were we from their parish.
+The old man at last laid down the bit of brass which he had saved from
+some old waif, and listened to me as I pointed out to them on my map the
+course we were making, and, without answering me a word, fell on his
+knees and broke into most voluble prayer,--only interrupted by sobs of
+undisguised agony. The boys were almost as much surprised as I was. And
+as he prayed and sobbed, the boat rushed on!
+
+Santa Madre, San Giovanni, and Sant' Antonio,--we needed all their help,
+if it were only to keep him quiet; and when at last he rose from his
+knees, and came to himself enough to tend the sheets a little, I asked,
+as modestly as I could, what put this keen edge on his grief or his
+devotions. Then came such stories of hobgoblins, witches, devils,
+giants, elves, and fairies, at this head of the bay!--no man ever
+returned who landed there; his father and his father's father had
+charged him, and his brothers and his cousins, never to be lured to
+make a voyage there, and never to run for those coves, though schools of
+golden fish should lead the way. It was not till this moment, that,
+trying to make him look upon the map, I read myself there the words, at
+the mouth of the Crathis River, "Sybaris Ruine."
+
+Surely enough, this howling Euroclydon--for Euroclydon it now was--was
+bearing me and mine directly to Sybaris!
+
+And here was this devout old fisherman confirming the words of Smith's
+Dictionary, when it said that nobody had been there and returned, for
+generation upon generation.
+
+At a dozen knots an hour, as things were, I was going to Sybaris! Nor
+was I many hours from it. For at that moment we cannot have been more
+than five-and-thirty miles from the beach, where, in less than four
+hours, Euroclydon flung us on shore.
+
+The memory of the old green settees, and of Hutchinson and Wheeler and
+the other Latin-school boys, sustained me beneath the calamity which
+impended. Nor do I think at heart the boys felt so bad as their father
+about the djins and the devils, the powers of the earth and the powers
+of the air. Is there, perhaps, in the youthful mind, rather a passion
+for "seeing the folly" of life a little in that direction? None the less
+did we join him in rigging out the longest sweep we had aft, lashing it
+tight under the little rail which we had been leaning on, and trying
+gentle experiments, how far this extemporized rudder might bring the
+boat round to the wind. Nonsense the whole. By that time Euroclydon was
+on us, so that I would never have tried to put her about if we had had
+the best gear I ever handled, and our experiments only succeeded far
+enough to show that we were as utterly powerless as men could be.
+Meanwhile day was just beginning to break. I soothed the old man with
+such devout expressions as heretic might venture. I tried to turn him
+from the coming evil to the present necessity. I counselled with him
+whether it might not be safer to take in sail and drift along. But from
+this he dissented. Time enough to take in sail when we knew what shore
+we were coming to. He had no kedge or grapple or cord, indeed, that
+would pretend to hold this boat against this gale. We would beach her,
+if it pleased the Virgin; and if we could not,--shaking his head,--why,
+that would please the Virgin, too.
+
+And so Euroclydon hurried us on to Sybaris.
+
+The sun rose, O how magnificently! Is there anywhere to see sunrise like
+the Mediterranean? And if one may not be on the top of Katahdin, is
+there any place for sunrise like the very level of the sea? Already the
+Calabrian mountains of our western horizon were gray against the sky.
+One or another of us was forward all the time, trying to make out by
+what slopes the hills descended to the sea. Was it cliff of basalt, or
+was it reedy swamp, that was to receive us. I insisted at last on his
+reducing sail. For I felt sure that he was driving on under a sort of
+fatality which made him dare the worst. I was wholly right, for the boat
+now rose easier on the water, and was much more dry.
+
+Perhaps the wind flagged a little as the sun rose. At all events, he
+took courage, which I had never lost. I made his boy find us some
+oranges. I made them laugh by eating their cold polenta with them. I
+even made him confess, when I called him aft and sent Battista forward,
+that the shore we were nearing looked low. For we were near enough now
+to see stone pines and chestnut-trees. Did anybody see the towers of
+Sybaris?
+
+Not a tower! But, on the other hand, not a gnome, witch, Norna's Head,
+or other intimation of the underworld. The shore looked like many other
+Italian shores. It looked not very unlike what we Yankees call
+salt-marsh. At all events, we should not break our heads against a wall!
+Nor will I draw out the story of our anxieties, varying as the waves
+did on which we rose and fell so easily. As she forged on, it was clear
+at last that to some wanderers, at least, Sybaris had some hospitality.
+A long, low spit made out into the sea, with never a house on it, but
+brown with storm-worn shrubs, above the line of which were the
+stone-pines and chestnuts which had first given character to the shore.
+Hard for us, if we had been flung on the outside of this spit. But we
+were not. Else I had not been writing here to-day. We passed it by fifty
+fathom clear. Of course under its lee was our harbor. Battista let go
+the halyards in a moment, and the wet sails came rattling down. The old
+man, the boy, Battista, and I seized the best sweeps he had left. Two of
+us at each, working on the same side, we brought her head round as fast
+as she would bear it in that fearful sea. Inch by inch we wrought along
+to the smoother water, and breathed free at last, as we came under the
+partial protection of the friendly shore.
+
+Battista and his brother then hauled up the sail enough to give such
+headway to the boat as we thought our sweeps would control. And we crept
+along the shore for an hour, seeing nothing but reeds, and now and then
+a distant buffalo, when at last a very hard knock on a rock the boy
+ahead had not seen under water started the planks so that we knew that
+was dangerous play; and, without more solicitation, the old man beached
+the boat in a little cove where the reeds gave place for a trickling
+stream. I told them they might land or not, as they pleased. I would go
+ashore and get assistance or information. The old man clearly thought I
+was going to ask my assistance from the father of lies himself. But he
+was resigned to my will,--said he would wait for my return. I stripped,
+and waded ashore with my clothes upon my head, dressed as quickly as I
+could, and pushed up from the beach to the low upland.
+
+Clearly enough I was in a civilized country. Not that there was a
+gallows, as the old joke says; but there were tracks in the shingle of
+the beach showing where wheels had been, and these led me to a
+cart-track between high growths of that Mediterranean reed which grows
+all along in those low flats. There is one of the reeds on the hooks
+above my gun in the hall as you came in. I followed up the track, but
+without seeing barn, house, horse, or man, for a quarter of a mile,
+perhaps, when behold,--
+
+Not the footprint of a man! as to Robinson Crusoe;--
+
+Not a gallows and man hanging! as in the sailor story above named;--
+
+But a railroad track! Evidently a horse-railroad.
+
+"A horse-railroad in Italy!" said I, aloud. "A horse-railroad in
+Sybaris! It must have changed since the days of the coppersmiths!" And I
+flung myself on a heap of reeds which lay there, and waited.
+
+In two minutes I heard the fast step of horses, as I supposed; in a
+minute more four mules rounded the corner, and a "horse-car" came
+dashing along the road. I stepped forward and waved my hand, but the
+driver bowed respectfully, pointed back, and then to a board on top of
+his car, and I read, as he dashed by me, the word
+
+[Greek: Plęron],
+
+displayed full above him; as one may read _Complet_ on a Paris omnibus.
+
+Now [Greek: Plęron] is the Greek for full. "In Sybaris they do not let
+the horse-railroads grind the faces of the passengers," said I. "Not so
+wholly changed since the coppersmiths." And, within the minute, more
+quadrupedantal noises, more mules, and another car, which stopped at my
+signal. I entered, and found a dozen or more passengers, sitting back to
+back on a seat which ran up the middle of the car, as you might ride in
+an Irish jaunting-car. In this way it was impossible for the conductor
+to smuggle in a standing passenger, impossible for a passenger to catch
+cold from a cracked window, and possible for a passenger to see the
+scenery from the window. "Can it be possible," said I, "that the
+traditions of Sybaris really linger here?"
+
+I sat quite in the front of the car, so that I could see the fate of my
+first friend [Greek: Plęron],--the full car. In a very few minutes it
+switched off from our track, leaving us still to pick up our complement,
+and then I saw that it dropped its mules, and was attached, on a side
+track, to an endless chain, which took it along at a much greater
+rapidity, so that it was soon out of sight. I addressed my next neighbor
+on the subject, in Greek which would have made my fortune in those old
+days of the pea-green settees. But he did not seem to make much of that,
+but in sufficiently good Italian told me, that, as soon as we were full,
+we should be attached in the same way to the chain, which was driven by
+stationary engines five or six stadia apart, and so indeed it proved. We
+picked up one or two market-women, a young artist or two, and a little
+boy. When the child got in, there was a nod and smile on people's faces;
+my next neighbor said to me, [Greek: Plęron], as if with an air of
+relief; and sure enough, in a minute more, we were flying along at a
+2.20 pace, with neither mule nor engine in sight, stopping about once a
+mile to drop passengers, if there was need, and evidently approaching
+Sybaris.
+
+All along now were houses, each with its pretty garden of perhaps an
+acre, no fences, because no cattle at large. I wonder if the Vineland
+people know they caught that idea from Sybaris! All the houses were of
+one story,--stretching out as you remember Pliny's villa did, if Ware
+and Van Brunt ever showed you the plans,--or as Erastus Bigelow builds
+factories at Clinton. I learned afterwards that stair-builders and
+slaveholders are forbidden to live in Sybaris by the same article in the
+fundamental law. This accounts, with other things, for the vigorous
+health of their women. I supposed that this was a mere suburban habit,
+and, though the houses came nearer and nearer, yet, as no two houses
+touched in a block, I did not know we had come into the city till all
+the passengers left the car, and the conductor courteously told me we
+were at our journey's end.
+
+When this happens to you in Boston, and you leave your car, you find
+yourself huddled on a steep sloping sidewalk, under the rain or snow,
+with a hundred or more other passengers, all eager, all wondering, all
+unprovided for. But I found in Sybaris a large glass-roofed station,
+from which the other lines of neighborhood cars radiated, in which women
+and even little children were passing from route to to route, under the
+guidance of civil and intelligent persons, who, strange enough, made it
+their business to conduct these people to and fro, and did not consider
+it their duty to insult the traveller. For a moment my mind reverted to
+the contrast at home; but not long. As I stood admiring and amused at
+once, a bright, brisk little fellow stepped up to me, and asked what my
+purpose was, and which way I would go. He spoke in Greek first, but,
+seeing I did not catch his meaning, relapsed into very passable Italian,
+quite as good as mine.
+
+I told him that I was shipwrecked, and had come into town for
+assistance. He expressed sympathy, but wasted not a moment, led me to
+his chief at an office on one side, who gave me a card with the address
+of an officer whose duty it was to see to strangers, and said that he
+would in turn introduce me to the chief of the boat-builders; and then
+said, as if in apology for his promptness,
+
+    "[Greek: Chrę xeiuon pareonta philein, ethelonta de pempein.]"
+    "Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest."
+
+He called to me a conductor of the red line, said [Greek: Xenos], which
+we translate guest, but which I found in this case means "dead-head," or
+"free," bowed, and I saw him no more.
+
+"Strange country have I come to, indeed," said I, as I thought of the
+passports of Civita Vecchia, of the indifference of Scollay's Buildings,
+and of the surliness of Springfield. "And this is Sybaris!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We sent down a tug to the cove which I indicated on their topographical
+map, and to the terror of the old fisherman and his sons, to whom I had
+sent a note, which they could not read, our boat was towed up to the
+city quay, and was put under repairs. That last thump on the hidden rock
+was her worst injury, and it was a week before I could get away. It was
+in this time that I got the information I am now to give, partly from my
+own observations, partly from what George the Proxenus or his brother
+Philip told me,--more from what I got from a very pleasing person, the
+wife of another brother, at whose house I used to visit freely, and
+whose boys, fine fellows, were very fond of talking about America with
+me. They spoke English very funnily, and like little school-books. The
+ship-carpenter, a man named Alexander, was a very intelligent person;
+and, indeed, the whole social arrangement of the place was so simple,
+that it seemed to me that I got on very fast, and knew a great deal of
+them in a very short time.
+
+I told George one day, that I was surprised that he had so much time to
+give to me. He laughed, and said he could well believe that, as I had
+said that I was brought up in Boston. "When I was there," said he, "I
+could see that your people were all hospitable enough, but that the
+people who were good for anything were made to do all the work of the
+_vauriens_, and really had no time for friendship or hospitality. I
+remember an historian of yours, who crossed with me, said that there
+should be a motto stretched across Boston Bay, from one fort to another,
+with the words, 'No admittance, except on business.'"
+
+I did not more than half like this chaffing of Boston, and asked how
+they managed things in Sybaris.
+
+"Why, you see," said he, "we hold pretty stiffly to the old Charondian
+laws, of which perhaps you know something; here's a copy of the code, if
+you would like to look over it," and he took one out of his pocket. "We
+are still very chary about amendments to statutes, so that very little
+time is spent in legislation; we have no bills at shops, and but little
+debt, and that is all on honor, so that there is not much
+account-keeping or litigation; you know what happens to gossips,--gossip
+takes a good deal of time elsewhere,--and somehow everybody does his
+share of work, so that all of us do have a good deal of what you call
+'leisure.' Whether," he added pensively, "in a world God put us into
+that we might love each other, and learn to love,--whether the time we
+spend in society, or the time we spend caged behind our office desks, is
+the time which should be called devoted to the 'business of life,' that
+remains to be seen."
+
+"How came you to Boston," said I, "and when?"
+
+"O, we all have to travel," said George, "if we mean to go into the
+administration. And I liked administration. I observe that you appoint a
+foreign ambassador because he can make a good stump speech in Kentucky.
+But since Charondas's time, training has been at the bottom of our
+system. And no man could offer himself here to serve on the school
+committee, unless he knew how other nations managed their schools."
+
+"Not if he had himself made school-books?" said I.
+
+"No!" laughed George, "for he might introduce them. With us no professor
+may teach from a text-book he has made himself, unless the highest
+council of education order it; and on the same principle we should never
+choose a bookseller on the school committee. And so, to go back," he
+said, "when my father found that administration was my passion, he sent
+me the grand tour. I learned a great deal in America, and am very fond
+of the Americans. But I never saw one here before."
+
+I did not ask what he learned in America, for I was more anxious to
+learn myself how they administered government in Sybaris.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The inns at Sybaris are not very large, not extending much beyond the
+compass of a large private house. Mine was kept by a woman. As we sat
+there, smoking on the piazza, the first evening I was there, I asked
+George about this horse-railroad management, and the methods they took
+to secure such personal comfort.
+
+He said that my question cut pretty low down, for that the answer really
+involved the study of their whole system. "I have thought of it a good
+deal," said he, "when I have been in St. Petersburg, and in England and
+America; and as far as I can find out, our peculiarity in everything is,
+that we respect--I have sometimes thought we almost worshipped--the
+rights, even the notions or whims, of the individual citizen. With us
+the first object of the state, as an organization, is to care for the
+individual citizen, be he man, woman, or child. We consider the state to
+be made for the better and higher training of men, much as your divines
+say that the Church is. Instead of our lumping our citizens, therefore,
+and treating Jenny Lind and Tom Heenan to the same dose of public
+schooling,--instead of saying that what is sauce for the goose is sauce
+for the gander,--we try to see that each individual is protected in the
+enjoyment, not of what the majority likes, but of what he chooses, so
+long as his choice injures no other man."
+
+I thought, in one whiff, of Stuart Mill, and of the coppersmiths.
+
+"Our horse-railroad system grew out of this theory," continued he. "As
+long ago as Herodotus, people lived here in houses one story high, with
+these gardens between. But some generations ago, a young fellow named
+Apollidorus, who had been to Edinburgh, pulled down his father's house
+and built a block of what you call houses on the site of it. They were
+five stories high, had basements, and so on, with windows fore and aft,
+and, of course, none on the sides. The old fogies looked aghast. But he
+found plenty of fools to hire them. But the tenants had not been in a
+week, when the Kategoros, district attorney, had him up 'for taking
+away from a citizen what he could not restore.' This, you must know, is
+one of the severest charges in our criminal code.
+
+"Of course, it was easy enough to show that the tenants went willingly;
+he showed dumb-waiters, and I know not what infernal contrivances of
+convenience within. But he could not show that the tenants had north
+windows and south windows, because they did not. The government, on
+their side, showed that men were made to breathe fresh air, and that he
+could not ventilate his houses as if they were open on all sides; they
+showed that women were not made to climb up and down ladders, and to
+live on stages at the tops of them; and he tried in vain to persuade the
+jury that this climbing was good for little children. He had lured these
+citizens into places dangerous for health, growth, strength, and
+comfort. And so he was compelled to erect a statue typical of strength,
+and a small hospital for infants, as his penalty. That spirited
+Hercules, which stands in front of the market, was a part of his fine.
+
+"Of course, after a decision like this, concentration of inhabitants was
+out of the question. Every pulpit in Sybaris blazed with sermons on the
+text, 'Every man shall sit under his vine and under his fig-tree.'
+Everybody saw that a house without its own garden was an abomination,
+and easy communication with the suburbs was a necessity.
+
+"It was, indeed, easy enough to show, as the city engineer did, that the
+power wasted in lifting people up, and, for that matter, down stairs, in
+a five-story house, in one day, would carry all those people I do not
+know how many miles on a level railroad track in less time. What you
+call horse-railroads, therefore, became a necessity."
+
+I said they made a great row with us.
+
+"Yes," said he, "I saw they did. With us the government owns and repairs
+the track, as you do the track of any common road. We never have any
+difficulty.
+
+"You see," he added after a pause, "with us, if a conductor sprains the
+ankle of a citizen, it is a matter the state looks after. With you, the
+citizen must himself be the prosecutor, and virtually never is. Did you
+notice a pretty winged Mercury outside the station-house you came to?"
+
+I had noticed it.
+
+"That was put up, I don't know how long ago, in the infancy of these
+things. They took a car off one night, without public notice beforehand.
+One old man was coming in on it, to his daughter's wedding. He missed
+his connection out at Little Krastis, and lost half an hour. Down came
+the Kategoros. The company had taken from a citizen what they could not
+restore, namely, half an hour."
+
+George lighted another cigar, and laughed very heartily. "That's a great
+case in our reports," he said. "The company ventured to go to trial on
+it. They hoped they might overturn the old decisions, which were so old
+that nobody knows when they were made,--as old as the dancing horses,"
+said he, laughing. "They said _time_ was not a thing,--it was a relation
+of ideas; that it did not exist in heaven; that they could not be made
+to suffer because they did not deliver back what no man ever saw, or
+touched, or tasted. What was half an hour? But the jury was pitiless. A
+lot of business men, you know,--they knew the value of time. What did
+they care for the metaphysics? And the company was bidden to put up an
+appropriate statue worth ten talents in front of their station-house, as
+a reminder to all their people that a citizen's time was worth
+something."
+
+This was George's first visit to me; and it was the first time,
+therefore, that I observed a queer thing. Just at this point he rose
+rather suddenly and bade me good evening. I begged him to stay, but had
+to repeat my invitation twice. His hand was on the handle of the door
+before he turned back. Then he sat down, and we went on talking; but
+before long he did the same thing again, and then again.
+
+At last I was provoked, and said: "What is the custom of your country?
+Do you have to take a walk every eleven minutes and a quarter?"
+
+George laughed again, and indeed blushed. "Do you know what a bore is?"
+said he.
+
+"Alas! I do," said I.
+
+"Well," said he, "the universal custom here is, that an uninvited guest,
+who calls on another man on his own business, rises at the end of eleven
+minutes, and offers to go. And the courts have ruled, very firmly, that
+there must be a _bona fide_ effort. We get into such a habit of it,
+that, with you, I really did it unawares. The custom is as old as
+Cleisthenes and his wedding. But some of the decisions are not more than
+two or three centuries old, and they are very funny.
+
+"On the whole," he added, "I think it works well. Of course, between
+friends, it is absurd, but it is a great protection against a class of
+people who think their own concerns are the only things of value. You
+see you have only to say, when a man comes in, that you thank him for
+coming, that you wish he would stay, or to take his hat or his
+stick,--you have only to make him an invited guest,--and then the rule
+does not hold."
+
+"Ah!" said I; "then I invite you to spend every evening with me while I
+am here."
+
+"Take care," said he; "the Government Almanac is printed and distributed
+gratuitously from the fines on bores. Their funds are getting very low
+up at the department, and they will be very sharp on your friends. So
+you need not be profuse in your invitations."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This conversation was a clew to a good many things which I saw while I
+was in the city. I never was in a place where there were so many
+tasteful, pretty little conveniences for everybody. At the quadrants,
+where the streets cross, there was always a pretty little sheltered seat
+for four or five people,--shaded, stuffed, dry, and always the morning
+and evening papers, and an advertisement of the times of boats and
+trains, for any one who might be waiting for a car or for a friend.
+Sometimes these were votive offerings, where public spirit had spoken in
+gratitude. More often they had been ordered at the cost of some one who
+had taken from a citizen what he could not repay. The private citizen
+might often hesitate about prosecuting a bore, or a nuisance, or a
+conceited company officer. But the Kategoroi made no bones about it.
+They called the citizen as a witness, and gave the criminal a reminder
+which posterity held in awe. Their point, as they always explained it to
+me, is, that the citizen's health and strength are essential to the
+state. The state cannot afford to have him maimed, any more than it can
+afford to have him drunk or ignorant. The individual, of course, cannot
+be following up his separate grievances with people who abridge his
+rights. But the public accuser can and does.
+
+With us, public servants, who know they are public servants, are always
+obliging and civil. I would not ask better treatment in my own home than
+I am sure of in Capitol, State-house, or city hall. It is only when you
+get to some miserable sub-bureau, where the servant of the servant of a
+creature of the state can bully you, that you come to grief. For
+instance the State of Massachusetts just now forbids corporations to
+work children more than ten hours a day. The _corporations_ obey. But
+the overseers in the rooms, whom the corporations employ, work children
+eleven hours, or as many as they choose. They would not stand that in
+Sybaris.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I was walking one day with one of the bright boys of whom I spoke, and I
+asked him, as I had his father, if I was not keeping him away from his
+regular occupation. Ought he not be at school?
+
+"No," said he; "this is my off-term."
+
+"Pray, what is that?"
+
+"Don't you know? We only go to school three months in winter and three
+in summer. I thought you did so in America. I know Mr. Webster did. I
+read it in his Life."
+
+I was on the point of saying that we knew now how to train more powerful
+men than Mr. Webster, but the words stuck in my throat, and the boy
+rattled on.
+
+"The teachers have to be there all the time, except when they go in
+retreat. They take turns about retreat. But we are in two choroi; I am
+choros-boy now, James is anti-choros. Choros have school in January,
+February, March, July, August, September. Next year I shall be
+anti-choros."
+
+"Which do you like best,--off-term or school?" said I.
+
+"O, both is as good as one. When either begins, we like it. We get
+rather sick of either before the three months are over."
+
+"What do you do in your off-terms?" said I,--"go fishing?"
+
+"No, of course not," said he, "except Strep, and Hipp, and Chal, and
+those boys, because their fathers are fishermen. No, we have to be in
+our fathers' offices, we big boys; the little fellows, they let them
+stay at home. If I was here without you now, that truant-officer we
+passed just now would have had me at home before this time. Well, you
+see they think we learn about business, and I guess we do. I know I do,"
+said he, "and sometimes I think I should like to be a Proxenus when I am
+grown up, but I do not know."
+
+I asked George about this, the same evening. He said the boy was pretty
+nearly right about it. They had come round to the determination that the
+employment of children, merely because their wages were lower than
+men's, was very dangerous economy. The chances were that the children
+were over-worked, and that their constitution was fatally impaired. "We
+do not want any Manchester-trained children here." Then they had found
+that steady brain-work on girls, at the growing age, was pretty nearly
+slow murder in the long run. They did not let girls go to school with
+any persistency after they were twelve or fourteen. After they were
+twenty, they might study what they chose.
+
+"But the main difference between our schools and yours," said he, "is
+that your teacher is only expected to hear the lesson recited. Our
+teacher is expected to teach it also. You have in America, therefore,
+sixty scholars to one teacher. We do not pretend to have more than
+twenty to one teacher. We do this the easier because we let no child go
+to school more than half the time; nor, even with the strongest, more
+than four hours a day.
+
+"Why," said he, "I was at a college in America once, where, with
+splendid mathematicians, they had had but one man teach any mathematics
+for thirty years. And he was travelling in Europe when I was there. The
+others only heard recitations of those who could learn without being
+taught."
+
+"I was once there," said I.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The boat's repairs still lingered, and on Sunday little Phil. came round
+with a note from his mother, to ask if I would go to church with them.
+If I had rather go to the cathedral or elsewhere, Phil. would show me
+the way. I preferred to go with him and her together. It was a pretty
+little church,--quite open and airy it would seem to us,--excellent
+chance to see dancing vines, or flying birds, or falling rains, or other
+"meteors outside," if the preacher proved dull or the hymns undevout.
+But I found my attention was well held within. Not that the preaching
+was anything to be repeated. The sermon was short, unpretending, but
+alive and devout. It was a sonnet, all on one theme; that theme pressed,
+and pressed, and pressed again, and, of a sudden, the preacher was done.
+"You say you know God loves you," he said. "I hope you do, but I am
+going to tell you once more that he loves you, and once more and once
+more." What pleased me in it all was a certain unity of service, from
+the beginning to the end. The congregation's singing seemed to suggest
+the prayer; the prayer seemed to continue in the symphony of the organ;
+and, while I was in revery, the organ ceased; but as it was ordered, the
+sermon took up the theme of my revery, and so that one theme ran through
+the whole. The service was not ten things, like the ten parts of a
+concert, it was one act of communion or worship. Part of this was due, I
+guess, to this, that we were in a small church, sitting or kneeling near
+each other, close enough to get the feeling of communion,--not parted,
+indeed, in any way. We had been talking together, as we stood in the
+churchyard before the service began, and when we assembled in the church
+the sense of sympathy continued. I told Kleone that I liked the home
+feeling of the church, and she was pleased. She said she was afraid I
+should have preferred the cathedral. There were four large cathedrals,
+open, as the churches were, to all the town; and all the clergy, of
+whatever order, took turns in conducting the service in them. There were
+seven successive services in each of them that Sunday. But each
+clergyman had his own special charge beside,--I should think of not more
+than a hundred families. And these families, generally neighbors in the
+town, indeed, seemed, naturally enough, to grow into very familiar
+personal relations with each other.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I asked Philip one day how long his brother George would hold his office
+of host, or Proxenus. Philip turned a little sharply on me, and asked if
+I had any complaints to make, being, in fact, rather a quick-tempered
+person. I soothed him by explaining that all that I asked about was the
+tenure of office in their system, and he apologized.
+
+"He will be in as long as he chooses, probably. In theory, he remains in
+until a majority of the voters, which is to say the adult men and women,
+join in a petition for his removal. Then he will be removed at once.
+The government will appoint a temporary substitute, and order an
+election of his successor."
+
+"Do you mean there is no fixed election-day?"
+
+"None at all," said Philip. "We are always voting. When we stopped just
+now I went in to vote for an alderman of our ward, in place of a man who
+has resigned. I wish I had taken you in with me, though there was
+nothing to see. Only three or four great books, each headed with the
+name of a candidate. I wrote my name in Andrew Second's book. He is, on
+the whole, the best man. The books will be open three months. No one, of
+course, can vote more than once, and at the end of that time there will
+be a count, and a proclamation will be made. Then about removal; any one
+who is dissatisfied with a public officer puts his name up at the head
+of a book in the election office. Of course there are dozens of books
+all the time. But unless there is real incapacity, nobody cares.
+Sometimes, when one man wants another's place, he gets up a great
+breeze, the newspapers get hold of it, and everybody is canvassed who
+can be got to the spot. But it is very hard to turn out a competent
+officer. If in three months, however, at all the registries, a majority
+of the voters express a wish for a man's removal, he has to go out.
+Practically, I look in once a week at that office to see what is going
+on. It is something as you vote at your clubs."
+
+"Did you say women as well as men?" said I.
+
+"O, yes," said Philip, "unless a woman or a man has formally withdrawn
+from the roll. You see, the roll is the list, not only of voters, but of
+soldiers. For a man to withdraw, is to say he is a coward and dares not
+take his chance in war. Sometimes a woman does not like military
+service, and if she takes her name off I do not think the public feeling
+about it is quite the same as with a man. She may have things to do at
+home."
+
+"But do you mean that most of the women serve in the army?" said I.
+
+"Of course they do," said he. "They wanted to vote, so we put them on
+the roll. You do not see them much. Most of the women's regiments are
+heavy artillery, in the forts, which can be worked just as well by
+persons of less as of more muscle if you have enough of them. Each
+regiment in our service is on duty a month, and in reserve six. You know
+we have no distant posts."
+
+"We have a great many near-sighted men in America," said I, "who cannot
+serve in the army."
+
+"We make our near-sighted men work heavy guns, serve in light artillery,
+or, in very bad cases, we detail them to the police work of the camps,"
+said he. "The deaf and dumb men we detail to serve the military
+telegraphs. They keep secrets well. The blind men serve in the bands.
+And the men without legs ride in barouches in state processions.
+Everybody serves somewhere."
+
+"That is the reason," said I, with a sigh, "why everybody has so much
+time in Sybaris!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But the reader has more than enough of this. Else I would print my
+journal of "A Week in Sybaris." By Thursday the boat was mended. I
+hunted up the old fisherman and his boys. He was willing to go where my
+Excellency bade, but he said his boys wanted to stay. They would like to
+live here.
+
+"Among the devils?" said I.
+
+The old man confessed that the place for poor men was the best place he
+ever saw; the markets were cheap, the work was light, the inns were
+neat, the people were civil, the music was good, the churches were free,
+and the priests did not lie. He believed the reason that nobody ever
+came back from Sybaris was, that nobody wanted to.
+
+The Proxenus nodded, well pleased.
+
+"So Battista and his brother would like to stay a few months; and he
+found he might bring Caterina too, when my Excellency had returned from
+Gallipoli; or did my Excellency think that, when Garibaldi had driven
+out the Bourbons, all the world would be like Sybaris?"
+
+My Excellency hoped so; but did not dare promise.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"You see now," said George, "why you hear so little of Sybaris. Enough
+people come to us. But you are the only man I ever saw leave Sybaris who
+did not mean to return."
+
+"And I," said I,--"do you think I am never coming here again?"
+
+"You found it a hard harbor to make," said the Proxenus. "We have
+published no sailing directions since St. Paul touched here, and those
+which he wrote--he sent them to the Corinthians yonder--neither they nor
+any one else have seemed to understand."
+
+"Good by."
+
+"God bless you! Good by." And I sailed for Gallipoli.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote B: I am writing in Westerly's snuggery, and in Providence they
+believe in Webster. I dare say it is worse in Worcester. A good many
+things are.]
+
+[Footnote C: The reader who cares to follow the detail is referred to
+Diodorus Siculus, XII.; Strabo, VI.; Ćlian, V. H. 9, c. 24; Athenćus,
+XII. 518; Plutarch in Pelopidas; Herodotus, V. and VI. Compare Laurent's
+Geographical Notes, and Wheeler and Gaisford; Pliny, III. 15, VII. 22,
+XVI. 33, VIII. 64, XXXI. 9; Aristotle, Polit. IV. 12, V. 3; Heyne's
+Opuscula, II. 74; Bentley's Phalaris, 367; Solinus, 2, § 10, "luxuries
+grossly exaggerated"; Scymnus, 337-360; Aristophanes, Vesp. 1427, 1436;
+Lycophron, Alex. 1079; Polybius, Gen. Hist. II. 3, on the confederation
+of Sybaris, Krotan, and Kaulonia,--"a perplexing statement," says Grote,
+"showing that he must have conceived the history of Sybaris in a very
+different form from that in which it is commonly represented"; third
+volume of De Non, who disagrees with Magnan as to the site of Sybaris,
+and says the sea-shore is uninhabitable! Tuccagni Orlandini, Vol. XI.,
+Supplement, p. 294; besides the dictionaries and books of travels,
+including Murray. I have availed myself, without other reference, of
+most of these authorities.]
+
+
+
+
+THE PIANO IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+
+Twenty-five thousand pianos were made in the United States last year!
+
+This is the estimate of the persons who know most of this branch of
+manufacture, but it is only an approximation to the truth; for, besides
+the sixty makers in New York, the thirty in Boston, the twenty in
+Philadelphia, the fifteen in Baltimore, the ten in Albany, and the less
+number in Cincinnati, Buffalo, Chicago, St. Louis, and San Francisco,
+there are small makers in many country towns, and even in villages, who
+buy the parts of a piano in the nearest city, put them together, and
+sell the instrument in the neighborhood. The returns of the houses which
+supply the ivory keys of the piano to all the makers in the country are
+confirmatory of this estimate; which, we may add, is that of Messrs.
+Steinway of New York, who have made it a point to collect both the
+literature and the statistics of the instrument, of which they are among
+the largest manufacturers in the world.
+
+The makers' prices of pianos now range from two hundred and ninety
+dollars to one thousand; and the prices to the public, from four hundred
+and fifty dollars to fifteen hundred. We may conclude, therefore, that
+the people of the United States during the year 1866 expended fifteen
+millions of dollars in the purchase of new pianos. It is not true that
+we export many pianos to foreign countries, as the public are led to
+suppose from the advertisements of imaginative manufacturers. American
+citizens--all but the few consummately able kings of business--allow a
+free play to their imagination in advertising the products of their
+skill. Canada buys a small number of our pianos; Cuba, a few; Mexico, a
+few; South America, a few; and now and then one is sent to Europe, or
+taken thither by a Thalberg or a Gottschalk; but an inflated currency
+and a war tariff make it impossible for Americans to compete with
+European makers in anything but excellence. In price, they cannot
+compete. Every disinterested and competent judge with whom we have
+conversed on this subject gives it as his deliberate opinion that the
+best American piano is the best of all pianos, and the one longest
+capable of resisting the effects of a trying climate; yet we cannot sell
+them, at present, in any considerable numbers, in any market but our
+own. Protectionists are requested to note this fact, which is not an
+isolated fact. America possesses such an astonishing genius for
+inventing and combining labor-saving machinery, that we could now supply
+the world with many of its choicest products, in the teeth of native
+competition, but for the tariff, the taxes, and the inflation, which
+double the cost of producing. The time may come, however, when we shall
+sell pianos at Paris, and watches in London, as we already do
+sewing-machines everywhere.
+
+Twenty-five thousand pianos a year, at a cost of fifteen millions of
+dollars! Presented in this manner, the figures produce an effect upon
+the mind, and we wonder that an imperfectly reconstructed country could
+absorb in a single year, and that year an unprosperous one, so large a
+number of costly musical instruments. But, upon performing a sum in long
+division, we discover that these startling figures merely mean, that
+every working-day in this country one hundred and twelve persons buy a
+new piano. When we consider, that every hotel, steamboat, and public
+school above a certain very moderate grade, must have from one to four
+pianos, and that young ladies' seminaries jingle with them from basement
+to garret, (one school in New York has thirty Chickerings,) and that
+almost every couple that sets up housekeeping on a respectable scale
+considers a piano only less indispensable than a kitchen range, we are
+rather inclined to wonder at the smallness than at the largeness of the
+number.
+
+The trade in new pianos, however, is nothing to the countless
+transactions in old. Here figures are impossible; but probably ten
+second-hand pianos are sold to one new one. The business of letting
+pianos is also one of great extent. It is computed by the well-informed,
+that the number of these instruments now "out," in the city of New York,
+is three thousand. There is one firm in Boston that usually has a
+thousand let. As the rent of a piano ranges from six dollars to twelve
+dollars a month,--cartage both ways paid by the hirer,--it may be
+inferred that this business, when conducted on a large scale, and with
+the requisite vigilance, is not unprofitable. In fact, the income of a
+piano-letting business has approached eighty thousand dollars per annum,
+of which one third was profit. It has, however, its risks and drawbacks.
+From June to September, the owner of the instruments must find storage
+for the greater part of his stock, and must do without most of his
+monthly returns. Many of those who hire pianos, too, are persons
+"hanging on the verge" of society, who have little respect for the
+property of others, and vanish to parts unknown, leaving a damaged piano
+behind them.
+
+England alone surpasses the United States in the number of pianos
+annually manufactured. In 1852, the one hundred and eighty English
+makers produced twenty-three thousand pianos,--fifteen hundred grands,
+fifteen hundred squares, and twenty thousand uprights. As England has
+enjoyed fifteen years of prosperity since, it is probable that the
+annual number now exceeds that of the United States. The English people,
+however, pay much less money for the thirty thousand pianos which they
+probably buy every year, than we do for our twenty-five thousand. In
+London, the retail price of the best Broadwood grand, in plain mahogany
+case, is one hundred and thirty-five guineas; which is a little more
+than half the price of the corresponding American instrument. The best
+London square piano, in plain case, is sixty guineas,--almost exactly
+half the American price. Two thirds of all the pianos made in England
+are low-priced uprights,--averaging thirty-five guineas,--which would
+not stand in our climate for a year. England, therefore, supplies
+herself and the British empire with pianos at an annual expenditure of
+about eight millions of our present dollars. American makers, we may
+add, have recently taken a hint from their English brethren with regard
+to the upright instrument. Space is getting to be the dearest of all
+luxuries in our cities, and it has become highly desirable to have
+pianos that occupy less of it than the square instrument which we
+usually see. Successful attempts have been recently made to apply the
+new methods of construction to the upright piano, with a view to make it
+as durable as those of the usual forms. Such a brisk demand has sprung
+up for the improved uprights, that the leading makers are producing them
+in considerable numbers, and the Messrs. Steinway are erecting a new
+building for the sole purpose of manufacturing them. The American
+uprights, however, cannot be cheap. Such is the nature of the American
+climate, that a piano, to be tolerable, must be excellent; and while
+parts of the upright cost more than the corresponding parts of the
+square, no part of it costs less. Six hundred dollars is the price of
+the upright in plain rosewood case,--fifty dollars more than a plain
+rosewood square.
+
+Paris pianos are renowned, the world over, and consequently three tenths
+of all the pianos made in Paris are exported to foreign countries.
+France, too, owing to the cheapness of labor, can make a better cheap
+piano than any other country. In 1852, there were ten thousand pianos
+made in Paris, at an average cost of one thousand francs each; and, we
+are informed, a very good new upright piano can now be bought in France
+for one hundred dollars. But in France the average wages of
+piano-makers are five francs per day; in London, ten shillings; in New
+York, four dollars and thirty-three cents. The cream of the business, in
+Paris, is divided among three makers,--Erard, Hertz, and Pleyel,--each
+of whom has a concert-hall of his own, to give _éclat_ to his
+establishment. We presume Messrs. Steinway added "Steinway Hall" to the
+attractions of New York from the example of their Paris friends, and
+soon the metropolis will boast a "Chickering Hall" as well. This is an
+exceedingly expensive form of advertisement. Steinway Hall cost two
+hundred thousand dollars, and has not yet paid the cost of warming,
+cleaning, and lighting it. This, however, is partly owing to the
+good-nature of the proprietors, who find it hard to exact the rent from
+a poor artist after a losing concert, and who have a constitutional
+difficulty about saying _No_, when the use of the hall is asked for a
+charitable object.
+
+In Germany there are no manufactories of pianos on the scale of England,
+France, and the United States. A business of five pianos a week excites
+astonishment in a German state, and it is not uncommon there for one man
+to construct every part of a piano,--a work of three or four months. Mr.
+Steinway the elder has frequently done this in his native place, and
+could now do it. A great number of excellent instruments are made in
+Germany in the slow, patient, thorough manner of the Germans; but in the
+fashionable houses of Berlin and Vienna no German name is so much valued
+as those of the celebrated makers of Paris. In the London exhibition of
+1851, Russian pianos competed for the medals, some of which attracted
+much attention from the excellence of their construction. Messrs.
+Chickering assert, that the Russians were the first to employ
+successfully the device of "overstringing," as it is called, by which
+the bass strings are stretched over the others.
+
+The piano, then, one hundred and fifty-seven years after its invention,
+in spite of its great cost, has become the leading musical instrument
+of Christendom. England produces thirty thousand every year; the United
+States, twenty-five thousand; France, fifteen thousand; Germany, perhaps
+ten thousand; and all other countries, ten thousand; making a total of
+ninety thousand, or four hundred and twenty-two for every working-day.
+It is computed, that an average piano is the result of one hundred and
+twenty days' work; and, consequently, there must be at least fifty
+thousand men employed in the business. And it is only within a few years
+that the making of these noble instruments has been done on anything
+like the present scale. Messrs. Broadwood, of London, who have made in
+all one hundred and twenty-nine thousand pianos, only begin to count at
+the year 1780; and in the United States there were scarcely fifty pianos
+a year made fifty years ago.
+
+We need scarcely say that the production of music for the piano has kept
+pace with the advance of the instrument. Dr. Burney mentions, in his
+History of Music (Vol. IV. p. 664), that when he came to London in 1744,
+"Handel's Harpsichord Lessons and Organ Concertos, and the two First
+Books of Scarletti's Lessons, were all the good music for keyed
+instruments at that time in the nation." We have at this moment before
+us the catalogue of music sold by one house in Boston, Oliver Ditson &
+Co. It is a closely printed volume of three hundred and sixty pages, and
+contains the titles of about thirty-three thousand pieces of music,
+designed to be performed, wholly or partly, on the piano. By far the
+greater number are piano music pure and simple. It is not a very rare
+occurrence for a new piece to have a sale of one hundred thousand copies
+in the United States. A composer who can produce the kind of music that
+pleases the greatest number, may derive a revenue from his art ten times
+greater than Mozart or Beethoven enjoyed in their most prosperous time.
+There are trifling waltzes and songs upon the list of Messrs. Ditson,
+which have yielded more profit than Mozart received for "Don Giovanni"
+and "The Magic Flute" together. We learn from the catalogue just
+mentioned, that the composers of music have an advantage over the
+authors of books, in being always able to secure a publisher for their
+productions. Messrs. Ditson announce that they are ready and willing to
+publish any piece of music by any composer on the following easy
+conditions: "Three dollars per page for engraving; two dollars and a
+half per hundred sheets of paper; and one dollar and a quarter per
+hundred pages for printing." At the same time they frankly notify
+ambitious teachers, that "not one piece in ten pays the cost of getting
+up, and not one in fifty proves a success."
+
+The piano, though its recent development has been so rapid, is the
+growth of ages, and we can, for three thousand years or more, dimly and
+imperfectly trace its growth. The instrument, indeed, has found an
+historian,--Dr. Rimbault of London,--who has gathered the scattered
+notices of its progress into a handsome quarto, now accessible in some
+of our public libraries. It is far from our desire to make a display of
+cheap erudition; yet perhaps ladies who love their piano may care to
+spend a minute or two in learning how it came to be the splendid triumph
+of human ingenuity, the precious addition to the happiness of existence,
+which they now find it to be. "I have had my share of trouble," we heard
+a lady say the other day, "but my piano has kept me happy." All ladies
+who have had the virtue to subdue this noble instrument to their will,
+can say something similar of the solace and joy they daily derive from
+it. The Greek legend that the twang of Diana's bow suggested to Apollo
+the invention of the lyre, was not a mere fancy; for the first stringed
+instrument of which we have any trace in ancient sculpture differed from
+an ordinary bow only in having more than one string. A two-stringed bow
+was, perhaps, the first step towards the grand piano of to-day.
+Additional strings involved the strengthening of the bow that held them;
+and, accordingly, we find the Egyptian harps, discovered in the
+catacombs by Wilkinson, very thick and massive in the lower part of the
+frame, which terminated sometimes in a large and solid female head. From
+the two-stringed bow to these huge twelve-stringed Egyptian harps, six
+feet high and beautifully finished with veneer, inlaid with ivory and
+mother-of-pearl, no one can say how many centuries elapsed. The catgut
+strings of the harps of three thousand years ago are still capable of
+giving a musical sound. The best workmen of the present time, we are
+assured, could not finish a harp more exquisitely than these are
+finished; yet they have no mechanism for tightening or loosening the
+strings, and no strings except such as were furnished by the harmless,
+necessary cat. The Egyptian harp, with all its splendor of decoration,
+was a rude and barbaric instrument.
+
+It has not been shown that Greece or Rome added one essential
+improvement to the stringed instruments which they derived from older
+nations. The Chickerings, Steinways, Erards, and Broadwoods of our day
+cannot lay a finger upon any part of a piano, and say that they owe it
+to the Greeks or to the Romans.
+
+The Cithara of the Middle Ages was a poor thing enough, in the form of a
+large P, with ten strings in the oval part; but it had _movable pegs_,
+and could be easily tuned. It was, therefore, a step toward the piano of
+the French Exposition of 1867.
+
+But the Psaltery was a great stride forward. This instrument was an
+arrangement of _strings on a box_. Here we have the principle of the
+sounding-board,--a thing of vital moment to the piano, and one upon
+which the utmost care is bestowed by all the great makers. Whoever first
+thought of stretching strings on a box may also be said to have half
+invented the guitar and the violin. No single subsequent thought has
+been so fruitful of consequences as this in the improvement of stringed
+instruments. The reader, of course, will not confound the psaltery of
+the Middle Ages with the psaltery of the Hebrews, respecting which
+nothing is known. The translators of the Old Testament assigned the
+names with which they were familiar to the musical instruments of the
+Jews.
+
+About the year 1200 we arrive at the Dulcimer, which was an immense
+psaltery, with improvements. Upon a harp-shaped box, eighteen to
+thirty-six feet long, fifty strings were stretched, which the player
+struck with a stick or a long-handled hammer. This instrument was a
+signal advance toward the grand piano. It _was_ a piano, without its
+machinery.
+
+The next thing, obviously, must have been to contrive a method of
+striking the strings with certainty and evenness; and, accordingly, we
+find indications of a keyed instrument after the year 1300, called the
+Clavicytherium, or keyed cithara. The invention of keys permitted the
+strings to be covered over, and therefore the strings of the
+clavicytherium were enclosed _in_ a box, instead of being stretched _on_
+a box. The first keys were merely long levers with a nub at the end of
+them, mounted on a pivot, which the player canted up at the strings on
+the see-saw principle. It has required four hundred years to bring the
+mechanism of the piano key to its present admirable perfection. The
+clavicytherium was usually a very small instrument,--an oblong box,
+three or four feet in length, that could be lifted by a girl of
+fourteen. The clavichord and manichord, which we read of in Mozart's
+letters, were only improved and better-made clavicytheria. How affecting
+the thought, that the divine Mozart had nothing better on which to try
+the ravishing airs of "The Magic Flute" than a wretched box of brass
+wires, twanged with pieces of quill! So it is always, and in all
+branches of art. Shakespeare's plays, Titian's pictures, the great
+cathedrals, Newton's discoveries, Mozart's and Handel's music, were
+executed while the implements of art and science were still very rude.
+
+Queen Elizabeth's instrument, the Virginals, was a box of strings, with
+improved keys, and mounted on four legs. In other words, it was a small
+and very bad piano. The excellent Pepys, in his account of the great
+fire of London of 1666, says: "River full of lighters and boats taking
+in goods, and good goods swimming in the water; and only I observed that
+hardly one lighter or boat in three that had the goods of a house in it,
+but there were a pair of virginalls in it." Why "a pair"? For the same
+reason that induces many persons to say "a pair of stairs," and "a pair
+of compasses," that is, no reason at all.
+
+It is plain that the virginals, or virgin's clavichord, was very far
+from holding the rank among musical instruments which the piano now
+possesses. If any of our readers should ever come upon a thin folio
+entitled "Musick's Monument," (London, 1676,) we advise him to clutch
+it, retire from the haunts of men, and abandon himself to the delight of
+reading the Izaak Walton of music. It is a most quaint and curious
+treatise upon "the Noble Lute, the best of instruments," with a chapter
+upon "the generous Viol," by Thomas Mace, "one of the clerks of Trinity
+College in the University of Cambridge." Master Mace deigns not to
+mention keyed instruments, probably regarding keys as old sailors regard
+the lubber's hole,--fit only for greenhorns. The "Noble Lute," of which
+Thomas Mace discourses, was a large, heavy, pot-bellied guitar with many
+strings. We learn from this enthusiastic author, that the noble lute had
+been calumniated by some ignorant persons; and it is in refuting their
+calumnious imputations that he pours out a torrent of knowledge upon his
+beloved instrument, and upon the state of music in England in 1675. In
+reply to the charge, that the noble lute was a very hard instrument to
+play upon, he gives posterity a piece of history. That the lute _was_
+hard once, he confesses, but asserts that "it is now easie, and very
+familiar."
+
+"The First and Chief Reason that it was Hard in former Times, was,
+Because they had to their Lutes but Few Strings; viz. to some 10, some
+12, and some 14 Strings, which in the beginning of my Time were almost
+altogether in use; (and is this present Year 1675. Fifty four years
+since I first began to undertake That Instrument). But soon after, they
+began to adde more Strings unto Their Lutes, so that we had Lutes of 16,
+18, and 20 Strings; which they finding to be so Great a Convenience,
+stayed not long till they added more, to the Number of 24, where we now
+rest satisfied; only upon my Theorboes I put 26 Strings, for some Good
+Reasons I shall be able to give in due Time and Place."
+
+Another aspersion upon the noble lute was, that it was "a Woman's
+Instrument." Master Mace gallantly observes, that if this were true, he
+cannot understand why it should suffer any disparagement on that
+account, "but rather that it should have the more Reputation and
+Honour."
+
+There are passages in this ancient book which take us back so agreeably
+to the concert-rooms and parlors of two hundred years ago, and give us
+such an insight into the musical resources of our forefathers, that we
+shall venture to copy two or three of them. The following brief
+discourse upon Pegs is very amusing:--
+
+"And you must know, that from the Badness of the Pegs, arise several
+Inconveniences; The first I have named, viz. the Loss of Labour. The 2d.
+is, the Loss of Time; for I have known some so extreme long in Tuning
+their Lutes and Viols, by reason only of Bad Pegs, that They have
+wearied out their Auditors before they began to Play. A 3d.
+Inconvenience is, that oftentimes, if a High-stretch'd small String
+happen to slip down, 'tis in great danger to break at the next winding
+up, especially in wet moist weather, and that It have been long slack.
+The 4th. is, that when a String hath been slipt back, it will not stand
+in Tune, under many Amendments; for it is continually in stretching
+itself, till it come to Its highest stretch. A 5th. is, that in the
+midst of a Consort, All the Company must leave off, because of some
+Eminent String slipping. A 6th. is, that sometimes ye shall have such a
+Rap upon the Knuckles, by a sharp-edg'd Peg, and a stiff strong String,
+that the very Skin will be taken off. And 7thly. It is oftentimes an
+occasion of the Thrusting off the Treble-Peg-Nut, and sometime of the
+Upper Long Head; And I have seen the Neck of an Old Viol, thrust off
+into two pieces, by reason of the Badness of the Pegs, meerly with the
+Anger and hasty Choller of Him that has been Tuning. Now I say that
+These are very Great Inconveniences, and do adde much to the Trouble and
+Hardness of the Instrument. I shall therefore inform you how ye may Help
+All These with Ease; viz. Thus. When you perceive any Peg to be troubled
+with the slippery Disease, assure your self he will never grow better of
+Himself, without some of Your Care; Therefore take Him out, and examine
+the Cause."
+
+He gives advice with regard to the preservation of the Lute in the moist
+English climate:--
+
+"And that you may know how to shelter your Lute, in the worst of Ill
+weathers (which is moist) you shall do well, ever when you Lay it by in
+the day-time, to put It into a Bed, that is constantly used, between the
+Rug and Blanket; but never between the Sheets, because they may be moist
+with Sweat, &c.
+
+"This is the most absolute and best place to keep It in always, by which
+doing, you will find many Great Conveniencies, which I shall here set
+down....
+
+"Therefore, a Bed will secure from all These Inconveniences, and keep
+your Glew so Hard as Glass, and All safe and sure; only to be excepted,
+That no Person be so inconsiderate, as to Tumble down upon the Bed,
+whilst the Lute is There; For I have known several Good Lutes spoil'd
+with such a Trick."
+
+We may infer from Master Mace his work, that the trivial virginals were
+gaining in popular estimation upon the nobler instrument which is the
+theme of his eulogy. He has no patience with those who object to his
+beloved lute that it is out of fashion. He remarks upon this subject in
+a truly delicious strain:--
+
+"I cannot understand, how Arts and Sciences should be subject unto any
+such Phantastical, Giddy, or Inconsiderate Toyish Conceits, as ever to
+be said to be in Fashion, or out of Fashion. I remember there was a
+Fashion, not many years since, for Women in their Apparel to be so Pent
+up by the Straitness, and Stiffness of their Gown-Shoulder-Sleeves, that
+They could not so much as Scratch Their Heads, for the Necessary Remove
+of a Biting Louse; nor Elevate their Arms scarcely to feed themselves
+Handsomly; nor Carve a Dish of Meat at a Table, but their whole Body
+must needs Bend towards the Dish. This must needs be concluded by
+Reason, a most Vnreasonable, and Inconvenient Fashion; and They as
+Vnreasonably Inconsiderate, who would be so Abus'd, and Bound up. I
+Confess It was a very Good Fashion, for some such Viragoes, who were
+us'd to Scratch their Husbands Faces or Eyes, and to pull them down by
+the Coxcombes. And I am subject to think, It was a meer Rogery in the
+Combination, or Club-council of the Taylors, to Abuse the Women in That
+Fashion, in Revenge of some of the Curst Dames their Wives."
+
+Some lute-makers, this author informs us, were so famous in Europe, that
+he had seen lutes of their making, "pittifull, old, batter'd, crack'd
+things," that were valued at a hundred pounds sterling each; and he had
+often seen lutes of three or four pounds' value "far more illustrious
+and taking to a Common eye." In refuting the "aspersion that one had as
+good keep a horse (for cost) as a Lute," he declares, that he never in
+his life "took more than five shillings the quarter to maintain a Lute
+with strings, only for the first stringing I ever took ten shillings."
+He says, however: "I do confess Those who will be Prodigal and
+Extraordinary Curious, may spend as much as may maintain two or three
+Horses, and Men to ride upon them too, if they please. But 20_s._ per
+ann. is an Ordinary Charge; and much more they need not spend, to
+practise very hard."
+
+Keyed instruments, despite the remonstrances of the lutists, continued
+to advance toward their present supremacy. As often as an important
+improvement was introduced, the instrument changed its name, just as in
+our day the melodeon was improved into the harmonium, then into the
+organ-harmonium, and finally into the cabinet organ. The virginals of
+1600 became the spinet of 1700,--so called because the pieces of quill
+employed in twanging the strings resembled thorns, and _spina_, in
+Latin, means thorn. Any lady who will take the trouble to mount to the
+fourth story of the Messrs. Chickering's piano store in the city of New
+York, may see such a spinet as Mrs. Washington, Mrs. Adams, and Mrs.
+Hamilton played upon when they were little girls. It is a small,
+harp-shaped instrument on legs, exceedingly coarse and clumsy in its
+construction,--the case rough and unpolished, the legs like those of a
+kitchen table, with wooden castors such as were formerly used in the
+construction of cheap bedsteads of the "trundle" variety. The keys,
+however, are much like those now in use, though they are fewer in
+number, and the ivory is yellow with age. If the reader would know the
+tone of this ancient instrument, he has but to stretch a brass wire
+across a box between two nails, and twang them with a short pointed
+piece of quill. And if the reader would know how much better the year
+1867 is than the year 1700, he may first hear this spinet played upon in
+Messrs. Chickering's dusty garret, and then descend to one of the floors
+below, and listen to the round, full, brilliant singing of a Chickering
+grand, of the present illustrious year. By as much as that grand piano
+is better than that poor little spinet, by so much is the present time
+better than the days when Louis XIV. was king. If any intelligent
+person doubts it, it is either because he does not know that age, or
+because he does not know this age.
+
+The spinet expanded into the harpsichord, the leading instrument from
+1700 to 1800. A harpsichord was nothing but a very large and powerful
+spinet. Some of them had two strings for each note; some had three; some
+had three kinds of strings,--catgut, brass, and steel; and some were
+painted and decorated in the most gorgeous style. Frederick the Great
+had one made for him in London, with silver hinges, silver pedals,
+inlaid case, and tortoise-shell front, at a cost of two hundred guineas.
+Every part of the construction of the spinet was improved, and many new
+minor devices were added; but the harpsichord, in its best estate, was
+nothing but a spinet, because its strings were always twanged by a piece
+of quill. How astonished would an audience be to hear a harpsichord of
+1750, and to be informed that such an instrument Handel felt himself
+fortunate to possess!
+
+Next, the piano,--invented at Florence in 1710, by Bartolommeo
+Cristofali.
+
+The essential difference between a harpsichord and a piano is described
+by the first name given to the piano, which was _hammer-harpsichord_, i.
+e. a harpsichord the strings of which were struck by hammers, not
+twanged by quills. The next name given to it was _forte-piano_, which
+signified soft, with power; and this name became _piano-forte_, which it
+still retains. One hundred years were required to prove to the musical
+public the value of an invention without which no further development of
+stringed instruments had been possible. No improvement in the mere
+mechanism of the harpsichord could ever have overcome the trivial effect
+of the twanging of the strings by pieces of quill; but the moment the
+hammer principle was introduced, nothing was wanting but improved
+mechanism to make it universal. It required, however, a century to
+produce the improvements sufficient to give the piano equal standing
+with the harpsichord. The first pianos gave forth a dull and feeble
+sound to ears accustomed to the clear and harp-like notes of the
+fashionable instrument.
+
+In that same upper room of the Messrs. Chickering, near the spinet just
+mentioned, there is an instrument, made perhaps about the year 1800,
+which explains why the piano was so slow in making its way. It resembles
+in form and size a grand piano of the present time, though of coarsest
+finish and most primitive construction, with thin, square, kitchen-table
+legs, and wooden knobs for castors. This interesting instrument has two
+rows of keys, and is _both_ a harpsichord and a piano,--one set of keys
+twanging the wires, and the other set striking them. The effect of the
+piano notes is so faint and dull, that we cannot wonder at the general
+preference for the harpsichord for so many years. It appears to have
+been a common thing in the last century to combine two or more
+instruments in one. Dr. Charles Burney, writing in 1770, mentions "a
+very curious keyed instrument" made under the direction of Frederick II.
+of Prussia. "It is in shape like a large clavichord, has several changes
+of stops, and is occasionally a harp, a harpsichord, a lute, or
+piano-forte; but the most curious property of this instrument is, that,
+by drawing out the keys, the hammers are transferred to different
+strings. By which means a composition may be transposed half a note, a
+whole note, or a flat third lower at pleasure, without the embarrassment
+of different notes or clefs, real or imaginary."
+
+The same sprightly author tells us of "a fine Rucker harpsichord, which
+he has had painted inside and out with as much delicacy as the finest
+coach, or even snuff-box, I ever saw at Paris. On the outside is the
+birth of Venus; and on the inside of the cover, the story of Rameau's
+most famous opera, Castor and Pollux. Earth, Hell, and Elysium are there
+represented; in Elysium, sitting on a bank, with a lyre in his hand, is
+that celebrated composer himself."
+
+This gay instrument was at Paris. In Italy, the native home of music,
+the keyed instruments, in 1770, Dr. Burney says, were exceedingly
+inferior to those of the North of Europe. "Throughout Italy, they have
+generally little octave spinets to accompany singing in private houses,
+sometimes in a triangular form, but more frequently in the shape of an
+old virginal; of which the keys are so noisy and the tone is so feeble,
+that more wood is heard than wire. I found three English harpsichords in
+the three principal cities of Italy, which are regarded by the Italians
+as so many phenomena."
+
+To this day Italy depends upon foreign countries for her best musical
+instruments. Italy can as little make a grand piano as America can
+compose a grand opera.
+
+The history of the piano from 1710 to 1867 is nothing but a history of
+the improved mechanism of the instrument. The moment the idea was
+conceived of striking the strings with hammers, unlimited improvement
+was possible; and though the piano of to-day is covered all over with
+ingenious devices, the great, essential improvements are few in number.
+The hammer, for example, may contain one hundred ingenuities, but they
+are all included in the device of covering the first wooden hammers with
+cloth; and the master-thought of making the whole frame of the piano of
+iron suggested the line of improvement which secures the supremacy of
+the piano over all other stringed instruments forever.
+
+Sebastian Erard, the son of a Strasbourg upholsterer, went to Paris, a
+poor orphan of sixteen, in the year 1768, and, finding employment in the
+establishment of a harpsichord-maker, rose rapidly to the foremanship of
+the shop, and was soon in business for himself as a maker of
+harpsichords, harps, and pianos. To him, perhaps, more than to any other
+individual, the fine interior mechanism of the piano is indebted; and
+the house founded by Sebastian Erard still produces the pianos which
+enjoy the most extensive reputation in the Old World. He may be said to
+have created the "action" of the piano, though his devices have been
+subsequently improved upon by others. He found the piano in 1768 feeble
+and unknown; he left it, at his death in 1831, the most powerful,
+pleasing, and popular stringed instrument in existence; and, besides
+gaining a colossal fortune for himself, he bequeathed to his nephew,
+Pierre Erard, the most celebrated manufactory of pianos in the world.
+Next to Erard ranks John Broadwood, a Scotchman, who came to London
+about the time of Erard's arrival in Paris, and, like him, procured
+employment with a harpsichord-maker, the most noted one in England. John
+Broadwood was a "good apprentice," married his master's daughter,
+inherited his business, and carried it on with such success, that,
+to-day, the house of Broadwood and Sons is the first of its line in
+England. John Broadwood was chiefly meritorious for a _general_
+improvement in the construction of the instrument. If he did not
+originate many important devices, he was eager to adopt those of others,
+and he made the whole instrument with British thoroughness. The strings,
+the action, the case, the pedals, and all the numberless details of
+mechanism received his thoughtful attention, and show to the present
+time traces of his honest and intelligent mind. It was in this John
+Broadwood's factory that a poor German boy named John Jacob Astor earned
+the few pounds that paid his passage to America, and bought the seven
+flutes which were the foundation of the great Astor estate. For several
+years, the sale of the Broadwood pianos in New York was an important
+part of Mr. Astor's business. He used to sell his furs in London, and
+invest part of the proceeds in pianos, for exportation to New York.
+
+America began early to try her hand at improving the instrument. Mr.
+Jefferson, in the year 1800, in one of his letters to his daughter
+Martha, speaks of "a very ingenious, modest, and poor young man" in
+Philadelphia, who "has invented one of the prettiest improvements in
+the forte-piano I have ever seen." Mr. Jefferson, who was himself a
+player upon the violin, and had some little skill upon the harpsichord,
+adds, "It has tempted me to engage one for Monticello." This instrument
+was an upright piano, and we have found no mention of an upright of an
+earlier date. "His strings," says Mr. Jefferson, "are perpendicular, and
+he contrives within that height" (not given in the published extract)
+"to give his strings the same length as in the grand forte-piano, and
+fixes his three unisons to the same screw, which screw is in the
+direction of the strings, and therefore never yields. It scarcely gets
+out of tune at all, and then, for the most part, the three unisons are
+tuned at once." This is an interesting passage; for, although the
+"forte-pianos" of this modest young man have left no trace upon the
+history of the instrument, it shows that America had no sooner cast an
+eye upon its mechanism than she set to work improving it. Can it be that
+the upright piano was an American invention? It may be. The Messrs.
+Broadwood, in the little book which lay upon their pianos in the
+Exhibition of 1851, say that the first vertical or cabinet pianos were
+constructed by William Southwell, of their house, in 1804, four years
+after the date of Mr. Jefferson's letter.
+
+After 1800 there were a few pianos made every year in the United States,
+but none that could compare with the best Erards and Broadwoods, until
+the Chickering era, which began in 1823.
+
+The two Americans to whom music is most indebted in the United States
+are Jonas Chickering, piano-maker, born in New Hampshire in 1798, and
+Lowell Mason, singing teacher and composer of church tunes, born in
+Massachusetts in 1792. While Lowell Mason was creating the taste for
+music, Jonas Chickering was improving the instrument by which musical
+taste is chiefly gratified; and both being established in Boston, each
+of them was instrumental in advancing the fortunes of the other. Mr.
+Mason recommended the Chickering piano to his multitudinous classes and
+choirs, and thus powerfully aided to give that extent to Mr.
+Chickering's business which is necessary to the production of the best
+work. Both of them began their musical career, we may say, in childhood;
+for Jonas Chickering was only a cabinet-maker's apprentice when he
+astonished his native village by putting in excellent playing order a
+battered old piano, long before laid aside; and Lowell Mason, at
+sixteen, was already leading a large church choir, and drilling a brass
+band. The undertaking of this brass band by a boy was an amusing
+instance of Yankee audacity; for when the youth presented himself to the
+newly formed band to give them their first lesson, he found so many
+instruments in their hands which he had never seen nor heard of, that he
+could not proceed. "Gentlemen," said he, "I see that a good many of your
+instruments are out of order, and most of them need a little oil, or
+something of the kind. Our best plan will be to adjourn for a week.
+Leave all your instruments with me, and I will have them in perfect
+condition by the time we meet again." Before the band again came
+together, the young teacher, by working night and day, had gained a
+sufficient insight into the nature of the instruments to instruct those
+who knew nothing of them.
+
+Jonas Chickering was essentially a mechanic,--a most skilful, patient,
+thoughtful, faithful mechanic,--and it was his excellence as a mechanic
+which enabled him to rear an establishment which, beginning with one or
+two pianos a month, was producing, at the death of the founder, in 1853,
+fifteen hundred pianos a year. It was he who introduced into the piano
+the full iron frame. It was he who first made American pianos that were
+equal to the best imported ones. He is universally recognized as the
+true founder of the manufacture of the piano in the United States. No
+man has, perhaps, so nobly illustrated the character of the American
+mechanic, or more honored the name of American citizen. He was the soul
+of benevolence, truth, and honor. When we have recovered a little more
+from the infatuation which invests "public men" with supreme importance,
+we shall better know how to value those heroes of the apron, who, by a
+life of conscientious toil, place a new source of happiness, or of
+force, within the reach of their fellow-citizens.
+
+Henry Steinway, the founder of the great house of Steinway and Sons, has
+had a career not unlike that of Mr. Chickering. He also, in his native
+Brunswick, amused his boyhood by repairing old instruments of music, and
+making new ones. He made a cithara and a guitar for himself with only
+such tools as a boy can command. He also was apprenticed to a
+cabinet-maker, and was drawn away, by natural bias, from the business he
+had learned, to the making of organs and pianos. For many years he was a
+German piano-maker, producing, in the slow, German manner, two or three
+excellent instruments a month; striving ever after higher excellence,
+and growing more and more dissatisfied with the limited sphere in which
+the inhabitant of a small German state necessarily works. In 1849, being
+then past fifty years of age, and the father of four intelligent and
+gifted sons, he looked to America for a wider range and a more promising
+home for his boys. With German prudence, he sent one of them to New York
+to see what prospect there might be there for another maker of pianos.
+Charles Steinway came, saw, approved, returned, reported; and in 1850
+all the family reached New York, except the eldest son, Theodore, who
+succeeded to his father's business in Brunswick. Henry Steinway again
+showed himself wise in not immediately going into business. Depositing
+the capital he had brought with him in a safe place, he donned once more
+the journeyman's apron, and worked for three years in a New York piano
+factory to learn the ways of the trade in America; and his sons obtained
+similar employment,--one of them, fortunately, becoming a tuner, which
+brought him into relations with many music-teachers. During these three
+years, their knowledge and their capital increased every day, for they
+lived as wise men in such circumstances do live who mean to control
+their destiny. In plain English, they kept their eyes open, and lived on
+half their income. In 1853, in a small back shop in Varick Street, with
+infinite pains, they made their first piano, and a number of teachers
+and amateurs were invited to listen to it. It was warmly approved and
+speedily sold. Ten men were employed, who produced for the next two
+years one piano a week. In 1855, the Messrs. Steinway, still unknown to
+the public, placed one of their best instruments in the New York Crystal
+Palace Exhibition. A member of the musical jury has recorded the scene
+which occurred when the jury came to this unknown competitor:--
+
+"They were pursuing their rounds, and performing their duties with an
+ease and facility that promised a speedy termination to their labors,
+when suddenly they came upon an instrument that, from its external
+appearance,--solidly rich, yet free from the frippery that was then
+rather in fashion,--attracted their attention. One of the company opened
+the case, and carelessly struck a few chords. The others were doing the
+same with its neighbors, but somehow they ceased to chatter when the
+other instrument began to speak. One by one the jurors gathered round
+the strange polyphonist, and, without a word being spoken, every one
+knew that it was the best piano-forte in the Exhibition. The jurors were
+true to their duties. It is possible that some of them had predilections
+in favor of other makers; it is certain that one of them had,--the
+writer of the present notice. But when the time for the award came,
+there was no argument, no discussion, no bare presentment of minor
+claims; nothing, in fact, but a hearty indorsement of the singular
+merits of the strange instrument."
+
+From that time the Steinways made rapid progress. The tide of
+California gold was flowing in, and every day some one was getting rich
+enough to treat his family to a new piano. It was the Messrs. Steinway
+who chiefly supplied the new demand, without lessening by one instrument
+a month the business of older houses. Various improvements in the
+framing and mechanism of the piano have been invented and introduced by
+them; and, while some members of the family have superintended the
+manufacture, others have conducted the not less difficult business of
+selling. To this hour, the father of the family, in the dress of a
+workman, attends daily at the factory, as vigilant and active as ever,
+though now past seventy; and his surviving sons are as laboriously
+engaged in assisting him as they were in the infancy of the
+establishment.
+
+Besides the Chickerings and the Steinways, there are twenty
+manufacturers in the United States whose production exceeds one hundred
+pianos per annum. Messrs. Knabe & Co. of Baltimore, who supply large
+portions of the South and West, sold about a thousand pianos in the year
+1866; W. P. Emerson of Boston, 935; Messrs. Haines Brothers of New York,
+830; Messrs. Hallett and Davis of Boston, 462; Ernest Gabler of New
+York, 312; Messrs. E. C. Lighte & Co. of New York, 286; Messrs. Hazelton
+and Brothers of New York, 269; Albert Webber of New York, 266; Messrs.
+Decker Brothers of New York, 256; Messrs. George Steck and Co. of New
+York, 244; W. I. Bradbury of New York, 244; Messrs. Lindeman and Sons of
+New York, 223; the New York Piano-forte Company, 139. About one half of
+all the pianos made in the United States are made in the city of New
+York.
+
+To visit one of our large manufactories of pianos is a lesson in the
+noble art of taking pains. Genius itself, says Carlyle, means, first of
+all, "a transcendent capacity for taking trouble." Everywhere in these
+vast and interesting establishments we find what we may call the
+perfection of painstaking.
+
+The construction of an American piano is a continual act of defensive
+warfare against the future inroads of our climate,--a climate which is
+polar for a few days in January, tropical for a week or two in July,
+Nova-Scotian now and then in November, and at all times most trying to
+the finer woods, leathers, and fabrics. To make a piano is now not so
+difficult; but to make one that will stand in America,--that is very
+difficult. In the rear of the Messrs. Steinway's factory there is a yard
+for seasoning timber, which usually contains an amount of material equal
+to two hundred and fifty thousand ordinary boards, an inch thick and
+twelve feet long; and there it remains from four months to five years,
+according to its nature and magnitude. Most of the timber used in an
+American piano requires two years' seasoning at least. From this yard it
+is transferred to the steam-drying house, where it remains subjected to
+a high temperature for three months. The wood has then lost nearly all
+the warp there ever was in it, and the temperature may change fifty
+degrees in twelve hours (as it does sometimes in New York) without
+seriously affecting a fibre. Besides this, the timber is sawed in such a
+manner as to neutralize, in some degree, its tendency to warp, or,
+rather, so as to make it warp the right way. The reader would be
+surprised to hear the great makers converse on this subject of the
+warping of timber. They have studied the laws which govern warping; they
+know why wood warps, how each variety warps, how long a time each kind
+continues to warp, and how to fit one warp against another, so as to
+neutralize both. If two or more pieces of wood are to be glued together,
+it is never done at random; but they are so adjusted that one will tend
+to warp one way, and another another. Even the thin veneers upon the
+case act as a restraining force upon the baser wood which they cover,
+and in some parts of the instrument the veneer is double for the purpose
+of keeping both in order. An astonishing amount of thought and
+experiment has been expended upon this matter of warping,--so much,
+that now not a piece of wood is employed in a piano, the grain of which
+does not run in the precise direction which experience has shown to be
+the best.
+
+The forests of the whole earth have been searched for woods adapted to
+the different parts of the instrument. Dr. Rimbault, in his learned
+"History of the Piano-forte," published recently in London, gives a
+catalogue of the various woods, metals, skins, and fabrics used in the
+construction of a piano, which forcibly illustrates the delicacy of the
+modern instrument and the infinite care taken in its manufacture. We
+copy the list, though some of the materials differ from those used by
+American manufacturers.
+
+MATERIALS.                 WHERE USED.
+
+_Woods._     _From_
+
+Oak         Riga           Framing, various parts.
+
+Deal        Norway         Wood-bracing, &c.
+
+Fir         Switzerland    Sounding-board.
+
+Pine        America        Parts of framing, key-bed
+                             or bottom.
+
+Mahogany    Honduras       Solid wood of top, and various
+                             parts of the framing
+                             and the action.
+
+Beech       England        Wrest-plank, bridge or
+                             sound-board, centre of
+                             legs.
+
+Beef-wood   Brazils        Tongues in the beam,
+                             forming the divisions
+                             between the hammers.
+
+Birch       Canada         Belly-rail, a part of the
+                             framing.
+
+Cedar       S. America     Round shanks of hammers.
+
+Lime-tree   England        Keys.
+
+Pear-tree   ----           Heads of dampers.
+
+Sycamore    ----           Hoppers or levers, veneers
+                             on wrest-plank.
+
+Ebony       Ceylon         Black keys.
+
+Spanish                    \
+Mahogany    Cuba            \
+Rosewood    Rio Janeiro     |
+Satinwood   East Indies     |--   For decoration.
+White Holly England         |
+Zebra-wood  Brazils         |
+Other fancy                 /
+woods                      /
+
+
+_Woollen Fabrics._
+
+Baize; green, blue,
+     and brown             Upper surface of key-frame,
+                             cushions for hammers to fall
+                             on, to damp dead part of
+                             strings, &c.
+
+Cloth, various qualities   For various parts of the action
+                             and in other places, to prevent
+                             jarring; also for dampers.
+
+Felt                       External covering for hammers.
+
+
+_Leather._
+
+Buffalo              Under-covering of hammers-bass.
+Saddle                    "         "      tenor and treble.
+Basil           \
+Calf            |
+Doeskin         |--  Various parts of action.
+Seal            |
+Sheepskin       |
+Morocco         /
+Sole                 Rings for pedal wires.
+
+
+_Metal._
+
+Iron            \    Metallic bracing, and in various small
+Steel           |--  screws, springs, centres, pins, &c.,
+Brass           |    &c., throughout the instrument.
+Gun metal       /
+Steel wire           Strings.
+Steel spun wire      Lapped strings.
+Covered copper wire    "        "   lowest notes.
+
+
+_Various._
+
+Ivory                White keys.
+
+Black lead           To smooth the rubbing surfaces of cloth
+                       or leather in the action.
+
+Glue (of a particular quality  \
+made expressly for             |--  Woodwork throughout.
+this trade.                    /
+
+Beeswax, emery paper,          \
+glass paper, French polish,    |--  Cleaning and finishing.
+oil, putty powder,             |
+spirits of wine, &c., &c.      /
+
+Such are the materials used. The processes to which they are subjected
+are far more numerous. So numerous are they and so complicated, that the
+Steinways, who employ five hundred and twelve men, and labor-saving
+machinery which does the work of five hundred men more, aided by three
+steam-engines of a hundred and twenty-five, fifty, and twenty-five
+horse-power, can only produce from forty-five to fifty-five pianos a
+week. The average number is about fifty,--six grand, four upright, and
+forty square. The reader has seen, doubtless, a piano with the top taken
+off; but perhaps it has never occurred to him what a tremendous _pull_
+those fifty to sixty strings are keeping up, day and night, from one
+year's end to another. The shortest and thinnest string of all pulls two
+hundred and sixty-two pounds,--about as much as we should care to lift;
+and the entire pull of the strings of a grand piano is sixty pounds less
+than twenty tons,--a load for twenty cart-horses. The fundamental
+difficulty in the construction of a piano has always been to support
+this continuous strain. When we look into a piano we see the "iron
+frame" so much vaunted in the advertisements, and so splendid with
+bronze and gilding; but it is not this thin plate of cast-iron that
+resists the strain of twenty tons. If the wires were to pull upon the
+iron for one second, it would fly into atoms. The iron plate is screwed
+to what is called the "bottom" of the piano, which is a mass of timber
+four inches thick, composed of three layers of plank glued together, and
+so arranged that the pull of the wires shall be in a line with the grain
+of the wood. The iron plate itself is subjected to a long course of
+treatment. The rough casting is brought from the foundery, placed under
+the drilling-machine, which bores many scores of holes of various sizes
+with marvellous rapidity. Then it is smoothed and finished with the
+file; next, it is japanned; after which it is baked in an oven for
+forty-eight hours. It is then ready for the bronzer and gilder, who
+covers the greater part of the surface with a light-yellow bronzing, and
+brightens it here and there with gilding. All this long process is
+necessary in order to make the plate _retain_ its brilliancy of color.
+
+Upon this solid foundation of timber and iron the delicate instrument is
+built, and it is enclosed in a case constructed with still greater care.
+To make so large a box, and one so thin, as the case of a piano stand
+our summer heats and our furnace heats (still more trying), is a work of
+extreme difficulty. The seasoned boards are covered with a double
+veneer, designed to counteract all the tendencies to warp; and the
+surface is most laboriously polished. It takes three months to varnish
+and polish the case of a piano. In such a factory as the Steinways' or
+the Chickerings', there will be always six or seven hundred cases
+undergoing this expensive process. When the surface of the wood has been
+made as smooth as sand-paper can make it, the first coat of varnish is
+applied, and this requires eight days to harden. Then all the varnish is
+scraped off, except that which has sunk into the pores of the wood. The
+second coat is then put on; which, after eight days' drying, is also
+scraped away, until the surface of the veneer is laid bare again. After
+this four or five coats of varnish are added, at intervals of eight
+days, and, finally, the last polish is produced by the hand of the
+workman. The object of all this is not merely to produce a splendid and
+enduring gloss, but to make the case stand for a hundred years in a room
+which is heated by a furnace to seventy degrees by day, and in which
+water will freeze at night. During the war, when good varnish cost as
+much as the best champagne, the varnish bills of the leading makers were
+formidable indeed.
+
+The labor, however, is the chief item of expense. The average wages of
+the five hundred and twelve men employed by the Messrs. Steinway is
+twenty-six dollars a week. This force, aided by one hundred and two
+labor-saving machines, driven by steam-power equivalent to two hundred
+horses, produces a piano in one hour and fifteen minutes. A man with the
+ordinary tools can make a piano in about four months, but it could not
+possibly be as good a one as those produced in the large establishments.
+Nor, indeed, is such a feat ever attempted in the United States. The
+small makers, who manufacture from one to five instruments a week,
+generally, as already mentioned, buy the different parts from persons
+who make only parts. It is a business to make the hammers of a piano; it
+is another business to make the "action"; another, to make the keys;
+another, the legs; another, the cases; another, the pedals. The
+manufacture of the hardware used in a piano is a very important branch,
+and it is a separate business to sell it. The London Directory
+enumerates forty-two different trades and businesses related to the
+piano, and we presume there are not fewer in New York. Consequently,
+any man who knows enough of a piano to put one together, and can command
+capital enough to buy the parts of one instrument, may boldly fling his
+sign to the breeze, and announce himself to an inattentive public as a
+"piano-forte-maker." The only difficulty is to sell the piano when it is
+put together. At present it costs rather more money to sell a piano than
+it does to make one.
+
+When the case is finished, all except the final hand-polish, it is taken
+to the sounding-board room. The sounding-board--a thin, clear sheet of
+spruce under the strings--is the piano's soul, wanting which, it were a
+dead thing. Almost every resonant substance in nature has been tried for
+sounding-boards, but nothing has been found equal to spruce. Countless
+experiments have been made with a view to ascertain precisely the best
+way of shaping, arranging, and fixing the sounding-board, the best
+thickness, the best number and direction of the supporting ribs; and
+every great maker is happy in the conviction that he is a little better
+in sounding-boards than any of his rivals. Next, the strings are
+inserted; next, the action and the keys. Every one will pause to admire
+the hammers of the piano, so light, yet so capable of giving a telling
+blow, which evoke all the music of the strings, but mingle with that
+music no click, nor thud, nor thump, of their own. The felt employed
+varies in thickness from one sixteenth of an inch to an inch and an
+eighth, and costs $5.75 in gold per pound. Only Paris, it seems, can
+make it good enough for the purpose. Many of the keys have a double
+felting, compressed from an inch and a half to three quarters of an
+inch, and others again have an outer covering of leather to keep the
+strings from cutting the felt. Simple as the finished hammer looks,
+there are a hundred and fifty years of thought and experiment in it. It
+required half a century to exhaust the different kinds of wood, bone,
+and cork; and when, about 1760, the idea was conceived of covering the
+hammers with something soft, another century was to elapse before all
+the leathers and fabrics had been tried, and felt found to be the _ne
+plus ultra_. With regard to the action, or the mechanism by which the
+hammers are made to strike the strings, we must refer the inquisitive
+reader to the piano itself.
+
+When all the parts have been placed in the case, the instrument falls
+into the hands of the "regulator," who inspects, rectifies, tunes,
+harmonizes, perfects the whole. Nothing then remains but to convey it to
+the store, give it its final polish and its last tuning.
+
+The next thing is to sell it. Six hundred and fifty dollars seems a high
+price for a square piano, such as we used to buy for three hundred, and
+the "natural cost" of which does not much exceed two hundred dollars.
+Fifteen hundred dollars for a grand piano is also rather startling. But
+how much tax, does the reader suppose, is paid upon a
+fifteen-hundred-dollar grand? It is difficult to compute it; but it does
+not fall much below two hundred dollars. The five per cent
+manufacturer's tax, which is paid upon the price of the finished
+instrument, has also to be paid upon various parts, such as the wire;
+and upon the imported articles there is a high tariff. It is computed
+that the taxes upon very complicated articles, in which a great variety
+of materials are employed, such as carriages, pianos, organs, and fine
+furniture, amount to about one eighth of the price. The piano, too, is
+an expensive creature to keep, in these times of high rents, and its
+fare upon a railroad is higher than that of its owner. We saw, however,
+a magnificent piano, the other day, at the establishment of Messrs.
+Chickering, in Broadway, for which passage had been secured all the way
+to Oregon for thirty-five dollars,--only five dollars more than it would
+cost to transport it to Chicago. Happily for us, to whom fifteen hundred
+dollars--nay, six hundred and fifty dollars--is an enormous sum of
+money, a very good second-hand piano is always attainable for less than
+half the original price.
+
+For, reader, you must know that the ostentation of the rich is always
+putting costly pleasures within the reach of the refined not-rich. A
+piano in its time plays many parts, and figures in a variety of scenes.
+Like the more delicate and sympathetic kinds of human beings, it is
+naught unless it is valued; but, being valued, it is a treasure beyond
+price. Cold, glittering, and dumb, it stands among the tasteless
+splendors with which the wealthy ignorant cumber their dreary abodes,--a
+thing of ostentation merely,--as uninteresting as the women who surround
+it, gorgeously apparelled, but without conversation, conscious of
+defective parts of speech. "There is much music, excellent voice, in
+that little organ," but there is no one there who can "make it speak."
+They may "fret" the noble instrument; they "cannot play upon it."
+
+But a fool and his nine-hundred-dollar piano are soon parted. The red
+flag of the auctioneer announces its transfer to a drawing-room
+frequented by persons capable of enjoying the refined pleasures. Bright
+and joyous is the scene, about half past nine in the evening, when, by
+turns, the ladies try over their newest pieces, or else listen with
+intelligent pleasure to the performance of a master. Pleasant are the
+informal family concerts in such a house, when one sister breaks down
+under the difficulties of Thalberg, and yields the piano-stool to the
+musical genius of the family, who takes up the note, and, dashing gayly
+into the midst of "Egitto," forces a path through the wilderness, takes
+the Red Sea like a heroine, bursts at length into the triumphal prayer,
+and retires from the instrument as calm as a summer morning. On
+occasions of ceremony, too, the piano has a part to perform, though a
+humble one. Awkward pauses will occur in all but the best-regulated
+parties, and people will get together, in the best houses, who quench
+and neutralize one another. It is the piano that fills those pauses, and
+gives a welcome respite to the toil of forcing conversation. How could
+"society" go on without the occasional interposition of the piano? One
+hundred and sixty years ago, in those days beloved and vaunted by
+Thackeray, when Louis XIV. was king of France, and Anne queen of
+England, society danced, tattled, and gambled. Cards have receded as the
+piano has advanced in importance.
+
+From such a drawing-room as this, after a stay of some years, the piano
+may pass into a boarding-school, and thence into the sitting-room of a
+family who have pinched for two years to buy it. "It must have been,"
+says Henry Ward Beecher, "about the year 1820, in old Litchfield,
+Connecticut, upon waking one fine morning, that we heard music in the
+parlor, and, hastening down, beheld an upright piano, the first we ever
+saw or heard of! Nothing can describe the amazement of silence that
+filled us. It rose almost to superstitious reverence, and all that day
+was a dream and marvel." It is such pianos that are appreciated. It is
+in such parlors that the instrument best answers the end of its
+creation. There is many a piano in the back room of a little store, or
+in the uncarpeted sitting-room of a farm-house, that yields a larger
+revenue of delight than the splendid grand of a splendid drawing-room.
+In these humble abodes of refined intelligence, the piano is a dear and
+honored member of the family.
+
+The piano now has a rival in the United States in that fine instrument
+before mentioned, which has grown from the melodeon into the cabinet
+organ. We do not hesitate to say, that the cabinet organs of Messrs.
+Mason and Hamlin only need to be as generally known as the piano in
+order to share the favor of the public equally with it. It seems to us
+peculiarly the instrument for _men_. We trust the time is at hand when
+it will be seen that it is not less desirable for boys to learn to play
+upon an instrument than girls; and how much more a little skill in
+performing may do for a man than for a woman! A boy can hardly be a
+perfect savage, nor a man a money-maker or a pietist, who has acquired
+sufficient command of an instrument to play upon it with pleasure. How
+often, when we have been listening to the swelling music of the cabinet
+organs at the ware-rooms of Messrs. Mason and Hamlin in Broadway, have
+we desired to put one of those instruments in every clerk's
+boarding-house room, and tell him to take all the ennui, and half the
+peril, out of his life by learning to play upon it! No business man who
+works as intensely as we do can keep alive the celestial harmonies
+within him,--no, nor the early wrinkles from his face,--without some
+such pleasant mingling of bodily rest and mental exercise as playing
+upon an instrument.
+
+The simplicity of the means by which music is produced from the cabinet
+organ is truly remarkable. It is called a "reed" instrument; which leads
+many to suppose that the cane-brake is despoiled to procure its
+sound-giving apparatus. Not so. The reed employed is nothing but a thin
+strip of brass with a tongue slit in it, the vibration of which causes
+the musical sound. One of the reeds, though it produces a volume of
+sound only surpassed by the pipes of an organ, weighs about an ounce,
+and can be carried in a vest-pocket. In fact, a cabinet organ is simply
+an accordeon of immense power and improved mechanism. Twenty years ago,
+one of our melodeon-makers chanced to observe that the accordeon
+produced a better tone when it was drawn out than when it was pushed in;
+and this fact suggested the first great improvement in the melodeon.
+Before that time, the wind from the bellows, in all melodeons, was
+forced through the reeds. Melodeons on the improved principle were
+constructed so that the wind was drawn through the reeds. The credit of
+introducing this improvement is due to the well-known firm of Carhart,
+Needham, & Co., and it was as decided an improvement in the melodeon as
+the introduction of the hammer in the harpsichord.
+
+At this point of development, the instrument was taken up by Messrs.
+Mason and Hamlin, who have covered it with improvements, and rendered it
+one of the most pleasing musical instruments in the possession of
+mankind. When we remarked above, that the American piano was the best in
+the world, we only expressed the opinion of others; but now that we
+assert the superiority of the American cabinet organ over similar
+instruments made in London and Paris, we are communicating knowledge of
+our own. Indeed, the superiority is so marked that it is apparent to the
+merest tyro in music. During the year 1866, the number of these
+instruments produced in the United States by the twenty-five
+manufacturers was about fifteen thousand, which were sold for one
+million six hundred thousand dollars, or a little more than one hundred
+dollars each. Messrs. Mason and Hamlin, who manufacture one fourth of
+the whole number, produce thirty-five kinds, varying in power, compass,
+and decoration, and in price from seventy-five dollars to twelve
+hundred. In the new towns of the great West, the cabinet organ is
+usually the first instrument of music to arrive, and, of late years, it
+takes its place with the piano in the fashionable drawing-rooms of the
+Atlantic States.
+
+Few Americans, we presume, expected that the department of the Paris
+Exposition in which the United States should most surpass other nations
+would be that appropriated to musical instruments. Even our cornets and
+bugles are highly commended in Paris. The cabinet organs, according to
+several correspondents, are much admired. We can hardly credit the
+assertion of an intelligent correspondent of the Tribune, that the
+superiority of the American pianos is not "questioned" by Erard, Pleyel,
+and Hertz, but we can well believe that it is acknowledged by the great
+players congregated at Paris. The aged Rossini is reported to have said,
+after listening to an American piano, "It is like a nightingale cooing
+in a thunder-storm."
+
+
+
+
+AN EMBER-PICTURE.
+
+
+    How strange are the freaks of memory!
+      The lessons of life we forget,
+    While a trifle, a trick of color,
+      In the wonderful web is set,--
+
+    Set by some mordant of fancy,
+      And, despite the wear and tear
+    Of time or distance or trouble,
+      Insists on its right to be there.
+
+    A chance had brought us together;
+      Our talk was of matters of course;
+    We were nothing, one to the other,
+      But a short half-hour's resource.
+
+    We spoke of French acting and actors,
+      And their easy, natural way,--
+    Of the weather, for it was raining
+      As we drove home from the play.
+
+    We debated the social nothings
+      Men take such pains to discuss;
+    The thunderous rumors of battle
+      Were silent the while for us.
+
+    Arrived at her door, we left her
+      With a drippingly hurried adieu,
+    And our wheels went crunching the gravel
+      Of the oak-darkened avenue.
+
+    As we drove away through the shadow,
+      The candle she held in the door,
+    From rain-varnished tree-trunk to tree-trunk
+      Flashed fainter, and flashed no more,--
+
+    Flashed fainter and wholly faded
+      Before we had passed the wood;
+    But the light of the face behind it
+      Went with me and stayed for good.
+
+    The vision of scarce a moment,
+      And hardly marked at the time,
+    It comes unbidden to haunt me,
+      Like a scrap of ballad-rhyme.
+
+    Had she beauty? Well, not what they call so:
+      You may find a thousand as fair,
+    And yet there's her face in my memory,
+      With no special right to be there.
+
+    As I sit sometimes in the twilight,
+      And call back to life in the coals
+    Old faces and hopes and fancies
+      Long buried,--good rest to their souls!--
+
+    Her face shines out of the embers;
+      I see her holding the light,
+    And hear the crunch of the gravel
+      And the sweep of the rain that night.
+
+    'Tis a face that can never grow older,
+      That never can part with its gleam;
+    'Tis a gracious possession forever,
+      For what is it all but a dream?
+
+
+
+
+AN ARTIST'S DREAM.
+
+
+When I reached Kenmure's house, one August evening, it was rather a
+disappointment to find that he and his charming Laura had absented
+themselves for twenty-four hours. I had not seen them since their
+marriage; my admiration for his varied genius and her unvarying grace
+was at its height, and I was really annoyed at the delay. My fair
+cousin, with her usual exact housekeeping, had prepared everything for
+her guest, and then bequeathed me, as she wrote, to Janet and baby
+Marian. It was a pleasant arrangement, for between baby Marian and me
+there existed a species of passion, I might almost say of betrothal,
+ever since that little three-year-old sunbeam had blessed my mother's
+house by lingering awhile in it, six months before. Still I went to bed
+disappointed, though the delightful windows of the chamber looked out
+upon the glimmering bay, and the swinging lanterns at the yard-arms of
+the frigates shone like some softer constellation beneath the brilliant
+sky. The house was so close upon the water that the cool waves seemed to
+plash deliciously against its very basement; and it was a comfort to
+think that, if there were no adequate human greetings that night, there
+would be plenty in the morning, since Marian would inevitably be pulling
+my eyelids apart before sunrise.
+
+It seemed scarcely dawn when I was roused by a little arm round my neck,
+and waked to think I had one of Raphael's cherubs by my side. Fingers of
+waxen softness were ruthlessly at work upon my eyes, and the little form
+that met my touch felt lithe and elastic, like a kitten's limbs. There
+was just light enough to see the child, perched on the edge of the bed,
+her soft blue dressing-gown trailing over the white night-dress, while
+her black and long-fringed eyes shone through the dimness of morning.
+She yielded gladly to my grasp, and I could fondle again the silken
+hair, the velvety brunette cheek, the plump, childish shoulders. Yet
+sleep still half held me, and when my cherub appeared to hold it a
+cherubic practice to begin the day with a demand for lively anecdote, I
+was fain drowsily to suggest that she might first tell some stories to
+her doll. With the sunny readiness that was a part of her nature, she
+straightway turned to that young lady,--plain Susan Halliday, with both
+cheeks patched, and eyes of different colors,--and soon discoursed both
+her and me into repose.
+
+When I waked again, it was to find the child conversing with the morning
+star, which still shone through the window, scarcely so lucent as her
+eyes, and bidding it go home to its mother, the sun. Another lapse into
+dreams, and then a more vivid awakening, and she had my ear at last, and
+won story after story, requiting them with legends of her own youth,
+"almost a year ago,"--how she was perilously lost, for instance, in the
+small front yard, with a little playmate, early in the afternoon, and
+how they came and peeped into the window, and thought all the world had
+forgotten them. Then the sweet voice, distinct in its articulation as
+Laura's, went straying off into wilder fancies, a chaos of autobiography
+and conjecture, like the letters of a war correspondent. You would have
+thought her little life had yielded more pangs and fears than might have
+sufficed for the discovery of the North Pole; but breakfast-time drew
+near at last, and Janet's honest voice was heard outside the door. I
+rather envied the good Scotchwoman the pleasant task of polishing the
+smooth cheeks, and combing the dishevelled silk; but when, a little
+later, the small maiden was riding down stairs in my arms, I envied no
+one.
+
+At sight of the bread and milk, my cherub was transformed into a hungry
+human child, chiefly anxious to reach the bottom of her porringer. I was
+with her a great deal that day. She gave no manner of trouble: it was
+like having the charge of a floating butterfly, endowed with warm arms
+to clasp, and a silvery voice to prattle. I sent Janet out to sail, with
+the other servants, by way of holiday, and Marian's perfect temperament
+was shown in the way she watched the departing.
+
+"There they go," she said, as she stood and danced at the window. "Now
+they are out of sight."
+
+"What!" I said, "are you pleased to have your friends go?"
+
+"Yes," she answered; "but I shall be pleased--er to see them come
+back." Life to her was no alternation of joy and grief, but only of joy
+and more joyous.
+
+Twilight brought us to an improvised concert. Climbing the piano-stool,
+she went over the notes with her little taper fingers, touching the keys
+in a light, knowing way, that proved her a musician's child. Then I must
+play for her, and let the dance begin. This was a wondrous performance
+on her part, and consisted at first in hopping up and down on one spot,
+with no change of motion, but in her hands. She resembled a minute and
+irrepressible Shaker, or a live and beautiful _marionnette_. Then she
+placed Janet in the middle of the floor, and performed the dance round
+her, after the manner of Vivien and Merlin. Then came her supper, which,
+like its predecessors, was a solid and absorbing meal; then one more
+fairy story, to magnetize her off, and she danced and sang herself up
+stairs. And if she first came to me in the morning with a halo round her
+head, she seemed still to retain it when I at last watched her kneeling
+in the little bed--perfectly motionless, with her hands placed together,
+and her long lashes sweeping her cheeks--to repeat two verses of a hymn
+which Janet had taught her. My nerves quivered a little when I saw that
+Susan Halliday had also been duly prepared for the night, and had been
+put in the same attitude, so far as her jointless anatomy permitted.
+This being ended, the doll and her mistress reposed together, and only
+an occasional toss of the vigorous limbs, or a stifled baby murmur,
+would thenceforth prove, through the darkened hours, that the one figure
+had in it more of life than the other.
+
+On the next morning Kenmure and Laura came back to us, and I walked down
+to receive them at the boat. I had forgotten how striking was their
+appearance, as they stood together. His broad, strong, Saxon look, his
+noble bearing and clear blue eyes, enhanced the fascination of her
+darker beauty.
+
+America is full of the short-lived bloom and freshness of girlhood; but
+grace is a rarer gift, and indeed it is only a few times in life that
+one sees anywhere a beauty that really controls us with a permanent
+charm. One should remember such personal loveliness, as one recalls some
+particular moonlight or sunset, with a special and concentrated joy,
+which the multiplicity of fainter impressions cannot disturb. When in
+those days we used to read, in Petrarch's one hundred and twenty-third
+sonnet, that he had once beheld on earth angelic manners and celestial
+charms, whose very remembrance was a delight and an affliction, since
+all else that he beheld seemed dream and shadow, we could easily fancy
+that nature had certain permanent attributes which accompanied the name
+of Laura.
+
+Our Laura had that rich brunette beauty before which the mere snow and
+roses of the blonde must always seem wan and unimpassioned. In the
+superb suffusions of her cheek there seemed to flow a tide of passions
+and powers, which might have been tumultuous in a meaner woman, but over
+which, in her, the clear and brilliant eyes, and the sweet, proud mouth,
+presided in unbroken calm. These superb tints implied resources only,
+not a struggle. With this torrent from the tropics in her veins, she was
+the most equable person I ever saw; and had a supreme and delicate
+good-sense, which, if not supplying the place of genius, at least
+comprehended its work. Not intellectually gifted herself, perhaps, she
+seemed the cause of gifts in others, and furnished the atmosphere in
+which all showed their best. With the steady and thoughtful enthusiasm
+of her Puritan ancestors, she combined that grace which is so rare among
+their descendants,--a grace which fascinated the humblest, while it
+would have been just the same in the society of kings. And her person
+had the equipoise and symmetry of her mind. While abounding in separate
+points of beauty, each a source of distinct and peculiar pleasure,--as
+the outline of her temples, the white line that parted her night-black
+hair, the bend of her wrists, the moulding of her finger-tips,--yet
+these details were lost in the overwhelming gracefulness of her
+presence, and the atmosphere of charm which she diffused over all human
+life.
+
+A few days passed rapidly by us. We walked and rode and boated and read.
+Little Marian came and went, a living sunbeam, a self-sufficing thing.
+It was soon obvious that she was far less demonstrative towards her
+parents than towards me; while her mother, gracious to her as to all,
+yet rarely caressed her, and Kenmure, though habitually kind, seemed
+rather to ignore her existence, and could scarcely tolerate that she
+should for one instant preoccupy his wife. For Laura he lived, and she
+must live for him. He had a studio, which I rarely entered and Marian
+never, while Laura was constantly there; and after the first cordiality
+was past, I observed that their daily expeditions were always arranged
+for two. The weather was beautiful, and they led the wildest outdoor
+life, cruising all day or all night among the islands, regardless of
+hours, and, as it sometimes seemed to me, of health. No matter: Kenmure
+liked it, and what he liked she loved. When at home, they were chiefly
+in the studio, he painting, modelling, poetizing perhaps, and she
+inseparably united with him in all. It was very beautiful, this
+unworldly and passionate love, and I could have borne to be omitted in
+their daily plans, since little Marian was left to me, save that it
+seemed so strange to omit her also. Besides, there grew to be something
+a little oppressive in this peculiar atmosphere; it was like living in a
+greenhouse.
+
+Yet they always spoke in the simplest way of this absorbing passion, as
+of something about which no reticence was needed; it was too sacred
+_not_ to be mentioned; it would be wrong not to utter freely to all the
+world what was doubtless the best thing the world possessed. Thus
+Kenmure made Laura his model in all his art; not to coin her into wealth
+or fame,--he would have scorned it; he would have valued fame and
+wealth only as instruments for proclaiming her. Looking simply at these
+two lovers, then, it seemed as if no human union could be more noble or
+stainless. Yet so far as others were concerned, it sometimes seemed to
+me a kind of duplex selfishness, so profound and so undisguised as to
+make one shudder. "Is it," I asked myself at such moments, "a great
+consecration, or a great crime?" But something must be allowed, perhaps,
+for my own private dissatisfactions in Marian's behalf.
+
+I had easily persuaded Janet to let me have a peep every night at my
+darling, as she slept; and once I was surprised to find Laura sitting by
+the small white bed. Graceful and beautiful as she always was, she never
+before had seemed to me so lovely, for she never had seemed quite like a
+mother. But I could not demand a sweeter look of tenderness than that
+with which she now gazed upon her child.
+
+Little Marian lay with one brown, plump hand visible from its full white
+sleeve, while the other nestled half hid beneath the sheet, grasping a
+pair of blue morocco shoes, the last acquisition of her favorite doll.
+Drooping from beneath the pillow hung a handful of scarlet poppies,
+which the child had wished to place under her head, in the very
+superfluous project of putting herself to sleep thereby. Her soft brown
+hair was scattered on the sheet, her black lashes lay motionless upon
+the olive cheeks. Laura wished to move her, that I might see her the
+better.
+
+"You will wake her," exclaimed I, in alarm.
+
+"Wake this little dormouse?" Laura lightly answered. "Impossible."
+
+And, twining her arms about her, the young mother lifted the child from
+the bed, three or four times, dropping her again heavily each time,
+while the healthy little creature remained utterly undisturbed,
+breathing the same quiet breath. I watched Laura with amazement; she
+seemed transformed.
+
+She gayly returned my eager look, and then, seeming suddenly to
+penetrate its meaning, cast down her radiant eyes, while the color
+mounted into her cheeks. "You thought," she said, almost sternly, "that
+I did not love my child."
+
+"No," I said, half untruthfully.
+
+"I can hardly wonder," she continued, more sadly, "for it is only what I
+have said to myself a thousand times. Sometimes I think that I have
+lived in a dream, and one that few share with me. I have questioned
+others, and never yet found a woman who did not admit that her child was
+more to her, in her secret soul, than her husband. What can they mean?
+Such a thought is foreign to my nature."
+
+"Why separate the two?" I asked.
+
+"I _must_ separate them," she answered, with the air of one driven to
+bay by her own self-reproaching. "I had, like other young girls, my
+dream of love and marriage. Unlike all the rest, I believe, my visions
+were fulfilled. The reality was more than the imagination; and I thought
+it would be so with my love for my child. The first cry of that baby
+told the difference to my ear. I knew it all from that moment; the bliss
+which had been mine as a wife would never be mine as a mother. If I had
+not known what it was to love my husband, I might have been content with
+my love for Marian. But look at that exquisite creature as she lies
+there asleep, and then think that I, her mother, should desert her if
+she were dying, for aught I know, at one word from him!"
+
+"Your feeling is morbid," I said, hardly knowing what to answer.
+
+"What good does it serve to know that?" she said, defiantly. "I say it
+to myself every day. Once when she was ill, and was given back to me in
+all the precious helplessness of babyhood, there was such a strange
+sweetness in it, I thought the charm might remain; but it vanished when
+she could run about once more. And she is such a healthy, self-reliant
+little thing," added Laura, glancing toward the bed with a momentary
+look of motherly pride that seemed strangely out of place amid these
+self-denunciations.
+
+"I wish her to be so," she added. "The best service I can do for her is
+to teach her to stand alone. And at some day," continued the beautiful
+woman, her whole face lighting up with happiness, "she may love as I
+have loved."
+
+"And your husband," I said, after a pause,--"does your feeling represent
+his?"
+
+"My husband," she said, "lives for his genius, as he should. You that
+know him, why do you ask?"
+
+"And his heart?" I said, half frightened at my own temerity.
+
+"Heart?" she answered. "He loves _me_."
+
+Her color mounted higher yet; she had a look of pride, almost of
+haughtiness. All else seemed forgotten; she had turned away from the
+child's little bed, as if it had no existence. It flashed upon me that
+something of the poison of her artificial atmosphere was reaching her
+already.
+
+Kenmure's step was heard in the hall, and, with fire in her eyes, she
+hastened to meet him. I seemed actually to breathe freer after the
+departure of that enchanting woman, in danger of perishing inwardly, I
+said to myself, in an air too lavishly perfumed. Bending over Marian, I
+wondered if it were indeed possible that a perfectly healthy life had
+sprung from that union too intense and too absorbed. Yet I had often
+noticed that the child seemed to wear the temperaments of both her
+parents as a kind of playful disguise, and to peep at you, now out of
+the one, now from the other, showing that she had her own individual
+life behind.
+
+As if by some infantine instinct, the darling turned in her sleep, and
+came unconsciously nearer me. With a half-feeling of self-reproach, I
+drew around my neck, inch by inch, the little arms that tightened with a
+delicious thrill; and so I half reclined there till I myself dozed, and
+the watchful Janet, looking in, warned me away. Crossing the entry to my
+own chamber, I heard Kenmure and Laura down stairs, but I knew that I
+should be superfluous, and felt that I was sleepy.
+
+I had now, indeed, become always superfluous when they were together,
+though never when they were apart. Even they must be separated
+sometimes, and then each sought me, in order to discourse about the
+other. Kenmure showed me every sketch he had ever made of Laura. There
+she was, in all the wonderful range of her beauty,--in clay, in cameo,
+in pencil, in water-color, in oils. He showed me also his poems, and, at
+last, a longer one, for which pencil and graver had alike been laid
+aside. All these he kept in a great cabinet she had brought with her to
+their housekeeping; and it seemed to me that he also treasured every
+flower she had dropped, every slender glove she had worn, every ribbon
+from her hair. I could not wonder. Who would not thrill at the touch of
+some such memorial of Mary of Scotland, or of Heloise? and what was all
+the regal beauty of the past to him? Every room always seemed adorned
+when she was in it, empty when she had gone,--save that the trace of her
+still seemed left on everything, and all appeared but as a garment she
+had worn. It seemed that even her great mirror must retain, film over
+film, each reflection of her least movement, the turning of her head,
+the ungloving of her hand. Strange! that, with all this intoxicating
+presence, she yet led a life so free from self, so simple, so absorbed,
+that all trace of consciousness was excluded, and she seemed
+unsophisticated as her own child.
+
+As we were once thus employed in the studio, I asked Kenmure, abruptly,
+if he never shrank from the publicity he was thus giving Laura. "Madame
+Récamier was not quite pleased," I said, "that Canova had modelled her
+bust, even from imagination. Do you never shrink from permitting
+irreverent eyes to look on Laura's beauty? Think of men as you know
+them. Would you give each of them her miniature, perhaps to go with them
+into scenes of riot and shame?"
+
+"Would to Heaven I could!" said he, passionately. "What else could save
+them, if that did not? God lets his sun shine on the evil and on the
+good, but the evil need it most."
+
+There was a pause; and then I ventured to ask him a question that had
+been many times upon my lips unspoken.
+
+"Does it never occur to you," I said, "that Laura cannot live on earth
+forever?"
+
+"You cannot disturb me about that," he answered, not sadly, but with a
+set, stern look, as if fencing for the hundredth time against an
+antagonist who was foredoomed to be his master in the end. "Laura will
+outlive me; she must outlive me. I am so sure of it, that, every time I
+come near her, I pray that I may not be paralyzed, and die outside her
+arms. Yet, in any event, what can I do but what I am doing,--devote my
+whole soul to the perpetuation of her beauty, through art? It is my only
+dream. What else is worth doing? It is for this I have tried, through
+sculpture, through painting, through verse, to depict her as she is.
+Thus far I have failed. Why have I failed? Is it because I have not
+lived a life sufficiently absorbed in her? or is it that there is no
+permitted way by which, after God has reclaimed her, the tradition of
+her perfect loveliness may be retained on earth?"
+
+The blinds of the piazza doorway opened, the sweet sea-air came in, the
+low and level rays of yellow sunset entered as softly as if the breeze
+were their chariot; and softer and stiller and sweeter than light or
+air, little Marian stood on the threshold. She had been in the fields
+with Janet, who had woven for her breeze-blown hair a wreath of the wild
+gerardia blossoms, whose purple beauty had reminded the good Scotchwoman
+of her own native heather. In her arms the child bore, like a little
+gleaner, a great sheaf of graceful golden-rod, as large as her grasp
+could bear. In all the artist's visions he had seen nothing so aerial,
+so lovely; in all his passionate portraitures of his idol, he had
+delineated nothing so like to her. Marian's cheeks mantled with rich and
+wine-like tints, her hair took a halo from the sunbeams, her lips
+parted over the little milk-white teeth; she looked at us with her
+mother's eyes. I turned to Kenmure to see if he could resist the
+influence.
+
+He scarcely gave her a glance. "Go, Marian," he said,--not impatiently,
+for he was too thoroughly courteous ever to be ungracious, even to a
+child,--but with a steady indifference that cut me with more pain than
+if he had struck her.
+
+The sun dropped behind the horizon, the halo faded from the shining
+hair, and every ray of light from the childish face. There came in its
+place that deep, wondering sadness which is more pathetic than any
+maturer sorrow,--just as a child's illness touches our hearts more than
+that of man or woman, it seems so premature and so plaintive. She turned
+away; it was the very first time I had ever seen the little face drawn
+down, or the tears gathering in the eyes. By some kind providence, the
+mother met Marian on the piazza, herself flushed and beautiful with
+walking, and caught the little thing in her arms with unwonted
+tenderness. It was enough for the elastic child. After one moment of
+such bliss she could go to Janet, go anywhere; and when the same
+graceful presence came in to us in the studio, we also could ask no
+more.
+
+We had music and moonlight, and were happy. The atmosphere seemed more
+human, less unreal. Going up stairs at last, I looked in at the nursery,
+and found my pet seeming rather flushed, and I fancied that she stirred
+uneasily. It passed, whatever it was; for next morning she came in to
+wake me, looking, as usual, as if a new heaven and earth had been coined
+purposely for her since she went to sleep. We had our usual long and
+important discourse,--this time tending to protracted narrative, of the
+Mother-Goose description,--until, if it had been possible for any human
+being to be late for breakfast in that house, we should have been the
+offenders. But she ultimately went down stairs on my shoulder, and, as
+Kenmure and Laura were out rowing, the baby put me in her own place,
+sat in her mother's chair, and ruled me with a rod of iron. How
+wonderful was the instinct by which this little creature, who so seldom
+heard one word of parental severity or parental fondness, yet knew so
+thoroughly the language of both! Had I been the most depraved of
+children, or the most angelic, I could not have been more sternly
+excluded from the sugar-bowl, or more overwhelmed with compensating
+kisses.
+
+Later on that day, while little Marian was taking the very profoundest
+nap that ever a baby was blessed with, (she had a pretty way of dropping
+asleep in unexpected corners of the house, like a kitten,) I somehow
+strayed into a confidential talk with Janet about her mistress. I was
+rather troubled to find that all her loyalty was for Laura, with nothing
+left for Kenmure, whom indeed she seemed to regard as a sort of
+objectionable altar, on which her darlings were being sacrificed. When
+she came to particulars, certain stray fears of my own were confirmed.
+It seemed that Laura's constitution was not fit, Janet averred, to bear
+these irregular hours, early and late; and she plaintively dwelt on the
+untasted oatmeal in the morning, the insufficient luncheon, the
+precarious dinner, the excessive walking, the evening damps. There was
+coming to be a look about her such as her mother had, who died at
+thirty. As for Marian--but here the complaint suddenly stopped; it would
+have required far stronger provocation to extract from the faithful soul
+one word that might seem to reflect on Laura.
+
+Another year, and her forebodings had come true. It is needless to dwell
+on the interval. Since then I have sometimes felt a regret almost
+insatiable, in the thought that I should have been absent while all that
+gracious beauty seemed fading and dissolving like a cloud; and yet at
+other times it has appeared a relief to think that Laura would ever
+remain to me in the fulness of her beauty, not a tint faded, not a
+lineament changed. With all my efforts, I arrived only in time to
+accompany Kenmure home at night, after the funeral service. We paused at
+the door of the empty house,--how empty! I hesitated, but Kenmure
+motioned to me to follow him in.
+
+We passed through the hall and went up stairs. Janet met us at the head
+of the stairway, and asked me if I would go in to look at little Marian,
+who was sleeping. I begged Kenmure to go also, but he refused, almost
+savagely, and went on with heavy step into Laura's deserted room.
+
+Almost the moment I entered the child's chamber, she waked up suddenly,
+looked at me, and said, "I know you, you are my friend." She never would
+call me her cousin, I was always her friend. Then she sat up in bed,
+with her eyes wide open, and said, as if stating a problem which had
+been put by for my solution, "I should like to see my mother."
+
+How our hearts are rent by the unquestioning faith of children, when
+they come to test the love which has so often worked what seemed to them
+miracles,--and ask of it miracles indeed! I tried to explain to her the
+continued existence of her beautiful mother, and she listened to it as
+if her eyes drank in all that I could say, and more. But the apparent
+distance between earth and heaven baffled her baby mind, as it so often
+and so sadly baffles the thoughts of us elders. I wondered what precise
+change seemed to her to have taken place. This all-fascinating Laura,
+whom she adored, and who had yet never been to her what other women are
+to their darlings,--did heaven seem to put her farther off, or bring her
+more near? I could never know. The healthy child had no morbid
+questionings; and as she had come into the world to be a sunbeam, she
+must not fail of that mission. She was kicking about the bed, by this
+time, in her nightgown, and holding her pink little toes in all sorts of
+difficult attitudes, when she suddenly said, looking me full in the
+face: "If my mother was so high up that she had her feet upon a star,
+do you think that I could see her?"
+
+This astronomical apotheosis startled me for a moment, but I said
+unhesitatingly, "Yes," feeling sure that the lustrous eyes that looked
+in mine could certainly see as far as Dante's, when Beatrice was
+transferred from his side to the highest realm of Paradise. I put my
+head beside hers upon the pillow, and stayed till I thought she was
+asleep.
+
+I then followed Kenmure into Laura's chamber. It was dusk, but the
+after-sunset glow still bathed the room with imperfect light, and he lay
+upon the bed, his hands clenched over his eyes.
+
+There was a deep bow-window where Laura used to sit and watch us,
+sometimes, when we put off in the boat. Her ćolian harp was in the
+casement, breaking its heart in music. A delicate handkerchief was
+lodged between the cushions of the window-seat,--the very handkerchief
+she used to wave, in summer days long gone. The white boats went sailing
+beneath the evening light, children shouted and splashed in the water, a
+song came from a yacht, a steam-whistle shrilled from the receding
+steamer; but she for whom alone those little signs of life had been dear
+and precious would henceforth be as invisible to our eyes as if time and
+space had never held her; and the young moon and the evening star seemed
+but empty things, unless they could pilot us to some world where the
+splendor of her loveliness could match their own.
+
+Twilight faded, evening darkened, and still Kenmure lay motionless,
+until his strong form grew in my moody fancy to be like some carving of
+Michel Angelo, more than like a living man. And when he at last startled
+me by speaking, it was with a voice so far off and so strange, it might
+almost have come wandering down from the century when Michel Angelo
+lived.
+
+"You are right," he said. "I have been living in a dream. It has all
+vanished. I have kept no memorial of her presence, nothing to
+perpetuate the most beautiful of lives."
+
+Before I could answer, the door came softly open, and there stood in the
+doorway a small white figure, holding aloft a lighted taper of pure
+alabaster. It was Marian in her little night-dress, with the loose, blue
+wrapper trailing behind her, let go in the effort to hold carefully the
+doll, Susan Halliday, robed also for the night.
+
+"May I come in?" said the child.
+
+Kenmure was motionless at first, then, looking over his shoulder, said
+merely, "What?"
+
+"Janet said," continued Marian, in her clear and methodical way, "that
+my mother was up in heaven, and would help God hear my prayers at any
+rate; but if I pleased, I could come and say them by you."
+
+A shudder passed over Kenmure; then he turned away, and put his hands
+over his eyes. She waited for no answer, but, putting down the
+candlestick, in her wonted careful manner, upon a chair, she began to
+climb upon the bed, lifting laboriously one little rosy foot, then
+another, still dragging after her, with great effort, the doll. Nestling
+at her father's breast, I saw her kneel.
+
+"Once my mother put her arm round me, when I said my prayers." She made
+this remark, under her breath, less as a suggestion, it seemed, than as
+the simple statement of a fact.
+
+Instantly I saw Kenmure's arm move, and grasp her with that strong and
+gentle touch of his that I had so often noticed in the studio,--a touch
+that seemed quiet as the approach of fate, and as resistless. I knew him
+well enough to understand that iron adoption.
+
+He drew her toward him, her soft hair was on his breast, she looked
+fearlessly in his eyes, and I could hear the little prayer proceeding,
+yet in so low a whisper that I could not catch one word. She was
+infinitely solemn at such times, the darling; and there was always
+something in her low, clear tone, through all her prayings and
+philosophizings, which was strangely like her mother's voice. Sometimes
+she seemed to stop and ask a question, and at every answer I could see
+her father's arm tighten, and the iron girdle grow more close.
+
+The moments passed, the voices grew lower yet, the doll slid to the
+ground. Marian had drifted away upon a vaster ocean than that whose
+music lulled her from without,--upon that sea whose waves are dreams.
+The night was wearing on, the lights gleamed from the anchored vessels,
+the bay rippled serenely against the low sea-wall, the breeze blew
+gently in. Marian's baby breathing grew deeper and more tranquil; and as
+all the sorrows of the weary earth might be imagined to exhale
+themselves in spring through the breath of violets, so it seemed as if
+it might be with Kenmure's burdened heart. By degrees the strong man's
+deeper respirations mingled with those of the child, and their two
+separate beings seemed merged and solved into identity, as they
+slumbered, breast to breast, beneath the golden and quiet stars. I
+passed by without awaking them; I knew that the artist had attained his
+dream.
+
+
+
+
+THE RELIGIOUS SIDE OF THE ITALIAN QUESTION.
+
+
+I.
+
+I have of late frequently been asked by my English friends why it is
+that I decline to return to my country, and to associate my own efforts
+for the moral and political advancement of Italy with those of her
+governing classes. "The amnesty has opened up a path for the _legal_
+dissemination of your ideas," they tell me. "By taking the place already
+repeatedly offered you among the representatives of the people, you
+would secure to those who hold the helm of the state the support of the
+whole Republican party. Do you not, by throwing the weight of your name
+and influence on the side of the malcontents, increase the difficulties
+of the government, and prolong the fatal want of moral and political
+unity, without which the mere material fact of union is barren, and
+unproductive of benefit to the people?"
+
+The question is asked by serious men, who wish my country well, and is
+therefore deserving of a serious answer.
+
+Before treating the personal matter, however, let me say that, since
+1859, the Republican party has done precisely what my English friends
+required it to do. The Italian Republicans have actually assisted and
+upheld the government with an abnegation worthy of all
+praise,--sacrificing even their right of Apostolate to the great idea of
+Italian unity. Perceiving that the nation was determined to give
+monarchy the benefit of a trial, they have--in that reverence for the
+national will which is the first duty of Republicans--patiently awaited
+its results, and endured every form of misgovernment rather than afford
+a pretext to those in power for the non-fulfilment of their declared
+intention of initiating a war to regain our own territory and true
+frontier,--a war without which, as they well knew, the permanent
+security and dignity of Italy were impossible, and which, had it been
+conducted from a truly national point of view, would have wrought the
+moral redemption of our people.
+
+The monarchy, however, which, as I pointed out in my article on "The
+Republican Alliance," had had five years to prepare, and was in a
+position to take the field with thirty-five thousand regular troops,
+one hundred thousand mobilized National Guards, thirty thousand
+volunteers under Garibaldi, and the whole of Italy ready to act as
+reserve, and make any sacrifices in blood or money, abruptly broke off
+the war after the unqualifiable disasters of Custozza and Lissa, at a
+signal from France,--basely abandoning our true frontier, the heroic
+Trentino,--and accepted Venice as an alms scornfully flung to us by the
+man of the 2d of December.
+
+I may be told that a people of twenty-four millions who tamely submit to
+dishonor deserve it.
+
+I admit it; but it must not be forgotten that our masses are uneducated,
+and that it is the natural tendency of the uneducated to accept their
+rulers as their guides, and to govern their own conduct by the example
+of their _soi-disant_ superiors; and I assert that, if our people have
+no consciousness of their great destiny, nor sense of their true power
+and mission,--if, while twenty-four millions of Italians are at the
+present day grouped around, I will not say the _conception_ of unity,
+but the mere unstable _fact_ of union, the great soul of Italy still
+lies prostrate in the tomb dug for her three centuries ago by the Papacy
+and the Empire,--the cause is to be found in the immorality and
+corruption of our rulers.
+
+The true life of a people must be sought in the ruling idea or
+conception by which it is governed and directed.
+
+The true idea of a nation implies the consciousness of a common _aim_,
+and the fraternal association and concentration of all the vital forces
+of the country towards the realization of that aim.
+
+The national aim is indicated by the past tradition, and confirmed by
+the present conscience, of the country.
+
+The national aim once ascertained, it becomes the basis of the sovereign
+power, and the criterion of judgment with regard to the acts of the
+citizens.
+
+Every act tending to promote the national aim is good; every act tending
+to a departure from that aim is evil.
+
+The moral law is supreme. The religion of duty forms the link between
+the nation and humanity; the source of its _right_, and the sign of its
+place and value in humanity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Such are the essential characteristics of what we term a nation at the
+present day. Where these are wanting, there exists but an aggregate of
+families, temporarily united for the purpose of diminishing the ills of
+life, and loosely bound together by past habits or interests, which are
+destined, sooner or later, to clash. All intellectual or economic
+development among them,--unregulated by a great conception supreme over
+every selfish interest,--instead of being equally diffused over the
+various members of the national family, leads to the gradual formation
+of educated or financial _castes_, but obtains for the nation itself
+neither recognized function, position, dignity, nor glory among foreign
+peoples.
+
+These things, which are true of all peoples, are still more markedly so
+of a people emerging from a prolonged and deathlike stupor into new
+life. Other nations earnestly watch its every step. If its advance is
+illumined by the signs of a high mission, and its first manifestations
+sanctified by the baptism of a great _principle_, other nations will
+surround the new collective being with affection and hope, and be ready
+to follow it upon the path assigned to it by God. If they discover in it
+no signs of any noble inspiration, ruling moral conception, or potent
+future, they will learn to despise it, and to regard its territory as a
+new field for a predatory policy, and direct or indirect domination.
+
+Tradition has marked out and defined the characteristics of a high
+mission more distinctly in Italy than elsewhere. We alone, among the
+nations that have expired in the past, have twice arisen in resurrection
+and given new life to Europe. The innate tendency of the Italian mind
+always to harmonize _thought_ and _action_ confirms the prophecy of
+history, and points out the _rôle_ of Italy in the world to be a work
+of moral unification,--the utterance of the synthetic word of
+civilization.
+
+Italy is a religion.
+
+And if we look only to the _immediate_ national aim, and the inevitable
+consequences that must follow the complete constitution of Italy as a
+nation, we see that to no people in Europe has been assigned a higher
+office in the fulfilment of the educational design, to the evolution of
+which Providence guides humanity from epoch to epoch. Our unity will be
+of itself a potent _initiative_ in the world. The mere fact of our
+existence as a nation will carry with it an important modification of
+the external and internal life of Europe.
+
+Had we regained Venice through a war directed as justice and the
+exigencies of the case required, instead of basely submitting to the
+humiliation of receiving it from the hands of a foreign despot, we
+should have dissolved two empires, and called into existence a
+Slavo-Magyaro-Teutonic federation along the Danube, and a
+Slavo-Hellenic-Rouman federation in the east of Europe.
+
+We shall not regain Rome without dissolving the Papacy, and proclaiming,
+for the benefit of all humanity, that inviolability of conscience which
+Protestantism achieved for a fraction of Europe only, and confined
+within Biblical limits.
+
+Great ideas make great peoples, and the sense of the enormous power
+which is an inseparable condition of the existence of our Italy as a
+nation should have sufficed to make us great. That sense, however,--God
+alone knows the grief with which I write it,--that sense with us is
+wanting.
+
+And now a word as to the amnesty.
+
+Were it my nature to allow any personal considerations to interfere
+where the welfare of my country is concerned, I might answer that none
+who know me would expect me to give the lie to the whole of my past
+life, and sully the few years left to me by accepting an offer of
+_oblivion_ and _pardon_ for having loved Italy above all earthly things,
+and preached and striven for her unity when all others regarded it as a
+dream.
+
+But my purpose in the present writing is far other than self-defence;
+and the sequel will show that, even were the sacrifice of the dignity of
+my last years possible, it would be useless.
+
+My past, present, and future labors towards the moral and political
+regeneration of my country have been, are, and will be governed by a
+religious idea.
+
+The past, present, and future of our rulers have been, are, and will be
+led astray by materialism.
+
+Now the religious question sums up and dominates every other. Political
+questions are necessarily secondary and derivative.
+
+They who earnestly believe in the supremacy of the moral law as the sole
+legitimate source of all authority--in a religion of duty, of which
+politics should be the application--_cannot_, through any amount of
+personal abnegation, act in concert with a government based upon the
+worship of temporary and material interest.
+
+Our rulers have no great ruling conception,--no belief in the supremacy
+of the moral law,--no just notion of life, nor of the human unity,--no
+belief in a divinely appointed goal which it is the _duty_ of mankind to
+reach through labor and sacrifice. They are materialists, and the
+logical consequence of their want of all faith in God and his law are
+the substitution of the idea of _interest_ for the idea of _duty_,--of a
+paltry notion of _tactics_, for the fearless affirmation of the
+truth,--of opportunity, for principle.
+
+It is for this that they protest against, without resisting, wrong,--for
+this that they have abandoned the straight road to wander in tortuous
+by-paths, fascinated by the thought of displaying _state-craft_, and
+forgetting that it was through such paths we first descended into
+slavery. It is for this that our government has reduced Italy to the
+condition of a French prefecture, and that our parliamentary opposition
+copies the wretched tactics of the _Left_ in the French Chamber, which
+prepared the way, during the Restoration, for the present corruption,
+degradation, and enslavement of their country.
+
+These things, I repeat, are _consequences_, not causes. We may change as
+we will the individuals at the head of the government; the system itself
+being based upon a false _principle_, the fatal idea will govern them.
+They _cannot_ righteously direct the new life of the Italian people, and
+redeem them from a profound unconscious immorality of ancient date.
+
+The present duty of the democratic party in Italy, then,--since they
+cannot serve God and Mammon,--is to educate the people; and, remembering
+that the basis of all education is truth, to endeavor to prove to them
+that the actual political impotence and corruption of Italy are derived
+from two causes which may be summed up in one,--we have no religion, and
+we have set up a negation in its place.
+
+
+II.
+
+On the one side we have--as our only form and semblance of religion--the
+Papacy.
+
+I remember to have written, more than thirty years ago, when none other
+dared openly to venture on the problem,--when the boldest contented
+themselves with whispering of reforms in Church discipline, and those
+writers who, like Gioberti, set themselves up as philosophers, thought
+proper, as a matter of tactics, to caress the Utopia of an Italian
+primacy, intrusted to I know not what impossible revival of
+Catholicism,--I remember to have written then that both the Papacy and
+Catholicism were things extinct, and that their death was a consequence
+of _quite another death_.
+
+I spoke of the dogma which was the foundation of both.
+
+Years have confirmed what I then declared. The Papacy is now a corpse
+beyond all power of galvanization. It is the lying mockery of a
+religion,--a source of perennial corruption and immorality among the
+nations, and most fatally such to our own, upon whose very soul weighs
+the incubus and example of that lie. But at the present day we either
+know or ought to know the cause of this.
+
+All contact with the Papacy is contact with death, carrying the taint of
+its corruption over rising Italy, and educating her masses in
+falsehood,--not because cardinals, bishops, and monks traded in
+indulgences three centuries ago,--not because this or that Pope
+trafficked in cowardly concessions to princes, or in the matrimony of
+his own bastards with the bastards of dukes, petty tyrants, or kings, in
+order to obtain some patch of territory or temporal dominion,--not
+because they have governed and persecuted men according to their
+arbitrary will; but because they _cannot_ do other, even if they would.
+
+These evils and these sins are not _causes_, but _consequences_.
+
+Even admitting the impossible hypothesis that the guilty individuals
+should be converted;--that the Jansenists, or other Reformers, should
+recall the misguided Popes to the charity and humility of their ancient
+way of life,--they could only cause the Papacy to die with greater
+dignity;--it can never again be what once it was, the ruler and director
+of the conscience of the peoples.
+
+The mission of the Papacy--a great and holy mission, whatever the
+fanatics of rebellion at the present day, falsifying history and
+calumniating the soul and mind of humanity in the past, may say to the
+contrary--is fulfilled. It was fulfilled six centuries ago; and no power
+of genius, no miracle of will, can avail to revive it. Innocent III. was
+the last true Pope. He was the last who endeavored to make the supremacy
+of the moral law of the epoch over the brute force of the temporal
+governments--of the spirit over matter, of God over Cćsar--an organic
+social _fact_.
+
+And such was in truth the mission of the Papacy,--the secret of its
+power, and of the willing adherence and submission yielded to it by
+humanity for eight hundred years. That mission was incarnated in one of
+the greatest of Italians in genius, virtue, and iron strength of
+will,--Gregory VII.,--and yet he failed to prolong it. One hundred and
+fifty years afterwards, the gigantic attempt had become but the dim
+record of a past never to return. With the successors of Innocent III.
+began the decline of the Papacy; it ceased to infuse life into humanity.
+A hundred years later, and the Church had become scandalously corrupt in
+the higher spheres of its hierarchy, persecuting and superstitious in
+the lower. A hundred years later it was the ally, and in one hundred
+more the servant of Cćsar, and had lost one half of Europe.
+
+From that time forward it has unceasingly declined, until it has sunk to
+the thing we now behold it;--disinherited of all power of inspiration
+over civilization; the impotent negation of all movement, of all
+liberty, of all development of science or life; destitute of all sense
+of duty, power of sacrifice, or faith in its own destiny; held up by
+foreign bayonets; trembling before the face of the peoples, and forsaken
+by humanity, which is seeking the path of progress elsewhere.
+
+The Papacy has lost all moral basis, aim, sanction, and source of action
+at the present day. Its source of action in the past was derived from a
+conception of heaven since changed,--from a notion of life since proved
+imperfect,--from a conception of the moral law inferior to that of the
+new epoch in course of initiation,--from a solution of the eternal
+problem of the relation between man and God since rejected by the human
+heart, intellect, conscience, and tradition.
+
+The dogma itself which the Church once represented is exhausted and
+consumed. It no longer inspires faith, no longer has power to unite or
+direct the human race.
+
+The time of a new dogma is approaching, which will re-link earth with
+heaven in a vaster synthesis, fruitful of new and harmonious life.
+
+It is for this that the Papacy expires. And it is our duty to declare
+this, without hypocritical reticence, or formulć of speech, which,
+feigning to attack and venerate at one and the same time, do but parcel
+out, not solve the problem; because the future cannot be fully revealed
+until the past is entombed, and by weakly prolonging the delay we run
+the risk of introducing gangrene into the wound.
+
+The formula of life and of the law of life from which the Papacy derived
+its existence and its mission was that of the _fall_ of man and his
+redemption. The logical and inevitable consequences of this formula
+were:--
+
+The doctrine of the necessity of _mediation_ between man and God;
+
+The belief in a _direct_, _immediate_, and _immutable_ revelation, and
+hence in a privileged class,--naturally destined to centralize in one
+individual,--the office of which was to preserve that revelation
+inviolate;
+
+The inefficacy of man's own efforts to achieve his own redemption, and
+the consequent substitution of unlimited _faith_ in the _Mediator_, for
+works,--hence _grace_ and _predestination_ more or less explicitly
+substituted for _free-will_;
+
+The separation of the human race into the _elect_ and the _non-elect_;
+
+The _salvation_ of the one, and the eternal _damnation_ of the other;
+and, above all,
+
+The duality between earth and heaven, between the _ideal_ and the
+_real_, between the _aim_ set before man and a world condemned to
+anathema by the _fall_, and incapable, through the imperfection of its
+finite elements, of affording him the means of realizing that aim.
+
+In fact, the religious synthesis which succeeded Polytheism did not
+contemplate, nor did the historical succession of the epochs allow it to
+contemplate, any conception of life embracing more than the
+_individual_; it offered the individual a means of salvation _in despite
+of_ the egotism, tyranny, and corruption by which he is surrounded on
+earth, and which no individual effort could hope to overcome; it came to
+declare to him, _The world is adverse to thee; renounce the world and
+put thy faith in Christ; this will lead thee to heaven_.
+
+The new formula of life and its law--unknown at that day, but revealed
+to us in our own day by our knowledge of the tradition of humanity,
+confirmed by the voice of individual conscience, by the intuition of
+genius and the grand results of scientific research--may be summed up in
+the single word _Progress_,[D] which we now know to be, by Divine
+decree, the inherent tendency of human nature,--whether manifested in
+the individual or the collective being,--and destined, more or less
+speedily, but inevitably, to be evolved in time and space.
+
+The logical consequences of the new formula are:--
+
+The substitution of the idea of a _law_ for the idea of a
+_Mediator_;--the idea of a _continuous_ educational revelation for that
+of an _immediate_ arbitrary revelation;
+
+The apostolate of genius and virtue, and of the great collective
+intuitions of the peoples, when roused to enthusiastic action in the
+service of a truth, substituted for the _privilege_ of a priestly
+_class_;
+
+The sanctity of tradition, as the depository of the progress already
+achieved; and the sanctity of individual conscience, alike the pledge
+and the means of all future progress;
+
+_Works_, sanctified by faith, substituted for mere faith alone, as the
+criterion of merit and means of salvation.
+
+The new formula of life cancels the dogma of _grace_, which is the
+negation of that capacity of perfectibility granted to _all_ men; as
+well as that of _predestination_, which is the negation of _free-will_,
+and that of eternity of punishment, which is the negation of the divine
+element existing in every human soul.
+
+The new formula substitutes the conception of the slow, continuous
+progress of the human _Ego_ throughout an indefinite series of
+existences, for the idea of an impossible perfection to be achieved in
+the course of one brief existence; it presents an absolutely, new view
+of the mission of man upon earth, and puts an end to the antagonism
+between earth and heaven, by teaching us that this world is an abode
+given to man _wherein_ he is bound to merit salvation, by his own works,
+and hence enforces the necessity of endeavoring, by thought, by action,
+and by sacrifice, to transform the world,--the duty of realizing our
+ideal here below, as far as in us lies, for the benefit of future
+generations, and of reducing to an earthly _fact_ as much as may be of
+the _kingdom_--the conception--of God.
+
+The religious synthesis which is slowly but infallibly taking the place
+of the synthesis of the past comprehends a new term,--the continuous
+_collective_ life of humanity; and this alone is sufficient to change
+the _aim_, the _method_, and the moral _law_ of our existence.
+
+All links with heaven broken, and useless to the earth, which is ready
+to hail the proclamation of a new dogma, the Papacy has no longer any
+_raison d'ętre_. Once useful and holy, it is now a lie, a source only of
+corruption and immorality.
+
+Once useful and holy, I say, because, had it not been for the unity of
+moral life in which we were held for more than eight centuries by the
+Papacy, we should not now have been prepared to realize the new unity to
+come; had it not been for the dogma of human equality in heaven, we
+should not now have been prepared to proclaim the dogma of human
+equality on earth. And, I declare it a lie and a source of immorality at
+the present day, because every great institution becomes such if it
+seeks to perpetuate its authority after its mission is fulfilled. The
+substitution of the enslavement for the slaughter of the conquered foe
+was a step towards progress, as was the substitution of servitude for
+slavery. The formation of the _Bourgeoise_ class was a progress from
+servitude. But he who at the present day should attempt to recede
+towards slavery and servitude, and presumptuously endeavor to perpetuate
+the exclusion of the proletarian from the rights and benefits of the
+social organization, would prove himself the enemy of all civilization,
+past and future, and a teacher of immorality.
+
+It is therefore the duty of all those amongst us who have it at heart to
+win _the city of the future_ and the triumph of truth, to make war, not
+only upon the temporal power,--who should dare deny that to the admitted
+representative of God on earth?--but upon the Papacy itself. It is
+therefore our duty to go back to the dogma upon which the institution is
+founded, and to show that that dogma has become insufficient and unequal
+to the moral wants, aspirations, and dawning faith of humanity.
+
+They who at the present day attack the _Prince_ of Rome, and yet profess
+to venerate the _Pope_, and to be sincere Catholics, are either guilty
+of flagrant contradiction, or are hypocrites.
+
+They who profess to reduce the problem to the realization of _a free
+Church in a free State_ are either influenced by a fatal timidity, or
+destitute of every spark of moral conviction.
+
+The separation of Church and State is good as a weapon of defence
+against the corruptions of a Church no longer worthy the name. It
+is--like all the programmes of mere liberty--an implicit declaration
+that the institution against which we are compelled to invoke either our
+individual or collective rights is corrupt, and destined to perish.
+
+Individual or collective rights may be justly invoked against the
+authority of a religious institution as a remedial measure in a period
+of transition; just as it may occasionally be necessary to isolate a
+special locality for a given time, in order to protect others from
+infection. But the cause must be explicitly declared. By declaring it,
+you educate the country to look beyond the temporary measure,--to look
+forward to a return to a normal state of things, and to study the
+positive organic _principle_ destined to govern that normal state. By
+keeping silence, you accustom the mass to disjoin the _moral_ from the
+political, theory from practice, the ideal from the real, heaven from
+earth.
+
+When once all belief in the past synthesis shall be extinct, and faith
+in the new synthesis established, the State itself will be elected into
+a Church; it will incarnate in itself a religious principle, and become
+the representative of the moral law in the various manifestations of
+life.
+
+So long as it is separate from the State, the Church will always
+conspire to reconquer power over it in the interest of the past dogma.
+If separated from all collective and avowed faith by a negative policy,
+such as that adopted by the atheistic and indifferent French Parliament,
+the State will fall a prey to the anarchical doctrine of the sovereignty
+of the individual, and the worship of interest; it will sink into
+egotism and the adoration of the _accomplished fact_, and hence,
+inevitably, into despotism, as a remedy for the evils of anarchy.
+
+For an example of this among modern nations, we have only to look at
+France.
+
+
+III.
+
+On the other hand, in opposition to the Papacy, but itself a source of
+no less corruption, stands _materialism_.
+
+Materialism, the philosophy of all expiring epochs and peoples in decay,
+is, historically speaking, an old phenomenon, inseparable from the death
+of a religious dogma. It is the reaction of those superficial intellects
+which, incapable of taking a comprehensive view of the life of humanity,
+and tracing and deducing its essential characteristics from tradition,
+deny the religious ideal itself, instead of simply affirming the death
+of one of its incarnations.
+
+Luther compared the human mind to a drunken peasant, who, falling from
+one side of his horse, and set straight on his seat by one desirous of
+helping him, instantly falls again on the other side. The simile--if
+limited to periods of transition--is most just. The youth of Italy,
+suddenly emancipated from the servile education of more than three
+centuries, and intoxicated with their moral liberty, find themselves in
+the presence of a Church destitute of all mission, virtue, love for the
+people, or adoration of truth or progress,--destitute even of faith in
+itself. They see that the existing dogma is in flagrant contradiction of
+the ruling idea that governs all the aspirations of the epoch, and that
+its conception of divinity is inferior to that revealed by science,
+human conscience, philosophy, and the improved conception of life
+acquired by the study of the tradition of humanity, unknown to man
+previously to the discovery of his Eastern origin. Therefore, in
+order--as they believe--to establish their moral freedom radically and
+forever, they reject alike all idea of a church, a dogma, and a God.
+
+Philosophically speaking, the unreflecting exaggerations of men who have
+just risen up in rebellion do not portend any serious damage to human
+progress. These errors are a mere repetition of what has always taken
+place at the decay and death of every dogma, and will--as they always
+have done--sooner or later wear away. The day will come when our Italian
+youth will discover that, just as reasonably as they, not content with
+denying the Christian dogma, proceed to deny the existence of a God, and
+the religious life of humanity, their ancestors might have proceeded,
+from their denial and rejection of the feudal system, to the rejection
+of every form of social organization, or have declared art extinct
+forever during the transition period when the Greek form of art had
+ceased to correspond to those aspirations of the human mind which
+prepared the way for the cathedrals of the Middle Ages and the Christian
+school of art.
+
+Art, society, religion,--all these are faculties inseparable from human
+life itself, progressive as life itself, and eternal as life itself.
+Every epoch of humanity has had and will have its own social, artistic,
+and religious _expression_. In every epoch man will ask of tradition and
+of conscience whence he came, and to what goal he is bound; he will ask
+through what paths that goal is to be reached, and seek to solve the
+problem suggested by the existence within him of a conception of the
+Infinite, and of an ideal impossible of realization in the finite
+conditions of his earthly existence. He will, from time to time, adopt a
+different solution, in proportion as the horizon of tradition is
+progressively enlarged, and the human conscience enlightened; but
+assuredly it will never be a mere negation.
+
+Philosophically speaking, materialism is based upon a singular but
+constant confusion of two things radically distinct;--life, and its
+successive modes of manifestation; the _Ego_, and the organs by which it
+is revealed in a visible form to the external world, the non-_Ego_. The
+men who, having succeeded in analyzing the _instruments_ by means of
+which life is made manifest in a series of successive finite phenomena,
+imagine that they have acquired a proof of the _materiality_ of life
+itself, resemble the poor fool, who, having chemically analyzed the ink
+with which a poem was written, imagines he has penetrated the secret of
+the genius that composed it.
+
+Life,--thought,--the initiative power of motion,--the conception of the
+Infinite, of the Eternal, of God, which is inborn in the human
+mind,--the aspiration towards an ideal impossible of realization in the
+brief stage of our earthly existence,--the instinct of free will,--all
+that constitutes the mysterious link within us to a world beyond the
+visible,--defy all analysis by a philosophy exclusively experimental,
+and impotent to overpass the sphere of the secondary laws of being.
+
+If materialists choose to reject the teachings of tradition, the voice
+of human conscience and intuition, to limit themselves to the mechanism
+of analytical observation, and substitute their narrow, undirected
+physiology for biology and psychology,--if then, finding themselves
+unable by that imperfect method to comprehend the primary laws and
+origin of things, they childishly deny the existence of such laws, and
+declare all humanity before their time to have been deluded and
+incapable,--so be it. Nor should I, had Italy been a nation for half a
+century, have regarded their doctrines as fraught with any real danger.
+Humanity will not abandon its appointed path for them; and to hear
+them--in an age in which the discoveries of all great thinkers combine
+to demonstrate the existence of an intelligent preordained law of unity
+and progress--spouting materialism in the name of science, because they
+have skimmed a volume of Vogt, or attended a lecture by Moleschott,
+might rather move one to amusement than anger.
+
+But Italy is not a nation; she is only in the way to become one. And the
+present is therefore a moment of grave importance; for, even as the
+first examples set before infancy, so the first lessons taught to a
+people emerging from a long past of error and corruption, and hesitating
+as to the choice of its future, may be of serious import. The doctrines
+of federalism, which, if preached in France at the present day, would be
+but an innocent Utopia, threatened the dissolution of the country during
+the first years of the Revolution. They laid bare the path for foreign
+conquest, and roused the _Mountain_ to bloody and terrible means of
+repression.
+
+Such for us are the wretched doctrines of which I speak. Fate has set
+before us a great and holy mission, which, if we fail to accomplish it
+now, may be postponed for half a century. Every delay, every error, may
+be fatal. And the people through whom we have to work are uneducated,
+liable to accept any error which wears a semblance of war against the
+past, and in danger, from their long habit of slavery, of relapsing
+into egotism.
+
+Now the tendency of the doctrines of materialism is to lead the mass to
+egotism through the path of interest. Therefore it grieves me to hear
+them preached by many worthy but inconsiderate young men amongst us; and
+I conjure them, by all they hold most sacred, to meditate deeply the
+moral consequences of the doctrines they preach, and especially to study
+their effect in the case of a neighboring nation, which carried negation
+to the extreme during the past century, and which we behold at the
+present day utterly corrupted by the worship of temporary and material
+interest, disinherited of all noble activity, and sunk in the
+degradation and infamy of slavery.
+
+Every error is a crime in those whose duty it is to watch over the
+cradle of a nation.
+
+Either we must admit the idea of a God,--of the moral law, which is an
+emanation from him,--and the idea of human duty, freely accepted by
+mankind, as the practical consequence of that law,--or we must admit the
+idea of a ruling force of things, and its practical consequence, the
+worship of individual force or success, the omnipotence of _fact_. From
+this dilemma there is no escape.
+
+Either we must accept the sovereignty of an _aim_ prescribed by
+conscience, in which all the individuals composing a nation are bound to
+unite, and the pursuit of which constitutes the _nationality_ of a given
+people among the many of which humanity is composed,--an aim recognized
+by them all, and superior to them all, and therefore _religious_; or we
+must accept the sovereignty of the _right_, arbitrarily defined, of each
+nation, and its practical consequences,--the pursuit by each individual
+of his own interest and his own _well-being_, the satisfaction of his
+own desires,--and the impossibility of any sovereign _duty_, to which
+all the citizens, from those who govern down to the humblest of the
+governed, owe obedience and sacrifice.
+
+Which of these doctrines will be most potent to lead our nation to high
+things? Let us not forget that, although the educated, intellectual, and
+virtuous may be willing to admit that the _well-being_ of the individual
+should be founded--even at the cost of sacrifice--upon the _well-being_
+of the many, the majority will, as they always have done, understand
+their _well-being_ to mean their positive satisfaction or enjoyment;
+they will reject the notion of sacrifice as painful, and endeavor to
+realize their own happiness, even to the injury of others. They will
+seek it one day from liberty, the next from the deceitful promises of a
+despot; but the practical result of encouraging them to strive for the
+realization of their own happiness as a right, will inevitably be to
+lead them to the mere gratification of their own individual egotism.
+
+If you reject all Supreme law, all Providential guidance, all aim, all
+obligation imposed by the belief in a mission towards humanity, you have
+no right to prescribe _your_ conception of _well-being_ to others, as
+worthier or better. You have no certain basis, no principle upon which
+to found a system of education; you have nothing left but force, if you
+are strong enough to impose it. Such was the method adopted by the
+French Revolutionists, and they, in their turn, succumbed to the force
+of others, without knowing in the name of what to protest. And you would
+have to do the same. Without God, you must either accept anarchy as the
+normal condition of things,--and this is impossible,--or you must seek
+your authority in the _force_ of this or that individual, and thus open
+the way to despotism and tyranny.
+
+But what then becomes of the idea of progress?--what of the conception
+we have lately gained from historic science of the gradual but
+infallible education of humanity,--of the link of _solidary_ ascending
+life which unites succeeding generations,--of the duty of sacrificing,
+if need be, the present generation to the elevation and morality of the
+generations of the future,--of the pre-eminence of the fatherland over
+individuals, and the certainty that their devotion and martyrdom will,
+in the fulness of time, advance the honor, greatness, or virtue of their
+nation?
+
+There are _materialists_, illogical and carried away by the impulses of
+a heart superior to their doctrines, who do both feel and act upon this
+worship of the ideal; but _materialism_ denies it. Materialism, as a
+doctrine, only recognizes in the universe a finite and determinate
+quantity of matter, gifted with a definite number of properties, and
+susceptible of modification, but not of progress; in which certain
+productive forces act by the fortuitous agglomeration of circumstances
+not to be predicated or foreseen; or through the necessary succession of
+causes and effects,--of events inevitable and independent of all human
+action.
+
+Materialism admits neither the intervention of any creative
+intelligence, Divine initiative, nor human free-will; by denying the
+law-giving Intellect, it denies all intelligent Providential law; and
+the philosophy of the squirrel in its cage, which men term _Pantheism_
+at the present day, by confounding the _subject_ and the _object_ in
+one, cancels alike the _Ego_ and non-_Ego_, good and evil, God and man,
+and, consequently, all individual mission or free-will. The wretched
+doctrine, recognizing no higher historic formula than the necessary
+alternation of vicissitudes, condemns humanity to tread eternally the
+same circle, being incapable of comprehending the conception of the
+spiral path of indefinite progress upon which humanity traces its
+gradual ascent towards an ideal beyond.
+
+Strange contradiction! Men whose aim it is to combat the practice of
+egotism instilled into the Italian people by tyranny, to inspire them
+with a sacred devotion to the fatherland, and make of them a great
+nation, the artificer of the progress of humanity, present as the first
+intellectual food of this people now awakening to new life, whose whole
+strength lies in their good instincts and virginity of intellect, a
+theory the ultimate consequences of which are to establish egotism upon
+a basis of right!
+
+They call upon their people worthily to carry on the grand traditions of
+their past, when all around them--popes, princes, military leaders,
+_literati_, and the servile herd--have either insolently trampled
+liberty under foot, or deserted its cause in cowardly indifference; and
+they preach to them a doctrine which deprives them of every pledge of
+future progress, every stimulus to affection, every noble aspiration
+towards sacrifice,--they take from them the faith that inspires
+confidence in victory, and renders even the defeat of to-day fruitful of
+triumph on the morrow. The same men who urge upon them the duty of
+shedding their blood for an idea begin by declaring to them: _There is
+no hope of any future for you. Faith in immortality--the lesson
+transmitted to you by all past humanity--is a falsehood; a breath of
+air, or trifling want of equilibrium in the animal functions, destroys
+you wholly and forever. There is even no certainty that the results of
+your labors will endure; there is no Providential law or design,
+consequently no possible theory of the future; you are but building up
+to-day what any unforeseen fact, blind force, or fortuitous circumstance
+may overthrow to-morrow._
+
+They teach these brothers of theirs, whom they desire to elevate and
+ennoble, that they are but dust,--a necessary, unconscious secretion of
+I know not what material substance; that the _thought_ of a Kepler or
+Dante is _dust_, or rather _phosphorus_; that genius, from Prometheus to
+Jesus, brought down no divine spark from heaven; that the _moral law_,
+free-will, merit, and the consequent progress of the _Ego_, are
+illusions; that events are successively our masters,--inexorable,
+irresponsible, and insuperable to human will.
+
+And they see not that they thus confirm that servile submission to the
+_accomplished fact_, that doctrine of _opportunity_, that bastard
+Machiavellism, that worship of temporary interests, and that
+indifference to every great idea, which find expression in our country
+at the present day in the betrayal of national duty by our higher
+classes, and in the stupid resignation of our masses.
+
+
+IV.
+
+I invoke the rising--and I should die consoled, even in exile, could I
+see the first signs of its advent, but this I dare not hope--I invoke
+the rising of a truly Italian school;--a school which, comprehending the
+causes of the downfall of the Papacy, and the impotence of the merely
+negative doctrine which our Italian youth have borrowed from superficial
+French materialists and the German copyists, should elevate itself above
+both, and come forward to announce the approaching and inevitable
+religious transformation which will put an end to the existing divorce
+between thought and action, and to the crisis of egotism and immorality
+through which Europe is passing.
+
+I invoke the rising of a school destined to prepare the way for the
+_initiative_ of Italy;--which shall, on the one side, undertake the
+examination of the dogma upon which Catholicism was founded, and prove
+it to be worn out, exhausted, and in contradiction to our new conception
+of life and its laws; and, on the other hand, the refutation of
+materialism under whatsoever form it may present itself, and prove that
+it also is in contradiction of that new conception,--that it is a
+stupid, fatal negation of all moral law, of human free-will, of our
+every sacred hope, and of the calm and constant virtue of sacrifice.
+
+I invoke a school which shall philosophically develop all the
+consequences, the germ of which--neglected or ignored by superficial
+intellects--is contained in the word Progress considered as a new _term_
+in the great historical synthesis, the expression of the ascending
+advance of humanity from epoch to epoch, from religion to religion,
+towards a vaster conception of its own _aim_ and its own law.
+
+I invoke the rising of a school destined to demonstrate to the youth of
+Italy that _rationalism_ is but an _instrument_,--the instrument adopted
+in all periods of transition by the human intellect to aid its progress
+from a worn-out form of religion to one new and superior,--and science
+only an accumulation of materials to be arranged and organized in
+fruitful synthesis by a new moral conception;--a school that will recall
+philosophy from this puerile confusion of the _means_ with the _aim_, to
+bring it back to its sole true basis, the knowledge of life and
+comprehension of its law.
+
+I invoke a school which will seek the truth of the epoch, not in mere
+analysis,--always barren and certain to mislead, if undirected by a
+ruling principle,--but in an earnest study of universal tradition, which
+is the manifestation of the collective life of humanity; and of
+conscience, which is the manifestation of the life of the individual.
+
+I invoke a school which shall redeem from the neglect cast upon it by
+theories deduced from one of our human faculties alone that _intuition_
+which is the concentration of all the faculties upon a given subject;--a
+school which, even while declaring it exhausted, will respect the
+_past_, without which the _future_ would be impossible,--which will
+protest against those intellectual barbarians for whom every religion is
+falsehood, every form of civilization now extinct a folly, every great
+pope, king, or warrior now in the course of things surpassed a criminal
+or a hypocrite, and revoke the condemnation, thus uttered by presumption
+in the present, of the past labors and intellect of entire humanity;--a
+school which may condemn, but will not defame,--will judge, but never,
+through frenzy of rebellion, falsify history;--a school which will
+declare the death that _is_, without denying the life that _was_,--which
+will call upon Italy to emancipate herself for the achievement of new
+glories, but strip not a single leaf from her wreath of glories past.
+
+Such a school would regain for Italy her European initiative, her
+primacy.
+
+Italy--as I have said--is a religion.
+
+Some have affirmed this of France. They were mistaken. France--if we
+except the single moment when the Revolution and Napoleon summed up the
+achievements of the epoch of _individuality_--has never had any external
+mission, other than, occasionally, as an arm of the Church, the
+_instrument_ of an idea emanating from Papal Rome.
+
+But the mission of Italy in the world was at all times religious, and
+the essential character of Italian genius was at all times religious.
+
+The essence of every religion lies in a power, unknown to mere science,
+of compelling man to reduce thought to action, and harmonize his
+practical life with his moral conception. The genius of our nation,
+whenever it has been spontaneously revealed, and exercised independently
+of all foreign inspiration, has always evinced the religious character,
+the unifying power to which I allude. Every conception of the Italian
+mind sought its incarnation in action,--strove to assume a form in the
+political sphere. The ideal and the real, elsewhere divided, have always
+tended to be united in our land. Sabines and Etruscans alike derived
+their civil organization and way of life from their conception of
+Heaven. The Pythagoreans founded their philosophy, religious
+associations, and political institutions at one and the same time. The
+source of the vitality and power of Rome lay in a religious sense of a
+collective mission, of an _aim_ to be achieved, in the contemplation of
+which the individual was submerged. Our democratic republics were all
+religious. Our early philosophical thinkers were all tormented by the
+idea of translating their ideal conceptions into practical rules of
+government.
+
+And as to our external mission.
+
+We alone have twice given _moral_ unity to Europe, to the known world.
+The voice that issued from Rome in the past was addressed to and
+reverenced by humanity,--"Urbs Orbi."
+
+Italy is a religion. And when, in my earliest years, I believed that
+the _initiative_ of the third life of Europe would spring from the
+heart, the action, the enthusiasm and sacrifice of our people, I heard
+within me the grand voice of Rome sounding once again, hailed and
+accepted with loving reverence by the peoples, and telling of moral
+unity and fraternity in a faith common to all humanity. It was not the
+unity of the past,--which, though sacred and conducive to civilization
+for many centuries, did but emancipate _individual_ man, and reveal to
+him an ideal of liberty and equality only to be realized in Heaven: it
+was a new unity, emancipating _collective_ humanity, and revealing the
+formula of Association, through which liberty and equality are destined
+to be realized here on earth; sanctifying the earth and rendering it
+what God wills it should be,--a stage upon the path of perfection, a
+means given to man wherewith to deserve a higher and nobler existence
+hereafter.
+
+And I saw Rome, in the name of God and Republican Italy, substituting a
+declaration of PRINCIPLES for the barren declaration of
+rights,--principles the logical consequences of the parent idea,
+PROGRESS,--and revealing to the nations a common aim, and the basis of a
+new religion. And I saw Europe, weary of scepticism, egotism, and moral
+anarchy, receive the new faith with acclamations. I saw a new pact
+founded upon that faith,--a pact of united action in the work of human
+perfectibility, involving none of the evils or dangers of the former
+pact, because among the first consequences of a faith founded upon the
+dogma of progress would be the justification of _heresy_, as either a
+promise or endeavor after progress in the future.
+
+The vision which brightened my first dream of country has vanished, so
+far as concerns my own life. Even if that vision be ever fulfilled,--as
+I believe it will be,--I shall be in the tomb. May the young, as yet
+uncorrupted by scepticism, prepare the way for its realization; and may
+they, in the name of our national tradition and the future, unceasingly
+protest against all who seek to immobilize human life in the name of a
+dogma extinct, or to degrade it by diverting it from the eternal worship
+of the Ideal.
+
+The religious question is pre-eminent over every other at the present
+day, and the moral question is indissolubly linked with it. We are bound
+either to solve these, or renounce all idea of an Italian mission in the
+world.
+
+                      JOSEPH MAZZINI.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote D: This sacred word, which sums up the dogma of the future,
+has been uttered by every school, but misunderstood by the majority.
+Materialists have usurped the use of it, to express man's
+ever-increasing power over the productive forces of the earth; and men
+of science, to indicate that accumulation of _facts_ discovered and
+submitted to analysis which has led us to a better knowledge of
+secondary causes. Few understand it as the expression of a providential
+conception or design, inseparable from our human life and foundation of
+our moral law.]
+
+
+
+
+REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+
+_Miss Ravenel's Conversion from Secession to Loyalty._ By J. W. DE
+FORREST. New York: Harper and Brothers.
+
+The light, strong way in which our author goes forward in this story
+from the first, and does not leave difficulty to his readers, is
+pleasing to those accustomed to find an American novel a good deal like
+the now extinct American stage-coach whose passengers not only walked
+over bad pieces of road, but carried fence-rails on their shoulders to
+pry the vehicle out of the sloughs and miry places. It was partly the
+fault of the imperfect roads, no doubt, and it may be that our social
+ways have only just now settled into such a state as makes smooth going
+for the novelist; nevertheless, the old stage-coach was hard to travel
+in, and what with drafts upon one's good nature for assistance, it must
+be confessed that our novelists have been rather trying to their
+readers. It is well enough with us all while the road is good,--a study
+of individual character, a bit of landscape, a stretch of well-worn
+plot, gentle slopes of incident; but somewhere on the way the passengers
+are pretty sure to be asked to step out,--the ladies to walk on ahead,
+and the gentlemen to fetch fence-rails.
+
+Our author imagines a Southern loyalist and his daughter sojourning in
+New Boston, Barataria, during the first months of the war. Dr. Ravenel
+has escaped from New Orleans just before the Rebellion began, and has
+brought away with him the most sarcastic and humorous contempt and
+abhorrence of his late fellow-citizens, while his daughter, an ardent
+and charming little blonde Rebel, remembers Louisiana with longing and
+blind admiration. The Doctor, born in South Carolina, and living all his
+days among slaveholders and slavery, has not learned to love either; but
+Lillie differs from him so widely as to scream with joy when she hears
+of Bull Run. Naturally she cannot fall in love with Mr. Colburne, the
+young New Boston lawyer, who goes into the war conscientiously for his
+country's sake, and resolved for his own to make himself worthy and
+lovable in Lillie's blue eyes by destroying and desolating all that she
+holds dear. It requires her marriage with Colonel Carter--a Virginia
+gentleman, a good-natured drunkard and _roué_ and soldier of fortune on
+our side--to make her see Colburne's worth, as it requires some
+comparative study of New Orleans and New Boston, on her return to her
+own city, to make her love the North. Bereft of her husband by his own
+wicked weakness, and then widowed, she can at last wisely love and marry
+Colburne; and, cured of Secession by experiencing on her father's
+account the treatment received by Unionists in New Orleans, her
+conversion to loyalty is a question of time duly settled before the
+story ends.
+
+We sketch the plot without compunction, for these people of Mr. De
+Forrest's are so unlike characters in novels as to be like people in
+life, and none will wish the less to see them because he knows the
+outline of their history. Not only is the plot good and very well
+managed, but there is scarcely a feebly painted character or scene in
+the book. As to the style, it is so praiseworthy that we will not
+specifically censure occasional defects,--for the most part, slight
+turgidities notable chiefly from their contrast to the prevailing
+simplicity of the narrative.
+
+Our war has not only left us the burden of a tremendous national debt,
+but has laid upon our literature a charge under which it has hitherto
+staggered very lamely. Every author who deals in fiction feels it to be
+his duty to contribute towards the payment of the accumulated interest
+in the events of the war, by relating his work to them; and the heroes
+of young-lady writers in the magazines have been everywhere fighting the
+late campaigns over again, as young ladies would have fought them. We do
+not say that this is not well, but we suspect that Mr. De Forrest is the
+first to treat the war really and artistically. His campaigns do not try
+the reader's constitution, his battles are not bores. His soldiers are
+the soldiers we actually know,--the green wood of the volunteers, the
+warped stuff of men torn from civilization and cast suddenly into the
+barbarism of camps, the hard, dry, tough, true fibre of the veterans
+that came out of the struggle. There could hardly be a better type of
+the conscientious and patriotic soldier than Captain Colburne; and if
+Colonel Carter must not stand as type of the officers of the old army,
+he mast be acknowledged as true to the semi-civilization of the South.
+On the whole he is more entertaining than Colburne, as immoral people
+are apt to be to those who suffer nothing from them. "His contrasts of
+slanginess and gentility, his mingled audacity and _insouciance_ of
+character, and all the picturesque ins and outs of his moral
+architecture, so different from the severe plainness of the spiritual
+temples common in New Boston," do take the eye of peace-bred
+Northerners, though never their sympathy. Throughout, we admire, as the
+author intends, Carter's thorough and enthusiastic soldiership, and we
+perceive the ruins of a generous nature in his aristocratic Virginian
+pride, his Virginian profusion, his imperfect Virginian sense of honor.
+When he comes to be shot, fighting bravely at the head of his column,
+after having swindled his government, and half unwillingly done his
+worst to break his wife's heart, we feel that our side has lost a good
+soldier, but that the world is on the whole something better for our
+loss. The reader must go to the novel itself for a perfect conception of
+this character, and preferably to those dialogues in which Colonel
+Carter so freely takes part; for in his development of Carter, at least,
+Mr. De Forrest is mainly dramatic. Indeed, all the talk in the book is
+free and natural, and, even without the hard swearing which
+distinguishes the speech of some, it would be difficult to mistake one
+speaker for another, as often happens in novels.
+
+The character of Dr. Ravenel, though so simple, is treated in a manner
+invariably delightful and engaging. His native purity, amiability, and
+generosity, which a life-long contact with slavery could not taint; his
+cordial scorn of Southern ideas; his fine and flawless instinct of
+honor; his warm-hearted courtesy and gentleness, and his gayety and wit;
+his love of his daughter and of mineralogy; his courage, modesty, and
+humanity,--these are the traits which recur in the differing situations
+with constant pleasure to the reader.
+
+Miss Lillie Ravenel is as charming as her adored papa, and is never less
+nor more than a bright, lovable, good, constant, inconsequent woman. It
+is to her that the book owes its few scenes of tenderness and sentiment;
+but she is by no means the most prominent character in the novel, as the
+infelicitous title would imply, and she serves chiefly to bring into
+stronger relief the traits of Colonel Carter and Doctor Ravenel. The
+author seems not even to make so much study of her as of Mrs. Larue, a
+lady whose peculiar character is skilfully drawn, and who will be quite
+probable and explicable to any who have studied the traits of the noble
+Latin race, and a little puzzling to those acquainted only with people
+of Northern civilization. Yet in Mrs. Larue the author comes near making
+his failure. There is a little too much of her,--it is as if the wily
+enchantress had cast her glamour upon the author himself,--and there is
+too much anxiety that the nature of her intrigue with Carter shall not
+be misunderstood. Nevertheless, she bears that stamp of verity which
+marks all Mr. De Forrest's creations, and which commends to our
+forbearance rather more of the highly colored and strongly-flavored
+parlance of the camps than could otherwise have demanded reproduction in
+literature. The bold strokes with which such an amusing and heroic
+reprobate as Van Zandt and such a pitiful poltroon as Gazaway are
+painted, are no less admirable than the nice touches which portray the
+Governor of Barataria, and some phases of the aristocratic,
+conscientious, truthful, angular, professorial society of New Boston,
+with its young college beaux and old college belles, and its life pure,
+colorless, and cold to the eye as celery, yet full of rich and wholesome
+juices. It is the goodness of New Boston, and of New England, which,
+however unbeautiful, has elevated and saved our whole national
+character; and in his book there is sufficient evidence of our author's
+appreciation of this fact, as well as of sympathy only and always with
+what is brave and true in life.
+
+
+_A Journey to Ashango-Land: and further Penetration into Equatorial
+Africa._ By PAUL B. DU CHAILLU. With Maps and Illustrations. New York:
+D. Appleton & Co.
+
+Somewhere in the heart of the African continent, Mr. Du Chaillu, laying
+his head upon a rock, after a day of uncommon hardship, finds reason to
+lament the ungratefulness of the traveller's fate, which brings him,
+through perilous adventure and great suffering, to the incredulity and
+coldness of a public unable to receive his story with perfect faith. It
+is such a meditation as ought to reproach very keenly the sceptics who
+doubted Mr. Du Chaillu's first book; it certainly renews in the reader
+of the present work the satisfaction felt in the comparative
+reasonableness of the things narrated, and his consequent ability to put
+an unmurmuring trust in the author. Here, indeed, is very little of the
+gorilla whom we formerly knew: his ferocity is greatly abated; he only
+once beats his breast and roars; he does not twist gun-barrels; his
+domestic habits are much simplified; his appearance here is relatively
+as unimportant as Mr. Pendennis's in the "Newcomes"; he is a deposed
+hero; and Mr. Du Chaillu pushes on to Ashango-Land without him.
+Otherwise, moreover, the narrative is quite credible, and, so far,
+unattractive, though there is still enough of incident to hold the idle,
+and enough of information in the appendices concerning the
+characteristics of the African skulls collected by Du Chaillu, the
+geographical and astronomical observations made _en route_, and the
+linguistic peculiarities noted, to interest the scientific. The book is
+perhaps not a fortunate one for those who occupy a place between these
+classes of readers, and who are tempted to ask of Mr. Du Chaillu, Have
+you really four hundred and thirty-seven royal octavo pages of news to
+tell us of Equatorial Africa?
+
+Our traveller landed in West Africa in the autumn of 1863, and, after a
+short excursion in the coast country in search of the gorilla, he
+ascended the Fernand Vaz in a steamer seventy miles, to Goumbi, whence
+he proceeded by canoe to Obindji. Here, provided with a retinue of one
+hundred men of the Commi nation, his overland journey began, and led
+him through the hilly country of the Bakalai southeastwardly to the
+village of Olenda. From this point, before continuing his route, he
+visited the falls of the Samba Nagoshi, some fifty miles to the
+northward, and Adingo Village, twenty miles below Olenda. Starting anew
+after these excursions, he penetrated the continent, on a line
+deflecting a little south of east, as far as Mouaou Kombo, which is
+something more than two hundred miles from the sea.
+
+In first landing from his ship, Mr. Du Chaillu lost his astronomical
+instruments, and was obliged to wait in the coast country until a new
+supply could be obtained from England. Midway on his journey to Mouaou
+Kombo, his photographic apparatus was stolen, and the chemicals were, as
+he supposes, swallowed by the robbers, to some of whom their dishonest
+experiments in photography proved fatal. The traveller's means of
+usefulness were limited to observation of the general character of the
+country, some investigation of its vegetable and animal life, and study
+of the customs of its human inhabitants,--in none of which does he
+develop much variety or novelty.
+
+Nearly the whole route lay through hilly or mountainous country, for the
+most part thickly wooded and sparsely peopled. There was a very notable
+absence of all the larger African animals, and those encountered seemed
+to be as peaceful in their characters as their neighbors, the tribes of
+wild men. The nations through which Du Chaillu passed after leaving the
+Commi were the Ashira, the Ishogo, the Apono, and the Ashango, and none
+appears to have differed greatly from the others except in name. In
+habits they are all extremely alike, uniting a primitive simplicity of
+costume and architecture to highly sophisticated traits of lying and
+stealing. They are not warlike, and not very cruel, except in cases of
+witchcraft, which are extremely dealt with,--as, indeed, they used to be
+in New England. Fetichism is the only religion of these tribes, and they
+seem to believe firmly in no superior powers but those of evil. They are
+docile, however, and susceptible of control. Du Chaillu had the
+misfortune to spread the small-pox among them from some infected members
+of his train; and although all their superstitious fears were excited
+against him, the people were held in check by their principal men; and
+Du Chaillu met with no serious molestation until he reached Mouaou
+Kombo. Here he found the inhabitants comparatively hostile and
+distrustful, and in firing off a salute,--with the double purpose of
+intimidating them and restoring them to confidence,--one of his retinue
+accidentally shot two of the villagers. All hopes of friendly
+intercourse and of further progress were now at an end, and Du Chaillu
+began a rapid retreat, his men casting away in their flight his
+photographs, journals, and note-books, and hopelessly impairing the
+value of the possible narrative which he might survive to write.
+
+Such narrative as he has actually written, we have briefly sketched. Its
+fault is want of condensation and of graphic power, so that, although
+you must follow the traveller through his difficulties and dangers, it
+is quite as much by effort of sympathy as by reason of interest that you
+do so. For the paucity of result from all the labor and hardship
+undergone, the author--considering the losses of material he
+sustained--cannot be justly criticised; but certainly the bulk of his
+volume makes its meagre substance somewhat too apparent.
+
+
+_Liffith Lank, or Lunacy._ By C. H. WEBB. New York: Carleton.
+
+_St. Twel'mo, or the Cuneiform Cyclopedist of Chattanooga._ By C. H.
+WEBB. New York: C. H. Webb.
+
+In the first of these clever and successful burlesques, Mr. Webb has
+travestied rather the ideas than the manner of Mr. Reade; and one who
+turned to "Liffith Lank" from the wonderful parodies in "Punch's Prize
+Novelists," or those exquisitely finished pieces of mimicry, the
+"Condensed Novelists" of the Californian Harte, would feel its want of
+fidelity to the method and style of the author burlesqued. Yet the
+essential absurdities of "Griffith Gaunt" are most amusingly brought out
+in "Liffith Lank"; and as the little work makes the reader laugh at the
+great one, he has no right, perhaps, to ask more of it, or to complain
+that it trusts too much to the facile pun for its effects, which are
+oftener broad than poignant.
+
+Nevertheless, in spite of our logical content with "Liffith Lank," we
+are very glad to find "St. Twel'mo" much better, and we only doubt
+whether the game is worth the candle; but as the candle is Mr. Webb's,
+he can burn it, we suppose, upon whatever occasion he likes. He has here
+made a closer parody than in his first effort, and has lost nothing of
+the peculiar power with which he there satirized ideas. That quality of
+the Bronté sisters, of which Miss Evans of Mobile is one of the many
+American dilutions,--that quality by which any sort of masculine
+wickedness and brutality short of refusing ladies seats in horse-cars is
+made lovely and attractive to the well-read and well-bred of the
+sex,--is very pleasantly derided, while the tropical luxuriance of
+general information characteristic of "St. Elmo" is unsparingly
+ridiculed, with the help of frequent extracts from the novel itself.
+
+Mr. Webb appears in "St. Twel'mo" as both publisher and author, and,
+with a good feeling significant of very great changes in the literary
+world since a poet toasted Napoleon because he hanged a bookseller,
+dedicates his little work "To his best friend and nearest relative, the
+publisher."
+
+
+_The Literary Life of James K. Paulding._ Compiled by his Son, WILLIAM
+I. PAULDING. New York: Charles Scribner and Company.
+
+James K. Paulding was born in 1778 at Great-Nine Partners, in Dutchess
+County, New York, and nineteen years later came to the city of New York
+to fill a clerkship in a public office. His family was related to that
+of Washington Irving by marriage; he was himself united to Irving by
+literary sympathy and ambition, and the two young men now formed a
+friendship which endured through life. They published the Salmagundi
+papers together, and they always corresponded; but with Irving
+literature became all in all, and with Paulding a favorite relaxation
+from political life and a merely collateral pursuit. He wrote partisan
+satires and philippics, waxing ever more bitter against the party to
+which Irving belonged, and against England, where Irving was tasting the
+sweets of appreciation and success. He came to be Navy Agent at New York
+in 1823, and in 1838 President Van Buren made him his Secretary of the
+Navy. Three years later he retired from public life, and spent his
+remaining days in the tranquil and uneventful indulgence of his literary
+tastes.
+
+Dying in 1859, he had survived nearly all his readers, and the present
+memoir was required to remind many, and to inform more, of the existence
+of such works as "The Backwoodsman," a poem; the Salmagundi papers in a
+second series; "Koningsmarke, the Long Finne, a story of the New World,"
+in two volumes; "The Merry Tales of the Three Wise Men of Gotham,"
+satirizing Owen's theories of society, law, and science; "The New Mirror
+for Travellers, and Guide to the Springs," a satire of fashionable life
+in the days before ladies with seventy-five trunks were born; "Tales of
+the Good Woman," a collection of short stories; "A Life of Washington";
+"American Comedies"; "The Old Continental," and "The Puritan and his
+Daughter," historical novels; and innumerable political papers of a
+serious or a satirical sort. As it has been the purpose of the author of
+this memoir to let Paulding's life in great part develop itself from his
+letters, so it has also been his plan to spare comment on his father's
+literary labors, and to allow their character to be estimated by
+extracts from his poems, romances, and satires. From these we gather the
+idea of greater quantity than quality; of a poetical taste rather than
+poetic faculty; of a whimsical rather than a humorous or witty man.
+There is a very marked resemblance to Washington Irving's manner in the
+prose, which is inevitably, of course, less polished than that of the
+more purely literary man, and which is apt to be insipid and strained in
+greater degree in the same direction. It would not be just to say that
+Paulding's style was formed upon that of Irving; but both had given
+their days and nights to the virtuous poverty of the essayists of the
+last century; and while one grew into something fresher and more
+original by dint of long and constant literary effort, the other,
+writing only occasionally, remained an old-fashioned mannerist to the
+last. When he died, he passed out of a world in which Macaulay, Dickens,
+Thackeray, and Hawthorne had never lived. The last delicacy of touch is
+wanting in all his work, whether verse or prose; yet the reader, though
+unsatisfied, does not turn from it without respect. If it is
+second-rate, it is not tricksy; its dulness is not antic, but decorous
+and quiet; its dignity, while it bores, enforces a sort of reverence
+which we do not pay to the ineffectual fire-works of our own more
+pyrotechnic literary time.
+
+Of Paulding himself one thinks, after reading the present memoir, with
+much regard and some regret. He was a sturdy patriot and cordial
+democrat, but he seems not to have thought human slavery so very bad a
+thing. He is perceptibly opinionated, and would have carried things with
+a high hand, whether as one of the government or one of the governed. He
+was not swift to adopt new ideas, but he was thoroughly honest in his
+opposition to them. His somewhat exaggerated estimate of his own
+importance in the world of letters and of politics was one of those
+venial errors which time readily repairs.
+
+
+_History and General Description of New France._ By the Rev. P. F. X. DE
+CHARLEVOIX, S. J. Translated, with Notes, by JOHN GILMARY SHEA. New
+York: J. G. Shea. Vol. I.
+
+Charlevoix's "History of New France" is very well known to all who study
+American history in its sources. It is a well-written, scholarlike, and
+readable book, treating of a subject which the author perfectly
+understood, and of which he may be said to have been a part. Tried by
+the measure of his times, his research was thorough and tolerably exact.
+The work, in short, has always been justly regarded as a "standard," and
+very few later writers have thought it necessary to go beyond or behind
+it. Appended to it is a journal of the author's travels in America, in
+the form of a series of letters to the Duchesse de Lesdiguičres, full of
+interest, and a storehouse of trustworthy information.
+
+Charlevoix had been largely quoted and extensively read. Not to know
+him, indeed, was to be ignorant of some of the most memorable passages
+in the history of this continent; but, what is certainly remarkable, he
+had never found an English translator. At the time of the Old French
+War, when the public curiosity was strongly interested in everything
+relating to America, the journal appended to the history was "done into
+English" and eagerly read; but the history itself had remained to this
+time in the language in which it was originally written. This is not to
+be regretted, if it has been the occasion of giving us the truly
+admirable work which is the subject of this notice.
+
+The spirit and the manner in which Mr. Shea has entered upon his task
+are above all praise. It is with him a "labor of love." In these days of
+literary "jobs," when bad translating and careless editing are palmed
+off upon the amateurs of choice books in all the finery of broad margins
+and faultless typography, it is refreshing to meet with a book of which
+the mechanical excellence is fully equalled by the substantial value of
+its contents, and by the thorough, conscientious, and scholarlike
+character of the literary execution. The labor and the knowledge
+bestowed on this translation would have sufficed to produce an original
+history of high merit. Charlevoix rarely gives his authorities. Mr. Shea
+has more than supplied this deficiency. Not only has he traced out the
+sources of his author's statements and exhibited them in notes, but he
+has had recourse to sources of which Charlevoix knew nothing. He is thus
+enabled to substantiate, correct, or amplify the original narrative. He
+translates it, indeed, with literal precision, but, in his copious notes
+he sheds such a flood of new light upon it that this translation is of
+far more value to the student than the original work. Since Charlevoix's
+time, many documents, unknown to him, though bearing on his subject,
+have been discovered, and Mr. Shea has diligently availed himself of
+them. The tastes and studies of many years have made him familiar with
+this field of research, and prepared him to accomplish an undertaking
+which would otherwise have been impracticable.
+
+The first volume is illustrated by facsimiles of Charlevoix's maps,
+together with his portrait and those of Cartier and Menendez. It forms a
+large octavo of about three hundred pages, and as a specimen of the
+typographical art is scarcely to be surpassed. We learn that the second
+volume is about to appear.
+
+
+_The Comparative Geography of Palestine, and the Sinaitic Peninsula._ By
+CARL RITTER. Translated and adapted to the use of Biblical Students by
+WILLIAM L. GAGE. New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1866. 4 vols.
+
+American critics have found fault with Mr. Gage, as it seems to us
+somewhat too strongly, for certain features of this work. He has been
+blamed for adapting it "to the use of Biblical students," as though
+thereby he must necessarily tamper with scientific accuracy of
+statement,--for too much condensation, and for too little,--for omitting
+Ritter's maps,--and for certain incongruities of figures and
+measurement. It has also been said, that the book itself, being fifteen
+years old, is already antiquated, and that many recent works, not
+mentioned by Ritter, or at least not adequately used, have modified our
+knowledge of Palestine since his day. But, after all, these critics have
+ended by saying that the work is a good and useful one, and by awarding
+credit to Mr. Gage for his fidelity, industry, and accuracy in his part
+of the work. So that, perhaps, the fault-finding was thrown in only as a
+necessary part of the duty of the reviewer; for fault-finding is, _ex
+officio_, his expected function. A judge ought always to be seated above
+the criminal, and every author before his reviewer is only a culprit.
+The author may have given years to the study of the subject to which his
+reviewer has only given hours. But what of that? The position of the
+reviewer is to look down, and his tone must always be _de haut en bas_.
+
+We do not, ourselves, profess to know as much of the geography of
+Palestine as Professor Ritter, probably not as much as Mr. Gage. Were it
+not for the sharp-eyed critics, we should have wholly missed the
+important verification of the surface-level of Lake Huleh. We have in
+past years studied our "Palästina," by Von Raumer, and followed the
+careful Dr. Robinson with gratitude through his laborious researches.
+But we must confess that we are grateful for these volumes, even though
+they have no maps, and cannot but think it honorable in Mr. Gage to
+prefer to publish the book with none, rather than with poor ones. We see
+no harm in adapting the work to the use of Biblical students, by
+abridging of omitting the topics which have no bearing on the Bible
+history. No one else is obliged to purchase it, and the warning is given
+beforehand.
+
+These four volumes contain a vast amount of interesting and important
+matter concerning Sinai and Palestine. The journals of travellers of all
+times are laid under contribution, and you are allowed often to form
+your own judgments from the primitive narratives. You are like one
+sitting in a court and hearing a host of witnesses examined and
+cross-examined by able counsel, and then listening to the summing up of
+a learned judge. It is easy to see how much more vivid such descriptions
+must be than a dry _résumé_ without these accompanying _pičces
+justificatifs_.
+
+The first of the four volumes concerns the peninsula of Mount Sinai. It
+gives the history of all the travels in that region, and the chief works
+concerning it from the earliest time; the routes to Mount Sinai; the
+voyages of Hiram and Solomon through the Red Sea to India; an
+interesting discussion of the name Ophir; the different groups of
+mountains in this region; the Bedouin tribes of the peninsula, and of
+Arabia Petrća; and a full account of Petra, the monolithic city of Edom.
+
+The second volume begins with a comparative view of Syria, and a review
+of the authorities on the geography of Palestine. Then follows an
+account of the Land of Canaan and its inhabitants before the conquest by
+the Israelites, and of the tribes outside of Palestine who remained
+hostile to the Israelites. We next have an account of the great
+depression of the Jordan Valley, the river and its basin. Chapters on
+the sources of the Jordan, the Sea of Galilee, the caravan road to
+Damascus, and the river to the Dead Sea, and an account of the
+travellers who have surveyed the region, follow,--with an Appendix, in
+which is contained a discussion of the site of Capernaum, and Tobler's
+full list of works on Palestine.
+
+Vol. III. contains chapters on the Mouth of the Jordan; the Dead Sea;
+the Division among the Ten Tribes; an account of Judća, Samaria, and
+Galilee; the routes through the Land; and several scientific essays.
+
+Vol. IV. gives a full account of Jerusalem, ancient, medićval, and
+modern; a discussion of the holy places; an account of the inhabitants;
+the region around Jerusalem; the roads to and from the city; Samaria;
+and Galilee;--concluding with an index of subjects, and another of
+texts.
+
+On the whole, we must express our gratitude to Mr. Gage for his labor of
+love, in thus giving us the results of the studies of his friend and
+master on this important theme. Students of the Bible and of Syrian
+geography can nowhere else find the matters treated so fully and
+conscientiously and exhaustively discussed as here.
+
+As the principal objection made to the translation of Mr. Gage is that
+it omits Ritter's maps, it is proper to state that Professor Kiepert
+declared them to be worthless; that the publisher declined an offer to
+sell five hundred sets, lying on his hands, to the Clarks of Edinburgh,
+because he could not conscientiously recommend them. Inasmuch as good
+Bible maps of Palestine are to be had everywhere, and as Robinson's are
+sold by themselves in a little volume, the student does not seem to
+have much reason to complain.
+
+The past quarter of a century has not added much to our knowledge of
+Palestine. Stanley, Bonor, Stewart, Lynch, Tobler, Barclay, De Saulcy,
+Sepp, Tristam, Porter, Wetystein, the Duc de Luyner, and others, have
+travelled and written, but the mysteries remain mysteries still.
+
+
+_Memoirs and Correspondence of Madame Récamier._ Translated from the
+French and edited by ISAPHENE M. LUYSTER. Fourth Edition. Boston:
+Roberts Brothers.
+
+In an article contributed a year or two since to these pages, Miss
+Luyster sketched the career of the beautiful and good woman whose
+history is minutely recounted in the volume before us. It is a
+fascinating history, for Madame Récamier was altogether as anomalous as
+any creation of French fiction. Her marriage was such only in name; she
+lived pure, and with unblemished repute, in the most vicious and
+scandalous times; she inspired friendship by coquetry; her heart was
+never touched, though full of womanly tenderness; a leader of society
+and of fashion, she never ceased to be timid and diffident; she ruled
+witty and intellectual circles by the charm of the most unepigrammatic
+sweetness, the merest good-heartedness.
+
+The correspondence of Madame Récamier consists almost entirely of
+letters written to her; for this adored friend of literary men wrote
+seldom herself, and at her death even caused to be destroyed the greater
+part of the few notes she had made toward an autobiography. In the
+present Memoirs Madame Lenormant chiefly relies upon her own personal
+knowledge of Madame Récamier's life, and upon contemporary hearsay. It
+is a very interesting book, as we have it, though at times provokingly
+unsatisfactory, and at times inflated and silly in style. It is not only
+a history of Madame Récamier, but a sketch of French society, politics,
+and literature during very long and interesting periods.
+
+Miss Luyster has faithfully performed the ever-thankless task of
+translation; and, in preparing Madame Lenormant's work for the American
+public, has somewhat restrained the author's tendency to confusion and
+diffusion. Here and there, as editor, she has added slight but useful
+notes, and has accompanied the Memoirs with a very pleasantly written
+introduction, giving a skilful and independent analysis of Madame
+Récamier's character.
+
+
+_Old England: its Scenery, Art, and People._ By JAMES M. HOPPIN,
+Professor in Yale College. New York; Hurd and Houghton.
+
+"The 'Pavilion,' with its puerile domes and minarets, recalls the false
+and flimsy epoch of that semi-Oriental monarch, George IV. His statue by
+Chantrey stands upon a promenade called the 'Old Steine.' The house of
+Mrs. Thrale, where Doctor Johnson visited, is still standing. The
+atmosphere of Brighton is considered to be favorable for invalids in the
+winter-time, as well as the summer."
+
+In this haphazard way many of the various objects of interest in Old
+England are introduced to his reader by a New England writer, who
+possibly mistakes the disorder of a note-book for literary ease, or who
+possibly has little of the method of picturesqueness in him. In either
+case his reader returns from Old England with the impression that his
+travelling-companion is a sensible, honest observer, who, in forming a
+book out of very good material, has often builded, not better, but
+worse, than he knew. There is no want of graphic touches; there is
+enough of fine and poetic feeling; but there is no perspective, no
+atmosphere: much of Old England through this book affects one somewhat
+as a faithful Chinese drawing of the moon might.
+
+At other times Mr. Hoppin's treatment of his subject is sufficiently
+artistic, and he has seen some places and persons not worn quite
+threadbare by travel. He did not pay the national visit to Mr. Tennyson,
+although he had a letter of introduction; and of those people whose
+hospitality he did enjoy, he writes with great discretion and good
+taste. His sketch of the High Church clergyman at Land's End is a case
+in point, and it has an interest to Americans for the light it throws
+upon the present conflict of religious thought in England.
+
+Mr. Hoppin writes best of the less frequented parts of England,--of
+Land's End, and of Cornwall and Penzance; but he writes no more
+particularly of them than of the suburbs of London. The chapter on
+London art and the London pulpit is a curious _mélange_ of shrewd,
+original thoughts about pictures and of acceptations of critical
+authority, of sectarian belief and of worldly toleration, together with
+a certain immaturity of literary judgment and a characteristic tendency
+to incoherence. "Turner," he says, "did a great work, if it were only to
+have been the occasion of Ruskin's marvellous eloquence"; and of Dr.
+Cumming he writes, as if transcribing literally from his note-book: "His
+voice is rich, and mellow without being powerful. He is a tall man, with
+high, white forehead and white hair. It was difficult to find a seat,
+even upon the pulpit stairs. Dr. Cumming, as a graceful, yet not
+effeminate preacher, has good claims to his celebrity."
+
+It remains for us to praise the author's conscientious effort at all
+times to convey information, and his success in this effort. He has
+doubtless seen everything that is worth seeing in the country he has
+passed over; and if we cannot accept the whole of his book as
+literature, we have still the impression that we should find it one of
+the best and thoroughest of hand-books for travel in Old England.
+
+
+_Hymns._ By HARRIET MCEWEN KIMBALL, Boston: E. P. Dutton and Company.
+
+Religious emotion has asked very little of literary art; and if we are
+to let hymnology witness, it has received as little as it has asked in
+times past. To call upon Christ's name, to bless God for goodness and
+mercy, suffice it; and no form of words enabling it to do this seems to
+be found too feeble, or affected, or grotesque. For anything more, the
+inarticulate tones of music are as adequate to devotion as the sublimest
+formula that Milton or Dante could have shaped. It is only since
+religion has been so much philosophized, and has in so great degree
+ceased to be a passion, that we have begun to find the hymns which our
+forefathers sang with rapturous unconsciousness rather rubbishy
+literature. How blank, and void of all inspiration, they seem for the
+most part to be! Good men wrote them, but evidently in seasons of great
+mental depression. How commonplace is the language, how strained are the
+fancies, how weak the thoughts! Yet through these stops of lead and
+wood, the music of charity, love, repentance, aspiration, has poured
+from millions of humble hearts in sweetness that blessed and praised.
+
+With no thought probably of affecting the standard hymnnology were the
+hymns written in the little book before us. They are characterized by
+poetic purity of diction as well as tenderness of sentiment. They
+express, without freshness of intuition, the emotions and desires of a
+devoutly religious nature; and they commend themselves, like some of the
+best and earliest Christian hymns, by their realization of the Divine
+essence as something to be directly approached with filial and personal
+affection. Here is no burst of fervid devotion, but rather a quiet love,
+breathing contrition, faith, and praise in poems of gentle earnestness,
+which even the reader not imbued with the element of their inspiration
+may find graceful and pleasing.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No.
+117, July, 1867., by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 18914-8.txt or 18914-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/1/18914/
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+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
+http://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 http://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
+http://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 http://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 http://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 checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is 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:
+
+     http://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.
diff --git a/18914-8.zip b/18914-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..82fdb6a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/18914-8.zip
diff --git a/18914-h.zip b/18914-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b2c7c09
--- /dev/null
+++ b/18914-h.zip
diff --git a/18914-h/18914-h.htm b/18914-h/18914-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3584e9a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/18914-h/18914-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,9282 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No. 117, July 1867.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    p {  margin-top: .75em;
+         text-align: justify;
+         margin-bottom: .75em;
+         }
+    h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {
+         text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
+         clear: both;
+         }
+    hr { width: 33%;
+	 margin-top: 2em;
+	 margin-bottom: 2em;
+         margin-left: auto;
+         margin-right: auto;
+         clear: both;
+       }
+
+    table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;}
+
+    body{margin-left: 10%;
+         margin-right: 10%;
+        }
+
+    .pagenum  { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */
+            /*  visibility: hidden;  */
+                position: absolute;
+                left: 92%;
+                font-size: smaller;
+                text-align: right;
+              } /* page numbers */
+
+    .linenum  {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */
+    .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em;
+               padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em;
+               float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em;
+               font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;}
+
+    .bb       {border-bottom: solid 2px;}
+    .bl       {border-left: solid 2px;}
+    .bt       {border-top: solid 2px;}
+    .br       {border-right: solid 2px;}
+    .bbox     {border: solid 2px;}
+
+    .center   {text-align: center;}
+    .smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+    .u        {text-decoration: underline;}
+
+    .caption  {font-weight: bold;}
+
+    .figcenter   {margin: auto; text-align: center;}
+
+    .figleft     {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top:
+                 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;}
+
+    .figright    {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;
+                 margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;}
+
+    .footnotes        {border: dashed 1px;}
+    .footnote         {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;}
+    .footnote .label  {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;}
+    .fnanchor         {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;}
+
+    .poem             {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;}
+    .poem br          {display: none;}
+    .poem .stanza     {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+    .poem span.i0     {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i2     {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i4     {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i8     {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    // -->
+    /* XML end  ]]>*/
+    </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No. 117,
+July, 1867., by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No. 117, July, 1867.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: July 26, 2006 [EBook #18914]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<h4>THE</h4>
+<h1>ATLANTIC MONTHLY.</h1>
+
+
+<h4>A MAGAZINE OF</h4>
+
+<h2><i>Literature, Science, Art, and Politics.</i></h2>
+
+<h3>VOLUME XX.</h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/image001.jpg" width="150" height="137" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h3>BOSTON: TICKNOR AND FIELDS, 124 <span class="smcap">Tremont Street.</span></h3>
+
+<h4>1867.</h4>
+
+
+<p>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by</p>
+
+<p>TICKNOR AND FIELDS,</p>
+
+<p>in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
+Massachusetts.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">University Press: Welch, Bigelow, &amp; Co., Cambridge.</span></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Transcriber's note: Minor typos have been corrected. Footnotes have been
+moved to the end of the article.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Page</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Artist's Dream, An</td><td align='left'><i>T. W. Higginson</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#AN_ARTISTS_DREAM">100</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Autobiography of a Quack, The. I., II.</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>466, 586</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bornoo, A Native of</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>485</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bowery at Night, The</td><td align='left'><i>Charles Dawson Shanly</i></td><td align='left'>602</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>By-Ways of Europe. From Perpignan to Montserrat.</td><td align='left'><i>Bayard Taylor</i></td><td align='left'>495</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A Visit to the Balearic Islands. I.</td><td align='left'><i>Bayard Taylor</i></td><td align='left'>680</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Busy Brains</td><td align='left'><i>Austin Abbott</i></td><td align='left'>570</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Canadian Woods and Waters</td><td align='left'><i>Charles Dawson Shanly</i></td><td align='left'>311</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Cincinnati</td><td align='left'><i>James Parton</i></td><td align='left'>229</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Conspiracy at Washington, The</td><td align='left'>633</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Cretan Days</td><td align='left'><i>Wm. J. Stillman</i></td><td align='left'>533</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dinner Speaking</td><td align='left'><i>Edward Everett Hale</i></td><td align='left'>507</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Doctor Molke</td><td align='left'><i>Dr. I. I. Hayes</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#DOCTOR_MOLKE">43</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Edisto, Up the</td><td align='left'><i>T. W. Higginson</i></td><td align='left'>157</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Foster, Stephen C., and Negro Minstrelsy</td><td align='left'><i>Robert P. Nevin</i></td><td align='left'>608</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Fugitives from Labor</td><td align='left'><i>F. Sheldon</i></td><td align='left'>370</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Grandmother's Story: The Great Snow</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>716</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Gray Goth, In the</td><td align='left'><i>Miss E. Stuart Phelps</i></td><td align='left'>559</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Great Public Character, A</td><td align='left'><i>James Russell Lowell</i></td><td align='left'>618</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Growth, Limitations, and Toleration of Shakespeare's Genius</td><td align='left'><i>E. P. Whipple</i></td><td align='left'>178</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Guardian Angel, The. VII., VIII., IX., X., XI., XII.</td><td align='left'><i>Oliver Wendell Holmes</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#THE_GUARDIAN_ANGEL">1</a>, 129, 257, 385, 513, 641</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hospital Memories. I., II.</td><td align='left'><i>Miss Eudora Clark</i></td><td align='left'>144, 324</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>International Copyright</td><td align='left'><i>James Parton</i></td><td align='left'>430</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Jesuits in North America, The</td><td align='left'><i>George E. Ellis</i></td><td align='left'>362</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Jonson, Ben</td><td align='left'><i>E. P. Whipple</i></td><td align='left'>403</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Longfellow's Translation of Dante's Divina Commedia</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>188</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Liliput Province, A</td><td align='left'><i>W. Winwood Reade</i></td><td align='left'>247</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Literature as an Art</td><td align='left'><i>T. W. Higginson</i></td><td align='left'>745</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Little Land of Appenzell, The</td><td align='left'><i>Bayard Taylor</i></td><td align='left'>213</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Minor Elizabethan Dramatists</td><td align='left'><i>E. P. Whipple</i></td><td align='left'>692</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Minor Italian Travels</td><td align='left'><i>W. D. Howells</i></td><td align='left'>337</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mysterious Personage, A</td><td align='left'><i>John Neal</i></td><td align='left'>658</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Opinions of the late Dr. Nott, respecting Books, Studies and Orators</td><td align='left'><i>E. D. Sanborn</i></td><td align='left'>527</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Pacific Railroads, Our</td><td align='left'><i>J. K. Medbery</i></td><td align='left'>704</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Padua, At</td><td align='left'><i>W. D. Howells</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#AT_PADUA">25</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Passage from Hawthorne's English Note-Books, A</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'><a href="#A_PASSAGE_FROM_HAWTHORNES_ENGLISH_NOTEBOOKS">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Piano in the United States, The</td><td align='left'><i>James Parton</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#THE_PIANO_IN_THE_UNITED_STATES">82</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Poor Richard. II., III.</td><td align='left'><i>Henry James, Jr.</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#POOR_RICHARD">32</a>, 166</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Prophetic Voices about America. A Monograph</td><td align='left'><i>Charles Sumner</i></td><td align='left'>275</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Religious Side of the Italian Question, The</td><td align='left'><i>Joseph Mazzini</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#THE_RELIGIOUS_SIDE_OF_THE_ITALIAN_QUESTION">108</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Rose Rollins, The. I., II.</td><td align='left'><i>Alice Cary</i></td><td align='left'>420, 545</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sunshine and Petrarch</td><td align='left'><i>T. W. Higginson</i></td><td align='left'>307</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Struggle for Life, A</td><td align='left'><i>T. B. Aldrich</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#A_STRUGGLE_FOR_LIFE">56</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"The Lie"</td><td align='left'><i>C. J. Sprague</i></td><td align='left'>598</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Throne of the Golden Foot, The</td><td align='left'><i>J. W. Palmer</i></td><td align='left'>453</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>T. Adolphus Trollope, Writings of</td><td align='left'><i>H. T. Tuckerman</i></td><td align='left'>476</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Tour in the Dark, A</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>670</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Uncharitableness</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>415</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Visit to Sybaris, My</td><td align='left'><i>Edward Everett Hale</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#MY_VISIT_TO_SYBARIS">63</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Week's Riding, A</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>200</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>What we Feel</td><td align='left'><i>C. J. Sprague</i></td><td align='left'>740</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Wife by Wager, A</td><td align='left'><i>E. H. House</i></td><td align='left'>350</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Workers in Silver, Among the</td><td align='left'><i>James Parton</i></td><td align='left'>729</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Young Desperado, A</td><td align='left'><i>T. B. Aldrich</i></td><td align='left'>755</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Poetry.</span></h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Are the Children at Home?</td><td align='left'><i>Mrs. M. E. M. Sangster</i></td><td align='left'> 557</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Autumn Song, An</td><td align='left'><i>Edgar Fawcett</i></td><td align='left'>679</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Blue and the Gray, The</td><td align='left'><i>F. M. Finch</i></td><td align='left'>369</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Chanson without Music</td><td align='left'><i>Oliver Wendell Holmes</i></td><td align='left'>543</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dirge for a Sailor</td><td align='left'><i>George H. Boker</i></td><td align='left'>157</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ember-Picture, An</td><td align='left'><i>James Russell Lowell</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#AN_EMBER-PICTURE">99</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Feast of Harvest, The</td><td align='left'><i>E. C. Stedman</i></td><td align='left'>616</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Flight of the Goddess, The</td><td align='left'><i>T. B. Aldrich</i></td><td align='left'>452</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Freedom in Brazil</td><td align='left'><i>John G. Whittier</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#FREEDOM_IN_BRAZIL">62</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lost Genius, The</td><td align='left'><i>J. J. Piatt</i></td><td align='left'>228</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mona's Mother</td><td align='left'><i>Alice Cary</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#MONAS_MOTHER">22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mystery of Nature, The</td><td align='left'><i>Theodore Tilton</i></td><td align='left'>349</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Nightingale in the Study, The</td><td align='left'><i>James Russell Lowell</i></td><td align='left'>323</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sonnet</td><td align='left'><i>George H. Boker</i></td><td align='left'>744</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Themistocles</td><td align='left'><i>William Everett</i></td><td align='left'>398</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Old Story</td><td align='left'><i>Alice Cary</i></td><td align='left'>199</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Toujours Amour</td><td align='left'><i>E. C. Stedman</i></td><td align='left'>728</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<h3><span class="smcap">Reviews and Literary Notices.</span></h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Browne's Land of Thor</td><td align='left'>256</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Charlevoix's History of New France</td><td align='left'><a href="#History_and_General_Description_of_New_France">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Codman's Ten Months in Brazil</td><td align='left'>383</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Cozzens's Sayings of Doctor Bushwhacker and other Learned Men</td><td align='left'>512</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Critical and Social Essays, from the New York "Nation"</td><td align='left'>384</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dall's (Mrs.) The College, the Market, and the Court</td><td align='left'>255</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Du Chaillu's Journey to Ashango-Land</td><td align='left'><a href="#A_Journey_to_Ashango-Land">122</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Emerson's May-Day and Other Pieces</td><td align='left'>376</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Half-Tints</td><td align='left'>256</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Holland's Kathrina</td><td align='left'>762</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hoppin's Old England</td><td align='left'><a href="#Old_England">127</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Hymns by Harriet McEwen Kimball</td><td align='left'><a href="#Hymns">128</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Jean Ingelow's Story of Doom, and other Poems</td><td align='left'>383</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lea's Historical Sketch of Sacerdotal Celibacy in the Christian Church</td><td align='left'>378</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Literary Life of James K. Paulding, The</td><td align='left'><a href="#The_Literary_Life_of_James_K_Paulding">124</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Memoirs and Correspondence of Madame R&eacute;camier</td><td align='left'><a href="#Memoirs_and_Correspondence_of_Madame_Reacutecamier">127</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Miss Ravenel's Conversion from Secession to Loyalty</td><td align='left'><a href="#Miss_Ravenels">120</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Morris's Life and Death of Jason</td><td align='left'>640</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Morse on the Poem "Rock me to Sleep, Mother"</td><td align='left'>252</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Norton's Translation of The New Life of Dante</td><td align='left'>638</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Parsons's Deus Homo</td><td align='left'>512</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Parsons's Translation of the Inferno</td><td align='left'>759</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Paulding's The Bulls and the Jonathans</td><td align='left'>639</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Purnell's Literature and its Professors</td><td align='left'>254</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Richmond during the War</td><td align='left'>762</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ritter's Comparative Geography of Palestine</td><td align='left'><a href="#The_Comparative_Geography_of_Palestine">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Samuels's Ornithology and O&ouml;logy of New England</td><td align='left'>761</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Thackeray's Early and Late Papers</td><td align='left'>252</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Tomes's Champagne Country</td><td align='left'>511</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Webb's Liffith Lank, or Lunacy, and St. Twel'mo</td><td align='left'><a href="#Liffith_Lank_or_Lunacy">123</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h4>THE</h4>
+
+<h2>ATLANTIC MONTHLY.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics.</i></h3>
+
+<h4>VOL. XX.&mdash;JULY, 1867.&mdash;NO. CXVII.</h4>
+
+<p>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by <span class="smcap">Ticknor
+and Fields</span>, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the
+District of Massachusetts.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_GUARDIAN_ANGEL" id="THE_GUARDIAN_ANGEL"></a>THE GUARDIAN ANGEL.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3>
+
+<h3>SUSAN'S YOUNG MAN.</h3>
+
+<p>There seems no reasonable doubt that Myrtle Hazard might have made a
+safe thing of it with Gifted Hopkins, (if so inclined,) provided that
+she had only been secured against interference. But the constant habit
+of reading his verses to Susan Posey was not without its risk to so
+excitable a nature as that of the young poet. Poets always were capable
+of divided affections, and Cowley's "Chronicle" is a confession that
+would fit the whole tribe of them. It is true that Gifted had no right
+to regard Susan's heart as open to the wiles of any new-comer. He knew
+that she considered herself, and was considered by another, as pledged
+and plighted. Yet she was such a devoted listener, her sympathies were
+so easily roused, her blue eyes glistened so tenderly at the least
+poetical hint, such as "Never, O never," "My aching heart," "Go, let me
+weep,"&mdash;any of those touching phrases out of the long catalogue which
+readily suggests itself,&mdash;that her influence was getting to be such that
+Myrtle (if really anxious to secure him) might look upon it with
+apprehension, and the owner of Susan's heart (if of a jealous
+disposition) might have thought it worth while to make a visit to Oxbow
+Village to see after his property.</p>
+
+<p>It may seem not impossible that some friend had suggested as much as
+this to the young lady's lover. The caution would have been unnecessary,
+or at least premature. Susan was loyal as ever to her absent friend.
+Gifted Hopkins had never yet presumed upon the familiar relations
+existing between them to attempt to shake her allegiance. It is quite as
+likely, after all, that the young gentleman about to make his appearance
+in Oxbow Village visited the place of his own accord, without a hint
+from anybody. But the fact concerns us more than the reason of it, just
+now.</p>
+
+<p>"Who do you think is coming, Mr. Gridley? Who <i>do</i> you think is coming?"
+said Susan Posey, her face covered with a carnation such as the first
+season may see in a city belle, but not the second.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Susan Posey, I suppose I must guess, though I am rather slow at
+that business. Perhaps the Governor. No, I don't think it can be the
+Governor, for you wouldn't look so happy if it was only his Excellency.
+It must be the President, Susan Posey,&mdash;President James Buchanan.
+Haven't I guessed right, now, tell me, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"O Mr. Gridley, you are too bad,&mdash;what do I care for governors and
+presidents? I know somebody that's worth fifty million thousand
+presidents,&mdash;and <i>he</i>'s coming,&mdash;my Clement is coming," said Susan, who
+had by this time learned to consider the awful Byles Gridley as her next
+friend and faithful counsellor.</p>
+
+<p>Susan could not stay long in the house after she got her note informing
+her that her friend was soon to be with her. Everybody told everything
+to Olive Eveleth, and Susan must run over to the Parsonage to tell her
+that there was a young gentleman coming to Oxbow Village; upon which
+Olive asked who it was, exactly as if she did not know; whereupon Susan
+dropped her eyes and said, "Clement,&mdash;I mean Mr. Lindsay."</p>
+
+<p>That was a fair piece of news now, and Olive had her bonnet on five
+minutes after Susan was gone, and was on her way to Bathsheba's,&mdash;it was
+too bad that the poor girl who lived so out of the world shouldn't know
+anything of what was going on in it. Bathsheba had been in all the
+morning, and the Doctor had said she must take the air every day; so
+Bathsheba had on <i>her</i> bonnet a little after Olive had gone, and walked
+straight up to The Poplars to tell Myrtle Hazard that a certain young
+gentleman, Clement Lindsay, was coming to Oxbow Village.</p>
+
+<p>It was perhaps fortunate that there was no special significance to
+Myrtle in the name of Clement Lindsay. Since the adventure which had
+brought these two young persons together, and, after coming so near a
+disaster, had ended in a mere humiliation and disappointment, and but
+for Master Gridley's discreet kindness might have led to foolish
+scandal, Myrtle had never referred to it in any way. Nobody really knew
+what her plans had been except Olive and Cyprian, who had observed a
+very kind silence about the whole matter. The common version of the
+story was harmless, and near enough to the truth,&mdash;down the river,&mdash;boat
+upset,&mdash;pulled out,&mdash;taken care of by some women in a house farther
+down,&mdash;sick, brain fever,&mdash;pretty near it, anyhow,&mdash;old Dr. Hurlbut
+called in,&mdash;had her hair cut,&mdash;hystericky, etc., etc.</p>
+
+<p>Myrtle was contented with this statement, and asked no questions, and it
+was a perfectly understood thing that nobody alluded to the subject in
+her presence. It followed from all this that the name of Clement Lindsay
+had no peculiar meaning for her. Nor was she like to recognize him as
+the youth in whose company she had gone through her mortal peril, for
+all her recollections were confused and dream-like from the moment when
+she awoke and found herself in the foaming rapids just above the fall,
+until that when her senses returned, and she saw Master Byles Gridley
+standing over her with that look of tenderness in his square features
+which had lingered in her recollection, and made her feel towards him as
+if she were his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Now this had its advantage; for as Clement was Susan's young man, and
+had been so for two or three years, it would have been a great pity to
+have any such curious relations established between him and Myrtle
+Hazard as a consciousness on both sides of what had happened would
+naturally suggest.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this Clement Lindsay, Bathsheba?" Myrtle asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Myrtle, don't you remember about Susan Posey's is-to-be,&mdash;the
+young man that has been&mdash;well, I don't know, but I suppose engaged to
+her ever since they were children almost?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I remember now. O dear! I have forgotten so many things I
+should think I had been dead and was coming back to life again. Do you
+know anything about him, Bathsheba? Didn't somebody say he was very
+handsome? I wonder if he is really in love with Susan Posey. Such a
+simple thing! I want to see him. I have seen so few young men."</p>
+
+<p>As Myrtle said these words, she lifted the sleeve a little on her left
+arm, by a half-instinctive and half-voluntary movement. The glimmering
+gold of Judith Pride's bracelet flashed out the yellow gleam which has
+been the reddening of so many hands and the blackening of so many souls
+since that innocent sin-breeder was first picked up in the land of
+Havilah. There came a sudden light into her eye, such as Bathsheba had
+never seen there before. It looked to her as if Myrtle were saying
+unconsciously to herself that she had the power of beauty, and would
+like to try its influence on the handsome young man whom she was soon to
+meet, even at the risk of unseating poor little Susan in his affections.
+This pained the gentle and humble-minded girl, who, without having
+tasted the world's pleasures, had meekly consecrated herself to the
+lowly duties which lay nearest to her. For Bathsheba's phrasing of life
+was in the monosyllables of a rigid faith. Her conceptions of the human
+soul were all simplicity and purity, but elementary. She could not
+conceive the vast license the creative energy allows itself in mingling
+the instincts which, after long conflict, may come into harmonious
+adjustment. The flash which Myrtle's eye had caught from the gleam of
+the golden bracelet filled Bathsheba with a sudden fear that she was
+like to be led away by the vanities of that world lying in wickedness of
+which the minister's daughter had heard so much and seen so little.</p>
+
+<p>Not that Bathsheba made any fine moral speeches to herself. She only
+felt a slight shock, such as a word or a look from one we love too often
+gives us,&mdash;such as a child's trivial gesture or movement makes a parent
+feel,&mdash;that impalpable something which in the slightest possible
+inflection of a syllable or gradation of a tone will sometimes leave a
+sting behind it, even in a trusting heart. This was all. But it was
+true that what she saw meant a great deal. It meant the dawning in
+Myrtle Hazard of one of her as yet unlived <i>secondary lives</i>.
+Bathsheba's virgin perceptions had caught a faint early ray of its
+glimmering twilight.</p>
+
+<p>She answered, after a very slight pause, which this explanation has made
+seem so long, that she had never seen the young gentleman, and that she
+did not know about Susan's sentiments. Only, as they had kept so long to
+each other, she supposed there must be love between them.</p>
+
+<p>Myrtle fell into a revery, with certain <i>tableaux</i> glowing along its
+perspectives which poor little Susan Posey would have shivered to look
+upon, if they could have been transferred from the purple clouds of
+Myrtle's imagination to the pale silvery mists of Susan's pretty
+fancies. She sat in her day-dream long after Bathsheba had left her, her
+eyes fixed, not on the faded portrait of her beautiful ancestress, but
+on that other canvas where the dead Beauty seemed to live in all the
+splendors of her full-blown womanhood.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The young man whose name had set her thoughts roving <i>was</i> handsome, as
+the glance at him already given might have foreshadowed. But his
+features had a graver impress than his age seemed to account for, and
+the sober tone of his letter to Susan implied that something had given
+him a maturity beyond his years. The story was not an uncommon one. At
+sixteen he had dreamed&mdash;and told his dream. At eighteen he had awoke,
+and found, as he believed, that a young heart had grown to his so that
+its life was dependent on his own. Whether it would have perished if its
+filaments had been gently disentangled from the object to which they had
+attached themselves, experienced judges of such matters may perhaps
+question. To justify Clement in his estimate of the danger of such an
+experiment, we must remember that to young people in their teens a first
+passion is a portentous and unprecedented phenomenon. The young man may
+have been mistaken in thinking that Susan would die if he left her, and
+may have done more than his duty in sacrificing himself; but if so, it
+was the mistake of a generous youth, who estimated the depth of
+another's feelings by his own. He measured the depth of his own rather
+by what he felt they might be, than by that of any abysses they had yet
+sounded.</p>
+
+<p>Clement was called a "genius" by those who knew him, and was
+consequently in danger of being spoiled early. The risk is great enough
+anywhere, but greatest in a new country, where there is an almost
+universal want of fixed standards of excellence.</p>
+
+<p>He was by nature an artist; a shaper with the pencil or the chisel, a
+planner, a contriver capable of turning his hand to almost any work of
+eye and hand. It would not have been strange if he thought he could do
+everything, having gifts which were capable of various application,&mdash;and
+being an American citizen. But though he was a good draughtsman, and had
+made some reliefs and modelled some figures, he called himself only an
+architect. He had given himself up to his art, not merely from a love of
+it and talent for it, but with a kind of heroic devotion, because he
+thought his country wanted a race of builders to clothe the new forms of
+religious, social, and national life afresh from the forest, the quarry,
+and the mine. Some thought he would succeed, others that he would be a
+brilliant failure.</p>
+
+<p>"Grand notions,&mdash;grand notions," the master with whom he studied said.
+"Large ground plan of life,&mdash;splendid elevation. A little wild in some
+of his fancies, perhaps, but he's only a boy, and he's the kind of boy
+that sometimes grows to be a pretty big man. Wait and see,&mdash;wait and
+see. He works days, and we can let him dream nights. There's a good deal
+of him, anyhow." His fellow-students were puzzled. Those who thought of
+their calling as a trade, and looked forward to the time when they
+should be embodying the ideals of municipal authorities in brick and
+stone, or making contracts with wealthy citizens, doubted whether
+Clement would have a sharp eye enough for business. "Too many whims, you
+know. All sorts of queer ideas in his head,&mdash;as if a boy like him was
+going to make things all over again!"</p>
+
+<p>No doubt there was something of youthful extravagance in his plans and
+expectations. But it was the untamed enthusiasm which is the source of
+all great thoughts and deeds,&mdash;a beautiful delirium which age commonly
+tames down, and for which the cold shower-bath the world furnishes
+<i>gratis</i> proves a pretty certain cure.</p>
+
+<p>Creation is always preceded by chaos. The youthful architect's mind was
+confused by the multitude of suggestions which were crowding in upon it,
+and which he had not yet had time or developed mature strength
+sufficient to reduce to order. The young American of any freshness of
+intellect is stimulated to dangerous excess by the conditions of life
+into which he is born. There is a double proportion of oxygen in the
+New-World air. The chemists have not found it out yet, but human brains
+and breathing organs have long since made the discovery.</p>
+
+<p>Clement knew that his hasty entanglement had limited his possibilities
+of happiness in one direction, and he felt that there was a certain
+grandeur in the recompense of working out his defeated instincts through
+the ambitious medium of his noble art. Had not Pharaohs chosen it to
+proclaim their longings for immortality, C&aelig;sars their passion for pomp
+and luxury, and the priesthood to symbolize their conceptions of the
+heavenly mansions? His dreams were on a grand scale; such, after all,
+are the best possessions of youth. Had he but been free, or mated with a
+nature akin to his own, he would have felt himself as truly the heir of
+creation as any young man that lived. But his lot was cast, and his
+youth had all the serious aspect to himself of thoughtful manhood. In
+the region of his art alone he hoped always to find freedom and a
+companionship which his home life could never give him.</p>
+
+<p>Clement meant to have visited his beloved before he left Alderbank, but
+was called unexpectedly back to the city. Happily Susan was not
+exacting; she looked up to him with too great a feeling of distance
+between them to dare to question his actions. Perhaps she found a
+partial consolation in the company of Mr. Gifted Hopkins, who tried his
+new poems on her, which was the next best thing to addressing them to
+her. "Would that you were with us at this delightful season," she wrote
+in the autumn; "but no, your Susan must not repine. Yet, in the
+beautiful words of our native poet,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'O would, O would that thou wast here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For absence makes thee doubly dear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! what is life while thou'rt away?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis night without the orb of day!'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The poet referred to, it need hardly be said, was our young and
+promising friend G. H., as he sometimes modestly signed himself. The
+letter, it is unnecessary to state, was voluminous,&mdash;for a woman can
+tell her love, or other matter of interest, over and over again in as
+many forms as another poet, not G. H., found for his grief in ringing
+the musical changes of "In Memoriam."</p>
+
+<p>The answers to Susan's letters were kind, but not very long. They
+convinced her that it was a simple impossibility that Clement could come
+to Oxbow Village, on account of the great pressure of the work he had to
+keep him in the city, and the plans he <i>must</i> finish at any rate. But at
+last the work was partially got rid of, and Clement was coming; yes, it
+was so nice, and, O dear! shouldn't she be real happy to see him?</p>
+
+<p>To Susan he appeared as a kind of divinity,&mdash;almost too grand for human
+nature's daily food. Yet, if the simple-hearted girl could have told
+herself the whole truth in plain words, she would have confessed to
+certain doubts which from time to time, and oftener of late, cast a
+shadow on her seemingly bright future. With all the pleasure that the
+thought of meeting Clement gave her, she felt a little tremor, a
+certain degree of awe, in contemplating his visit. If she could have
+clothed her self-humiliation in the gold and purple of the "Portuguese
+Sonnets," it would have been another matter; but the trouble with the
+most common sources of disquiet is that they have no wardrobe of flaming
+phraseology to air themselves in; the inward burning goes on without the
+relief and gratifying display of the crater.</p>
+
+<p>"A <i>friend</i> of mine is coming to the village," she said to Mr. Gifted
+Hopkins. "I want you to see him. He is a genius,&mdash;as some other young
+men are." (This was obviously personal, and the youthful poet blushed
+with ingenuous delight.) "I have known him for ever so many years. He
+and I are <i>very good friends</i>." The poet knew that this meant an
+exclusive relation between them; and though the fact was no surprise to
+him, his countenance fell a little. The truth was, that his admiration
+was divided between Myrtle, who seemed to him divine and adorable, but
+distant, and Susan, who listened to his frequent poems, whom he was in
+the habit of seeing in artless domestic costumes, and whose attractions
+had been gaining upon him of late in the enforced absence of his
+divinity.</p>
+
+<p>He retired pensive from this interview, and, flinging himself at his
+desk, attempted wreaking his thoughts upon expression, to borrow the
+language of one of his brother bards, in a passionate lyric which he
+began thus:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"ANOTHER'S!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Another's! O the pang, the smart!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fate owes to Love a deathless grudge,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The barb&eacute;d fang has rent a heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which&mdash;which&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"judge&mdash;judge,&mdash;no, not judge. Budge, drudge, fudge&mdash;What a disgusting
+language English is! Nothing fit to couple with such a word as grudge!
+And the gush of an impassioned moment arrested in full flow, stopped
+short, corked up, for want of a paltry rhyme!
+Judge,&mdash;budge,&mdash;drudge,&mdash;nudge,&mdash;oh!&mdash;smudge,&mdash;misery!&mdash;fudge. In
+vain,&mdash;futile,&mdash;no use,&mdash;all up for to-night!"</p>
+
+<p>While the poet, headed off in this way by the poverty of his native
+tongue, sought inspiration by retiring into the world of dreams,&mdash;went
+to bed, in short,&mdash;his more fortunate rival was just entering the
+village, where he was to make his brief residence at the house of Deacon
+Rumrill, who, having been a loser by the devouring element, was glad to
+receive a stray boarder when any such were looking about for quarters.</p>
+
+<p>For some reason or other he was restless that evening, and took out a
+volume he had brought with him to beguile the earlier hours of the
+night. It was too late when he arrived to disturb the quiet of Mrs.
+Hopkins's household; and whatever may have been Clement's impatience, he
+held it in check, and sat tranquilly until midnight over the pages of
+the book with which he had prudently provided himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Hope you slept well last night," said the old Deacon, when Mr. Clement
+came down to breakfast the next morning.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, thank you,&mdash;that is, after I got to bed. But I sat up pretty
+late reading my favorite Scott. I am apt to forget how the hours pass
+when I have one of his books in my hand."</p>
+
+<p>The worthy Deacon looked at Mr. Clement with a sudden accession of
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't find better reading, young man. Scott is <i>my</i> favorite
+author. A great man. I have got his likeness in a gilt frame hanging up
+in the other room. I have read him all through three times."</p>
+
+<p>The young man's countenance brightened. He had not expected to find so
+much taste for elegant literature in an old village deacon.</p>
+
+<p>"What are your favorites among his writings, Deacon? I suppose you have
+your particular likings, as the rest of us have."</p>
+
+<p>The Deacon was flattered by the question. "Well," he answered, "I can
+hardly tell you. I like pretty much everything Scott ever wrote.
+Sometimes I think it is one thing, and sometimes another. Great on
+Paul's Epistles,&mdash;don't you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>The honest fact was, that Clement remembered very little about "Paul's
+Letters to his Kinsfolk,"&mdash;a book of Sir Walter's less famous than many
+of his others; but he signified his polite assent to the Deacon's
+statement, rather wondering at his choice of a favorite, and smiling at
+his queer way of talking about the Letters as Epistles.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid Scott is not so much read now-a-days as he once was, and as
+he ought to be," said Mr. Clement. "Such character, such nature and so
+much grace&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's it,&mdash;that's it, young man," the Deacon broke in,&mdash;"Natur' and
+Grace,&mdash;Natur' and Grace. Nobody ever knew better what those two words
+meant than Scott did, and I'm very glad to see you've chosen such good
+wholesome reading. You can't set up too late, young man, to read Scott.
+If I had twenty children, they should all begin reading Scott as soon as
+they were old enough to spell 'sin,'&mdash;and that's the first word my
+little ones learned, next to 'pa' and 'ma.' Nothing like beginning the
+lessons of life in good season."</p>
+
+<p>"What a grim old satirist!" Clement said to himself. "I wonder if the
+old man reads other novelists.&mdash;Do tell me, Deacon, if you have read
+Thackeray's last story?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thackery's story? Published by the American Tract Society?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly," Clement answered, smiling, and quite delighted to find
+such an unexpected vein of grave pleasantry about the demure-looking
+church-dignitary; for the Deacon asked his question without moving a
+muscle, and took no cognizance whatever of the young man's tone and
+smile. First-class humorists are, as is well known, remarkable for the
+immovable solemnity of their features. Clement promised himself not a
+little amusement from the curiously sedate drollery of the venerable
+Deacon, who, it was plain from his conversation, had cultivated a
+literary taste which would make him a more agreeable companion than the
+common ecclesiastics of his grade in country villages.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast, Mr. Clement walked forth in the direction of Mrs.
+Hopkins's house, thinking as he went of the pleasant surprise his visit
+would bring to his longing and doubtless pensive Susan; for though she
+knew he was coming, she did not know that he was at that moment in Oxbow
+Village.</p>
+
+<p>As he drew near the house, the first thing he saw was Susan Posey,
+almost running against her just as he turned a corner. She looked
+wonderfully lively and rosy, for the weather was getting keen and the
+frosts had begun to bite. A young gentleman was walking at her side, and
+reading to her from a paper he held in his hand. Both looked deeply
+interested,&mdash;so much so that Clement felt half ashamed of himself for
+intruding upon them so abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>But lovers are lovers, and Clement could not help joining them. The
+first thing, of course, was the utterance of two simultaneous
+exclamations, "Why, Clement!" "Why, Susan!" What might have come next in
+the programme, but for the presence of a third party, is matter of
+conjecture; but what did come next was a mighty awkward look on the part
+of Susan Posey, and the following short speech:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lindsay, let me introduce Mr. Hopkins, my friend, the poet I've
+written to you about. He was just reading two of his poems to me. Some
+other time, Gifted&mdash;Mr. Hopkins."</p>
+
+<p>"O no, Mr. Hopkins,&mdash;pray go on," said Clement. "I'm very fond of
+poetry."</p>
+
+<p>The poet did not require much urging, and began at once reciting over
+again the stanzas which were afterwards so much admired in the "Banner
+and Oracle,"&mdash;the first verse being, as the readers of that paper will
+remember,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"She moves in splendor, like the ray<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That flashes from unclouded skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the charms of night and day<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are mingled in her hair and eyes."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Clement, who must have been in an agony of impatience to be alone with
+his beloved, commanded his feelings admirably. He signified his
+approbation of the poem by saying that the lines were smooth and the
+rhymes absolutely without blemish. The stanzas reminded him forcibly of
+one of the greatest poets of the century.</p>
+
+<p>Gifted flushed hot with pleasure. He had tasted the blood of his own
+rhymes; and when a poet gets as far as that, it is like wringing the bag
+of exhilarating gas from the lips of a fellow sucking at it, to drag his
+piece away from him.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you will like these lines still better," he said; "the style is
+more modern:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'O daughter of the spic&eacute;d South,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her bubbly grapes have spilled the wine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That staineth with its hue divine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The red flower of thy perfect mouth.'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And so on, through a series of stanzas like these, with the pulp of two
+rhymes between the upper and lower crust of two others.</p>
+
+<p>Clement was cornered. It was necessary to say something for the poet's
+sake,&mdash;perhaps for Susan's; for she was in a certain sense responsible
+for the poems of a youth of genius, of whom she had spoken so often and
+so enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, Mr. Hopkins, and a form of verse little used, I should
+think, until of late years. You modelled this piece on the style of a
+famous living English poet, did you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I did not, Mr. Lindsay,&mdash;I never imitate. Originality is, if I
+may be allowed to say so much for myself, my peculiar <i>forte</i>. Why, the
+critics allow as much as that. See here, Mr. Lindsay."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gifted Hopkins pulled out his pocket-book, and, taking therefrom a
+cutting from a newspaper,&mdash;which dropped helplessly open of itself, as
+if tired of the process, being very tender in the joints or creases, by
+reason of having been often folded and unfolded,&mdash;read aloud as
+follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"The bard of Oxbow Village&mdash;our valued correspondent who writes
+over the signature of G. H.&mdash;is, in our opinion, more
+remarkable for his <i>originality</i> than for any other of his
+numerous gifts."</p></div>
+
+<p>Clement was apparently silenced by this, and the poet a little elated
+with a sense of triumph. Susan could not help sharing his feeling of
+satisfaction, and without meaning it in the least, nay, without knowing
+it, for she was as simple and pure as new milk, edged a little bit&mdash;the
+merest infinitesimal atom&mdash;nearer to Gifted Hopkins, who was on one side
+of her, while Clement walked on the other. Women love the conquering
+party,&mdash;it is the way of their sex. And poets, as we have seen, are
+wellnigh irresistible when they exert their dangerous power of
+fascination upon the female heart. But Clement was above jealousy; and,
+if he perceived anything of this movement, took no notice of it.</p>
+
+<p>He saw a good deal of his pretty Susan that day. She was tender in her
+expressions and manners as usual, but there was a little something in
+her looks and language from time to time that Clement did not know
+exactly what to make of. She colored once or twice when the young poet's
+name was mentioned. She was not so full of her little plans for the
+future as she had sometimes been, "everything was so uncertain," she
+said. Clement asked himself whether she felt quite as sure that her
+attachment would last as she once did. But there were no reproaches, not
+even any explanations, which are about as bad between lovers. There was
+nothing but an undefined feeling on his side that she did not cling
+quite so closely to him, perhaps, as he had once thought, and that, if
+he had happened to have been drowned that day when he went down with the
+beautiful young woman, it was just conceivable that Susan, who would
+have cried dreadfully, no doubt, would in time have listened to
+consolation from some other young man,&mdash;possibly from the young poet
+whose verses he had been admiring. Easy-crying widows take new husbands
+soonest; there is nothing like wet weather for transplanting, as Master
+Gridley used to say. Susan had a fluent natural gift for tears, as
+Clement well knew, after the exercise of which she used to brighten up
+like the rose which had been washed, just washed in a shower, mentioned
+by Cowper.</p>
+
+<p>As for the poet, he learned more of his own sentiments during this visit
+of Clement's than he had ever before known. He wandered about with a
+dreadfully disconsolate look upon his countenance. He showed a
+falling-off in his appetite at tea-time, which surprised and disturbed
+his mother, for she had filled the house with fragrant suggestions of
+good things coming, in honor of Mr. Lindsay, who was to be her guest at
+tea. And chiefly the genteel form of doughnut called in the native
+dialect <i>cymbal</i> (<i>Qu.</i> Symbol? B. G.) which graced the board with its
+plastic forms, suggestive of the most pleasing objects,&mdash;the spiral
+ringlets pendent from the brow of beauty,&mdash;the magic circlet, which is
+the pledge of plighted affection,&mdash;the indissoluble knot, which typifies
+the union of hearts, which organs were also largely represented; this
+exceptional delicacy would at any other time have claimed his special
+notice. But his mother remarked that he paid little attention to these,
+and his "No, I thank you," when it came to the preserved "damsels" as
+some call them, carried a pang with it to the maternal bosom. The most
+touching evidence of his unhappiness&mdash;whether intentional or the result
+of accident was not evident&mdash;was a <i>broken heart</i>, which he left upon
+his plate, the meaning of which was as plain as anything in the language
+of flowers. His thoughts were gloomy during that day, running a good
+deal on the more picturesque and impressive methods of bidding a
+voluntary farewell to a world which had allured him with visions of
+beauty only to snatch them from his impassioned gaze. His mother saw
+something of this, and got from him a few disjointed words, which led
+her to lock up the clothes-line and hide her late husband's razors,&mdash;an
+affectionate, yet perhaps unnecessary precaution, for self-elimination
+contemplated from this point of view by those who have the natural
+outlet of verse to relieve them is rarely followed by a casualty. It may
+rather be considered as implying a more than average chance for
+longevity; as those who meditate an imposing finish naturally save
+themselves for it, and are therefore careful of their health until the
+time comes, and this is apt to be indefinitely postponed so long as
+there is a poem to write or a proof to be corrected.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3>
+
+<h3>THE SECOND MEETING.</h3>
+
+<p>"Miss Eveleth requests the pleasure of Mr. Lindsay's company to meet a
+few friends on the evening of the Feast of St. Ambrose, December 7th,
+Wednesday.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">"The Parsonage</span>, December 6th."</p>
+
+<p>It was the luckiest thing in the world. They always made a little
+festival of that evening at the Rev. Ambrose Eveleth's, in honor of his
+canonized namesake, and because they liked to have a good time. It came
+this year just at the right moment, for here was a distinguished
+stranger visiting in the place. Oxbow Village seemed to be running over
+with its one extra young man,&mdash;as may be seen sometimes in larger
+villages, and even in cities of moderate dimensions.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had called on Clement the very day of his
+arrival. He had already met the Deacon in the street, and asked some
+questions about his transient boarder.</p>
+
+<p>A very interesting young man, the Deacon said, much given to the reading
+of pious books. Up late at night after he came, reading Scott's
+Commentary. Appeared to be as fond of serious works as other young folks
+were of their novels and romances and other immoral publications. He,
+the Deacon, thought of having a few religious friends to meet the young
+gentleman, if he felt so disposed; and should like to have him, Mr.
+Bradshaw, come in and take a part in the exercises.&mdash;Mr. Bradshaw was
+unfortunately engaged. He thought the young gentleman could hardly find
+time for such a meeting during his brief visit.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bradshaw expected naturally to see a youth of imperfect
+constitution, and cachectic or dyspeptic tendencies, who was in training
+to furnish one of those biographies beginning with the statement that,
+from his infancy, the subject of it showed no inclination for boyish
+amusements, and so on, until he dies out, for the simple reason that
+there was not enough of him to live. Very interesting, no doubt, Master
+Byles Gridley would have said, but had no more to do with good, hearty,
+sound life than the history of those very little people to be seen in
+museums, preserved in jars of alcohol, like brandy peaches.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Clement Lindsay presented himself, Mr. Bradshaw was a good deal
+surprised to see a young fellow of such a mould. He pleased himself with
+the idea that he knew a man of mark at sight, and he set down Clement in
+that category at his first glance. The young man met his penetrating and
+questioning look with a frank, ingenuous, open aspect, before which he
+felt himself disarmed, as it were, and thrown upon other means of
+analysis. He would try him a little in talk.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you like these people you are with. What sort of a man do you
+find my old friend the Deacon?"</p>
+
+<p>Clement laughed. "A very queer old character. Loves his joke as well,
+and is as sly in making it, as if he had studied Joe Miller instead of
+the Catechism."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bradshaw looked at the young man to know what he meant. Mr. Lindsay
+talked in a very easy way for a serious young person. He was puzzled. He
+did not see to the bottom of this description of the Deacon. With a
+lawyer's instinct, he kept his doubts to himself and tried his witness
+with a new question.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you talk about books at all with the old man?"</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure I did. Would you believe it, that aged saint is a great
+novel-reader. So he tells me. What is more, he brings up his children to
+that sort of reading, from the time when they first begin to spell. If
+anybody else had told me such a story about an old country deacon, I
+wouldn't have believed it; but he said so himself, to me, at breakfast
+this morning."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bradshaw felt as if either he or Mr. Lindsay must certainly be in
+the first stage of mild insanity, and he did not think that he himself
+could be out of his wits. He must try one more question. He had become
+so mystified that he forgot himself, and began putting his interrogation
+in legal form.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you state, if you please&mdash;I beg your pardon&mdash;may I ask who is your
+own favorite author?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think just now I like to read Scott better than almost anybody."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean the Rev. Thomas Scott, author of the Commentary?"</p>
+
+<p>Clement stared at Mr. Bradshaw, and wondered whether he was trying to
+make a fool of him. The young lawyer hardly looked as if he could be a
+fool himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean Sir Walter Scott," he said, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Mr. Bradshaw. He saw that there had been a slight
+misunderstanding between the young man and his worthy host, but it was
+none of his business, and there were other subjects of interest to talk
+about.</p>
+
+<p>"You know one of our charming young ladies very well, I believe, Mr.
+Lindsay. I think you are an old acquaintance of Miss Posey, whom we all
+consider so pretty."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Clement! The question pierced to the very marrow of his soul, but
+it was put with the utmost suavity and courtesy, and honeyed with a
+compliment to the young lady, too, so that there was no avoiding a
+direct and pleasant answer to it.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "I have known the young lady you speak of for a long
+time, and very well,&mdash;in fact, as you must have heard, we are something
+more than friends. My visit here is principally on her account."</p>
+
+<p>"You must give the rest of us a chance to see something of you during
+your visit, Mr. Lindsay. I hope you are invited to Miss Eveleth's this
+evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I got a note this morning. Tell me, Mr. Bradshaw, who is there
+that I shall meet this evening if I go? I have no doubt there are girls
+here I should like to see, and perhaps some young fellows that I should
+like to talk with. You know all that's prettiest and pleasantest, of
+course."'</p>
+
+<p>"O, we're a little place, Mr. Lindsay. A few nice people, the rest
+<i>comme &ccedil;a</i>, you know. High-bush blackberries and low-bush
+blackberries,&mdash;you understand,&mdash;just so everywhere,&mdash;high-bush here and
+there, low-bush plenty. You must see the two parsons' daughters,&mdash;Saint
+Ambrose's and Saint Joseph's,&mdash;and another girl I want particularly to
+introduce you to. You shall form your own opinion of her. <i>I</i> call her
+handsome and stylish, but you have got spoiled, you know. Our young
+poet, too, one we raised in this place, Mr. Lindsay, and a superior
+article of poet, as we think,&mdash;that is, some of us, for the rest of us
+are jealous of him, because the girls are all dying for him and want his
+autograph.&mdash;And Cyp,&mdash;yes, you must talk to Cyp,&mdash;he has ideas. But
+don't forget to get hold of old Byles&mdash;Master Gridley I mean&mdash;before you
+go. Big head. Brains enough for a cabinet minister, and fit out a
+college faculty with what was left over. Be sure you see old Byles. Set
+him talking about his book,&mdash;'Thoughts on the Universe.' Didn't sell
+much, but has got knowing things in it. I'll show you a copy, and then
+you can tell him you know it, and he will take to you. Come in and get
+your dinner with me to-morrow. We will dine late, as the city folks do,
+and after that we will go over to the Rector's. I should like to show
+you some of our village people."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bradshaw liked the thought of showing the young man to some of his
+friends there. As Clement was already "done for," or "bowled out," as
+the young lawyer would have expressed the fact of his being pledged in
+the matrimonial direction, there was nothing to be apprehended on the
+score of rivalry. And although Clement was particularly good-looking,
+and would have been called a distinguishable youth anywhere, Mr.
+Bradshaw considered himself far more than his match, in all probability,
+in social accomplishments. He expected, therefore, a certain amount of
+reflex credit for bringing such a fine young fellow in his company, and
+a second instalment of reputation from outshining him in conversation.
+This was rather nice calculating, but Murray Bradshaw always calculated.
+With most men life is like backgammon, half skill and half luck, but
+with him it was like chess. He never pushed a pawn without reckoning the
+cost, and when his mind was least busy it was sure to be half a dozen
+moves ahead of the game as it was standing.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bradshaw gave Clement a pretty dinner enough for such a place as
+Oxbow Village. He offered him some good wine, and would have made him
+talk so as to show his lining, to use one of his own expressions, but
+Clement had apparently been through that trifling experience, and could
+not be coaxed into saying more than he meant to say. Murray Bradshaw was
+very curious to find out how it was that he had become the victim of
+such a rudimentary miss as Susan Posey. Could she be an heiress in
+disguise? Why no, of course not; had not he made all proper inquiries
+about that when Susan came to town? A small inheritance from an aunt or
+uncle, or some such relative, enough to make her a desirable party in
+the eyes of certain villagers perhaps, but nothing to allure a man like
+this, whose face and figure as marketable possessions were worth say a
+hundred thousand in the girl's own right, as Mr. Bradshaw put it
+roughly, with another hundred thousand if his talent is what some say,
+and if his connection is a desirable one, a fancy price,&mdash;anything he
+would fetch. Of course not. Must have got caught when he was a child.
+Why the <i>diavolo</i> didn't he break it off, then?</p>
+
+<p>There was no fault to find with the modest entertainment at the
+Parsonage. A splendid banquet in a great house is an admirable thing,
+provided always its getting up did not cost the entertainer an inward
+conflict, nor its recollection a twinge of economical regret, nor its
+bills a cramp of anxiety. A simple evening party in the smallest village
+is just as admirable in its degree, when the parlor is cheerfully
+lighted, and the board prettily spread, and the guests are made to feel
+comfortable without being reminded that anybody is making a painful
+effort.</p>
+
+<p>We know several of the young people who were there, and need not trouble
+ourselves for the others. Myrtle Hazard had promised to come. She had
+her own way of late as never before; in fact, the women were afraid of
+her. Miss Silence felt that she could not be responsible for her any
+longer. She had hopes for a time that Myrtle would go through the
+customary spiritual paroxysm under the influence of the Rev. Mr.
+Stoker's assiduous exhortations; but since she had broken off with him,
+Miss Silence had looked upon her as little better than a backslider. And
+now that the girl was beginning to show the tendencies which seemed to
+come straight down to her from the belle of the last century, (whose
+rich physical developments seemed to the under-vitalized spinster as in
+themselves a kind of offence against propriety,) the forlorn woman
+folded her thin hands and looked on hopelessly, hardly venturing a
+remonstrance for fear of some new explosion. As for Cynthia, she was
+comparatively easy since she had, through Mr. Byles Gridley, upset the
+minister's questionable apparatus of religious intimacy. She had, in
+fact, in a quiet way, given Mr. Bradshaw to understand that he would
+probably meet Myrtle at the Parsonage if he dropped in at their small
+gathering.</p>
+
+<p>Clement walked over to Mrs. Hopkins's after his dinner with the young
+lawyer, and asked if Susan was ready to go with him. At the sound of his
+voice, Gifted Hopkins smote his forehead, and called himself, in subdued
+tones, a miserable being. His imagination wavered uncertain for a while
+between pictures of various modes of ridding himself of existence, and
+fearful deeds involving the life of others. He had no fell purpose of
+actually doing either, but there was a gloomy pleasure in contemplating
+them as possibilities, and in mentally sketching the "Lines written in
+Despair" which would be found in what was but an hour before the pocket
+of the youthful bard, G. H., victim of a hopeless passion. All this
+emotion was in the nature of a surprise to the young man. He had fully
+believed himself desperately in love with Myrtle Hazard; and it was not
+until Clement came into the family circle with the right of eminent
+domain over the realm of Susan's affections, that this unfortunate
+discovered that Susan's pretty ways and morning dress and love of poetry
+and liking for his company had been too much for him, and that he was
+henceforth to be wretched during the remainder of his natural life,
+except so far as he could unburden himself in song.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had asked the privilege of waiting upon
+Myrtle to the little party at the Eveleths. Myrtle was not insensible to
+the attractions of the young lawyer, though she had never thought of
+herself except as a child in her relations with any of these older
+persons. But she was not the same girl that she had been but a few
+months before. She had achieved her independence by her audacious and
+most dangerous enterprise. She had gone through strange nervous trials
+and spiritual experiences, which had matured her more rapidly than years
+of common life would have done. She had got back her health, bringing
+with it a riper wealth of womanhood. She had found her destiny in the
+consciousness that she inherited the beauty belonging to her blood, and
+which, after sleeping for a generation or two as if to rest from the
+glare of the pageant that follows beauty through its long career of
+triumph, had come to the light again in her life, and was to repeat the
+legends of the olden time in her own history.</p>
+
+<p>Myrtle's wardrobe had very little of ornament, such as the <i>modistes</i> of
+the town would have thought essential to render a young girl like her
+presentable. There were a few heirlooms of old date, however, which she
+had kept as curiosities until now, and which she looked over until she
+found some lace and other convertible material, with which she enlivened
+her costume a little for the evening. As she clasped the antique
+bracelet around her wrist, she felt as if it were an amulet that gave
+her the power of charming which had been so long obsolete in her
+lineage. At the bottom of her heart she cherished a secret longing to
+try her fascinations on the young lawyer. Who could blame her? It was
+not an inwardly expressed intention,&mdash;it was the mere blind instinctive
+movement to subjugate the strongest of the other sex who had come in her
+way, which, as already said, is as natural to a woman as it is to a man
+to be captivated by the loveliest of those to whom he dares to aspire.</p>
+
+<p>Before William Murray Bradshaw and Myrtle Hazard had reached the
+Parsonage, the girl's cheeks were flushed and her dark eyes were
+flashing with a new excitement. The young man had not made love to her
+directly, but he had interested her in herself by a delicate and tender
+flattery of manner, and so set her fancies working that she was taken
+with him as never before, and wishing that the Parsonage had been a mile
+farther from The Poplars. It was impossible for a young girl like Myrtle
+to conceal the pleasure she received from listening to her seductive
+admirer, who was trying all his trained skill upon his artless
+companion. Murray Bradshaw felt sure that the game was in his hands if
+he played it with only common prudence. There was no need of hurrying
+this child,&mdash;it might startle her to make downright love abruptly; and
+now that he had an ally in her own household, and was to have access to
+her with a freedom he had never before enjoyed, there was a refined
+pleasure in playing his fish,&mdash;this gamest of golden-scaled
+creatures,&mdash;which had risen to his fly, and which he wished to hook, but
+not to land, until he was sure it would be worth his while.</p>
+
+<p>They entered the little parlor at the Parsonage looking so beaming, that
+Olive and Bathsheba exchanged glances which implied so much that it
+would take a full page to tell it with all the potentialities involved.</p>
+
+<p>"How magnificent Myrtle is this evening, Bathsheba!" said Cyprian
+Eveleth, pensively.</p>
+
+<p>"What a handsome pair they are, Cyprian!" said Bathsheba cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>Cyprian sighed. "She always fascinates me whenever I look upon her.
+Isn't she the very picture of what a poet's love should be,&mdash;a poem
+herself,&mdash;a glorious lyric,&mdash;all light and music! See what a smile the
+creature has! And her voice! When did you ever hear such tones? And when
+was it ever so full of life before?"</p>
+
+<p>Bathsheba sighed. "I do not know any poets but Gifted Hopkins. Does not
+Myrtle look more in her place by the side of Murray Bradshaw than she
+would with Gifted hitched on her arm?"</p>
+
+<p>Just then the poet made his appearance. He looked depressed, as if it
+had cost him an effort to come. He was, however, charged with a message
+which he must deliver to the hostess of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>"They're coming presently," he said. "That young man and Susan. Wants
+you to introduce him, Mr. Bradshaw."</p>
+
+<p>The bell rang presently, and Murray Bradshaw slipped out into the entry
+to meet the two lovers.</p>
+
+<p>"How are you, my fortunate friend?" he said, as he met them at the door.
+"Of course you're well and happy as mortal man can be in this vale of
+tears. Charming, ravishing, quite delicious, that way of dressing your
+hair, Miss Posey! Nice girls here this evening, Mr. Lindsay. Looked
+lovely when I came out of the parlor. Can't say how they will show after
+this young lady puts in an appearance." In reply to which florid
+speeches Susan blushed, not knowing what else to do, and Clement smiled
+as naturally as if he had been sitting for his photograph.</p>
+
+<p>He felt, in a vague way, that he and Susan were being patronized, which
+is not a pleasant feeling to persons with a certain pride of character.
+There was no expression of contempt about Mr. Bradshaw's manner or
+language at which he could take offence. Only he had the air of a man
+who praises his neighbor without stint, with a calm consciousness that
+he himself is out of reach of comparison in the possessions or qualities
+which he is admiring in the other. Clement was right in his obscure
+perception of Mr. Bradshaw's feeling while he was making his phrases.
+That gentleman was, in another moment, to have the tingling delight of
+showing the grand creature he had just begun to tame. He was going to
+extinguish the pallid light of Susan's prettiness in the brightness of
+Myrtle's beauty. He would bring this young man, neutralized and rendered
+entirely harmless by his irrevocable pledge to a slight girl, face to
+face with a masterpiece of young womanhood, and say to him, not in
+words, but as plainly as speech could have told him, "Behold my
+captive!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a proud moment for Murray Bradshaw. He had seen, or thought that
+he had seen, the assured evidence of a speedy triumph over all the
+obstacles of Myrtle's youth and his own present seeming slight excess of
+maturity. Unless he were very greatly mistaken, he could now walk the
+course; the plate was his, no matter what might be the entries. And this
+youth, this handsome, spirited-looking, noble-aired young fellow, whose
+artist-eye could not miss a line of Myrtle's proud and almost defiant
+beauty, was to be the witness of his power, and to look in admiration
+upon his prize! He introduced him to the others, reserving her for the
+last. She was at that moment talking with the worthy Rector, and turned
+when Mr. Bradshaw spoke to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Hazard, will you allow me to present to you my friend, Mr. Clement
+Lindsay?"</p>
+
+<p>They looked full upon each other, and spoke the common words of
+salutation. It was a strange meeting; but we who profess to tell the
+truth must tell strange things, or we shall be liars.</p>
+
+<p>In poor little Susan's letter there was some allusion to a bust of
+Innocence which the young artist had begun, but of which he had said
+nothing in his answer to her. He had roughed out a block of marble for
+that impersonation; sculpture was a delight to him, though secondary to
+his main pursuit. After his memorable adventure, the features and the
+forms of the girl he had rescued so haunted him that the pale ideal
+which was to work itself out in the bust faded away in its perpetual
+presence, and&mdash;alas, poor Susan!&mdash;in obedience to the impulse that he
+could not control, he left Innocence sleeping in the marble, and began
+modelling a figure of proud and noble and imperious beauty, to which he
+gave the name of Liberty.</p>
+
+<p>The original which had inspired his conception was before him. These
+were the lips to which his own had clung when he brought her back from
+the land of shadows. The hyacinthine curl of her lengthening locks had
+added something to her beauty; but it was the same face which had
+haunted him. This was the form he had borne seemingly lifeless in his
+arms, and the bosom which heaved so visibly before him was that which
+his eyes&mdash;. They were the calm eyes of a sculptor, but of a sculptor
+hardly twenty years old.</p>
+
+<p>Yes,&mdash;her bosom was heaving. She had an unexplained feeling of
+suffocation, and drew great breaths,&mdash;she could not have said why,&mdash;but
+she could not help it; and presently she became giddy, and had a great
+noise in her ears, and rolled her eyes about, and was on the point of
+going into an hysteric spasm. They called Dr. Hurlbut, who was making
+himself agreeable to Olive just then, to come and see what was the
+matter with Myrtle.</p>
+
+<p>"A little nervous turn,&mdash;that is all," he said. "Open the window. Loose
+the ribbon round her neck. Rub her hands. Sprinkle some water on her
+forehead. A few drops of cologne. Room too warm for her,&mdash;that's all, I
+think."</p>
+
+<p>Myrtle came to herself after a time without anything like a regular
+paroxysm. But she was excitable, and whatever the cause of the
+disturbance may have been, it seemed prudent that she should go home
+early; and the excellent Rector insisted on caring for her, much to the
+discontent of Mr. William Murray Bradshaw.</p>
+
+<p>"Demonish odd," said this gentleman, "wasn't it, Mr. Lindsay, that Miss
+Hazard should go off in that way? Did you ever see her before?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;have seen that young lady before," Clement answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you meet her?" Mr. Bradshaw asked, with eager interest.</p>
+
+<p>"I met her in the Valley of the Shadow of Death," Clement answered, very
+solemnly.&mdash;"I leave this place to-morrow morning. Have you any commands
+for the city?"</p>
+
+<p>("Knows how to shut a fellow up pretty well for a young one, doesn't
+he?" Mr. Bradshaw thought to himself.)</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, no," he answered, recovering himself. "Rather a melancholy
+place to make acquaintance in, I should think, that Valley you spoke of.
+I should like to know about it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Clement had the power of looking steadily into another person's eyes
+in a way that was by no means encouraging to curiosity or favorable to
+the process of cross-examination. Mr. Bradshaw was not disposed to press
+his question in the face of the calm, repressive look the young man gave
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"If he wasn't bagged, I shouldn't like the shape of things any too
+well," he said to himself.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation between Mr. Clement Lindsay and Miss Susan Posey, as
+they walked home together, was not very brilliant. "I am going
+to-morrow morning," he said, "and I must bid you good by to-night."
+Perhaps it is as well to leave two lovers to themselves, under these
+circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>Before he went he spoke to his worthy host, whose moderate demands he
+had to satisfy, and with whom he wished to exchange a few words.</p>
+
+<p>"And by the way, Deacon, I have no use for this book, and as it is in a
+good type, perhaps you would like it. Your favorite, Scott, and one of
+his greatest works. I have another edition of it at home, and don't care
+for this volume."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Lindsay, much obleeged. I shall read that
+copy for your sake,&mdash;the best of books next to the Bible itself."</p>
+
+<p>After Mr. Lindsay had gone, the Deacon looked at the back of the book.
+"Scott's Works, Vol. IX." He opened it at hazard, and happened to fall
+on a well-known page, from which he began reading aloud, slowly,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"When Izrul, of the Lord beloved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of the land of bondage came."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The whole hymn pleased the grave Deacon. He had never seen this work of
+the author of the Commentary. No matter; anything that such a good man
+wrote must be good reading, and he would save it up for Sunday. The
+consequence of this was, that, when the Rev. Mr. Stoker stopped in on
+his way to meeting on the "Sabbath," he turned white with horror at the
+spectacle of the senior Deacon of his church sitting, open-mouthed and
+wide-eyed, absorbed in the pages of "Ivanhoe," which he found enormously
+interesting; but, so far as he had yet read, not occupied with religious
+matters so much as he had expected.</p>
+
+<p>Myrtle had no explanation to give of her nervous attack. Mr. Bradshaw
+called the day after the party, but did not see her. He met her walking,
+and thought she seemed a little more distant than common. That would
+never do. He called again at The Poplars a few days afterwards, and was
+met in the entry by Miss Cynthia, with whom he had a long conversation
+on matters involving Myrtle's interests and their own.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_PASSAGE_FROM_HAWTHORNES_ENGLISH_NOTEBOOKS" id="A_PASSAGE_FROM_HAWTHORNES_ENGLISH_NOTEBOOKS"></a>A PASSAGE FROM HAWTHORNE'S ENGLISH NOTEBOOKS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Our road to Rydal lay through Ambleside, which is certainly a very
+pretty town, and looks cheerfully on a sunny day. We saw Miss
+Martineau's residence, called the Knoll, standing high up on a hillock,
+and having at its foot a Methodist chapel, for which, or whatever place
+of Christian worship, this good lady can have no occasion. We stopped a
+moment in the street below her house, and deliberated a little whether
+to call on her, but concluded otherwise.</p>
+
+<p>After leaving Ambleside, the road winds in and out among the hills, and
+soon brings us to a sheet (or napkin, rather, than a sheet) of water,
+which the driver tells us is Rydal Lake! We had already heard that it
+was but three quarters of a mile long, and one quarter broad; still, it
+being an idea of considerable size in our minds, we had inevitably drawn
+its ideal physical proportions on a somewhat corresponding scale. It
+certainly did look very small; and I said, in my American scorn, that I
+could carry it away easily in a porringer; for it is nothing more than a
+grassy-bordered pool among the surrounding hills, which ascend directly
+from its margin; so that one might fancy it not a permanent body of
+water, but a rather extensive accumulation of recent rain. Moreover, it
+was rippled with a breeze, and so, as I remember it, though the sun
+shone, it looked dull and sulky, like a child out of humor. Now the best
+thing these small ponds can do is to keep perfectly calm and smooth, and
+not to attempt to show off any airs of their own, but content themselves
+with serving as a mirror for whatever of beautiful or picturesque there
+may be in the scenery around them. The hills about Rydal water are not
+very lofty, but are sufficiently so as objects of every-day
+view,&mdash;objects to live with,&mdash;and they are craggier than those we have
+hitherto seen, and bare of wood, which indeed would hardly grow on some
+of their precipitous sides.</p>
+
+<p>On the roadside, as we reach the foot of the lake, stands a spruce and
+rather large house of modern aspect, but with several gables, and much
+overgrown with ivy,&mdash;a very pretty and comfortable house, built,
+adorned, and cared for with commendable taste. We inquired whose it was,
+and the coachman said it was "Mr. Wordsworth's," and that Mrs.
+Wordsworth was still residing there. So we were much delighted to have
+seen his abode; and as we were to stay the night at Grasmere, about two
+miles farther on, we determined to come back and inspect it as
+particularly as should be allowable. Accordingly, after taking rooms at
+Brown's Hotel, we drove back in our return car, and, reaching the head
+of Rydal water, alighted to walk through this familiar scene of so many
+years of Wordsworth's life. We ought to have seen De Quincey's former
+residence, and Hartley Coleridge's cottage, I believe, on our way, but
+were not aware of it at the time. Near the lake there is a stone quarry,
+and a cavern of some extent, artificially formed, probably, by taking
+out the stone. Above the shore of the lake, not a great way from
+Wordsworth's residence, there is a flight of steps hewn in a rock, and
+ascending to a seat, where a good view of the lake may be attained; and
+as Wordsworth has doubtless sat there hundreds of times, so did we
+ascend and sit down and look at the hills and at the flags on the
+lake's shore.</p>
+
+<p>Reaching the house that had been pointed out to us as Wordsworth's
+residence, we began to peer about at its front and gables, and over the
+garden-wall on both sides of the road, quickening our enthusiasm as much
+as we could, and meditating to pilfer some flower or ivy-leaf from the
+house or its vicinity, to be kept as sacred memorials. At this juncture
+a man approached, who announced himself as the gardener of the place,
+and said, too, that this was not Wordsworth's house at all, but the
+residence of Mr. Ball, a Quaker gentleman; but that his ground adjoined
+Wordsworth's, and that he had liberty to take visitors through the
+latter. How absurd it would have been if we had carried away ivy-leaves
+and tender recollections from this domicile of a respectable Quaker! The
+gardener was an intelligent young man, of pleasant, sociable, and
+respectful address; and as we went along, he talked about the poet, whom
+he had known, and who, he said, was very familiar with the country
+people. He led us through Mr. Ball's grounds, up a steep hillside, by
+winding, gravelled walks, with summer-houses at points favorable for
+them. It was a very shady and pleasant spot, containing about an acre of
+ground, and all turned to good account by the manner of laying it out;
+so that it seemed more than it really was. In one place, on a small,
+smooth slab of slate let into a rock, there is an inscription by
+Wordsworth, which I think I have read in his works, claiming kindly
+regards from those who visit the spot, after his departure, because many
+trees had been spared at his intercession. His own grounds, or rather
+his ornamental garden, is separated from Mr. Ball's only by a wire
+fence, or some such barrier, and the gates have no fastening, so that
+the whole appears like one possession, and doubtless was so as regarded
+the poet's walks and enjoyments. We approached by paths so winding, that
+I hardly know how the house stands in relation to the road; but, after
+much circuity, we really did see Wordsworth's residence,&mdash;an old house,
+with an uneven ridge-pole, built of stone, no doubt, but plastered over
+with some neutral tint,&mdash;a house that would not have been remarkably
+pretty in itself, but so delightfully situated, so secluded, so hedged
+about with shrubbery and adorned with flowers, so ivy-grown on one side,
+so beautified with the personal care of him who lived in it and loved
+it, that it seemed the very place for a poet's residence; and as if,
+while he lived so long in it, his poetry had manifested itself in
+flowers, shrubbery, and ivy. I never smelt such a delightful fragrance
+of flowers as there was all through the garden. In front of the house,
+there is a circular terrace, of two ascents, in raising which Wordsworth
+had himself performed much of the labor; and here there are seats, from
+which we obtained a fine view down the valley of the Rothay, with
+Windermere in the distance,&mdash;a view of several miles, and which we did
+not suppose could be seen, after winding among the hills so far from the
+lake. It is very beautiful and picture-like. While we sat here, mamma
+happened to refer to the ballad of little Barbara Lewthwaite, and Julian
+began to repeat the poem concerning her; and the gardener said that
+little Barbara had died not a great while ago, an elderly woman, leaving
+grown-up children behind her. Her marriage-name was Thompson, and the
+gardener believed there was nothing remarkable in her character.</p>
+
+<p>There is a summer-house at one extremity of the grounds, in deepest
+shadow, but with glimpses of mountain-views through trees which shut it
+in, and which have spread intercepting boughs since Wordsworth died. It
+is lined with pine-cones, in a pretty way enough, but of doubtful taste.
+I rather wonder that people of real taste should help Nature out, and
+beautify her, or perhaps rather <i>prettify</i> her so much as they
+do,&mdash;opening vistas, showing one thing, hiding another, making a scene
+picturesque whether or no. I cannot rid myself of the feeling that there
+is something false, a kind of humbug, in all this. At any rate, the
+traces of it do not contribute to my enjoyment, and, indeed, it ought to
+be done so exquisitely as to leave no trace. But I ought not to
+criticise in any way a spot which gave me so much pleasure, and where it
+is good to think of Wordsworth in quiet, past days, walking in his
+home-shadow of trees which he knew, and training flowers, and trimming
+shrubs, and chanting in an undertone his own verses, up and down the
+winding walks.</p>
+
+<p>The gardener gave Julian a cone from the summer-house, which had fallen
+on the seat, and mamma got some mignonette, and leaves of laurel and
+ivy, and we wended our way back to the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Wordsworth was not the owner of this house, it being the property of
+Lady Fleming. Mrs. Wordsworth still lives there, and is now at home.</p>
+
+<p><i>Five o'clock.</i>&mdash;All day it has been cloudy and showery, with thunder
+now and then; the mists hang low on the surrounding hills, adown which,
+at various points, we can see the snow-white fall of little
+streamlets&mdash;forces they call them here&mdash;swollen by the rain. An overcast
+day is not so gloomy in the hill-country as in the lowlands; there are
+more breaks, more transfusion of sky-light through the gloom, as has
+been the case to-day; and, as I found in Lenox, we get better acquainted
+with clouds by seeing at what height they lie on the hillsides, and find
+that the difference betwixt a fair day and a cloudy and rainy one is
+very superficial, after all. Nevertheless, rain is rain, and wets a man
+just as much among the mountains as anywhere else; so we have been kept
+within doors all day, till an hour or so ago, when Julian and I went
+down to the village in quest of the post-office.</p>
+
+<p>We took a path that leads from the hotel across the fields, and, coming
+into a wood, crosses the Rothay by a one-arched bridge, and passes the
+village church. The Rothay is very swift and turbulent to-day, and
+hurries along with foam-specks on its surface, filling its banks from
+brim to brim, a stream perhaps twenty feet wide, perhaps more; for I am
+willing that the good little river should have all it can fairly claim.
+It is the St. Lawrence of several of these English lakes, through which
+it flows, and carries off their superfluous waters. In its haste, and
+with its rushing sound, it was pleasant both to see and hear; and it
+sweeps by one side of the old churchyard where Wordsworth lies
+buried,&mdash;the side where his grave is made. The church of Grasmere is a
+very plain structure, with a low body, on one side of which is a low
+porch with a pointed arch. The tower is square, and looks ancient; but
+the whole is overlaid with plaster of a buff or pale-yellow hue. It was
+originally built, I suppose, of rough, shingly stones, as many of the
+houses hereabouts are now, and the plaster is used to give a finish. We
+found the gate of the churchyard wide open; and the grass was lying on
+the graves, having probably been mowed yesterday. It is but a small
+churchyard, and with few monuments of any pretension in it, most of them
+being slate headstones, standing erect. From the gate at which we
+entered a distinct foot-track leads to the corner nearest the
+river-side, and I turned into it by a sort of instinct, the more readily
+as I saw a tourist-looking man approaching from that point, and a woman
+looking among the gravestones. Both of these persons had gone by the
+time I came up, so that Julian and I were left to find Wordsworth's
+grave all by ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>At this corner of the churchyard there is a hawthorn bush or tree, the
+extremest branches of which stretch as far as where Wordsworth lies.
+This whole corner seems to be devoted to himself and his family and
+friends; and they all lie very closely together, side by side, and head
+to foot, as room could conveniently be found. Hartley Coleridge lies a
+little behind, in the direction of the church, his feet being towards
+Wordsworth's head, who lies in the row of those of his own blood. I
+found out Hartley Coleridge's grave sooner than Wordsworth's; for it is
+of marble, and, though simple enough, has more of sculptured device
+about it, having been erected, as I think the inscription states, by his
+brother and sister. Wordsworth's has only the very simplest slab of
+slate, with "William Wordsworth" and nothing else upon it. As I
+recollect it, it is the midmost grave of the row. It is, or has been,
+well grass-grown, but the grass is quite worn away from the top, though
+sufficiently luxuriant at the sides. It looks as if people had stood
+upon it, and so does the grave next to it, which, I believe, is of one
+of his children. I plucked some grass and weeds from it; and as he was
+buried within so few years, they may fairly be supposed to have drawn
+their nutriment from his mortal remains, and I gathered them from just
+above his head. There is no fault to be found with his grave,&mdash;within
+view of the hills, within sound of the river, murmuring near by,&mdash;no
+fault, except that he is crowded so closely with his kindred; and,
+moreover, that, being so old a churchyard, the earth over him must all
+have been human once. He might have had fresh earth to himself, but he
+chose this grave deliberately. No very stately and broad-based monument
+can ever be erected over it, without infringing upon, covering, and
+overshadowing the graves, not only of his family, but of individuals who
+probably were quite disconnected with him. But it is pleasant to think
+and know&mdash;were it but on the evidence of this choice of a
+resting-place&mdash;that he did not care for a stately monument. After
+leaving the churchyard, we wandered about in quest of the post-office,
+and for a long time without success. This little town of Grasmere seems
+to me as pretty a place as ever I met with in my life. It is quite shut
+in by hills that rise up immediately around it, like a neighborhood of
+kindly giants. These hills descend steeply to the verge of the level on
+which the village stands, and there they terminate at once, the whole
+site of the little town being as even as a floor. I call it a village;
+but it is no village at all, all the dwellings standing apart, each in
+its own little domain, and each, I believe, with its own little lane
+leading to it, independently of the rest. Most of these are old
+cottages, plastered white, with antique porches, and roses and other
+vines trained against them, and shrubbery growing about them; and some
+are covered with ivy. There are a few edifices of more pretension and of
+modern build, but not so strikingly as to put the rest out of
+countenance. The post-office, when we found it, proved to be an ivied
+cottage, with a good deal of shrubbery round it, having its own pathway,
+like the other cottages. The whole looks like a real seclusion, shut out
+from the great world by these encircling hills, on the sides of which,
+whenever they are not too steep, you see the division-lines of property,
+and tokens of cultivation,&mdash;taking from them their pretensions to savage
+majesty, but bringing them nearer to the heart of man.</p>
+
+<p>Since writing the above, I have been again with S&mdash;&mdash; to see
+Wordsworth's grave, and, finding the door of the church open, we went
+in. A woman and little girl were sweeping at the farther end, and the
+woman came towards us out of the cloud of dust which she had raised. We
+were surprised at the extremely antique appearance of the church. It is
+paved with bluish-gray flagstones, over which uncounted generations have
+trodden, leaving the floor as well laid as ever. The walls are very
+thick, and the arched windows open through them at a considerable
+distance above the floor. And down through the centre of the church runs
+a row of five arches, very rude and round-headed, all of rough stone,
+supported by rough and massive pillars, or rather square stone blocks,
+which stand in the pews, and stood in the same places, probably, long
+before the wood of those pews began to grow. Above this row of arches is
+another row, built upon the same mass of stone, and almost as broad, but
+lower; and on this upper row rests the framework, the oaken beams, the
+black skeleton of the roof. It is a very clumsy contrivance for
+supporting the roof, and if it were modern we certainly should condemn
+it as very ugly; but being the relic of a simple age, it comes in well
+with the antique simplicity of the whole structure. The roof goes up,
+barn-like, into its natural angle, and all the rafters and cross-beams
+are visible. There is an old font; and in the chancel is a niche, where,
+judging from a similar one in Furness Abbey, the holy water used to be
+placed for the priest's use while celebrating mass. Around the inside of
+the porch is a stone bench, placed against the wall, narrow and uneasy,
+but where a great many people had sat who now have found quieter
+resting-places.</p>
+
+<p>The woman was a very intelligent-looking person, not of the usual
+English ruddiness, but rather thin and somewhat pale, though bright of
+aspect. Her way of talking was very agreeable. She inquired if we wished
+to see Wordsworth's monument, and at once showed it to us,&mdash;a slab of
+white marble fixed against the upper end of the central row of stone
+arches, with a pretty long inscription, and a profile bust, in
+bas-relief, of his aged countenance. The monument is placed directly
+over Wordsworth's pew, and could best be seen and read from the very
+corner-seat where he used to sit. The pew is one of those occupying the
+centre of the church, and is just across the aisle from the pulpit, and
+is the best of all for the purpose of seeing and hearing the clergyman,
+and likewise as convenient as any, from its neighborhood to the altar.
+On the other side of the aisle, beneath the pulpit, is Lady Fleming's
+pew. This and one or two others are curtained; Wordsworth's was not. I
+think I can bring up his image in that corner seat of his pew&mdash;a
+white-headed, tall, spare man, plain in aspect&mdash;better than in any other
+situation. The woman said that she had known him very well, and that he
+had made some verses on a sister of hers. She repeated the first lines,
+something about a lamb; but neither S&mdash;&mdash; nor I remembered them.</p>
+
+<p>On the walls of the chancel there are monuments to the Flemings, and
+painted escutcheons of their arms; and along the side walls also, and on
+the square pillars of the row of arches, there are other monuments,
+generally of white marble, with the letters of the inscription
+blackened. On these pillars, likewise, and in many places in the walls,
+were hung verses from Scripture, painted on boards. At one of the doors
+was a poor-box, an elaborately carved little box of oak, with the date
+1648, and the name of the church&mdash;St. Oswald's&mdash;upon it. The whole
+interior of the edifice was plain, simple, almost to grimness,&mdash;or would
+have been so, only that the foolish church-wardens, or other authority,
+have washed it over with the same buff color with which they have
+overlaid the exterior. It is a pity; it lightens it up, and desecrates
+it horribly, especially as the woman says that there were formerly
+paintings on the walls, now obliterated forever. I could have stayed in
+the old church much longer, and could write much more about it, but
+there must be an end to everything. Pacing it from the farther end to
+the elevation before the altar, I found that it was twenty-five paces
+long.</p>
+
+<p>On looking again at the Rothay, I find I did it some injustice; for at
+the bridge, in its present swollen state, it is nearer twenty yards than
+twenty feet across. Its waters are very clear, and it rushes along with
+a speed which is delightful to see, after an acquaintance with the muddy
+and sluggish Avon and Leam.</p>
+
+<p>Since tea, I have taken a stroll from the hotel in a different direction
+from usual, and passed the Swan Inn, where Scott used to go daily to get
+a draught of liquor when he was visiting Wordsworth, who had no wine nor
+other inspiriting fluid in his house. It stands directly on the wayside,
+a small, whitewashed house, with an addition in the rear that seems to
+have been built since Scott's time. On the door is the painted sign of
+a swan,&mdash;and the name "Scott's Swan Hotel." I walked a considerable
+distance beyond it; but a shower coming up, I turned back, entered the
+inn, and, following the mistress into a snug little room, was served
+with a glass of bitter ale. It is a very plain and homely inn, and
+certainly could not have satisfied Scott's wants, if he had required
+anything very farfetched or delicate in his potations. I found two
+Westmoreland peasants in the room with ale before them. One went away
+almost immediately; but the other remained, and, entering into
+conversation with him, he told me that he was going to New Zealand, and
+expected to sail in September. I announced myself as an American, and he
+said that a large party had lately gone from hereabouts to America; but
+he seemed not to understand that there was any distinction between
+Canada and the States. These people had gone to Quebec. He was a very
+civil, well-behaved, kindly sort of person, of a simple character, which
+I took to belong to the class and locality, rather than to himself
+individually. I could not very well understand all that he said, owing
+to his provincial dialect; and when he spoke to his own countrymen, or
+to the women of the house, I really could but just catch a word here and
+there. How long it takes to melt English down into a homogeneous mass!
+He told me that there was a public library in Grasmere, to which he has
+access in common with the other inhabitants, and a reading-room
+connected with it, where he reads the "Times" in the evening. There was
+no American smartness in his mind. When I left the house, it was
+showering briskly; but the drops quite ceased, and the clouds began to
+break away, before I reached my hotel, and I saw the new moon over my
+right shoulder.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><i>July 21.</i>&mdash;We left Grasmere yesterday, after breakfast, it being a
+delightful morning, with some clouds, but the cheerfullest sunshine on
+great part of the mountain-sides and on ourselves. We returned, in the
+first place, to Ambleside, along the border of Grasmere Lake, which
+would be a pretty little piece of water, with its steep and
+high-surrounding hills, were it not that a stubborn and straight-lined
+stone fence, running along the eastern shore, by the roadside, quite
+spoils its appearance. Rydal water, though nothing can make a lake of
+it, looked prettier and less diminutive than at the first view; and, in
+fact, I find that it is impossible to know accurately how any prospect
+or other thing looks until after at least a second view, which always
+essentially corrects the first. This, I think, is especially true in
+regard to objects which we have heard much about, and exercised our
+imagination upon; the first view being a vain attempt to reconcile our
+idea with the reality, and at the second we begin to accept the thing
+for what it really is. Wordsworth's situation is really a beautiful one;
+and Nab Scaur behind his house rises with a grand, protecting air. We
+passed Nab's cottage, in which De Quincey formerly lived, and where
+Hartley Coleridge lived and died. It is a small, buff-tinted, plastered,
+stone cottage, immediately on the roadside, and originally, I should
+think, of a very humble class; but it now looks as if persons of taste
+might some time or other have sat down in it, and caused flowers to
+spring up about it. It is very agreeably situated, under the great,
+precipitous hill, and with Rydal water close at hand, on the other side
+of the road. An advertisement of lodgings to let was put up on this
+cottage.</p>
+
+<p>I question whether any part of the world looks so beautiful as
+England&mdash;this part of England, at least&mdash;on a fine summer morning. It
+makes one think the more cheerfully of human life to see such a bright,
+universal verdure; such sweet, rural, peaceful, flower-bordered
+cottages,&mdash;not cottages of gentility, but dwellings of the laboring
+poor; such nice villas along the roadside, so tastefully contrived for
+comfort and beauty, and adorned more and more, year after year, with the
+care and afterthought of people who mean to live in them a great while,
+and feel as if their children might live in them also. And so they plant
+trees to overshadow their walks, and train ivy and all beautiful vines
+up against their walls,&mdash;and thus live for the future in another sense
+than we Americans do. And the climate helps them out, and makes
+everything moist and green, and full of tender life, instead of dry and
+arid, as human life and vegetable life are so apt to be with us.
+Certainly, England can present a more attractive face than we can, even
+in its humbler modes of life,&mdash;to say nothing of the beautiful lives
+that might be led, one would think, by the higher classes, whose
+gateways, with broad, smooth gravelled drives leading through them, one
+sees every mile or two along the road, winding into some proud
+seclusion. All this is passing away, and society must assume new
+relations; but there is no harm in believing that there has been
+something very good in English life,&mdash;good for all classes, while the
+world was in a state out of which these forms naturally grew.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="MONAS_MOTHER" id="MONAS_MOTHER"></a>MONA'S MOTHER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the porch that brier-vines smother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At her wheel, sits Mona's mother.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, the day is dying bright!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Roseate shadows, silver dimming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ruby lights through amber swimming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bring the still and starry night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sudden she is 'ware of shadows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Going out across the meadows<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From the slowly sinking sun,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Going through the misty spaces<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That the rippling ruby laces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shadows, like the violets tangled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the soft light, softly mingled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till the two seem just as one!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Every tell-tale wind doth waft her<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Little breaths of maiden laughter.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, divinely dies the day!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the swallow, on the rafter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In her nest of sticks and clay,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the rafter, up above her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her patience doth reprove her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Twittering soft the time away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never stopping, never stopping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her wings so warmly dropping<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Round her nest of sticks and clay.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Take, my bird, O take some other<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Eve than this to twitter gay!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sayeth, prayeth Mona's mother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the slender-throated swallow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On her nest of sticks and clay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For her sad eyes needs must follow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down the misty, mint-sweet hollow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the ruby colors play<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With the gold, and with the gray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Yet, my little Lady-feather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">You do well to sit and sing,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crieth, sigheth Mona's mother.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"If you would, you could no other.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Can the leaf fail with the spring?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can the tendril stay from twining<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When the sap begins to run?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the dew-drop keep from shining<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With her body full o' the sun?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor can you, from gladness, either;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Therefore, you do well to sing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up and o'er the downy lining<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of your bird-bed I can see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two round little heads together,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pushed out softly through your wing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But alas! my bird, for me!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the porch with roses burning<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All across, she sitteth lonely.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, her soul is dark with dread!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round and round her slow wheel turning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lady brow down-dropped serenely,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lady hand uplifted queenly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pausing in the spinning only<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To rejoin the broken thread,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pausing only for the winding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the carded silken binding<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the flax, the distaff-head.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All along the branches creeping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To their leafy beds of sleeping<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Go the blue-birds and the brown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blackbird stoppeth now his clamor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the little yellowhammer<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Droppeth head in winglet down.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now the rocks rise bleak and barren<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through the twilight, gray and still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the marsh-land now the heron<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Clappeth close his horny bill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Death-watch now begins his drumming<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fire-fly, going, coming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Weaveth zigzag lines of light,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lines of zigzag, golden-threaded,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up the marshy valley, shaded<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O'er and o'er with vapors white.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now the lily, open-hearted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of her dragon-fly deserted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Swinging on the wind so low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gives herself, with trust audacious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the wild warm wave that washes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through her fingers, soft and slow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O the eyes of Mona's mother!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dim they grow with tears unshed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For no longer may they follow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down the misty mint-sweet hollow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down along the yellow mosses<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That the brook with silver crosses.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ah! the day is dead, is dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the cold and curdling shadows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stretching from the long, low meadows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Darker, deeper, nearer spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till she cannot see the twining<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the briers, nor see the lining<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round the porch of roses red,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till she cannot see the hollow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor the little steel-winged swallow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On her clay-built nest o'erhead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Mona's mother falleth mourning:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, 't is hard, so hard, to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prattling child to woman turning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As to grander company!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Little heart she lulled with hushes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beating, burning up with blushes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All with meditative dreaming<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the dear delicious gleaming<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the bridal veil and ring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Finding in the sweet ovations<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of its new, untried relations<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Better joys than she can bring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In her hand her wheel she keepeth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her heart within her leapeth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a burdened, bashful yearning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For the babe's weight on her knee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For the loving lisp of glee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet as larks' throats in the morning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sweet as hum of honey-bee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O my child!" cries Mona's mother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Will you, can you take another<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Name ere mine upon your lips?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can you, only for the asking,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give to other hands the clasping<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of your rosy finger-tips?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fear on fear her sad soul borrows,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O the dews are falling fair!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But no fair thing now can move her;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vainly walks the moon above her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Turning out her golden furrows<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On the cloudy fields of air.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sudden she is 'ware of shadows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Coming in across the meadows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And of murmurs, low as love,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Murmurs mingled like the meeting<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the winds, or like the beating<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the wings of dove with dove.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In her hand the slow wheel stoppeth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Silken flax from distaff droppeth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a cruel, killing pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Striketh up from heart to brain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she knoweth by that token<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That the spinning all is vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That the troth-plight has been spoken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the thread of life thus broken<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Never can be joined again.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="AT_PADUA" id="AT_PADUA"></a>AT PADUA.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<p>Those of my readers who have frequented the garden of Doctor Rappaccini
+no doubt recall with perfect distinctness the quaint old city of Padua.
+They remember its miles and miles of dim arcade over-roofing the
+sidewalks everywhere, affording excellent opportunity for the flirtation
+of lovers by day and the vengeance of rivals by night. They have seen
+the now vacant streets thronged with maskers, and the Venetian Podest&agrave;
+going in gorgeous state to and from the vast Palazzo della Ragione. They
+have witnessed ringing tournaments in those sad, empty squares, and
+races in the Prato della Valle, and many other wonders of different
+epochs, and their pleasure makes me half sorry that I should have lived
+for several years within an hour by rail from Padua, and should know
+little or nothing of these great sights from actual observation. I take
+shame to myself for having visited Padua so often and so familiarly as I
+used to do,&mdash;for having been bored and hungry there,&mdash;for having had
+toothache there, upon one occasion,&mdash;for having rejoiced more in a cup
+of coffee at Pedrocchi's than in the whole history of Padua,&mdash;for having
+slept repeatedly in the bad-bedded hotels of Padua and never once dreamt
+of Portia,&mdash;for having been more taken by the <i>salti mortali</i><a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> of a
+waiter who summed up my account at a Paduan restaurant, than by all the
+strategies with which the city has been many times captured and
+recaptured. Had I viewed Padua only over the wall of Doctor Rappaccini's
+garden, how different my impressions of the city would now be! This is
+one of the drawbacks of actual knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! how can you write about Spain when once you have been there?" asked
+Heine of Th&eacute;ophile Gautier setting out on a journey thither.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless it seems to me that I remember something about Padua with a
+sort of romantic pleasure. There was a certain charm which I can dimly
+recall, in sauntering along the top of the old wall of the city, and
+looking down upon the plumy crests of the Indian-corn that nourished up
+so mightily from the dry bed of the moat. At such times I could not help
+figuring to myself the many sieges that the wall had known, with the
+fierce assault by day, the secret attack by night, the swarming foe upon
+the plains below, the bristling arms of the besieged upon the wall, the
+boom of the great mortars made of ropes and leather and throwing mighty
+balls of stone, the stormy flight of arrows, the ladders planted against
+the defences and staggering headlong into the moat, enriched for future
+agriculture not only by its sluggish waters, but by the blood of many
+men. I suppose that most of these visions were old stage spectacles
+furbished up anew, and that my armies were chiefly equipped with their
+obsolete implements of warfare from museums of armor and from cabinets
+of antiquities; but they were very vivid, for all that.</p>
+
+<p>I was never able, in passing a certain one of the city gates, to divest
+myself of an historic interest in the great loads of hay waiting
+admission on the outside. For an instant they masked again the Venetian
+troops that, in the war of the League of Cambray, entered the city in
+the hay-carts, shot down the landsknechts at the gates, and, uniting
+with the citizens, cut the German garrison to pieces. But it was a thing
+long past. The German garrison was here again; and the heirs of the
+landsknechts went clanking through the gate to the parade-ground, with
+that fierce clamor of their kettle-drums which is so much fiercer
+because unmingled with the noise of fifes. Once more now the Germans are
+gone, and, let us trust, forever; but when I saw them, there seemed
+little hope of their going. They had a great Biergarten on the top of
+the wall, and they had set up the altars of their heavy Bacchus in many
+parts of the city.</p>
+
+<p>I please myself with thinking that, if I walked on such a spring day as
+this in the arcaded Paduan streets, I should catch glimpses, through the
+gateways of the palaces, of gardens full of vivid bloom, and of
+fountains that tinkle there forever. If it were autumn, and I were in
+the great market-place before the Palazzo della Ragione, I should hear
+the baskets of amber-hued and honeyed grapes humming with the murmur of
+multitudinous bees, and making a music as if the wine itself were
+already singing in their gentle hearts. It is a great field of succulent
+verdure, that wide old market-place; and fancy loves to browse about
+among its gay stores of fruits and vegetables, brought thither by the
+world-old peasant-women who have been bringing fruits and vegetables to
+the Paduan market for so many centuries. They sit upon the ground before
+their great panniers, and knit and doze, and wake up with a drowsy
+"<i>Comandala?</i>" as you linger to look at their grapes. They have each a
+pair of scales,&mdash;the emblem of Injustice,&mdash;and will weigh you out a
+scant measure of the fruit, if you like. Their faces are yellow as
+parchment, and Time has written them so full of wrinkles that there is
+not room for another line. Doubtless these old parchment visages are
+palimpsests, and would tell the whole history of Padua if you could get
+at each successive inscription. Among their primal records there must be
+some account of the Roman city, as each little contadinella, remembered
+it on market-days; and one might read of the terror of Attila's sack, a
+little later, with the peasant-maid's personal recollections of the bold
+Hunnish trooper who ate up the grapes in her basket, and kissed her
+hard, round red cheeks,&mdash;for in that time she was a blooming girl,&mdash;and
+paid nothing for either privilege. What wild and confused reminiscences
+on the wrinkled visage we should find thereafter of the fierce
+republican times, of Ecelino, of the Carraras, of the Venetian rule! And
+is it not sad to think of systems and peoples all passing away, and
+these ancient women lasting still, and still selling grapes in front of
+the Palazzo della Ragione? What a long mortality!</p>
+
+<p>The youngest of their number is a thousand years older than the palace,
+which was begun in the twelfth century, and which is much the same now
+as it was when first completed. I know that, if I entered it, I should
+be sure of finding the great hall of the palace&mdash;the vastest hall in the
+world&mdash;dim and dull and dusty and delightful, with nothing in it except
+at one end Donatello's colossal marble-headed wooden horse of Troy,
+stared at from the other end by the two dog-faced Egyptian women in
+basalt placed there by Belzoni.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the drowsy summer afternoons I should have the Court of the
+University all to myself, and might study unmolested the blazons of the
+noble youth who have attended the school in different centuries ever
+since 1200, and have left their escutcheons on the walls to commemorate
+them. At the foot of the stairway ascending to the schools from the
+court is the statue of the learned lady who was once a professor in the
+University, and who, if her likeness belie not her looks, must have
+given a great charm to student life in other times. At present there are
+no lady professors at Padua, any more than at Harvard; and during late
+years the schools have suffered greatly from the interference of the
+Austrian government, which frequently closed them for months, on account
+of political demonstrations among the students. But now there is an end
+of this and many other stupid oppressions; and the time-honored
+University will doubtless regain its ancient importance. Even in 1864 it
+had nearly fifteen hundred students, and one met them everywhere under
+the arcades, and could not well mistake them, with that blended air of
+pirate and dandy which these studious young men loved to assume. They
+were to be seen a good deal on the promenades outside the walls, where
+the Paduan ladies are driven in their carriages in the afternoon, and
+where one sees the blood-horses and fine equipages for which Padua is
+famous. There used once to be races in the Prato della Valle, after the
+Italian notion of horse-races; but these are now discontinued, and there
+is nothing to be found there but the statues of scholars and soldiers
+and statesmen, posted in a circle around the old race-course. If you
+strolled thither about dusk on such a day as this, you might see the
+statues unbend a little from their stony rigidity, and in the failing
+light nod to each other very pleasantly through the trees. And if you
+stayed in Padua over night, what could be better to-morrow morning than
+a stroll through the great Botanical Garden,&mdash;the oldest botanical
+garden in the world,&mdash;the garden which first received in Europe the
+strange and splendid growths of our hemisphere,&mdash;the garden where Doctor
+Rappaccini doubtless found the germ of his mortal plant?</p>
+
+<p>On the whole, I believe I would rather go this moment to Padua than to
+Lowell or Lawrence, or even to Worcester; and as to the disadvantage of
+having seen Padua, I begin to think the whole place has now assumed so
+fantastic a character in my mind that I am almost as well qualified to
+write of it as if I had merely dreamed it.</p>
+
+<p>The day that we first visited the city was very rainy, and we spent most
+of the time in viewing the churches. These, even after the churches of
+Venice, one finds rich in art and historic interest, and they in no
+instance fall into the maniacal excesses of the Renaissance to which
+some of the temples of the latter city abandon themselves. Their
+architecture forms a sort of border-land between the Byzantine of Venice
+and the Lombardic of Verona. The superb domes of St. Anthony's emulate
+those of St. Mark's, and the porticos of other Paduan churches rest
+upon the backs of bird-headed lions and leopards that fascinate with
+their mystery and beauty.</p>
+
+<p>It was the wish to see the attributive Giottos in the Chapter which drew
+us first to St. Anthony's, and we saw them with the satisfaction
+naturally attending the contemplation of frescos discovered only since
+1858, after having been hidden under plaster and whitewash for many
+centuries; but we could not believe that Giotto's fame was destined to
+gain much by their rescue from oblivion. They are in no wise to be
+compared with this master's frescos in the Chapel of the
+Annunziata,&mdash;which, indeed, is in every way a place of wonder and
+delight. You reach it by passing through a garden lane bordered with
+roses, and a taciturn gardener comes out with clinking keys, and lets
+you into the chapel, where there is nobody but Giotto and Dante, nor
+seems to have been for ages. Cool it is, and of a pulverous smell, as a
+sacred place should be; a blessed benching goes round the wall, and you
+sit down and take unlimited comfort in the frescos. The gardener leaves
+you alone to the solitude and the silence, in which the talk of the
+painter and the exile is plain enough. Their contemporaries and yours
+are cordial in their gay companionship; through the half-open door
+falls, in a pause of the rain, the same sunshine that they saw lie
+there; the deathless birds that they heard sing out in the garden trees;
+it is the fresh sweetness of the grass mown six hundred years ago that
+breathes through all the lovely garden grounds.</p>
+
+<p>How mistaken was Ponce de Leon, to seek the fountain of youth in the New
+World! It is there,&mdash;in the Old World,&mdash;far back in the past. We are all
+old men and decrepit together in the present; the future is full of
+death; in the past we are light and glad as boys turned barefoot in the
+spring. The work of the heroes is play to us; the pang of the martyr is
+a thrill of rapture; the exile's longing is a strain of plaintive music
+touching and delighting us. We are not only young again, we are
+immortal. It is this divine sense of superiority to fate which is the
+supreme good won from travel in historic lands, and from the presence of
+memorable things, and which no sublimity of natural aspects can bestow.
+It is this which forms the wide difference between Europe and
+America,&mdash;a gulf that it will take a thousand years to bridge.</p>
+
+<p>It is a shame that the immortals should be limited in their pleasures by
+the fact that they have hired their brougham by the hour; yet we early
+quit the Chapel of Giotto on this account. We had chosen our driver from
+among many other drivers of broughams in the vicinity of Pedrocchi's,
+because he had such an honest look, and was not likely, we thought, to
+deal unfairly with us.</p>
+
+<p>"But first," said the signor who had selected him, "how much is your
+brougham an hour?"</p>
+
+<p>So and so.</p>
+
+<p>"Show me the tariff of fares."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no tariff."</p>
+
+<p>"There is. Show it to me."</p>
+
+<p>"It is lost, signor."</p>
+
+<p>"I think not. It is here in this pocket Get it out."</p>
+
+<p>The tariff appears, and with it the fact that he had demanded just what
+the boatman of the ballad received in gift,&mdash;thrice his fee.</p>
+
+<p>The driver mounted his seat, and served us so faithfully that day in
+Padua that we took him the next day for Arqu&agrave;. At the end, when he had
+received his due, and a handsome <i>mancia</i> besides, he was still
+unsatisfied, and referred to the tariff in proof that he had been
+under-paid. On that confronted and defeated, he thanked us very
+cordially, gave us the number of his brougham, and begged us to ask for
+him when we came next to Padua and needed a carriage.</p>
+
+<p>From the Chapel of the Annunziata he drove us to the Church of Santa
+Giustina, where is a very famous and noble picture by Romanino. But as
+this paper has nothing in the world to do with art, I here dismiss that
+subject, and with a gross and idle delight follow the sacristan down
+under this church to the prison of Santa Giustina.</p>
+
+<p>Of all the faculties of the mind there is none so little fatiguing to
+exercise as mere wonder; and, for my own sake, I try always to wonder at
+things without the least critical reservation. I therefore, in the sense
+of deglutition, bolted this prison at once, though subsequent
+experiences led me to look with grave indigestion upon the whole idea of
+prisons, their authenticity, and even their existence.</p>
+
+<p>As far as mere dimensions are concerned, the prison of Santa Giustina
+was not a hard one to swallow, being only three feet wide by about ten
+feet in length. In this limited space, Santa Giustina passed five years
+of the paternal reign of Nero (a virtuous and a long-suffering prince,
+whom, singularly enough, no historic artist has yet arisen to
+whitewash), and was then brought out into the larger cell adjoining, to
+suffer a blessed martyrdom. I am not sure now whether the sacristan said
+she was dashed to death on the stones, or cut to pieces with knives; but
+whatever the form of martyrdom, an iron ring in the ceiling was employed
+in it, as I know from seeing the ring,&mdash;a curiously well-preserved piece
+of ironmongery. Within the narrow prison of the saint, and just under
+the grating, through which the sacristan thrust his candle to illuminate
+it, was a mountain of candle-drippings,&mdash;a monument to the fact that
+faith still largely exists in this doubting world. My own credulity, not
+only with regard to this prison, but also touching the coffin of St.
+Luke, which I saw in the church, had so wrought upon the esteem of the
+sacristan, that he now took me to a well, into which, he said, had been
+cast the bones of three thousand Christian martyrs. He lowered a lantern
+into the well, and assured me that, if I looked through a certain
+screenwork there, I could see the bones. On experiment I could not see
+the bones, but this circumstance did not cause me to doubt their
+presence, particularly as I did see upon the screen a great number of
+coins offered for the repose of the martyrs' souls. I threw down some
+<i>soldi</i>, and thus enthralled the sacristan.</p>
+
+<p>If the signor cared to see prisons, he said, the driver must take him to
+those of Ecelino, at present the property of a private gentleman near
+by. As I had just bought a history of Ecelino, at a great bargain, from
+a second-hand bookstall, and had a lively interest in all the enormities
+of that nobleman, I sped the driver instantly to the villa of the Signor
+Pacchiarotti.</p>
+
+<p>It depends here altogether upon the freshness or mustiness of the
+reader's historical reading whether he cares to be reminded more
+particularly who Ecelino was. He flourished balefully in the early half
+of the thirteenth century as lord of Vicenza, Verona, Padua, and
+Brescia, and was defeated and hurt to death in an attempt to possess
+himself of Milan. He was in every respect a remarkable man for that
+time,&mdash;fearless, abstemious, continent, avaricious, hardy, and
+unspeakably ambitious and cruel. He survived and suppressed innumerable
+conspiracies, escaping even the thrust of the assassin whom the fame of
+his enormous wickedness had caused the Old Man of the Mountain to send
+against him. As lord of Padua he was more incredibly severe and bloody
+in his rule than as lord of the other cities, for the Paduans had been
+latest free, and conspired most frequently against him. He extirpated
+whole families on suspicion that a single member had been concerned in a
+meditated revolt. Little children and helpless women suffered hideous
+mutilation and shame at his hands. Six prisons in Padua were constantly
+filled by his arrests. The whole country was traversed by witnesses of
+his cruelties,&mdash;men and women deprived of an arm or leg, and begging
+from door to door. He had long been excommunicated; at last the Church
+proclaimed a crusade against him, and his lieutenant and nephew&mdash;more
+demoniacal, if possible, than himself&mdash;was driven out of Padua while he
+was operating against Mantua. Ecelino retired to Verona, and maintained
+a struggle against the crusade for nearly two years longer, with a
+courage which never failed him. Wounded and taken prisoner, the soldiers
+of the victorious army gathered about him, and heaped insult and
+reproach upon him; and one furious peasant, whose brother's feet had
+been cut off by Ecelino's command, dealt the helpless monster four blows
+upon the head with a scythe. By some, Ecelino is said to have died of
+these wounds alone; but by others it is related that his death was a
+kind of suicide, inasmuch as he himself put the case past surgery by
+tearing off the bandages from his hurts, and refusing all medicines.</p>
+
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<p>Entering at the enchanted portal of the Villa P&mdash;&mdash;, we found ourselves
+in a realm of wonder. It was our misfortune not to see the magician who
+compelled all the marvels on which we looked, but for that very reason,
+perhaps, we have the clearest sense of his greatness. Everywhere we
+beheld the evidences of his ingenious but lugubrious fancy, which
+everywhere tended to a monumental and mortuary effect. A sort of
+vestibule first received us, and beyond this dripped and glimmered the
+garden. The walls of the vestibule were covered with inscriptions
+setting forth the sentiments of the philosophy and piety of all ages
+concerning life and death; we began with Confucius, and we ended with
+Benjamino Franklino. But as if these ideas of mortality were not
+sufficiently depressing, the funereal Signor P&mdash;&mdash;had collected into
+earthern <i>amphor&aelig;</i> the ashes of the most famous men of ancient and
+modern times, and arranged them so that a sense of their number and
+variety should at once strike his visitor. Each jar was conspicuously
+labelled with the name its illustrious dust had borne in life; and if
+one escaped with comparative cheerfulness from the thought that Seneca
+had died, there were in the very next pot the cinders of Napoleon to
+bully him back to a sense of his mortality.</p>
+
+<p>We were glad to have the gloomy fascination of these objects broken by
+the custodian, who approached to ask if we wished to see the prisons of
+Ecelino, and we willingly followed him into the rain out of our
+sepulchral shelter.</p>
+
+<p>Between the vestibule and the towers of the tyrant lay that garden
+already mentioned, and our guide led us through ranks of weeping
+statuary, and rainy bowers, and showery lanes of shrubbery, until we
+reached the door of his cottage. While he entered to fetch the key to
+the prisons, we noted that the towers were freshly painted and in
+perfect repair; and indeed the custodian said frankly enough, on
+reappearing, that they were merely built over the prisons on the site of
+the original towers. The storied stream of the Bacchiglione sweeps
+through the grounds, and now, swollen by the rainfall, it roared, a
+yellow torrent, under a corner of the prisons. The towers rise from
+masses of foliage, and form no unpleasing feature of what must be, in
+spite of Signor P&mdash;&mdash;, a delightful Italian garden in sunny weather. The
+ground is not so flat as elsewhere in Padua, and this inequality gives
+an additional picturesqueness to the place. But as we were come in
+search of horrors, we scorned these merely lovely things, and hastened
+to immure ourselves in the dungeons below. The custodian, lighting a
+candle, (which ought, we felt, to have been a torch,) went before.</p>
+
+<p>We found the cells, though narrow and dark, not uncomfortable, and the
+guide conceded that they had undergone some repairs since Ecelino's
+time. But all the horrors for which we had come were there in perfect
+grisliness, and labelled by the ingenious Signor P&mdash;&mdash; with Latin
+inscriptions.</p>
+
+<p>In the first cell was a shrine of the Virgin, set in the wall. Beneath
+this, while the wretched prisoner knelt in prayer, a trap-door opened
+and precipitated him down upon the points of knives, from which his body
+fell into the Bacchiglione below. In the next cell, held by some rusty
+iron rings to the wall, was a skeleton, hanging by the wrists.</p>
+
+<p>"This," said the guide, "was another punishment of which Ecelino was
+very fond."</p>
+
+<p>A dreadful doubt seized my mind. "Was this skeleton found here?" I
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Without faltering an instant, without so much as winking an eye, the
+custodian replied, "<i>Appunto</i>."</p>
+
+<p>It was a great relief, and restored me to confidence in the
+establishment. I am at a loss to explain how my faith should have been
+confirmed afterwards by coming upon a guillotine&mdash;an awful instrument in
+the likeness of a straw-cutter, with a decapitated wooden figure under
+its blade&mdash;which the custodian confessed to be a modern improvement
+placed there by Signor P&mdash;&mdash;. Yet my credulity was so strengthened by
+his candor, that I accepted without hesitation the torture of the
+water-drop when we came to it. The water-jar was as well preserved as if
+placed there but yesterday, and the skeleton beneath it&mdash;found as we saw
+it&mdash;was entire and perfect.</p>
+
+<p>In the adjoining cell sat a skeleton&mdash;found as we saw it&mdash;with its neck
+in the clutch of the garrote, which was one of Ecelino's more merciful
+punishments; while in still another cell the ferocity of the tyrant
+appeared in the penalty inflicted upon the wretch whose skeleton had
+been hanging for ages&mdash;as we saw it&mdash;head downwards from the ceiling.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond these, in a yet darker and drearier dungeon, stood a heavy oblong
+wooden box, with two apertures near the top, peering through which we
+found that we were looking into the eyeless sockets of a skull. Within
+this box Ecelino had immured the victim we beheld there, and left him to
+perish in view of the platters of food and goblets of drink placed just
+beyond the reach of his hands. The food we saw was of course not the
+original food.</p>
+
+<p>At last we came to the crowning horror of Villa P&mdash;&mdash;, the supreme
+excess of Ecelino's cruelty. The guide entered the cell before us, and,
+as we gained the threshold, threw the light of his taper vividly upon a
+block that stood in the middle of the floor. Fixed to the block by an
+immense spike driven through from the back was the little slender hand
+of a woman, which lay there just as it had been struck from the living
+arm, and which, after the lapse of so many centuries, was still as
+perfectly preserved as if it had been embalmed. The sight had a most
+cruel fascination; and while one of the horror-seekers stood helplessly
+conjuring to his vision that scene of unknown dread,&mdash;the shrinking,
+shrieking woman dragged to the block, the wild, shrill, horrible screech
+following the blow that drove in the spike, the merciful swoon after the
+mutilation,&mdash;his companion, with a sudden pallor, demanded to be taken
+instantly away.</p>
+
+<p>In their swift withdrawal, they only glanced at a few detached
+instruments of torture,&mdash;all original Ecelinos, but intended for the
+infliction of minor and comparatively unimportant torments,&mdash;and then
+they passed from that place of fear.</p>
+
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<p>In the evening we sat talking at the Caff&egrave; Pedrocchi with an abbate, an
+acquaintance of ours, who was a Professor in the University of Padua.
+Pedrocchi's is the great caff&egrave; of Padua, a granite edifice of Egyptian
+architecture, which is the mausoleum of the proprietor's fortune. The
+pecuniary skeleton at the feast, however, does not much trouble the
+guests. They begin early in the evening to gather into the elegant
+saloons of the caff&egrave;,&mdash;somewhat too large for so small a city as
+Padua,&mdash;and they sit there late in the night over their cheerful cups
+and their ices with their newspaper and their talk. Not so many ladies
+are to be seen as at the caff&egrave; in Venice, for it is only in the greater
+cities that they go much to these public places. There are few students
+at Pedrocchi's, for they frequent the cheaper caff&egrave;; but you may nearly
+always find there some Professor of the University, and on the evening
+of which I speak, there were two present besides our abbate. Our
+friend's great passion was the English language, which he understood too
+well to venture to speak a great deal. He had been translating from that
+tongue into Italian certain American poems, and our talk was of these at
+first. Then we began to talk of distinguished American writers, of whom
+intelligent Italians always know at least four, in this
+succession,&mdash;Cooper, Mrs. Stowe, Longfellow, and Irving. Mrs. Stowe's
+<i>Capanna di Zio Tom</i> is, of course, universally read; and my friend had
+also read <i>Il Fiore di Maggio</i>,&mdash;"The Mayflower." Of Longfellow, the
+"Evangeline" is familiar to Italians, through a translation of the poem;
+but our abbate knew all the poet's works, and one of the other
+Professors present that evening had made such faithful study of them as
+to have produced some translations rendering the original with
+remarkable fidelity and spirit. I have before me here his <i>brochure</i>,
+printed last year at Padua, and containing versions of "Enceladus,"
+"Excelsior," "A Psalm of Life," "The Old Clock on the Stairs," "Sand of
+the Desert in an Hour-Glass," "Twilight," "Daybreak," "The Quadroon
+Girl," and "Torquemada,"&mdash;pieces which give the Italians a fair notion
+of our poet's lyrical range, and which bear witness to Professor
+Messadaglia's sympathetic and familiar knowledge of his works. A young
+and gifted lady of Parma, now unhappily no more, published only a few
+months since a translation of "The Golden Legend"; and Professor
+Messadaglia, in his Preface, mentions a version of another of our poet's
+longer works on which the translator of the "Evangeline" is now engaged.</p>
+
+<p>At last, turning from literature, we spoke with the gentle abbate of
+our day's adventures, and eagerly related that of the Ecelino prisons.
+To have seen them was the most terrific pleasure of our lives.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh!" said our friend, "I believe you."</p>
+
+<p>"We mean those under the Villa P&mdash;&mdash;."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly."</p>
+
+<p>There was a tone of politely suppressed amusement in the abbate's voice;
+and after a moment's pause, in which we felt our awful experience
+slipping and sliding away from us, we ventured to say, "You don't mean
+that those are <i>not</i> the veritable Ecelino prisons?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly they are nothing of the kind. The Ecelino prisons were
+destroyed when the Crusaders took Padua, with the exception of the tower
+which the Venetian Republic converted into an observatory."</p>
+
+<p>"But at least these prisons are on the site of Ecelino's castle?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing of the sort. His castle in that case would have been outside of
+the old city walls."</p>
+
+<p>"And those tortures and the prisons are all&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Things got up for show. No doubt, Ecelino used such things, and many
+worse, of which even the ingenuity of Signor P&mdash;&mdash; cannot conceive. But
+he is an eccentric man, loving the horrors of history, and what he can
+do to realize them he has done in his prisons."</p>
+
+<p>"But the custodian, how could he lie so?"</p>
+
+<p>Our friend shrugged his shoulders. "Eh! easily. And perhaps he even
+believed what he said."</p>
+
+<p>The world began to assume an aspect of bewildering ungenuineness, and
+there seemed to be a treacherous quality of fiction in the ground under
+our feet. Even the play at the pretty little Teatro Sociale, where we
+went to pass the rest of the evening, appeared hollow and improbable. We
+thought the hero something of a bore, with his patience and goodness;
+and as for the heroine, pursued by the attentions of the rich
+profligate, we doubted if she were any better than she should be.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> <i>Salti mortali</i> are those prodigious efforts of mental
+arithmetic by which Italian waiters, in verbally presenting your
+account, arrive at six as the product of two and two.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="POOR_RICHARD" id="POOR_RICHARD"></a>POOR RICHARD.</h2>
+
+<h3>A STORY IN THREE PARTS.</h3>
+
+
+<h4>PART II.</h4>
+
+<p>Richard got through the following week he hardly knew how. He found
+occupation, to a much greater extent than he was actually aware of, in a
+sordid and yet heroic struggle with himself. For several months now, he
+had been leading, under Gertrude's inspiration, a strictly decent and
+sober life. So long as he was at comparative peace with Gertrude and
+with himself, such a life was more than easy; it was delightful. It
+produced a moral buoyancy infinitely more delicate and more constant
+than the gross exhilaration of his old habits. There was a kind of
+fascination in adding hour to hour, and day to day, in this record of
+his new-born austerity. Having abjured excesses, he practised temperance
+after the fashion of a novice: he raised it (or reduced it) to
+abstinence. He was like an unclean man who, having washed himself clean,
+remains in the water for the love of it. He wished to be religiously,
+superstitiously pure. This was easy, as we have said, so long as his
+goddess smiled, even though it were as a goddess indeed,&mdash;as a creature
+unattainable. But when she frowned, and the heavens grew dark, Richard's
+sole dependence was in his own will,&mdash;as flimsy a trust for an upward
+scramble, one would have premised, as a tuft of grass on the face of a
+perpendicular cliff. Flimsy as it looked, however, it served him. It
+started and crumbled, but it held, if only by a single fibre. When
+Richard had cantered fifty yards away from Gertrude's gate in a fit of
+stupid rage, he suddenly pulled up his horse and gulped down his
+passion, and swore an oath, that, suffer what torments of feeling he
+might, he would not at least break the continuity of his gross physical
+soberness. It was enough to be drunk in mind; he would not be drunk in
+body. A singular, almost ridiculous feeling of antagonism to Gertrude
+lent force to this resolution. "No, madam," he cried within himself, "I
+shall <i>not</i> fall back. Do your best! I shall keep straight." We often
+outweather great offences and afflictions through a certain healthy
+instinct of egotism. Richard went to bed that night as grim and sober as
+a Trappist monk; and his foremost impulse the next day was to plunge
+headlong into some physical labor which should not allow him a moment's
+interval of idleness. He found no labor to his taste; but he spent the
+day so actively, in the mechanical annihilation of the successive hours,
+that Gertrude's image found no chance squarely to face him. He was
+engaged in the work of self-preservation,&mdash;the most serious and
+absorbing work possible to man. Compared to the results here at stake,
+his passion for Gertrude seemed but a fiction. It is perhaps difficult
+to give a more lively impression of the vigor of this passion, of its
+maturity and its strength, than by simply stating that it discreetly
+held itself in abeyance until Richard had set at rest his doubts of that
+which lies nearer than all else to the heart of man,&mdash;his doubts of the
+strength of his will. He answered these doubts by subjecting his
+resolution to a course of such cruel temptations as were likely either
+to shiver it to a myriad of pieces, or to season it perfectly to all the
+possible requirements of life. He took long rides over the country,
+passing within a stone's throw of as many of the scattered wayside
+taverns as could be combined in a single circuit. As he drew near them
+he sometimes slackened his pace, as if he were about to dismount, pulled
+up his horse, gazed a moment, then, thrusting in his spurs, galloped
+away again like one pursued. At other times; in the late evening, when
+the window-panes were aglow with the ruddy light within, he would walk
+slowly by, looking at the stars, and, after maintaining this stoical
+pace for a couple of miles, would hurry home to his own lonely and
+black-windowed dwelling. Having successfully performed this feat a
+certain number of times, he found his love coming back to him, bereft in
+the interval of its attendant jealousy. In obedience to it, he one
+morning leaped upon his horse and repaired to Gertrude's abode, with no
+definite notion of the terms in which he should introduce himself.</p>
+
+<p>He had made himself comparatively sure of his will; but he was yet to
+acquire the mastery of his impulses. As he gave up his horse, according
+to his wont, to one of the men at the stable, he saw another steed
+stalled there which he recognized as Captain Severn's. "Steady, my boy,"
+he murmured to himself, as he would have done to a frightened horse. On
+his way across the broad court-yard toward the house, he encountered the
+Captain, who had just taken his leave. Richard gave him a generous
+salute (he could not trust himself to more), and Severn answered with
+what was at least a strictly just one. Richard observed, however, that
+he was very pale, and that he was pulling a rosebud to pieces as he
+walked; whereupon our young man quickened his step. Finding the parlor
+empty, he instinctively crossed over to a small room adjoining it, which
+Gertrude had converted into a modest conservatory; and as he did so,
+hardly knowing it, he lightened his heavy-shod tread. The glass door was
+open and Richard looked in. There stood Gertrude with her back to him,
+bending apart with her hands a couple of tall flowering plants, and
+looking through the glazed partition behind them. Advancing a step, and
+glancing over the young girl's shoulder, Richard had just time to see
+Severn mounting his horse at the stable door, before Gertrude, startled
+by his approach, turned hastily round. Her face was flushed hot, and her
+eyes brimming with tears.</p>
+
+<p>"You!" she exclaimed, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Richard's head swam. That single word was so charged with cordial
+impatience that it seemed the death-knell of his hope. He stepped inside
+the room and closed the door, keeping his hand on the knob.</p>
+
+<p>"Gertrude," he said, "you love that man!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you confess it?" cried Richard.</p>
+
+<p>"Confess it? Richard Clare, how dare you use such language? I'm in no
+humor for a scene. Let me pass."</p>
+
+<p>Gertrude was angry; but as for Richard, it may almost be said that he
+was mad. "One scene a day is enough, I suppose," he cried. "What are
+these tears about? Wouldn't he have you? Did he refuse you, as you
+refused me? Poor Gertrude!"</p>
+
+<p>Gertrude looked at him a moment with concentrated scorn. "You fool!" she
+said, for all answer. She pushed his hand from the latch, flung open the
+door, and moved rapidly away.</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, Richard sank down on a sofa and covered his face with his
+hands. It burned them, but he sat motionless, repeating to himself,
+mechanically, as if to avert thought, "You fool! you fool!" At last he
+got up and made his way out.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to Gertrude, for several hours after this scene, that she had
+at this juncture a strong case against Fortune. It is not our purpose to
+repeat the words which she had exchanged with Captain Severn. They had
+come within a single step of an <i>&eacute;claircissement</i>, and when but another
+movement would have flooded their souls with light, some malignant
+influence had seized them by the throats. Had they too much pride?&mdash;too
+little imagination? We must content ourselves with this hypothesis.
+Severn, then, had walked mechanically across the yard, saying to
+himself, "She belongs to another"; and adding, as he saw Richard, "and
+such another!" Gertrude had stood at her window, repeating, under her
+breath, "He belongs to himself, himself alone." And as if this was not
+enough, when misconceived, slighted, wounded, she had faced about to her
+old, passionless, dutiful past, there on the path of retreat to this
+asylum Richard Clare had arisen to forewarn her that she should find no
+peace even at home. There was something in the violent impertinence of
+his appearance at this moment which gave her a dreadful feeling that
+fate was against her. More than this. There entered into her emotions a
+certain minute particle of awe of the man whose passion was so
+uncompromising. She felt that it was out of place any longer to pity
+him. He was the slave of his passion; but his passion was strong. In her
+reaction against the splendid civility of Severn's silence, (the real
+antithesis of which would have been simply the perfect courtesy of
+explicit devotion,) she found herself touching with pleasure on the fact
+of Richard's brutality. He at least had ventured to insult her. He had
+loved her enough to forget himself. He had dared to make himself odious
+in her eyes, because he had cast away his sanity. What cared he for the
+impression he made? He cared only for the impression he received. The
+violence of this reaction, however, was the measure of its duration. It
+was impossible that she should walk backward so fast without stumbling.
+Brought to her senses by this accident, she became aware that her
+judgment was missing. She smiled to herself as she reflected that it had
+been taking holiday for a whole afternoon. "Richard was right," she said
+to herself. "I am no fool. I can't be a fool if I try. I'm too
+thoroughly my father's daughter for that. I love that man, but I love
+myself better. Of course, then, I don't deserve to have him. If I loved
+him in a way to merit his love, I would sit down this moment and write
+him a note telling him that if he does not come back to me, I shall die.
+But I shall neither write the note nor die. I shall live and grow stout,
+and look after my chickens and my flowers and my colts, and thank the
+Lord in my old age that I have never done anything unwomanly. Well! I'm
+as He made me. Whether I can deceive others, I know not; but I certainly
+can't deceive myself. I'm quite as sharp as Gertrude Whittaker; and this
+it is that has kept me from making a fool of myself and writing to poor
+Richard the note that I wouldn't write to Captain Severn. I needed to
+fancy myself wronged. I suffer so little! I needed a sensation! So,
+shrewd Yankee that I am, I thought I would get one cheaply by taking up
+that unhappy boy! Heaven preserve me from the heroics, especially the
+economical heroics! The one heroic course possible, I decline. What,
+then, have I to complain of? Must I tear my hair because a man of taste
+has resisted my unspeakable charms? To be charming, you must be charmed
+yourself, or at least you must be able to be charmed; and that
+apparently I'm not. I didn't love him, or he would have known it. Love
+gets love, and no-love gets none."</p>
+
+<p>But at this point of her meditations Gertrude almost broke down. She
+felt that she was assigning herself but a dreary future. Never to be
+loved but by such a one as Richard Clare was a cheerless prospect; for
+it was identical with an eternal spinsterhood. "Am I, then," she
+exclaimed, quite as passionately as a woman need do,&mdash;"am I, then, cut
+off from a woman's dearest joys? What blasphemous nonsense! One thing is
+plain: I am made to be a mother; the wife may take care of herself. I am
+made to be a wife; the mistress may take care of <i>her</i>self. I am in the
+Lord's hands," added the poor girl, who, whether or no she could forget
+herself in an earthly love, had at all events this mark of a spontaneous
+nature, that she could forget herself in a heavenly one. But in the
+midst of her pious emotion, she was unable to subdue her conscience. It
+smote her heavily for her meditated falsity to Richard, for her
+miserable readiness to succumb to the strong temptation to seek a
+momentary resting-place in his gaping heart. She recoiled from this
+thought as from an act cruel and immoral. Was Richard's heart the place
+for her now, any more than it had been a month before? Was she to apply
+for comfort where she would not apply for counsel? Was she to drown her
+decent sorrows and regrets in a base, a dishonest, an extemporized
+passion? Having done the young man so bitter a wrong in intention,
+nothing would appease her magnanimous remorse (as time went on) but to
+repair it in fact. She went so far as keenly to regret the harsh words
+she had cast upon him in the conservatory. He had been insolent and
+unmannerly; but he had an excuse. Much should be forgiven him, for he
+loved much. Even now that Gertrude had imposed upon her feelings a
+sterner regimen than ever, she could not defend herself from a sweet and
+sentimental thrill&mdash;a thrill in which, as we have intimated, there was
+something of a tremor&mdash;at the recollection of his strident accents and
+his angry eyes. It was yet far from her heart to desire a renewal,
+however brief, of this exhibition. She wished simply to efface from the
+young man's morbid soul the impression of a real contempt; for she
+knew&mdash;or she thought that she knew&mdash;that against such an impression he
+was capable of taking the most fatal and inconsiderate comfort.</p>
+
+<p>Before many mornings had passed, accordingly, she had a horse saddled,
+and, dispensing with attendance, she rode rapidly over to his farm. The
+house door and half the windows stood open; but no answer came to her
+repeated summons. She made her way to the rear of the house, to the
+barn-yard, thinly tenanted by a few common fowl, and across the yard to
+a road which skirted its lower extremity and was accessible by an open
+gate. No human figure was in sight; nothing was visible in the hot
+stillness but the scattered and ripening crops, over which, in spite of
+her nervous solicitude, Miss Whittaker cast the glance of a connoisseur.
+A great uneasiness filled her mind as she measured the rich domain
+apparently deserted of its young master, and reflected that she perhaps
+was the cause of its abandonment. Ah, where was Richard? As she looked
+and listened in vain, her heart rose to her throat, and she felt herself
+on the point of calling all too wistfully upon his name. But her voice
+was stayed by the sound of a heavy rumble, as of cart-wheels, beyond a
+turn in the road. She touched up her horse and cantered along until she
+reached the turn. A great four-wheeled cart, laden with masses of newly
+broken stone, and drawn by four oxen, was slowly advancing towards her.
+Beside it, patiently cracking his whip and shouting monotonously, walked
+a young man in a slouched hat and a red shirt, with his trousers thrust
+into his dusty boots. It was Richard. As he saw Gertrude, he halted a
+moment, amazed, and then advanced, flicking the air with his whip.
+Gertrude's heart went out towards him in a silent Thank God! Her next
+reflection was that he had never looked so well. The truth is, that, in
+this rough adjustment, the native barbarian was duly represented. His
+face and neck were browned by a week in the fields, his eye was clear,
+his step seemed to have learned a certain manly dignity from its
+attendance on the heavy bestial tramp. Gertrude, as he reached her side,
+pulled up her horse and held out her gloved fingers to his brown dusty
+hand. He took them, looked for a moment into her face, and for the
+second time raised them to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse my glove," she said, with a little smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse mine," he answered, exhibiting his sunburnt, work-stained hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Richard," said Gertrude, "you never had less need of excuse in your
+life. You never looked half so well."</p>
+
+<p>He fixed his eyes upon her a moment. "Why, you have forgiven me!" he
+exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Gertrude, "I have forgiven you,&mdash;both you and myself. We
+both of us behaved very absurdly, but we both of us had reason. I wish
+you had come back."</p>
+
+<p>Richard looked about him, apparently at loss for a rejoinder. "I have
+been very busy," he said, at last, with a simplicity of tone slightly
+studied. An odd sense of dramatic effect prompted him to say neither
+more nor less.</p>
+
+<p>An equally delicate instinct forbade Gertrude to express all the joy
+which this assurance gave her. Excessive joy would have implied undue
+surprise; and it was a part of her plan frankly to expect the best
+things of her companion. "If you have been busy," she said, "I
+congratulate you. What have you been doing?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, a hundred things. I have been quarrying, and draining, and clearing,
+and I don't know what all. I thought the best thing was just to put my
+own hands to it. I am going to make a stone fence along the great lot on
+the hill there. Wallace is forever grumbling about his boundaries. I'll
+fix them once for all. What are you laughing at?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am laughing at certain foolish apprehensions that I have been
+indulging for a week past. You're wiser than I, Richard. I have no
+imagination."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that <i>I</i> have? I haven't enough to guess what you <i>do</i>
+mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, do you suppose, have I come over this morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because you thought I was sulking on account of your having called me a
+fool."</p>
+
+<p>"Sulking, or worse. What do I deserve for the wrong I have done you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have done me no wrong. You reasoned fairly enough. You are not
+obliged to know me better than I know myself. It's just like you to be
+ready to take back that bad word, and try to make yourself believe that
+it was unjust. But it was perfectly just, and therefore I have managed
+to bear it. I <i>was</i> a fool at that moment,&mdash;a stupid, impudent fool. I
+don't know whether that man had been making love to you or not. But you
+had, I think, been feeling love for him,&mdash;you looked it; I should have
+been less than a man, I should be unworthy of your&mdash;your affection, if I
+had failed to see it. I did see it,&mdash;I saw it as clearly as I see those
+oxen now; and yet I bounced in with my own ill-timed claims. To do so
+was to be a fool. To have been other than a fool would have been to have
+waited, to have backed out, to have bitten my tongue off before I spoke,
+to have done anything but what I did. I have no right to claim you,
+Gertrude, until I can woo you better than that. It was the most
+fortunate thing in the world that you spoke as you did: it was even
+kind. It saved me all the misery of groping about for a starting-point.
+Not to have spoken as you did would have been to fail of justice; and
+then, probably, I should have sulked, or, as you very considerately say,
+done worse. I had made a false move in the game, and the only thing to
+do was to repair it. But you were not obliged to know that I would so
+readily admit my move to have been false. Whenever I have made a fool of
+myself before, I have been for sticking it out, and trying to turn all
+mankind&mdash;that is, <i>you</i>&mdash;into a a fool too, so that I shouldn't be an
+exception. But this time, I think, I had a kind of inspiration. I felt
+that my case was desperate. I felt that if I adopted my folly now I
+adopted it forever. The other day I met a man who had just come home
+from Europe, and who spent last summer in Switzerland. He was telling me
+about the mountain-climbing over there,&mdash;how they get over the glaciers,
+and all that. He said that you sometimes came upon great slippery,
+steep, snow-covered slopes that end short off in a precipice, and that
+if you stumble or lose your footing as you cross them horizontally, why
+you go shooting down, and you're gone; that is, but for one little
+dodge. You have a long walking-pole with a sharp end, you know, and as
+you feel yourself sliding,&mdash;it's as likely as not to be in a sitting
+posture,&mdash;you just take this and ram it into the snow before you, and
+there you are, stopped. The thing is, of course, to drive it in far
+enough, so that it won't yield or break; and in any case it hurts
+infernally to come whizzing down upon this upright pole. But the
+interruption gives you time to pick yourself up. Well, so it was with me
+the other day. I stumbled and fell; I slipped, and was whizzing
+downward; but I just drove in my pole and pulled up short. It nearly
+tore me in two; but it saved my life." Richard made this speech with one
+hand leaning on the neck of Gertrude's horse, and the other on his own
+side, and with his head slightly thrown back and his eyes on hers. She
+had sat quietly in her saddle, returning his gaze. He had spoken slowly
+and deliberately; but without hesitation and without heat. "This is not
+romance," thought Gertrude, "it's reality." And this feeling it was that
+dictated her reply, divesting it of romance so effectually as almost to
+make it sound trivial.</p>
+
+<p>"It was fortunate you had a walking-pole," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never travel without one again."</p>
+
+<p>"Never, at least," smiled Gertrude, "with a companion who has the bad
+habit of pushing you off the path."</p>
+
+<p>"O, you may push all you like," said Richard. "I give you leave. But
+isn't this enough about myself?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's as you think."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's all I have to say for the present, except that I am
+prodigiously glad to see you, and that of course you will stay awhile."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have your work to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me, never you mind my work. I've earned my dinner this morning, if
+you have no objection; and I propose to share it with you. So we will
+go back to the house." He turned her horse's head about, started up his
+oxen with his voice, and walked along beside her on the grassy roadside,
+with one hand in the horse's mane, and the other swinging his whip.</p>
+
+<p>Before they reached the yard-gate, Gertrude had revolved his speech.
+"Enough about himself," she said, silently echoing his words. "Yes,
+Heaven be praised, it <i>is</i> about himself. I am but a means in this
+matter,&mdash;he himself, his own character, his own happiness, is the end."
+Under this conviction it seemed to her that her part was appreciably
+simplified. Richard was learning wisdom and self-control, and to
+exercise his reason. Such was the suit that he was destined to gain. Her
+duty was as far as possible to remain passive, and not to interfere with
+the working of the gods who had selected her as the instrument of their
+prodigy. As they reached the gate, Richard made a trumpet of his hands,
+and sent a ringing summons into the fields; whereupon a farm-boy
+approached, and, with an undisguised stare of amazement at Gertrude,
+took charge of his master's team. Gertrude rode up to the door-step,
+where her host assisted her to dismount, and bade her go in and make
+herself at home, while he busied himself with the bestowal of her horse.
+She found that, in her absence, the old woman who administered her
+friend's household had reappeared, and had laid out the preparations for
+his mid-day meal. By the time he returned, with his face and head
+shining from a fresh ablution, and his shirt-sleeves decently concealed
+by a coat, Gertrude had apparently won the complete confidence of the
+good wife.</p>
+
+<p>Gertrude doffed her hat, and tucked up her riding-skirt, and sat down to
+a <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> over Richard's crumpled table-cloth. The young man
+played the host very soberly and naturally; and Gertrude hardly knew
+whether to augur from his perfect self-possession that her star was
+already on the wane, or that it had waxed into a steadfast and eternal
+sun. The solution of her doubts was not far to seek; Richard was
+absolutely at his ease in her presence. He had told her indeed that she
+intoxicated him; and truly, in those moments when she was compelled to
+oppose her dewy eloquence to his fervid importunities, her whole
+presence seemed to him to exhale a singularly potent sweetness. He had
+told her that she was an enchantress, and this assertion, too, had its
+measure of truth. But her spell was a steady one; it sprang not from her
+beauty, her wit, her figure,&mdash;it sprang from her character. When she
+found herself aroused to appeal or to resistance, Richard's pulses were
+quickened to what he had called intoxication, not by her smiles, her
+gestures, her glances, or any accession of that material beauty which
+she did not possess, but by a generous sense of her virtues in action.
+In other words, Gertrude exercised the magnificent power of making her
+lover forget her face. Agreeably to this fact, his habitual feeling in
+her presence was one of deep repose,&mdash;a sensation not unlike that which
+in the early afternoon, as he lounged in his orchard with a pipe, he
+derived from the sight of the hot and vaporous hills. He was innocent,
+then, of that delicious trouble which Gertrude's thoughts had touched
+upon as a not unnatural result of her visit, and which another woman's
+fancy would perhaps have dwelt upon as an indispensable proof of its
+success. "Porphyro grew faint," the poet assures us, as he stood in
+Madeline's chamber on Saint Agnes' eve. But Richard did not in the least
+grow faint now that his mistress was actually filling his musty old room
+with her voice, her touch, her looks; that she was sitting in his
+unfrequented chairs, trailing her skirt over his faded carpet, casting
+her perverted image upon his mirror, and breaking his daily bread. He
+was not fluttered when he sat at her well-served table, and trod her
+muffled floors. Why, then, should he be fluttered now? Gertrude was
+herself in all places, and (once granted that she was at peace) to be
+at her side was to drink peace as fully in one place as in another.</p>
+
+<p>Richard accordingly ate a great working-day dinner in Gertrude's
+despite, and she ate a small one for his sake. She asked questions
+moreover, and offered counsel with most sisterly freedom. She deplored
+the rents in his table-cloth, and the dismemberments of his furniture;
+and although by no means absurdly fastidious in the matter of household
+elegance, she could not but think that Richard would be a happier and a
+better man if he were a little more comfortable. She forbore, however,
+to criticise the poverty of his <i>entourage</i>, for she felt that the
+obvious answer was, that such a state of things was the penalty of his
+living alone; and it was desirable, under the circumstances, that this
+idea should remain implied.</p>
+
+<p>When at last Gertrude began to bethink herself of going, Richard broke a
+long silence by the following question: "Gertrude, <i>do</i> you love that
+man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Richard," she answered, "I refused to tell you before, because you
+asked the question as a right. Of course you do so no longer. No. I do
+not love him. I have been near it,&mdash;but I have missed it. And now good
+by."</p>
+
+<p>For a week after her visit, Richard worked as bravely and steadily as he
+had done before it. But one morning he woke up lifeless, morally
+speaking. His strength had suddenly left him. He had been straining his
+faith in himself to a prodigious tension, and the chord had suddenly
+snapped. In the hope that Gertrude's tender fingers might repair it, he
+rode over to her towards evening. On his way through the village, he
+found people gathered in knots, reading fresh copies of the Boston
+newspapers over each other's shoulders, and learned that tidings had
+just come of a great battle in Virginia, which was also a great defeat.
+He procured a copy of the paper from a man who had read it out, and made
+haste to Gertrude's dwelling.</p>
+
+<p>Gertrude received his story with those passionate imprecations and
+regrets which were then in fashion. Before long, Major Luttrel presented
+himself, and for half an hour there was no talk but about the battle.
+The talk, however, was chiefly between Gertrude and the Major, who found
+considerable ground for difference, she being a great radical and he a
+decided conservative. Richard sat by, listening apparently, but with the
+appearance of one to whom the matter of the discourse was of much less
+interest than the manner of those engaged in it. At last, when tea was
+announced, Gertrude told her friends, very frankly, that she would not
+invite them to remain,&mdash;that her heart was too heavy with her country's
+woes, and with the thought of so great a butchery, to allow her to play
+the hostess,&mdash;and that, in short, she was in the humor to be alone. Of
+course there was nothing for the gentlemen but to obey; but Richard went
+out cursing the law, under which, in the hour of his mistress's sorrow,
+his company was a burden and not a relief. He watched in vain, as he
+bade her farewell, for some little sign that she would fain have him
+stay, but that as she wished to get rid of his companion civility
+demanded that she should dismiss them both. No such sign was
+forthcoming, for the simple reason that Gertrude was sensible of no
+conflict between her desires. The men mounted their horses in silence,
+and rode slowly along the lane which led from Miss Whittaker's stables
+to the high-road. As they approached the top of the lane, they perceived
+in the twilight a mounted figure coming towards them. Richard's heart
+began to beat with an angry foreboding, which was confirmed as the rider
+drew near and disclosed Captain Severn's features. Major Luttrel and he,
+being bound in courtesy to a brief greeting, pulled up their horses; and
+as an attempt to pass them in narrow quarters would have been a greater
+incivility than even Richard was prepared to commit, he likewise
+halted.</p>
+
+<p>"This is ugly news, isn't it?" said Severn. "It has determined me to go
+back to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Go back where?" asked Richard.</p>
+
+<p>"To my regiment."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you well enough?" asked Major Luttrel. "How is that wound?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's so much better that I believe it can finish getting well down
+there as easily as here. Good by, Major. I hope we shall meet again."
+And he shook hands with Major Luttrel. "Good by, Mr. Clare." And,
+somewhat to Richard's surprise, he stretched over and held out his hand
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>Richard felt that it was tremulous, and, looking hard into his face, he
+thought it wore a certain unwonted look of excitement. And then his
+fancy coursed back to Gertrude, sitting where he had left her, in the
+sentimental twilight, alone with her heavy heart. With a word, he
+reflected, a single little word, a look, a motion, this happy man whose
+hand I hold can heal her sorrows. "Oh!" cried Richard, "that by this
+hand I might hold him fast forever!"</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to the Captain that Richard's grasp was needlessly protracted
+and severe. "What a grip the poor fellow has!" he thought. "Good by," he
+repeated aloud, disengaging himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Good by," said Richard. And then he added, he hardly knew why, "Are you
+going to bid good by to Miss Whittaker?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Isn't she at home?"</p>
+
+<p>Whether Richard really paused or not before he answered, he never knew.
+There suddenly arose such a tumult in his bosom that it seemed to him
+several moments before he became conscious of his reply. But it is
+probable that to Severn it came only too soon.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Richard; "she's not at home. We have just been calling." As
+he spoke, he shot a glance at his companion, armed with defiance of his
+impending denial. But the Major just met his glance and then dropped his
+eyes. This slight motion was a horrible revelation. He had served the
+Major too.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah? I'm sorry," said Severn, slacking his rein,&mdash;"I'm sorry." And from
+his saddle he looked down toward the house more longingly and
+regretfully than he knew.</p>
+
+<p>Richard felt himself turning from pale to consuming crimson. There was a
+simple sincerity in Severn's words which was almost irresistible. For a
+moment he felt like shouting out a loud denial of his falsehood: "She is
+there! she's alone and in tears, awaiting you. Go to her&mdash;and be
+damned!" But before he could gather his words into his throat, they were
+arrested by Major Luttrel's cool, clear voice, which in its calmness
+seemed to cast scorn upon his weakness.</p>
+
+<p>"Captain," said the Major, "I shall be very happy to take charge of your
+farewell."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Major. Pray do. Say how extremely sorry I was. Good by
+again." And Captain Severn hastily turned his horse about, gave him his
+spurs, and galloped away, leaving his friends standing alone in the
+middle of the road. As the sound of his retreat expired, Richard, in
+spite of himself, drew a long breath. He sat motionless in the saddle,
+hanging his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Clare," said the Major, at last, "that was very cleverly done."</p>
+
+<p>Richard looked up. "I never told a lie before," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my soul, then, you did it uncommonly well. You did it so well I
+almost believed you. No wonder that Severn did."</p>
+
+<p>Richard was silent. Then suddenly he broke out, "In God's name, sir, why
+don't you call me a blackguard? I've done a beastly act!"</p>
+
+<p>"O, come," said the Major, "you needn't mind that, with me. We'll
+consider that said. I feel bound to let you know that I'm very, very
+much obliged to you. If you hadn't spoken, how do you know but that I
+might?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you had, I would have given you the lie, square in your teeth."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you, indeed? It's very fortunate, then, I held my tongue. If you
+will have it so, I won't deny that your little improvisation sounded
+very ugly. I'm devilish glad I didn't make it, if you come to that."</p>
+
+<p>Richard felt his wit sharpened by a most unholy scorn,&mdash;a scorn far
+greater for his companion than for himself. "I am glad to hear that it
+did sound ugly," he said. "To me, it seemed beautiful, holy, and just.
+For the space of a moment, it seemed absolutely right that I should say
+what I did. But you saw the lie in its horrid nakedness, and yet you let
+it pass. You have no excuse."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon. You are immensely ingenious, but you are immensely
+wrong. Are you going to make out that I am the guilty party? Upon my
+word, you're a cool hand. I <i>have</i> an excuse. I have the excuse of being
+interested in Miss Whittaker's remaining unengaged."</p>
+
+<p>"So I suppose. But you don't love her. Otherwise&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Major Luttrel laid his hand on Richard's bridle. "Mr. Clare," said he,
+"I have no wish to talk metaphysics over this matter. You had better say
+no more. I know that your feelings are not of an enviable kind, and I am
+therefore prepared to be good-natured with you. But you must be civil
+yourself. You have done a shabby deed; you are ashamed of it, and you
+wish to shift the responsibility upon me, which is more shabby still. My
+advice is, that you behave like a man of spirit, and swallow your
+apprehensions. I trust that you are not going to make a fool of yourself
+by any apology or retraction in any quarter. As for its having seemed
+holy and just to do what you did, that is mere bosh. A lie is a lie, and
+as such is often excusable. As anything else,&mdash;as a thing beautiful,
+holy, or just,&mdash;it's quite inexcusable. Yours was a lie to you, and a
+lie to me. It serves me, and I accept it. I suppose you understand me. I
+adopt it. You don't suppose it was because I was frightened by those
+big black eyes of yours that I held my tongue. As for my loving or not
+loving Miss Whittaker, I have no report to make to you about it. I will
+simply say that I intend, if possible, to marry her."</p>
+
+<p>"She'll not have you. She'll never marry a cold-blooded rascal."</p>
+
+<p>"I think she'll prefer him to a hot-blooded one. Do you want to pick a
+quarrel with me? Do you want to make me lose my temper? I shall refuse
+you that satisfaction. You have been a coward, and you want to frighten
+some one before you go to bed to make up for it. Strike me, and I'll
+strike you in self-defence, but I'm not going to mind your talk. Have
+you anything to say? No? Well, then, good evening." And Major Luttrel
+started away.</p>
+
+<p>It was with rage that Richard was dumb. Had he been but a cat's-paw
+after all? Heaven forbid! He sat irresolute for an instant, and then
+turned suddenly and cantered back to Gertrude's gate. Here he stopped
+again; but after a short pause he went in over the gravel with a
+fast-beating heart. O, if Luttrel were but there to see him! For a
+moment he fancied he heard the sound of the Major's returning steps. If
+he would only come and find him at confession! It would be so easy to
+confess before him! He went along beside the house to the front, and
+stopped beneath the open drawing-room window.</p>
+
+<p>"Gertrude!" he cried softly, from his saddle.</p>
+
+<p>Gertrude immediately appeared. "You, Richard!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was neither harsh nor sweet; but her words and her intonation
+recalled vividly to Richard's mind the scene in the conservatory. He
+fancied them keenly expressive of disappointment. He was invaded by a
+mischievous conviction that she had been expecting Captain Severn, or
+that at the least she had mistaken his voice for the Captain's. The
+truth is that she had half fancied it might be,&mdash;Richard's call having
+been little more than a loud whisper. The young man sat looking up at
+her, silent.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?" she asked. "Can I do anything for you?"</p>
+
+<p>Richard was not destined to do his duty that evening. A certain
+infinitesimal dryness of tone on Gertrude's part was the inevitable
+result of her finding that that whispered summons came only from
+Richard. She was preoccupied. Captain Severn had told her a fortnight
+before, that, in case of news of a defeat, he should not await the
+expiration of his leave of absence to return. Such news had now come,
+and her inference was that her friend would immediately take his
+departure. She could not but suppose that he would come and bid her
+farewell, and what might not be the incidents, the results, of such a
+visit? To tell the whole truth, it was under the pressure of these
+reflections that, twenty minutes before, Gertrude had dismissed our two
+gentlemen. That this long story should be told in the dozen words with
+which she greeted Richard, will seem unnatural to the disinterested
+reader. But in those words, poor Richard, with a lover's clairvoyance,
+read it at a single glance. The same resentful impulse, the same
+sickening of the heart, that he had felt in the conservatory, took
+possession of him once more. To be witness of Severn's passion for
+Gertrude,&mdash;that he could endure. To be witness of Gertrude's passion for
+Severn,&mdash;against that obligation his reason rebelled.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it you wish, Richard?" Gertrude repeated. "Have you forgotten
+anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing! nothing!" cried the young man. "It's no matter!"</p>
+
+<p>He gave a great pull at his bridle, and almost brought his horse back on
+his haunches, and then, wheeling him about on himself, he thrust in his
+spurs and galloped out of the gate.</p>
+
+<p>On the highway he came upon Major Luttrel, who stood looking down the
+lane.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to the Devil, sir!" cried Richard. "Give me your hand on it."</p>
+
+<p>Luttrel held out his hand. "My poor young man," said he, "you're out of
+your head. I'm sorry for you. You haven't been making a fool of
+yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a damnable fool of myself!"</p>
+
+<p>Luttrel breathed freely. "You'd better go home and go to bed," he said.
+"You'll make yourself ill by going on at this rate."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm afraid to go home," said Richard, in a broken voice. "For God's
+sake, come with me!"&mdash;and the wretched fellow burst into tears. "I'm too
+bad for any company but yours," he cried, in his sobs.</p>
+
+<p>The Major winced, but he took pity. "Come, come," said he, "we'll pull
+through. I'll go home with you."</p>
+
+<p>They rode off together. That night Richard went to bed miserably drunk;
+although Major Luttrel had left him at ten o'clock, adjuring him to
+drink no more. He awoke the next morning in a violent fever; and before
+evening the doctor, whom one of his hired men had brought to his
+bedside, had come and looked grave and pronounced him very ill.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="DOCTOR_MOLKE" id="DOCTOR_MOLKE"></a>DOCTOR MOLKE.</h2>
+
+<h3>A SKETCH FROM LIFE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>As my own fancy led me into the Greenland seas, so chance sent me into a
+Greenland port. It was a choice little harbor, a good way north of the
+Arctic Circle,&mdash;fairly within the realm of hyperborean barrenness,&mdash;very
+near the northernmost border of civilized settlement. But civilization
+was exhibited there by unmistakable evidences;&mdash;a very dilute
+civilization, it is true, yet, such as it was, outwardly recognizable;
+for Christian habitations and Christian beings were in sight from the
+vessel's deck,&mdash;at least some of the human beings who appeared upon the
+beach were dressed like Christians, and veritable smoke curled
+gracefully upward into the bright air above the roofs of houses from
+veritable chimneys.</p>
+
+<p>We had been fighting the Arctic ice and the Arctic storms for so long a
+time, that it was truly refreshing to get into this good harbor. The
+little craft which had borne us thither seemed positively to enjoy her
+repose, as she lay quietly to her anchors on the still waters, in the
+calm air and the blazing sunshine of the Arctic noonday. As for myself,
+I was simply wondering what I should find ashore. A slender fringe of
+European custom bordering native barbarism and dirt was what I
+anticipated; for, as I looked upon the naked rocks,&mdash;which there, as in
+other Greenland ports, afforded room for a few straggling huts of native
+fishermen and hunters, with only now and then a more pretentious white
+man's lodge,&mdash;I could hardly imagine that much would be found seductive
+to the fancy or inviting to the eye. A country where there is no soil to
+yield any part of man's subsistence seemed to offer such a slender
+chance for man in the battle of life, that I could well imagine it to be
+repulsive rather than attractive; yet I was eager to see how poor men
+might be, and live.</p>
+
+<p>While thus looking forward to a novel experience, I was unconsciously
+preparing myself for a great surprise. Whatever there might be of
+poverty in the condition of the few dozens of human beings who there
+forced a scanty subsistence from the sea, I was to discover one person
+in the place who did in no way share it,&mdash;who, born as it might seem to
+different destinies, yet, voluntarily choosing wild Nature for
+companionship, and rising superior to the forbidding climate and the
+general desolation, rejoiced here in his own strong manhood, and lived
+seemingly contented as well with himself as with the great world of
+which he heard from afar but the faint murmurs.</p>
+
+<p>The anchors had been down about an hour, and the bustle and confusion
+necessarily attending an entrance into port had subsided. The sails were
+stowed, the decks were cleared up, and the ropes were coiled. A port
+watch was set. The crew had received their "liberty," and there was much
+wondering among them whether Esquimau eyes could speak a tender welcome.
+Nor had the Danish flag been forgotten. That swallow-tailed emblem of a
+gallant nationality&mdash;which, according to song and tradition, has the
+enviable distinction of having</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Come from heaven down, my boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ay, come from heaven down"&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>was fluttering from a white flag-staff at the front of the
+government-house, and we had answered its display by running up our own
+Danish colors at the fore, and saluting them with our signal-gun in all
+due form and courtesy.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after reaching the anchorage I had despatched an officer to look up
+the chief ruler of the place, and to assure him of the great pleasure I
+should have in calling upon him, if he would name an hour convenient to
+himself; and I was awaiting my messenger's return with some impatience,
+when suddenly I heard the thump of his heavy sea boots on the deck
+above. In a few moments he entered the cabin, and reported that the
+governor was absent, but that his office was temporarily filled by a
+gentleman who had been good enough to accompany him on board,&mdash;the
+surgeon of the settlement, Doctor Molke; and then stepping aside, Doctor
+Molke passed through the narrow doorway and stood before me, bowing. I
+bowed in return, and bade him welcome, saying, I suppose, just what any
+other person would have said under like circumstances, (not, however,
+supposing for a moment that I was understood,) and then, turning to the
+officer, I signified my wish that he should act as interpreter. But that
+was needless. My Greenland visitor answered me, in pure, unbroken
+English, with as little hesitation as if he had spoken no other language
+all his life; and in conclusion he said: "I come to invite you to my
+poor house, and to offer you my service. I can give you but a feeble
+welcome in this outlandish place, but such as I have is yours; and if
+you will accompany me ashore, I shall be much delighted."</p>
+
+<p>The delight was mutual; and it was not many minutes before, seated in
+the stern sheets of a whale-boat, we were pulling towards the land.</p>
+
+<p>My new-found friend interested me at once. The surprise at finding
+myself addressed in English was increased when I discovered that this
+Greenland official bore every mark of refinement, culture, and high
+breeding. His manner was wholly free from restraint; and it struck me as
+something odd that all the self-possession and ease of a thorough man of
+the world should be exhibited in this desert place. He did not seem to
+be at all aware that there was anything incongruous in either his dress
+or manner and his present situation; yet this man, who sat with me in
+the stern sheets of a battered whale-boat, pulling across a Greenland
+harbor to a Greenland settlement, might, with the simple addition of a
+pair of suitable gloves, have stepped as he was into a ball-room without
+giving rise to any other remark than would be excited by his bearing.</p>
+
+<p>His graceful figure was well set off by a neatly fitting and closely
+buttoned blue frock-coat, ornamented with gilt buttons, and embroidered
+cuffs, and heavily braided shoulder-knots. A decoration on his breast
+told that he was a favorite with his king. His finely shaped head was
+covered by a blue cloth cap, having a gilt band and the royal emblems.
+Over his shoulders was thrown a cloak of mottled seal-skins, lined with
+the warm and beautiful fur of the Arctic fox. His cleanly shaven face
+was finely formed and full of force, while a soft blue eye spoke of
+gentleness and good-nature, and with fair hair completed the evidences
+of Scandinavian birth.</p>
+
+<p>My curiosity became much excited. "How," thought I, "in the name of
+everything mysterious, has it happened that such a man should have
+turned up in such a place?" From curiosity I passed to amazement, as his
+mind unfolded itself, and his tastes were manifested. I was prepared to
+be received by a fur-clad hunter, a coppery-faced Esquimau, or a meek
+and pious missionary, upon whose face privation and penance had set
+their seal; but for this high-spirited, high-bred, graceful, and
+evidently accomplished gentleman, I was not prepared.</p>
+
+<p>I could not refrain from one leading observation. "I suppose, Doctor
+Molke," said I, "that you have not been here long enough to have yet
+wholly exhausted the novelty of these noble hills!"</p>
+
+<p>"Eleven years, one would think," replied he, "ought to pretty well
+exhaust anything; and yet I cannot say that these hills, upon which my
+eyes rest continually, have grown to be wearisome companions, even if
+they may appear something forbidding."</p>
+
+<p>Eleven years among these barren hills! Eleven years in Greenland!!
+Surely, thought I, this is something "passing strange."</p>
+
+<p>The scene around us as we crossed the bay was indeed imposing, and,
+though desolate enough, was certainly not without its bright and
+cheerful side. Behind us rose a majestic line of cliffs, climbing up
+into the clouds in giant steps, picturesque yet solid,&mdash;a great massive
+pedestal, as it were, supporting mountain piled on mountain, with caps
+of snow whitening their summits, and great glaciers hanging on their
+sides. Before us lay the town,&mdash;built upon a gnarled spur of primitive
+rock, which seemed to have crept from underneath the lofty cliffs, as a
+serpent from its hiding-place, and, after wriggling through the sea, to
+have stopped at length, when it had almost completely enclosed a
+beautiful sheet of water about a mile long by half a mile broad, leaving
+but one narrow, winding entrance to it. Through this entrance the swell
+of the sea could never come to disturb the silent bay, which lay there,
+nestling among the dark rocks beneath the mountain shadows, as calmly as
+a Swiss lake in an Alpine valley.</p>
+
+<p>But the rocky spur which supported on its rough back what there was of
+the town wore a most woe-begone and distressed aspect. A few little
+patches of grass and moss were visible, but generally there was nothing
+to be seen but the cold gray-red naked rocks, broken and twisted into
+knots and knobs, and cut across with deep and ugly cracks. I could but
+wonder that on such a dreary spot man should ever think of seeking a
+dwelling-place; and my companion must have interpreted my thoughts, for
+he pointed to the shore, and said playfully, "Ah! it is true, you behold
+at last the fruits of wisdom and instruction,&mdash;a city founded on a
+rock." And then, after a moment's pause, he added: "Let me point out to
+you the great features of this new wonder. First, to the right there,
+underneath that little, low, black, peaked roof, dwells the royal
+cook,&mdash;a Dane who came out here a long time ago, married a native of
+the country, and rejoices in a brood of half-breeds, among whom are four
+girls, rather dusky, but not ill-favored. Next in order is the
+government-house,&mdash;that pitch-coated structure near the flag-staff. This
+is the only building, you observe, that can boast of a double tier of
+windows. Next, a little higher up, you see, is my own lodge, bedaubed
+with pitch, like the other, to protect it against the assaults of the
+weather, and to stop the little cracks. Down by the beach, a little
+farther on, that largest building of all is the store-house, &amp;c., where
+the Governor keeps all sorts of traps for trade with the natives, and
+where the shops are in which the cooper fixes up the oil-barrels, and
+where other like industrial pursuits are carried on. A little farther on
+you observe a low structure where the oil is stored. On the ledge above
+the shop you see another pitchy building. This furnishes quarters for
+the half-dozen Danish employees,&mdash;fellows who, not having married native
+wives, hunt and fish for the glory of Denmark. Near the den of these
+worthies you observe another,&mdash;a duplicate of that in which lives the
+cook. There lives the royal cooper; and not far from it are two others,
+not quite so pretentious, where dwell the carpenter and blacksmith,&mdash;all
+of whom have followed the worthy example of the cook, and have dusky
+sons and daughters to console their declining years. You may perhaps be
+able to distinguish a few moss-covered hovels dotted about here and
+there,&mdash;perhaps there may be twenty of them in all, though there are but
+few of them in sight. These are the huts of native hunters. At present
+they are not occupied, for, being without roofs that will turn water,
+the people are compelled to abandon them when the snow begins to melt in
+the spring, and betake themselves to seal-skin tents, some of which you
+observe scattered here and there among the rocks. And now I've shown you
+everything,&mdash;just in time, too, for here we are at the landing."</p>
+
+<p>We had drawn in close to the end of a narrow pier, run out into the
+water on slender piles, and, quickly ascending some steps, the Doctor
+led the way up to his house. The whole settlement had turned out to meet
+us, men, women, children, and dogs,&mdash;which latter, about two hundred in
+number, "little dogs and all," set up an ear-splitting cry, wild and
+strangely in keeping with every other part of the scene, and like
+nothing so much as the dismal evening concert of a pack of wolves. The
+children, on the other hand, kept quiet, and clung to their mothers, as
+all children do in exciting times; the mothers grinned and laughed and
+chattered, "as becomes the gentler sex" in the savage state; while the
+men, all smoking short clay pipes, (one of their customs borrowed from
+civilization,) looked on with that air of stolid indifference peculiar
+to the male barbarian. They were mostly dressed in suits of seal-skins,
+but some of them wore greasy Guernsey frocks and other European
+clothing. Many of the women carried cunning-looking babies strapped upon
+their backs in seal-skin pouches. The heads of men and women alike were
+for the most part capless; but every one of the dark, beardless faces
+was surmounted by a heavy mass of straight, uncombed, and tangled
+jet-black hair. There were some half-breed girls standing in little
+groups upon the rocks, who, adding something of taste to the simple need
+of an artificial covering for the body, were attired in dresses, which,
+although of the Esquimau fashion, were quite neatly ornamented. While
+passing through this curious crowd, the eye could not but find pleasure
+in the novel scene, the more especially as the delight of these
+half-barbarous people was excited to the highest pitch by the strange
+being who had come among them.</p>
+
+<p>But if what the eye drank in gave delight, less fortunate the nose; for
+from about the store-house and the native huts, and, indeed, from almost
+everywhere, welled up that horrid odor of decomposing oil and fish and
+flesh peculiar to a fishing-town. On this account, if on no other, I
+was not sorry when we reached our destination.</p>
+
+<p>"You like not this Greenland odor?" said my conductor. "Luckily it does
+not reach me here, or I should seek a still higher perch to roost
+on";&mdash;saying which, he opened the door and led the way inside, first
+through a little vestibule into a square hall, where we deposited our
+fur coats, and then to the right, into a small room furnished with a
+table, an old pine bench, a single chair, a case with glass doors
+containing white jars and glass bottles having Latin labels, and
+smelling dreadfully of doctor's stuffs.</p>
+
+<p>"I always come through here," said my host, "after passing the town. It
+gives the olfactories a new sensation. This, you observe, is the place
+where I physic the people."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you many patients, Doctor?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Not very many; but, considering that I go sometimes a hundred miles or
+so to see the suffering sinners, I have quite enough to satisfy me. Not
+much competition, you know. But come, we have some lunch waiting for us
+in the next room, and Sophy will be growing impatient."</p>
+
+<p>A lady, eh?</p>
+
+<p>The room into which the Doctor ushered me was neatly furnished. On the
+walls were hung some prints and paintings of fruits and animals and
+flowers, and in the centre stood a small round table covered with dishes
+carefully placed on a snowy cloth.</p>
+
+<p>All very nice, but who's Sophy?</p>
+
+<p>The Doctor tinkled a little bell, the tones of which told that it was
+silver; and then, all radiant with smiles and beaming with good-nature,
+Sophy entered. A strange apparition.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my housekeeper," said the Doctor, in explanation; "speak to the
+American, Sophy."</p>
+
+<p>And, without embarrassment or pausing for an instant, she advanced and
+bade me welcome, addressing me in fair English, and extending at the
+same time a delicate little hand, which peeped out from cuffs of
+eider-down. "I am glad," said she, "to see the American. I have been
+looking through the window at him ever since he left the ship."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Sophy," said the Doctor, "let us see what you have got us for
+lunch."</p>
+
+<p>"O, I haven't anything at all, Doctor Molke," answered Sophy; "but I
+hope the American will excuse me until dinner, when I have some nice
+trout and venison."</p>
+
+<p>"'Pot-luck,' as I told you," exclaimed my host. "But never mind, Sophy,
+let's have it, be it what it may." And Sophy tripped lightly out of the
+room to do her master's bidding.</p>
+
+<p>"A right good girl that," said the Doctor, when the door was closed.
+"Takes capital care of me."</p>
+
+<p>Strange Sophy! A pretty face of dusky hue, and a fine figure attired in
+native costume, neatly ornamented and arranged with cultivated taste.
+Pantaloons of mottled seal-skin, and of silvery lustre, tapered down
+into long white boots, which enclosed the neatest of ankles and the
+daintiest of feet. A little jacket of Scotch plaid, with a collar and
+border of fur, covered the body to the waist, while from beneath the
+collar peeped up a pure white cambric handkerchief, covering the throat;
+and heavy masses of glossy black hair were intertwined with ribbons of
+gay red. Marvellous Sophy! Dusky daughter of a Danish father and a
+native mother. From her mother she had her rich brunette complexion and
+raven hair; from her father, Saxon features, and light blue Saxon eyes.</p>
+
+<p>If the housekeeper attracted my attention, so did the dishes which she
+set before me. Smoked salmon of exquisite delicacy, reindeer sausages,
+reindeer tongues nicely dried and thinly sliced, and fine fresh Danish
+bread, made up a style of "pot-luck" calculated to cause a hungry man
+from the high seas and sailors' "prog" to wish for the same style of
+luck for the remainder of his days. But when all this came to be washed
+down with the contents of sundry bottles with which Sophy dotted the
+clean white cloth, the "luck" was perfect, and there was nothing further
+to desire.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! here we are," said my entertainer. "Sophy wishes to make amends for
+the dryness of her fare. This is a choice Margaux, and I can recommend
+it. But, Sophy, here, you haven't warmed this quite enough. Ah! my dear
+sir, you experience the trouble of a Greenland life. One can never get
+his wines properly tempered."</p>
+
+<p>One cannot get his wines properly tempered!&mdash;and this is the trouble of
+a Greenland life!! "Surely," thought I, "one might find something worse
+than this."</p>
+
+<p>"Here," picking up the next bottle, "we have some Johannisberg, very
+fine as I can assure you; but I have little fancy even for the best of
+these Rhenish wines. Too much like a pretty woman without soul. They
+never warm the imagination. There's something better to build upon there
+close beside your elbow. Since the claret's forbidden us for the
+present, I'll drink you welcome in that rich Madeira. Why, do you know,
+sir," rattled on the Doctor, as I passed the bottle, seemingly rejoiced
+in his very heart at having some one to talk to,&mdash;"do you know, sir,
+that I have kept that by me here these ten years past? My good old
+father sent it to me as a mark of special favor. Why, sir, it has a
+pedigree as long as one of Locksley's cloth-yard shafts. But the
+pedigree will keep: let's prove it,"&mdash;and he filled up two dainty French
+straw-stem glasses, and pledged me in the good old Danish style. Then,
+when the claret came back, this time all rightly tempered, the Doctor
+filled the glasses, and hoped that, when I "left this place, the girls
+would pull lustily on the tow-ropes."</p>
+
+<p>Hunger and thirst were soon appeased. "And now," said the Doctor, when
+this was done, "I know you are dying for the want of something fresh and
+green. You have probably tasted nothing that grew out of dear old Mother
+Earth since leaving home";&mdash;and he tinkled his silver bell again, and
+Sophy of the silver seal-skin pantaloons and dainty boots tripped softly
+through the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Sophy, haven't you a surprise for the American?"</p>
+
+<p>Sophy smiled knowingly, and said, "Yes," as she retreated. In a moment
+she came back, carrying a little silver dish, with a little green
+pyramid upon it. Out from the green peeped little round red
+globes,&mdash;<i>radishes</i>, as I lived!&mdash;round red radishes!&mdash;<i>ten</i> round red
+radishes!</p>
+
+<p>"What! radishes in Greenland!" I exclaimed involuntarily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and raised on my own farm, too; you shall see it by and by." The
+Doctor was enjoying my surprise, and Sophy looked on with undisguised
+satisfaction. Meanwhile I lost no time in tumbling the pyramid to
+pieces, and crunching the delicious bulbs. They disappeared in a
+twinkling. Their rich and luscious juices seemed to pour at once into
+the very blood, and to tingle at the very finger-tips. I never knew
+before the full enjoyment of the fresh growth of the soil. After so long
+a deprivation it was indeed a strange, as it will remain a lasting
+sensation. Never to my dying day shall I forget the ten radishes of
+Greenland.</p>
+
+<p>"You see that I was right," exclaimed my host, after the vigorous
+assault was ended. "And now," continued he, addressing Sophy, "bring the
+other things."</p>
+
+<p>The "other things" proved to be a plate of fine lettuce, a bit of
+Stilton cheese, and coffee in transparent little china cups, and sugar
+in a silver bowl, and then cigars,&mdash;everything of the best and purest;
+and as we passed from one thing to another, I became at length persuaded
+that the Arctic Circle was a myth, that my cruise among the icebergs was
+a dream, and that Greenland was set down wrongly on the maps. Long
+before this I had been convinced that Doctor Molke was a most mysterious
+character, and wholly unaccountable.</p>
+
+<p>After we had finished this sumptuous lunch and chatted for a while, the
+Doctor surprised me again by asking if I would like a game of billiards.
+(Billiards in Greenland, as well as radishes!) "But first," said he,
+"let us try this sunny Burgundy. Ah! these red wines are the only truly
+generous wines. They monopolize all the sensuous glories and
+associations of the fruit. With these red wines one drinks in the very
+soul and sentiment of the lands which grow the grapes that breed them."</p>
+
+<p>"Even if drank in Greenland?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, or at the very Pole. Geographical lines may confine our bodies;
+but nature is an untamed wild, where the spirit roams at will. If I am
+here hemmed in by barren hills, and live in a desert waste, yet, as one
+of your sweetest poets has put it, my</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">'Fancy, like the finger of a clock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Runs the great circuit and is still at home';<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and truly, I believe that I have in this retreat about as much enjoyment
+of life as they who taste of it more freely; for while I can here feel
+all the world's warm pulsations, I am freed from its annoyances: if the
+sweet is less sweet, the bitter is less bitter. But&mdash;Well, let's have
+the billiards."</p>
+
+<p>My host now led the way into the billiard-room, which was tastefully
+ornamented with everything needful to harmonize with a handsome table
+standing in its centre, upon which we were soon knocking the balls about
+in an ill-matched game, for he beat me sadly. I was much surprised at
+the skilfulness of his play, and remarked that I thought it something
+singular that he "should there find any one to keep him so well in
+hand."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! my dear sir," said he, "you have yet much to learn. This country is
+not so bad as you think for. Sophy&mdash;native-born Sophy&mdash;is my antagonist,
+and she beats me three times out of five." Wonderful Sophy!</p>
+
+<p>The game finished, my host next led the way into his study. A charming
+retreat as ever human wit and ingenuity devised. It was indeed rather a
+parlor than a study. The room was quite large, and was literally filled
+with odd bits of furniture, elegant and well kept. Heavy crimson
+curtains were draped about the windows, a rich crimson carpet covered
+the floor, and there were lounges and chairs of various patterns,
+adapted for every temper of mind or mood of body,&mdash;all of the same
+pleasing color. Odd <i>&eacute;tag&egrave;res</i>, hanging and standing, and a large solid
+walnut case, were all well filled with books, and other books were
+carefully arranged on a table in the centre of the room. Among them my
+eye quickly detected the works of various English authors, conspicuous
+among which were Shakespeare, Byron, Scott, Dickens, Cooper, and
+Washington Irving. Sam Slick had a place there, and close beside him was
+the renowned Lemuel Gulliver; and in science there were, beside many
+others, Brewster, Murchison, and Lyell. The books all showed that they
+were well used, and they embraced the principal classical stores of the
+French and German tongues, beside the English and his own native Danish.
+In short, the collection was precisely such as one would expect to find
+in any civilized place, where means were not wanting, the disposition to
+read a habit and a pleasure, and the books themselves boon companions.</p>
+
+<p>A charming feature of the room was the air of refreshing <i>n&eacute;glig&eacute;</i> with
+which sundry robes of bear and fox skins were tossed about upon the
+chairs and lounges and floor; while the blank spaces of the walls were
+broken by numerous pictures, some of them apparently family relics, and
+on little brackets were various souvenirs of art and travel.</p>
+
+<p>"I call this my study," said the Doctor; "but in truth there is the real
+shop";&mdash;and he led me into a little room adjoining, in which there was
+but one window, one table, one chair, no shelves, a great number of
+books, lying about in every direction, and great quantities of paper. On
+the wall hung about two dozen pipes of various shapes and sizes, and a
+fine assortment of guns and rifles and all the paraphernalia of a
+practised sportsman. It was easy to see that there was one place where
+the native-born Sophy did not come.</p>
+
+<p>The chamber of this singular Greenland recluse was in keeping with his
+study. The walls were painted light blue, a blue carpet adorned the
+floor, blue curtains softened the light which stole through the windows,
+and blue hangings cast a pleasant hue over a snowy pillow. Although
+small, there was indeed nothing wanting, not even a well-arranged
+bath-room,&mdash;nothing that the most fastidious taste could covet or
+desire.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said my entertainer, when we had got seated in the study,
+"does this present attractions sufficient to tempt you from your narrow
+bunk on shipboard? You are most heartily welcome to that blue den which
+you admire so much, and which I am heartily sick of, while I can make
+for myself a capital 'shake-down' here, or <i>vice versa</i>. If neither of
+these will suit you, then cast your eyes out of the window, and you will
+observe snow enough to build a more truly Arctic lodging."</p>
+
+<p>I stepped to the window, and there, sure enough, piled up beneath it and
+against the house, was a great bank of snow, which the summer's sun had
+not yet dissolved; and as I saw this, and then looked beyond it over the
+wretched little village, and the desolate waste of rocks on which it
+stood, and then on up the craggy steeps to the great white-topped
+mountains, I could but wonder what strange occurrence had sent this
+luxury-loving man, with books only for companions, into such a howling
+wilderness. Was it his own fancy? or was it some cruel necessity? In
+truth, the surprise was so great that I found myself suddenly turning
+from the scene outside to that within, not indeed without an impulse
+that the whole thing might have vanished in the interval, as the palace
+of Aladdin in the Arabian tale.</p>
+
+<p>My host was watching me attentively, no doubt reading my thoughts, for
+as I turned round he asked if I "liked the contrast." To be quite
+candid, I was forced to own myself greatly wondering "that a den so well
+fitted for the latitude of Paris should be stumbled upon away up here so
+near the Pole."</p>
+
+<p>"Hardly in keeping with 'the eternal fitness of things,' eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely so."</p>
+
+<p>"You think, then, because a fellow chooses to live in barbarous
+Greenland, he must needs turn barbarian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly that, but we are in the habit of associating the
+appreciation of comfort and luxury with the desire for social
+intercourse,&mdash;certainly not with banishment like this."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you would be inclined to think there is something unnatural, in
+short, mysterious, in my being here,&mdash;tastes, fancies, inclinations, and
+all?"</p>
+
+<p>"I confess it would so strike me, if I took the liberty to speculate
+upon it."</p>
+
+<p>"Very far from the truth, I do assure you. I am not obliged to be here
+any more than you are. I came from pure choice, and am at liberty to
+return when I please. In truth, I do go home with the ship to
+Copenhagen, once in three or four years, and spend a winter there,
+living the while in a den much like what you here see; but I am always
+glad enough to get back again. The salary which I receive from the
+government does not support me as I live, so you see <i>that</i> is not a
+motive. But I am perfectly independent, have capital health, lots of
+adventure, hardship enough (for you must know that, if I do sleep under
+a sky-blue canopy, I am esteemed one of the most hardy men in all
+Greenland) to satisfy the most insatiate appetite and perverse
+disposition."</p>
+
+<p>"Sufficient reason, I should say, for a year or so, but hardly one would
+think, for a lifetime."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because the novelty of adventure wears off in a little time. Good
+health never gives us satisfaction, for we do not give it thought until
+we lose it, so that can never be an impelling motive; and as for
+independence, what is that, when one can never be freed from himself? In
+short, I should say one so circumstanced as you are would die of ennui;
+that his mind, constantly thrown back upon itself, must, sooner or
+later, result in a weariness even worse than death itself. However, I am
+only curious, not critical."</p>
+
+<p>"But you forget these shelves. Those books are my friends; of them I
+never grow weary, they never grow weary of me; we understand each other
+perfectly,&mdash;they talk to me when I would listen, they sing to me when I
+would be charmed, they play for me when I would be amused. Ah! my dear
+sir, this country is great as all countries are great, each in its way;
+and this is a great country to read books in. Upon my word, I wonder
+everybody don't fill ships with books and come up here, burn the ships,
+as did the great Spaniard, and each spend the remainder of his days in
+devouring his ship-load of books."</p>
+
+<p>"A pretty picture of the country, truly; but let me ask how often do
+books reach you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Once a year,&mdash;when the Danish ship comes out to bring us bread, sugar,
+coffee, coal, and such-like things, and to take home the few little
+trifles, such as furs, oil, and fish, which the natives have picked up
+in the interval."</p>
+
+<p>"Books to the contrary, I should say the ship would not return more than
+once without me, were I in your situation."</p>
+
+<p>"So you would think me a sensible fellow, no doubt, if I would pick up
+this box and carry it off to Paris, or may be to New York?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's exactly what I was thinking; or rather it would certainly have
+appeared to me more reasonable if you had built it there in the first
+instance."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite the contrary, I do assure you,&mdash;quite the contrary. Indeed, I can
+prove to your entire satisfaction that I am a very sensible man; but
+wait until I have shown you all my possessions. Will you look at my
+farm?"</p>
+
+<p>Farm!&mdash;well, this was, after all, exhibiting some claims of the country
+to the consideration of a civilized man. A farm in Greenland was
+something I was hardly prepared for.</p>
+
+<p>The Doctor now rose and led the way to the rear of the house, into a
+yard about eighty feet square, enclosed by a high board fence.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my farm," said the Doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here, look. It isn't a large one." And he pointed to a patch of earth
+about thirty feet long by four wide, enclosed with boards and covered
+over with glass. Under the glass were growing lettuce, radishes, and
+pepper-grass, all looking as bright and fresh and green and well
+contented as if they, like the man for whose benefit they grew, cared
+little where they sprouted, so only they grew. The ten round red
+radishes of the recent luncheon were accounted for.</p>
+
+<p>"So you see," exclaimed the Doctor, "something besides a lover of books
+can take root in this country. Are you not growing reconciled to it? To
+be sure they are fed on pap from home; but so does the farmer who
+cultivates them get his books from the same quarter."</p>
+
+<p>"How is that? Do you mean to say you bring the earth they grow in from
+home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Even so. This is good rich Jutland earth, brought in barrels by ship
+from Copenhagen."</p>
+
+<p>An imported farm! One more novelty.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you shall see my barn";&mdash;and we passed over to a little tightly
+made building in the opposite corner, where the first thing that greeted
+my ears was the bleating of goats and the grunting of pigs; and as the
+door was opened, I heard the cackling and flutter of chickens. Twenty
+chickens, two pigs, and three goats!</p>
+
+<p>"All brought from Copenhagen with the farm";&mdash;and the Doctor began to
+talk to them in a very familiar manner in the Danish tongue. They all
+recognized the kindly voice of their master, and flocked round him to be
+fed; and while this was being done I observed that he had provided for
+the safety of his brood by securing in the centre of their house a large
+stove, which was now cold, but which in the winter must give them
+abundant heat. And so the Doctor, besides his round red radishes and his
+nice fresh butter, had pork and milk and eggs of native growth.</p>
+
+<p>The next object of interest to attract attention was the Doctor's
+"smoke-house," then in full operation. This was simply a large hogshead,
+with one head pierced with holes and the other head knocked out. The end
+without a head was set upon a circle of stones, which supported it about
+a foot above the ground, and inside of this circle a great volume of
+smoke was being generated, and which came puffing out through the holes
+in the head above. Inside of this simple contrivance were suspended a
+number of fine salmon, the delicate flesh of which was being dried by
+the heat, and penetrated by the sweet aroma of the smoke, which came
+puffing through the holes. The smoke arose from a smouldering fire of
+the leaves and branches of the Andromeda (<i>Andromeda tetrigona</i>), the
+heather of Greenland,&mdash;a trailing plant with a pretty purple blossom,
+which grows in sheltered places in great abundance. Besides moss, this
+is the only vegetable production of North Greenland that will burn, and
+it is sometimes used by the natives for fuel, after it is dried by the
+sun, for which purpose it is torn up and spread over the rocks. The
+perfume of the smoke is truly delicious, which accounts for the
+excellent flavor of the salmon which the Doctor had given me for lunch.
+Nothing, indeed, could exceed the delicacy of the fish thus prepared.</p>
+
+<p>The inspection of the Doctor's garden, or "farm," as he facetiously
+called it, occupied us during the remainder of the afternoon; and so
+novel was everything to me, from the Doctor down to his vegetables and
+perfumed fish, that the time passed away unnoticed, and I was quite
+astonished when Sophy came to announce "dinner."</p>
+
+<p>We were soon seated at the table where we had been before, and Sophy
+served the dinner. Her soup was excellent, the trout were of fine
+quality and well cooked, the haunch was done to a turn, the wines were
+this time rightly tempered, the champagne needed not to be iced, more of
+the round red radishes appeared in season, and then followed lettuce and
+cheese and coffee, and then we found ourselves at another game of
+billiards, and at length were settled for the evening in the Doctor's
+study, one on either side of a table, on which stood all the ingredients
+for an arrack punch, and a bundle of cigars.</p>
+
+<p>Our conversation naturally enough ran upon the affairs of the big world
+on the other side of the Arctic Circle,&mdash;upon its politics and
+literature and science and art, passing lightly from one to the other,
+lingering now and then over some book which we had mutually fancied. I
+found my companion perfectly posted up to within a year, and inquired
+how he managed so well. "Ah! you must know," answered he, "that is a
+clever little illusion of mine. I'm always precisely one year behind the
+rest of the world. The Danish ship brings me a file of papers for the
+past twelve months, the principal reviews and periodicals, the latest
+maps, such books as I have sent for the year previous, and, beside this,
+the bookseller and my other home friends make me up an assortment of
+what they think will please me. Now, you see, in devouring this, I
+pursue an absolute method. The books, of course, I take up as the fancy
+pleases me; but the reviews, periodicals, and newspapers I turn over to
+Sophy, and the faithful creature places on my breakfast-table every
+morning exactly what was published that day one year before. Clever,
+isn't it? You see I get every day the news, and go through the drama of
+the year with perhaps quite as much satisfaction as they who live the
+passing days in the midst of the occurring events. Each day's paper
+opens a new act in the play, and what matters it that the 'news' is one
+year old? It is none the less news to me; and, besides, are not Gibbon,
+Shakespeare, and Mother Goose still more ancient?"</p>
+
+<p>I could but smile at this ingenious device; and the Doctor, seeing
+plainly that I was deeply interested in his novel mode of life, loosened
+a tongue which, in truth, needed little encouragement, and rattled away
+over the rough and smooth of his Greenland experiences, with an
+enjoyment on his part perhaps scarcely less than mine; for it was easy
+to see that his love of wild adventure kept pace with his love of
+comfort, and that he heartily enjoyed the exposures of his career and
+the reputation which his hardihood had acquired for him. I perceived,
+too, that he possessed a warm and vivid imagination, and that, clothing
+everything he saw and everything he did with a fitting sentiment of
+strength or beauty, he had blended wild nature and his own strange life
+into a romantic scheme which completely filled his fancy,&mdash;apparently,
+at least, leaving nothing unsupplied,&mdash;and this he enjoyed to the very
+bottom of his soul.</p>
+
+<p>The hours glided swiftly away as we sat sipping our punch and smoking
+our cigars in that quaint study of the Doctor's, chatting of this and of
+that; and a novel feature of the evening was, that, as we talked on and
+on, the light grew not dim with the passing hours; for when the hand of
+a Danish clock which ticked above the mantel told nine, and ten, and
+eleven o'clock, it was still broad day; and then in the full blaze of
+sunshine the clock rang out the "witching hour" of midnight. The sun,
+low down upon the northern horizon, poured his bright rays over the
+hills and sea, throwing the dark shadow of the mountains over the town,
+but illuminating everything to right and left with that soft and
+pleasant light which we so often see at home in the early morning of the
+spring.</p>
+
+<p>After the clock had struck twelve, we threw our fur cloaks over our
+shoulders, and strolled out into this strange midnight. Passing through
+the town, I remarked the quiet which everywhere prevailed, and how all
+nature seemed to have caught the inspiration of the hour. Not a soul was
+stirring abroad; the dogs, crouching in clusters, were all asleep; and
+it seemed as if my little vessel lay under the shadows of the cliffs
+with a consciousness that midnight is a solemn thing even in sunshine;
+and never did the sun shine more brightly, or a more brilliantly
+illuminated landscape give stronger evidence of day. But wearied nature
+had sought repose, even though no "sable cloud with silver lining"
+turned upon the world its darkening shadow,&mdash;for the hour of rest was
+come. Walking on over the rough rocks, we came at length upon the sea,
+and I noticed that the very birds which were wont to paddle about in
+great flocks upon the waters, or fly gayly through the air, had crawled
+upon the shore, and, tucking their heads beneath their wings, had gone
+to sleep. Even the little flowers and blades of grass seemed to droop,
+as if wearied with the long hours of the day, and, defying the restless
+sun to rob them of their natural repose, had fallen to sleep with the
+beasts and birds. The very sea itself seemed to have caught the
+infection of the hour, dissolving in its blue depths the golden clouds
+of day.</p>
+
+<p>The night was far from cold, and, selecting the most tempting and sunny
+spot, we sat down upon a rock close beside the sea, watching the gentle
+wavelets playing on the sand, and the changing light as the sun rolled
+on, glistening upon the hills and upon the icebergs, which, in countless
+numbers, lay upon the watery plain before us, like great monoliths of
+Parian marble, waiting but for the sculptor's chisel to stand forth in
+fluted pillar and solid architrave,&mdash;floating Parthenons and Pantheons
+and Temples of the Sun.</p>
+
+<p>The scene was favorable to the conversation which had been broken off
+when we left the study, and the Doctor came back to it of his own
+accord. I was much absorbed with the grandeur of this midnight scene,
+and had remained for some time quiet. My companion, breaking in
+abruptly, said: "I think I promised to prove to you that I am the most
+sensible fellow alive. Now let me tell you, to begin with, that I would
+not exchange this view for any other I have ever seen. It is one of
+which I am very fond; for at this hour the repose which you here see is
+frequently repeated; and, to compare big things with little, it might be
+likened to some huge lion sleeping over his prey, which he is not yet
+prepared to eat, quick to catch the first sound of movement. There is
+something truly terrible in this untamed nature. Man's struggle here
+gives him something to rejoice in; and I would not barter it for the
+effeminate life to which I should be destined at home, on any account
+whatever. Perhaps, if I should there be compelled absolutely to earn my
+daily bread, the case might be different, for enforced occupation is
+quite too sober an affair to give time for much reflection; but I should
+most likely lead an idle sort of life there, and should simply live
+without&mdash;so far as I can see&mdash;a motive. I should encounter few perils,
+have few sorrows, fewer disappointments, and want for nothing,&mdash;nothing,
+indeed, but temptation to exert myself, or prove my own manhood in its
+strength, or enjoy the luxury of risking the precious breath of life,
+which is so little worth, and which is so easily knocked away. You have
+seen one side of me,&mdash;how I live. Well, I enjoy life and make the most
+of it, after my own fashion, as everybody should do. If it is a
+luxurious fashion, as you are pleased to say, it but gives me a keener
+relish for the opposite; and that it does not unfit me for encountering
+the hardships of the field is proved by the reputation for endurance
+which I have among the natives. If I sleep between well-aired sheets one
+night, I can coil myself up among my dogs on the ice-fields the next,
+and sleep there as well,&mdash;I care not if it's as cold as the frigid
+circle of Lucifer. If I have a <i>penchant</i> for Burgundy, and like to
+drink it out of French glass, I can drink train-oil out of a tin cup
+when I am cold and hungry, and never murmur. I like well-fitting
+clothes, but rough furs suit me just as well in season. Why, it would
+make you laugh fit to kill yourself to see these Danish workingmen,&mdash;the
+laborers, you know, with whom I sometimes travel,&mdash;fellows that can't
+read nor write, poor mechanics, rough sailors, 'hewers of wood and
+drawers of water' generally for this poor settlement,&mdash;who never tasted
+Burgundy in all their lives, and would rather have one keg of corn
+brandy than a tun of it, and who never took their frugal fare off
+anything more tempting than tin. Do you think that these people can,
+under any circumstances, be induced to strengthen their limbs with
+eating blubber or drinking train-oil? Not a bit of it. Do you think they
+can be induced to sleep outside of their own not overly elegant
+lodgings, without groaning, and everlastingly desiring to get back
+again? Not they."</p>
+
+<p>I could not help asking the Doctor what impelled him to exposure, of
+which he had grown so fond.</p>
+
+<p>"The motives are various. I have done a good deal of exploring, have
+reached many of the glaciers, have dabbled in natural history,
+meteorology, magnetism, &amp;c., &amp;c., besides making many photographs and
+geographical surveys, and have sent home to various societies and
+museums many curiosities and much information. My name, as you know,
+stands well enough among the dons of science. But apart from this, my
+duties require me to travel about at all times and all seasons. You must
+know that everybody in this country lives upon the shore, and therefore
+the settlements are reached only by the sea. In the winter I travel over
+the ice with my dog sledge, and in the summer, when the ice has broken
+up, I go from place to place in that little five-ton yacht which you saw
+lying in the harbor. Sometimes I go from choice, stopping at the
+villages, and exhibiting my professional abilities upon Dane or native,
+as the case may be. Often I am sent for. The Greenlanders don't like to
+die any better than other people, and they all have an impression that,
+if Dr. Molke only looks upon them, they are safe. So if an old woman but
+gets the belly-ache, away goes her son or husband for the Doctor.
+Perhaps it is in summer, and the distance may be a hundred miles or
+more. No matter, he gets into his kayak and paddles through all sorts of
+weather, and, at the rate of seven knots an hour, comes for me. Glad of
+the excuse for a change, to say nothing (and the less perhaps any of us
+say on that score the better) of the claims of humanity, I send Sophy
+after Adam (a converted native), and directly along comes Adam with his
+son Carl; and my medicine and instrument cases, my gun and rifle, and a
+plentiful supply of ammunition, a tent, and some fur bedding, a lamp,
+and other camp fixtures, and a little simple food, are put into the
+boat, and off we go. Perhaps a gale springs up, and we are forced to
+make a harbor in some little island; or perhaps it falls calm, and we
+crawl into one, under oars. It is sure to be alive with ducks and geese
+and snipe. The shooting is superb. Happen what may, come storm or calm
+or fine weather, though often wet and cold, and frequently in danger,
+yet I have a grand time of it. I may be back in a day, two days, a week,
+or I may be gone a month. Then the winter comes back, and I have again
+to answer another summons. The same traps are put on the sledge, to
+which are harnessed the twelve finest dogs in the town,&mdash;my own
+team,&mdash;and, at the wildest pace with which this wolfish herd can rush
+along, Adam guides me to my destination. Perhaps it may be early in the
+winter, and the ice is in places thin. We very likely break through, and
+get wet, and are in danger of freezing. Perhaps we reach a crack which
+we cannot pass, and have to hold on, possibly in a hut of snow, waiting
+for the frost to build a bridge for us to pass. This is the wildest and
+most dangerous of my experiences,&mdash;this dog-sledging it from place to
+place in the early or late winter,&mdash;and I have had many wild adventures.
+In the middle of the winter, when it is dark pretty much all the time,
+and the snow is hard and crisp, and the clear, cold bracing air makes
+the blood run freely through the veins, is the best time for travelling;
+for then we may start a bear, and be pretty sure of catching him before
+he gets on rotten ice or across a crack defying us in the pursuit."</p>
+
+<p>By this time the sun had begun to climb above the hills, and the shadow
+of the cliffs had passed over the town, so we stole back again to the
+Doctor's house. The Doctor insisted that I should not sleep on board, so
+we returned to the study, where I was soon wrapt in a sound sleep on the
+Doctor's "shake-down," from which I never once awoke until there came a
+loud tapping on the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sophy."</p>
+
+<p>"What's Sophy want?"</p>
+
+<p>"Breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast indeed! It was hard to believe that I was to come back to the
+experiences of life under such a summons, for I had dreamed that I was
+on a visit to the Man in the Moon, and was enjoying a genuine surprise
+at finding him happy and well contented, seated in the centre of an
+extinct volcano, with all the riches of the great satellite gathered
+round him, hanging in tempting clusters on its horns.</p>
+
+<p>But my eyes at length were opened wide enough to see, near by, the very
+terrestrial ruins of our evening's pastime; and if these had left any
+doubts upon my mind as to the reality of my present situation, those
+doubts would certainly have been removed by the cheerful voice of the
+Doctor; for a loud "Good morning!" came from out the painted chamber,
+and from beneath the sky-blue canopy a graceful query of the night.
+"What of the night, sleeper?&mdash;what of the night?" Then I was quickly out
+upon the floor, and dressed, and in the cosey little room where the
+fruits and flowers were hanging on the wall, and where the bright face
+of Sophy, and aromatic coffee, and a charming little breakfast, were
+awaiting us with a kindly welcome.</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast over, I left the Doctor to expend his skill and knowledge on a
+patient who had sent to claim his services, and strolled out over the
+rocks behind the town,&mdash;wondering all the while at the strangeness of
+the human fancy and its power on the will; and I reflected, too, and
+remembered that, in the explanation of the satisfying character of the
+life which my new-found friend was leading, there had been no clew given
+to the first great motive which had destined such a finely organized and
+altogether splendid man to such a career. Was he exempt from the lot of
+other mortals, or must he too own, like all the rest of us, when we own
+the truth, that every firm step we ever made in those days of our early
+lives when steps were critical, was made to please a woman, to win her
+slightest praise, to heal a wound or drown a sorrow of her making? I
+would have given much to have the question answered, for then a thing
+now mysterious would have become as plain as day; but there was no one
+there to heed the question, or to give the answer, and I could only
+wander on over the rough rocks, wondering more and more.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_STRUGGLE_FOR_LIFE" id="A_STRUGGLE_FOR_LIFE"></a>A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>One morning last April, as I was passing through Boston Common, which
+lies pleasantly between my residence and my office, I met a gentleman
+lounging along The Mall. I am generally preoccupied when walking, and
+often thrid my way through crowded streets without distinctly observing
+a single soul. But this man's face forced itself upon me, and a very
+singular face it was. His eyes were faded, and his hair, which he wore
+long, was flecked with gray. His hair and eyes, if I may say so, were
+seventy years old, the rest of him not thirty. The youthfulness of his
+figure, the elasticity of his gait, and the venerable appearance of his
+head, were incongruities that drew more than one pair of curious eyes
+towards him. He was evidently an American,&mdash;the New England cut of
+countenance is unmistakable,&mdash;evidently a man who had seen something of
+the world; but strangely old and young.</p>
+
+<p>Before reaching the Park Street gate, I had taken up the thread of
+thought which he had unconsciously broken; yet throughout the day this
+old young man, with his unwrinkled brow and silvered locks, glided in
+like a phantom between me and my duties.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning I again encountered him on The Mall. He was resting
+lazily on the green rails, watching two little sloops in distress, which
+two ragged ship-owners had consigned to the mimic perils of the Pond.
+The vessels lay becalmed in the middle of the ocean, displaying a
+tantalizing lack of sympathy with the frantic helplessness of the owners
+on shore. As the gentleman observed their dilemma, a light came into his
+faded eyes, then died out, leaving them drearier than before. I wondered
+if he, too, in his time, had sent out ships that drifted and drifted and
+never came to port; and if these poor toys were to him types of his own
+losses.</p>
+
+<p>"I would like to know that man's story," I said, half aloud, halting in
+one of those winding paths which branch off from the quietness of the
+Pond, and end in the rush and tumult of Tremont Street.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you?" replied a voice at my side. I turned and faced Mr. H&mdash;&mdash;, a
+neighbor of mine, who laughed heartily at finding me talking to myself.
+"Well," he added, reflectingly, "I can tell you this man's story; and if
+you will match the narrative with anything as curious, I shall be glad
+to hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"You know him then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes and no. I happened to be in Paris when he was buried."</p>
+
+<p>"Buried!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, strictly speaking, not buried; but something quite like it. If
+you've a spare half-hour," continued my interlocutor, "we'll sit on this
+bench, and I will tell you all I know of an affair that made some noise
+in Paris a couple of years ago. The gentleman himself, standing yonder,
+will serve as a sort of frontispiece to the romance,&mdash;a full-page
+illustration, as it were."</p>
+
+<p>The following pages contain the story that Mr. H&mdash;&mdash; related to me.
+While he was telling it, a gentle wind arose; the miniature sloops
+drifted feebly about the ocean; the wretched owners flew from point to
+point, as the deceptive breeze promised to waft the barks to either
+shore; the early robins trilled now and then from the newly fringed
+elms; and the old young man leaned on the rail in the sunshine, wearily,
+little dreaming that two gossips were discussing his affairs within
+twenty yards of him.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Three people were sitting in a chamber whose one large window overlooked
+the Place Vend&ocirc;me. M. Dorine, with his back half turned on the other two
+occupants of the apartment, was reading the <i>Moniteur</i>, pausing from
+time to time to wipe his glasses, and taking scrupulous pains not to
+glance towards the lounge at his right, on which were seated
+Mademoiselle Dorine and a young American gentleman, whose handsome face
+rather frankly told his position in the family. There was not a happier
+man in Paris that afternoon than Philip Wentworth. Life had become so
+delicious to him that he shrunk from looking beyond to-day. What could
+the future add to his full heart? what might it not take away? In
+certain natures the deepest joy has always something of melancholy in
+it, a presentiment, a fleeting sadness, a feeling without a name.
+Wentworth was conscious of this subtile shadow, that night, when he rose
+from the lounge, and thoughtfully held Julie's hand to his lip for a
+moment before parting. A careless observer would not have thought him,
+as he was, the happiest man in Paris.</p>
+
+<p>M. Dorine laid down his paper and came forward. "If the house," he said,
+"is such as M. Martin describes it, I advise you to close with him at
+once. I would accompany you, Philip, but the truth is, I am too sad at
+losing this little bird to assist you in selecting a cage for her.
+Remember, the last train for town leaves at five. Be sure not to miss
+it; for we have seats for M. Sardou's new comedy to-morrow night. By
+to-morrow night," he added laughingly, "little Julie here will be an old
+lady, &mdash;&mdash;'t is such an age from now until then."</p>
+
+<p>The next morning the train bore Philip to one of the loveliest spots
+within thirty miles of Paris. An hour's walk through green lanes brought
+him to M. Martin's estate. In a kind of dream the young man wandered
+from room to room, inspected the conservatory, the stables, the lawns,
+the strip of woodland through which a merry brook sang to itself
+continually; and, after dining with M. Martin, completed the purchase,
+and turned his steps towards the station, just in time to catch the
+express train.</p>
+
+<p>As Paris stretched out before him, with its million lights twinkling in
+the early dusk, and its sharp spires here and there pricking the sky, it
+seemed to Philip as if years had elapsed since he left the city. On
+reaching Paris he drove to his hotel, where he found several letters
+lying on the table. He did not trouble himself even to glance at their
+superscriptions as he threw aside his travelling surtout for a more
+appropriate dress.</p>
+
+<p>If, in his impatience to see Mademoiselle Dorine, the cars had appeared
+to walk, the fiacre which he had secured at the station appeared to
+creep. At last it turned into the Place Vend&ocirc;me, and drew up before M.
+Dorine's residence. The door opened as Philip's foot touched the first
+step. The servant silently took his cloak and hat, with a special
+deference, Philip thought; but was he not now one of the family?</p>
+
+<p>"M. Dorine," said the servant slowly, "is unable to see Monsieur at
+present. He wishes Monsieur to be shown up to the <i>salon</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Mademoiselle&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Monsieur."</p>
+
+<p>"Alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Alone, Monsieur," repeated the man, looking curiously at Philip, who
+could scarcely repress an exclamation of pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>It was the first time that such a privilege had been accorded him. His
+interviews with Julie had always taken place in the presence of M.
+Dorine, or some member of the household. A well-bred Parisian girl has
+but a formal acquaintance with her lover.</p>
+
+<p>Philip did not linger on the staircase; his heart sang in his bosom as
+he flew up the steps, two at a time. Ah! this wine of air which one
+drinks at twenty, and seldom after! He hastened through the softly
+lighted hall, in which he detected the faint scent of her favorite
+flowers, and stealthily opened the door of the <i>salon</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The room was darkened. Underneath the chandelier stood a slim black
+casket on trestles. A lighted candle, a crucifix, and some white flowers
+were on a table near by. Julie Dorine was dead.</p>
+
+<p>When M. Dorine heard the indescribable cry that rang through the silent
+house, he hurried from the library, and found Philip standing like a
+ghost in the middle of the chamber.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until long afterwards that Wentworth learned the details of
+the calamity that had befallen him. On the previous night Mademoiselle
+Dorine had retired to her room in seemingly perfect health. She
+dismissed her maid with a request to be awakened early the next morning.
+At the appointed hour the girl entered the chamber. Mademoiselle Dorine
+was sitting in an arm-chair, apparently asleep. The candle had burnt
+down to the socket; a book lay half open on the carpet at her feet. The
+girl started when she saw that the bed had not been occupied, and that
+her mistress still wore an evening dress. She rushed to Mademoiselle
+Dorine's side. It was not slumber. It was death.</p>
+
+<p>Two messages were at once despatched to Philip, one to the station at
+G&mdash;&mdash;, the other to his hotel. The first missed him on the road, the
+second he had neglected to open. On his arrival at M. Dorine's house,
+the servant, under the supposition that Wentworth had been advised of
+Mademoiselle Dorine's death, broke the intelligence with awkward
+cruelty, by showing him directly to the <i>salon</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle Dorine's wealth, her beauty, the suddenness of her death,
+and the romance that had in some way attached itself to her love for the
+young American, drew crowds to witness the funeral ceremonies which took
+place in the church in the Rue d'Aguesseau. The body was to be laid in
+M. Dorine's tomb, in the cemetery of Montmartre.</p>
+
+<p>This tomb requires a few words of description. First there was a grating
+of filigraned iron; through this you looked into a small vestibule or
+hall, at the end of which was a massive door of oak opening upon a short
+flight of stone steps descending into the tomb. The vault was fifteen or
+twenty feet square, ingeniously ventilated from the ceiling, but
+unlighted. It contained two sarcophagi: the first held the remains of
+Madame Dorine, long since dead; the other was new, and bore on one side
+the letters J. D., in monogram, interwoven with fleurs-de-lis.</p>
+
+<p>The funeral train stopped at the gate of the small garden that enclosed
+the place of burial, only the immediate relatives following the bearers
+into the tomb. A slender wax candle, such as is used in Catholic
+churches, burnt at the foot of the uncovered sarcophagus, casting a dim
+glow over the centre of the apartment, and deepening the shadows which
+seemed to huddle together in the corners. By this flickering light the
+coffin was placed in its granite shell, the heavy slab laid over it
+reverently, and the oaken door revolved on its rusty hinges, shutting
+out the uncertain ray of sunshine that had ventured to peep in on the
+darkness.</p>
+
+<p>M. Dorine, muffled in his cloak, threw himself on the back seat of the
+carriage, too abstracted in his grief to observe that he was the only
+occupant of the vehicle. There was a sound of wheels grating on the
+gravelled avenue, and then all was silence again in the cemetery of
+Montmartre. At the main entrance the carriages parted company, dashing
+off into various streets at a pace that seemed to express a sense of
+relief. The band plays a dead march going to the grave, but <i>Fra
+Diavolo</i> coming from it.</p>
+
+<p>It is not with the retreating carriages that our interest lies. Nor yet
+wholly with the dead in her mysterious dream; but with Philip Wentworth.</p>
+
+<p>The rattle of wheels had died out of the air when Philip opened his
+eyes, bewildered, like a man abruptly roused from slumber. He raised
+himself on one arm and stared into the surrounding blackness. Where was
+he? In a second the truth flashed upon him. He had been left in the
+tomb! While kneeling on the farther side of the stone box, perhaps he
+had fainted, and in the last solemn rites his absence had been
+unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>His first emotion was one of natural terror. But this passed as quickly
+as it came. Life had ceased to be so very precious to him; and if it
+were his fate to die at Julie's side, was not that the fulfilment of the
+desire which he had expressed to himself a hundred times that morning?
+What did it matter, a few years sooner or later? He must lay down the
+burden at last. Why not then? A pang of self-reproach followed the
+thought. Could he so lightly throw aside the love that had bent over his
+cradle. The sacred name of mother rose involuntarily to his lips. Was it
+not cowardly to yield up without a struggle the life which he should
+guard for her sake? Was it not his duty to the living and the dead to
+face the difficulties of his position, and overcome them if it were
+within human power?</p>
+
+<p>With an organization as delicate as a woman's, he had that spirit which,
+however sluggish in repose, can leap with a kind of exultation to
+measure its strength with disaster. The vague fear of the supernatural,
+that would affect most men in a similar situation, found no room in his
+heart. He was simply shut in a chamber from which it was necessary that
+he should obtain release within a given period. That this chamber
+contained the body of the woman he loved, so far from adding to the
+terror of the case, was a circumstance from which he drew consolation.
+She was a beautiful white statue now. Her soul was far hence; and if
+that pure spirit could return, would it not be to shield him with her
+love? It was impossible that the place should not engender some thought
+of the kind. He did not put the thought entirely from him as he rose to
+his feet and stretched out his hands in the darkness; but his mind was
+too healthy and practical to indulge long in such speculations.</p>
+
+<p>Philip chanced to have in his pocket a box of wax-tapers which smokers
+use. After several ineffectual attempts, he succeeded in igniting one
+against the dank wall, and by its momentary glare perceived that the
+candle had been left in the tomb. This would serve him in examining the
+fastenings of the vault. If he could force the inner door by any means,
+and reach the grating, of which he had an indistinct recollection, he
+might hope to make himself heard. But the oaken door was immovable, as
+solid as the wall itself, into which it fitted air-tight. Even if he had
+had the requisite tools, there were no fastenings to be removed: the
+hinges were set on the outside.</p>
+
+<p>Having ascertained this, he replaced the candle on the floor, and leaned
+against the wall thoughtfully, watching the blue fan of flame that
+wavered to and fro, threatening to detach itself from the wick. "At all
+events," he thought, "the place is ventilated." Suddenly Philip sprang
+forward and extinguished the light. His existence depended on that
+candle!</p>
+
+<p>He had read somewhere, in some account of shipwreck, how the survivors
+had lived for days upon a few candles which one of the passengers had
+insanely thrown into the long-boat. And here he had been burning away
+his very life.</p>
+
+<p>By the transient illumination of one of the tapers, he looked at his
+watch. It had stopped at eleven,&mdash;but at eleven that day, or the
+preceding night? The funeral, he knew, had left the church at ten. How
+many hours had passed since then? Of what duration had been his swoon?
+Alas! it was no longer possible for him to measure those hours which
+crawl like snails by the wretched, and fly like swallows over the happy.</p>
+
+<p>He picked up the candle, and seated himself on the stone steps. He was a
+sanguine man, this Wentworth, but, as he weighed the chances of escape,
+the prospect did not seem encouraging. Of course he would be missed. His
+disappearance under the circumstances would surely alarm his friends;
+they would instigate a search for him; but who would think of searching
+for a live man in the cemetery of Montmartre? The Prefect of Police
+would set a hundred intelligences at work to find him; the Seine might
+be dragged, <i>les mis&eacute;rables</i> turned over at the dead-house; a minute
+description of him would be in every detective's pocket; and he&mdash;in M.
+Dorine's family tomb!</p>
+
+<p>Yet, on the other hand, it was here he was last seen; from this point a
+keen detective would naturally work up the case. Then might not the
+undertaker return for the candlestick, probably not left by design? Or,
+again, might not M. Dorine send fresh wreaths of flowers, to take the
+place of those which now diffused a pungent, aromatic odor throughout
+the chamber? Ah! what unlikely chances! But if one of these things did
+not happen speedily, it had better never happen. How long could he keep
+life in himself?</p>
+
+<p>With unaccelerated pulse, he quietly cut the half-burned candle into
+four equal parts. "To-night," he meditated, "I will eat the first of
+these pieces; to-morrow, the second; to-morrow evening, the third; the
+next day, the fourth; and then&mdash;then I'll wait!"</p>
+
+<p>He had taken no breakfast that morning, unless a cup of coffee can be
+called a breakfast. He had never been very hungry before. He was
+ravenously hungry now. But he postponed the meal as long as practicable.
+It must have been near midnight, according to his calculation, when he
+determined to try the first of his four singular repasts. The bit of
+white-wax was tasteless; but it served its purpose.</p>
+
+<p>His appetite for the time appeased, he found a new discomfort. The
+humidity of the walls, and the wind that crept through the unseen
+ventilator, chilled him to the bone. To keep walking was his only
+resource. A sort of drowsiness, too, occasionally came over him. It took
+all his will to fight it off. To sleep, he felt, was to die; and he had
+made up his mind to live.</p>
+
+<p>Very strange fancies flitted through his head as he groped up and down
+the stone floor of the dungeon, feeling his way along the wall to avoid
+the sepulchres. Voices that had long been silent spoke words that had
+long been forgotten; faces he had known in childhood grew palpable
+against the dark. His whole life in detail was unrolled before him like
+a panorama; the changes of a year, with its burden of love and death,
+its sweets and its bitternesses, were epitomized in a single second. The
+desire to sleep had left him. But the keen hunger came again.</p>
+
+<p>It must be near morning now, he mused; perhaps the sun is just gilding
+the pinnacles and domes of the city; or, may be, a dull, drizzling rain
+is beating on Paris, sobbing on these mounds above me. Paris! it seems
+like a dream. Did I ever walk in its gay streets in the golden air? O
+the delight and pain and passion of that sweet human life!</p>
+
+<p>Philip became conscious that the gloom, the silence, and the cold were
+gradually conquering him. The feverish activity of his brain brought on
+a reaction. He grew lethargic, he sunk down on the steps, and thought of
+nothing. His hand fell by chance on one of the pieces of candle; he
+grasped it and devoured it mechanically. This revived him. "How
+strange," he thought, "that I am not thirsty. Is it possible that the
+dampness of the walls, which I must inhale with every breath, has
+supplied the need of water? Not a drop has passed my lips for two days,
+and still I experience no thirst. That drowsiness, thank Heaven, has
+gone. I think I was never wide awake until this hour. It would be an
+anodyne like poison that could weigh down my eyelids. No doubt the dread
+of sleep has something to do with this."</p>
+
+<p>The minutes were like hours. Now he walked as briskly as he dared up and
+down the tomb; now he rested against the door. More than once he was
+tempted to throw himself upon the stone coffin that held Julie, and make
+no further struggle for his life.</p>
+
+<p>Only one piece of candle remained. He had eaten the third portion, not
+to satisfy hunger, but from a precautionary motive. He had taken it as a
+man takes some disagreeable drug upon the result of which hangs safety.
+The time was rapidly approaching when even this poor substitute for
+nourishment would be exhausted. He delayed that moment. He gave himself
+a long fast this time. The half-inch of candle which he held in his hand
+was a sacred thing to him. It was his last defence against death.</p>
+
+<p>At length, with such a sinking at heart as he had not known before, he
+raised it to his lips. Then he paused, then he hurled the fragment
+across the tomb, then the oaken door was flung open, and Philip, with
+dazzled eyes, saw M. Dorine's form sharply defined against the blue sky.</p>
+
+<p>When they led him out, half blinded, into the broad daylight, M. Dorine
+noticed that Philip's hair, which a short time since was as black as a
+crow's wing, had actually turned gray in places. The man's eyes, too,
+had faded; the darkness had spoiled their lustre.</p>
+
+<p>"And how long was he really confined in the tomb?" I asked, as Mr. H&mdash;&mdash;
+concluded the story.</p>
+
+<p><i>"Just one hour and twenty minutes!"</i> replied Mr. H&mdash;&mdash;, smiling
+blandly.</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, the little sloops, with their sails all blown out like
+white roses, came floating bravely into port, and Philip Wentworth
+lounged by us, wearily, in the pleasant April sunshine.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Mr. H&mdash;&mdash;'s narrative made a deep impression on me. Here was a man who
+had undergone a strange ordeal. Here was a man whose sufferings were
+unique. His was no threadbare experience. Eighty minutes had seemed like
+two days to him! If he had really been immured two days in the tomb, the
+story, from my point of view, would have lost its tragic element.</p>
+
+<p>After this it was but natural I should regard Mr. Wentworth with
+deepened interest. As I met him from day to day, passing through the
+Common with that same abstracted air, there was something in his
+loneliness which touched me. I wondered that I had not before read in
+his pale meditative face some such sad history as Mr. H&mdash;&mdash; had confided
+to me. I formed the resolution of speaking to him, though with what
+purpose was not very clear to my mind. One May morning we met at the
+intersection of two paths. He courteously halted to allow me the
+precedence.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Wentworth," I began, "I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He interrupted me.</p>
+
+<p>"My name, sir," he said, in an off-hand manner, "is Jones."</p>
+
+<p>"Jo-Jo-Jones!" I gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Not Jo Jones," he returned coldly, "Frederick."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jones, or whatever his name is, will never know, unless he reads
+these pages, why a man accosted him one morning as "Mr. Wentworth," and
+then abruptly rushed down the nearest path, and disappeared in the
+crowd.</p>
+
+<p>The fact is, I had been duped by Mr. H&mdash;&mdash;. Mr. H&mdash;&mdash; occasionally
+contributes a story to the magazines. He had actually tried the effect
+of one of his romances on me!</p>
+
+<p>My hero, as I subsequently learned, is no hero at all, but a commonplace
+young man who has some connection with the building of that pretty
+granite bridge which will shortly span the crooked little lake in the
+Public Garden.</p>
+
+<p>When I think of the cool ingenuity and readiness with which Mr.
+H&mdash;&mdash;built up his airy fabric on my credulity, I am half inclined to
+laugh; though I feel not slightly irritated at having been the
+unresisting victim of his Black Art.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="FREEDOM_IN_BRAZIL" id="FREEDOM_IN_BRAZIL"></a>FREEDOM IN BRAZIL.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With clearer light, Cross of the South, shine forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In blue Brazilian skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou, O river, cleaving half the earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From sunset to sunrise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the great mountains to the Atlantic waves<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy joy's long anthem pour.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet a few days (God make them less!) and slaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall shame thy pride no more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No fettered feet thy shaded margins press;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But all men shall walk free<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where thou, the high-priest of the wilderness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hast wedded sea to sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And thou, great-hearted ruler, through whose mouth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The word of God is said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once more, "Let there be light!"&mdash;Son of the South,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lift up thy honored head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wear unashamed a crown by thy desert<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">More than by birth thy own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Careless of watch and ward; thou art begirt<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By grateful hearts alone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The moated wall and battle-ship may fail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But safe shall justice prove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stronger than greaves of brass or iron mail<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The panoply of love.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Crowned doubly by man's blessing and God's grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy future is secure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who frees a people makes his statue's place<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In Time's Valhalla sure.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo! from his Neva's banks the Scythian Czar<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Stretches to thee his hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, with the pencil of the Northern star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wrote freedom on his land.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he whose grave is holy by our calm<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And prairied Sangamon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From his gaunt hand shall drop the martyr's palm<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To greet thee with "Well done!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And thou, O Earth, with smiles thy face make sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And let thy wail be stilled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hear the Muse of prophecy repeat<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her promise half fulfilled.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Voice that spake at Nazareth speaks still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No sound thereof hath died;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alike thy hope and Heaven's eternal will<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall yet be satisfied.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The years are slow, the vision tarrieth long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And far the end may be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, one by one, the fiends of ancient wrong<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Go out and leave thee free.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="MY_VISIT_TO_SYBARIS" id="MY_VISIT_TO_SYBARIS"></a>MY VISIT TO SYBARIS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>It is a great while since I first took an interest in Sybaris. Sybarites
+have a bad name. But before I had heard of them anywhere else, I had
+painfully looked out the words in the three or four precious anecdotes
+about Sybaris in the old Greek Reader; and I had made up my boy's mind
+about the Sybarites. When I came to know the name they had got
+elsewhere, I could not but say that the world had been very unjust to
+them!</p>
+
+<p>O dear! I can see it now,&mdash;the old Latin school-room, where we used to
+sit, and hammer over that Greek, after the small boys had gone. They
+went at eleven; we&mdash;because we were twelve years old&mdash;stayed till
+twelve. From eleven to twelve we sat, with only those small boys who had
+been "kept" for their sins, and Mr. Dillaway. The room was long and
+narrow; how long and how narrow, you may see, if you will go and examine
+M. Duchesne's model of "Boston as it was," and pay twenty-five cents to
+the Richmond schools. For all this is of the past; and in the same spot
+in space where once a month the Examiner Club now meets at Parker's, and
+discusses the difference between religion and superstition, the folly of
+copyright, and the origin of things, the boys who did not then belong to
+the Examiner Club, say Fox and Clarke and Furness and Waldo Emerson,
+thumbed their Greek Readers in "Boston as it was," and learned the truth
+about Sybaris! A long, narrow room, I say, whose walls, when I knew them
+first, were of that tawny orange wash which is appropriated to kitchens.
+But by a master stroke of Mr. Dillaway's these walls were made lilac or
+purple one summer vacation. We sat, to recite, on long settees,
+pea-green in color, which would teeter slightly on the well-worn floor.
+There, for an hour daily, while brighter boys than I recited, I sat an
+hour musing, looking at the immense Jacobs's Greek Reader, and waiting
+my turn to come. If you did not look off your book much, no harm came to
+you. So, in the hour, you got fifty-three minutes and a few odd seconds
+of day-dream, for six minutes and two thirds of reciting, unless, which
+was unusual, some fellow above you broke down, and a question passed
+along of a sudden recalled you to modern life. I have been sitting on
+that old green settee, and at the same time riding on horseback in
+Virginia, through an open wooded country, with one of Lord Fairfax's
+grandsons and two pretty cousins of his, and a fallow deer has just
+appeared in the distance, when, by the failure of Hutchinson or Wheeler,
+just above me, poor Mr. Dillaway has had to ask me, "Ingham, what verbs
+omit the reduplication?" Talk of war! Where is versatility, otherwise
+called presence of mind, so needed as in recitation at a public school?</p>
+
+<p>Well, there, I say, I made acquaintance with Sybaris. Nay, strictly
+speaking, my first visits to Sybaris were made there and then. What the
+Greek Reader tells of Sybaris is in three or four anecdotes, woven into
+that strange, incoherent patchwork of "Geography." In that place are
+patched together a statement of Strabo and one of Athen&aelig;us about two
+things in Sybaris which may have belonged some eight hundred years
+apart. But what of that to a school-boy! Will your descendants, dear
+reader, in the year 3579 <span class="smcap">a. d.</span>, be much troubled, if, in the
+English Reader of their day, Queen Victoria shall be made to drink
+Spartan black broth with William the Conqueror out of a conch-shell in
+New Zealand?</p>
+
+<p>With regard to Sybaris, then, the old Jacobs's Greek Reader tells the
+following stories: "The Sybarites were distinguished for luxury. They
+did not permit the trades which made a loud noise, such as those of
+brass-workers, carpenters, and the like, to be carried on in the heart
+of the city, so that their sleep might be wholly undisturbed by
+noise.... And a Sybarite who had gone to Laced&aelig;mon, and had been invited
+to the public meal, after he had sat on their wooden benches and
+partaken of their fare, said that he had been astonished at the
+fearlessness of the Laced&aelig;monians when he knew it only by report; but
+now that he had seen them, he thought that they did not excel other men,
+for he thought that any brave man had much rather die than be obliged to
+live such a life as they did." Then there is another story, among the
+"miscellaneous anecdotes," of a Sybarite who was asked if he had slept
+well. He said, No, that he believed he had a crumpled rose-leaf under
+him in the night. And there is yet another, of one of them who said that
+it made his back ache to see another man digging.</p>
+
+<p>I have asked Polly, as I write, to look in Mark Lemon's Jest-Book for
+these stories. They are not in the index there. But I dare say they are
+in Cotton Mather and Jeremy Taylor. Any way, they are bits of very cheap
+Greek. Now it is on these stories that the reputation of the Sybarites
+in modern times appears to depend.</p>
+
+<p>Now look at them. This Sybarite at Sparta said, that in war death was
+often easier than the hardships of life. Well, is not that true? Have
+not thousands of brave men said it? When the English and French got
+themselves established on the wrong side of Sebastopol, what did that
+engineer officer of the French say to somebody who came to inspect his
+works? He was talking of St. Arnaud, their first commander. "Cunning
+dog," said he, "he went and died." Death was easier than life. But
+nobody ever said he was a coward or effeminate because he said this.
+Why, if Mr. Fields would permit an excursus in twelve numbers here, on
+this theme, we would defer Sybaris to the 1st of April, 1868, while we
+illustrated the Sybarite's manly epigram, which these stupid Spartans
+could only gape at, but could not understand.</p>
+
+<p>Then take the rose-leaf story. Suppose by good luck you were
+breakfasting with General Grant, or Pelissier, or the Duke of
+Wellington. Suppose you said, "I hope you slept well," and the great
+soldier said, "No, I did not; I think a rose-leaf must have stood up
+edgewise under me." Would you go off and say in your book of travels
+that the Americans, or the French, or the English are all effeminate
+pleasure-seekers, because one of them made this nice little joke? Would
+you like to have the name "American" go down to all time, defined as
+Webster<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> defines Sybarite?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">A-m&#277;r'i-can</span>, <i>n.</i> [Fr. <i>Am&eacute;ricain</i>, Lat.
+<i>Americanus</i>, from Lat. <i>America</i>, a continent noted for the
+effeminacy and voluptuousness of its inhabitants.] A person
+devoted to luxury and pleasure.</p></div>
+
+<p>Should you think that was quite fair for your great-grandson's
+grandson's descendant in the twenty-seventh remove to read, who is going
+to be instructed about Queen Victoria and William the Conqueror?</p>
+
+<p>Worst of all, and most frequently quoted, is the story of the
+coppersmiths. The Sybarites, it is said, ordered that the coppersmiths
+and brass-founders should all reside in one part of the city, and bang
+their respective metals where the neighbors had voluntarily chosen to
+listen to banging. What if they did? Does not every manufacturing city
+practically do the same thing? What did Nicholas Tillinghast use to say
+to the boys and girls at Bridgewater? "The tendency of cities is to
+resolve themselves into order."</p>
+
+<p>Is not Wall Street at this hour a street of bankers? Is not the Boston
+Pearl Street a street of leather men? Is not the bridge at Florence
+given over to jewellers? Was not my valise, there, bought in Rome at the
+street of trunk-makers? Do not all booksellers like to huddle together
+as long as they can? And when Ticknor and Fields move a few inches from
+Washington Street to Tremont Street, do not Russell and Bates, and
+Childs and Jenks, and De Vries and Ibarra, follow them as soon as the
+shops can be got ready?</p>
+
+<p>"But it is the motive," pipes up the old gray ghost of propriety, who
+started this abuse of the Sybarites in some stupid Spartan black-broth
+shop (English that for <i>caf&eacute;</i>), two thousand two hundred and twenty-two
+years ago,&mdash;which ghost I am now belaboring,&mdash;"it is the motive. The
+Sybarites moved the brass-founders, because they wanted to sleep after
+the brass-founders got up in the morning." What if they did, you old rat
+in the arras? Is there any law, human or divine, which says that at one
+and the same hour all men shall rise from bed in this world? My
+excellent milkman, Mr. Whit, rises from bed daily at two o'clock. If he
+does not, my family, including Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and Acts, will
+not have their fresh milk at 7.37, at which time we breakfast or pretend
+to. But because he rises at two, must we all rise at two, and sit
+wretchedly whining on our respective camp-stools, waiting for Mr. Whit
+to arrive with the grateful beverage? Many is the time, when I have been
+watching with a sick child at five in a summer morning, when the little
+fellow had just dropped into a grateful morning doze, that I have
+listened and waited, dreading the arrival of the Providence morning
+express. Because I knew that, a mile and a half out of Boston, the
+engine would begin to blow its shrill whistle, for the purpose, I
+believe, of calling the Boston station-men to their duty. Three or four
+minutes of that <i>skre-e-e-e</i> must there be, as that train swept by our
+end of the town. And hoping and wishing never did any good; the train
+would come, and the child would wake. Is not that a magnificent power
+for one engine-man to have over the morning rest of thirty thousand
+sleeping people, because you, old Spartan croaker, who can't sleep easy
+underground it seems, want to have everybody waked up at the same hour
+in the morning. When I hear that whistle, and the fifty other whistles
+of the factories that have since followed its wayward and unlicensed
+example, I have wished more than once that we had in Boston a little
+more of the firm government of Sybaris.</p>
+
+<p>For if, as it would appear from these instances, Sybaris were a city
+which grew to wealth and strength by the recognition of the personal
+rights of each individual in the state,&mdash;if Sybaris were a republic,
+where the individual was respected, had his rights, and was not left to
+the average chances of the majority of men,&mdash;then Sybaris had found out
+something which no modern city has found out, and which it is a pity we
+have all forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>I do not say that I went through all this speculation at the Latin
+school. I got no further there than to see that the Sybarites had got a
+very bad name, and that the causes did not appear in the Greek Reader. I
+supposed there were causes somewhere, which it was not proper to put
+into the Greek Reader. Perhaps there were. But if there were, I have
+never found them,&mdash;not being indeed very well acquainted with the lines
+of reading in which those who wanted to find them should look for them.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">What</span> I did find of Sybaris, when I could read Greek rather more
+easily, and could get access to some decent atlases, was briefly this.</p>
+
+<p>Well forward in the hollow of the arched foot of the boot of Italy, two
+little rivers run into the Gulf of Tarentum. One was named Crathis, one
+was named Sybaris. Here stood the ancient city of Sybaris, founded,
+about the time of Romulus or Numa Pompilius, by a colony from Greece.
+For two hundred years and more,&mdash;almost as long, dear Atlantic, as your
+beloved Boston has subsisted,&mdash;Sybaris flourished, and was the Rome of
+that region, ruling it from sea to sea.</p>
+
+<p>It was the capital of four states,&mdash;a sort of New England, if you will
+observe,&mdash;and could send three hundred thousand armed men into the
+field. The walls of the city were six miles in circumference, while the
+suburbs covered the banks of the Crathis for a space of seven miles. At
+last the neighboring state of Crotona, under the lead of Milon the
+Athlete (he of the calf and ox and split log), the Heenan or John
+Morrissey of his day, vanquished the more refined Sybarites, turned the
+waters of the Crathis upon their prosperous city, and destroyed it. But
+the Sybarites had had that thing happen too often to be discouraged.
+Five times, say the historians, had Sybaris been destroyed, and five
+times they built it up again. This time the Athenians sent ten vessels,
+with men to help them, under Lampon and Xenocritus. And they, with those
+who stood by the wreck, gave their new city the name of Thurii. Among
+the new colonists were Herodotus, and Lysias the orator, who was then a
+boy. The spirit that had given Sybaris its comfort and its immense
+population appeared in the legislation of the new state. It received its
+laws from <span class="smcap">Charondas</span>, one of the noblest legislators of the
+world. Study these laws and you will see that in the young Sybaris the
+individual had his rights, which the public preserved for him, though he
+were wholly in a minority. There is an evident determination that a man
+shall live while he lives, and that, too, in no sensual interpretation
+of the words.</p>
+
+<p>Of the laws made by Charondas for the new Sybaris a few are preserved.</p>
+
+<p>1. A calumniator was marched round the city in disgrace, crowned with
+tamarisk. "In consequence," says the Scholiast, "they all left the
+city." O for such a result, from whatever legislation, in our modern
+Pedlingtons, great or little!</p>
+
+<p>2. All persons were forbidden to associate with the bad.</p>
+
+<p>3. "He made another law, better than these, and neglected by the older
+legislators. For he enacted that all the sons of the citizens should be
+instructed in letters, the city paying the salaries of the teachers. For
+he held that the poor, not being able to pay their teachers from their
+own property, would be deprived of the most valuable discipline." There
+is <span class="smcap">Free Education</span> for you, two thousand and seventy-six years
+before the date of your first Massachusetts free school; and the theory
+of free education completely stated.</p>
+
+<p>4. Deserters or cowards in battle had to sit in women's dresses in the
+Forum three days.</p>
+
+<p>5. With regard to the amendment of laws, any man or woman who moved one
+did it with a noose round his neck, and was hanged if the people refused
+it. Only three laws were ever amended, therefore, all which are recorded
+in the history. Observe that the women might move amendments,&mdash;and think
+of the simplicity of legislation!</p>
+
+<p>6. The law provided for cash payments, and the government gave no
+protection for those who sold on credit.</p>
+
+<p>7. Their communication with other nations was perfectly free.</p>
+
+<p>I might give more instances. I should like to tell some of the curious
+stories which illustrate this simple legislation. Poor Charondas himself
+fell a victim to it. One of the laws provided that no man should wear a
+sword into the public assembly. No Cromwells there! Unfortunately, by
+accident, Charondas wore his own there one day. Brave fellow! when the
+fault was pointed out, he killed himself with it.</p>
+
+<p>Now do you wonder that a city where there were no calumniators, no long
+credit, no bills at the grocers, no fighting at town meetings, no
+amendments to the laws, no intentional and open association with
+profligates, and where everybody was educated by the state to letters,
+proved a comfortable place to live in? It is of the old Sybaris that the
+coppersmith and the rose-leaf stories are told; and it was the new
+Sybaris that made the laws. But do you not see that there is one spirit
+in the whole? Here was a nation which believed that the highest work of
+a nation was to train its people. It did not believe in fight, like
+Milon or Heenan or the old Spartans; it did not believe in legislation,
+like Massachusetts and New York; it did not believe in commerce, like
+Carthage and England. It believed in men and women. It respected men and
+women. It educated men and women. It gave their rights to men and women.
+And so the Spartans called them effeminate. And the Greek Reader made
+fun of them. But perhaps the people who lived there were indifferent to
+the opinions of the Spartans and of the Greek Reader. Herodotus lived
+there till he died; wrote his history there, among other things. Lysias,
+the orator, took part in the administration. It is not from them, you
+may be sure, that you get the anecdotes which ridicule the old city of
+Sybaris!</p>
+
+<p>You and I would probably be satisfied with such company as that of
+Herodotus and Charondas and Lysias. So we hunt the history down to see
+if there may be lodgings to let there this summer, but only to find that
+it all pales out in the ignorance of our modern days. The name gets
+changed into Lupi&aelig;; but there it turns out that Pausanias made "a
+strange mistake," and should have written Copia,&mdash;which was perhaps
+Cossa, or sometimes Cosa. Pyrrhus appears, and Hadrian rebuilds
+something, and the "Oltramontani," whoever they may have been, ravage
+it, and finally the Saracens fire and sack it; and so, in the latest
+Italian itinerary you can find, there is no post-road goes near it, only
+a <i>strada rotabile</i> (wheel-track) upon the hills; and, alas! even the
+<i>rotabile</i> gives way at last, and all the map will own to is a <i>strada
+pedonale</i>, or foot-path. But the map is of the less consequence, when
+you find that the man who edited it had no later dates than the
+beginning of the last century, when the family of Serra had transferred
+the title to Sybaris to a Genoese family without a name, who received
+from it forty thousand ducats yearly, and would have received more, if
+their agents had been more faithful. There the place fades out of
+history, and you find in your Swinburne, "that the locality has <i>never</i>
+been thoroughly examined"; in your Smith's Dictionary, that "the whole
+subject is very obscure, and a careful examination still much needed";
+in the Cyclop&aelig;dia, that the site of Sybaris is lost. Craven saw the
+rivers Crathis and Sybaris. He seems not to have seen the wall of
+Sybaris, which he supposed to be under water. He does say of Cassano,
+the nearest town he came to, that "no other spot can boast of such
+advantages." In short, no man living who has written any book about it
+dares say that anybody has looked upon the certain site of Sybaris for
+more than a hundred years.<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> If a man wanted to write a mythical story,
+where could he find a better scene?</p>
+
+<p>Now is not this a very remarkable thing? Here was a city, which, under
+its two names of Sybaris or of Thurium, was for centuries the regnant
+city of all that part of the world. It could call into the field three
+hundred thousand men,&mdash;an army enough larger than Athens ever furnished,
+or Sparta. It was a far more populous and powerful state than ever
+Athens was, or Sparta, or the whole of Hellas. It invented and carried
+into effect free popular education,&mdash;a gift to the administration of
+free government larger than ever Rome rendered. It received and honored
+Charondas, the great practical legislator, from whose laws no man shall
+say how much has trickled down into the Code Napoleon or the Revised
+Statutes of New York, through the humble studies of the Roman jurists.
+It maintained in peace, prosperity, happiness, and, as its maligners
+say, in comfort, an immense population. If they had not been as
+comfortable as they were,&mdash;if a tenth part of them had received alms
+every year, and a tenth part were flogged in the public schools every
+year,&mdash;if one in forty had been sent to prison every year, as in the
+happy city which publishes the "Atlantic Monthly,"&mdash;then Sybaris,
+perhaps, would never have got its bad name for luxury. Such a city
+lived, flourished, ruled, for hundreds of years. Of such a city all that
+you know now with certainty is, that its coin is "the most beautifully
+finished in the cabinets of ancient coinage"; and that no traveller even
+pretends to be sure that he has been to the site of it for more than a
+hundred years. That speaks well for your nineteenth century.</p>
+
+<p>Now the reader who has come thus far will understand that I, having come
+thus far, in twenty-odd years since those days of teetering on the
+pea-green settee, had always kept Sybaris in the background of my head,
+as a problem to be solved, and an inquiry to be followed to its
+completion. There could hardly have been a man in the world better
+satisfied than I to be the hero of the adventure which I am now about to
+describe.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">If</span> the reader remembers anything about Garibaldi's triumphal
+entry into Porto Cavallo in Sicily in the spring of 1859, he will
+remember that, between the months of March and April in that year, the
+great chieftain made, in that wretched little fishing haven, a long
+pause, which was not at the time understood by the journals or by their
+military critics, and which, indeed, to this hour has never been
+publicly explained. I suppose I know as much about it as any man now
+living. But I am not writing Garibaldi's memoirs, nor, indeed, my own,
+excepting so far as they relate to Sybaris; and it is strictly nobody's
+business to inquire as to that detention, unless it interest the ex-king
+of Naples, who may write to me, if he chooses, addressing Frederic
+Ingham, Esq., Waterville, N. H. Nor is it anybody's business how long I
+had then been on Garibaldi's staff. From the number of his
+staff-officers who have since visited me in America, very much in want
+of a pair of pantaloons, or a ticket to New York, or something with
+which they might buy a glass of whiskey, I should think that his staff
+alone must have made up a much more considerable army than Naples, or
+even Sybaris, ever brought into the field. But where these men were when
+I was with him, I do not know. I only know that there was but a handful
+of us then, hard-worked fellows, good-natured, and not above our work.
+Of its military details we knew wretchedly little. But as we had no
+artillery, ignorance was less dangerous in the chief of artillery; as we
+had no maps to draw, poor draughtsmanship did not much embarrass the
+engineer in chief. For me, I was nothing but an aid, and I was glad to
+do anything that fell to me as well as I knew how. And, as usual in
+human life, I found that a cool head, a steady resolve, a concentrated
+purpose, and an unselfish readiness to obey, carried me a great way. I
+listened instead of talking, and thus got a reputation for knowing a
+great deal. When the time to act came, I acted without waiting for the
+wave to recede; and thus I sprang into many a boat dry-shod, while
+people who believed in what is popularly called prudence missed their
+chance, and either lost the boat or fell into the water.</p>
+
+<p>This is by the way. It was under these circumstances that I received my
+orders, wholly secret and unexpected, to take a boat at once, pass the
+straits, and cross the Bay of Tarentum, to communicate at Gallipoli
+with&mdash;no matter whom. Perhaps I was going to the "Castle of Otranto." A
+hundred years hence anybody who chooses will know. Meanwhile, if there
+should be a reaction in Otranto, I do not choose to shorten anybody's
+neck for him.</p>
+
+<p>Well, it was five in the afternoon,&mdash;near sundown at that season. I
+went to dear old Frank Chaney,&mdash;the jolliest of jolly Englishmen, who
+was acting quartermaster-general,&mdash;and told him I must have
+transportation. I can see him and hear him now,&mdash;as he sat on his barrel
+head, smoked his vile Tunisian tobacco in his beloved short meerschaum,
+which was left to him ever since he was at Bonn, as he pretended, a
+student with Prince Albert. He did not swear,&mdash;I don't think he ever
+did. But he looked perplexed enough to swear. And very droll was the
+twinkle of his eye. The truth was, that every sort of a thing that would
+sail, and every wretch of a fisherman that could sail her, had been, as
+he knew, and as I knew, sent off that very morning to rendezvous at
+Carrara, for the contingent which we were hoping had slipped through
+Cavour's pretended neutrality. And here was an order for him to furnish
+me "transportation" in exactly the opposite direction.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know of anything, yourself, Fred?" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a coffin," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Did the chief suggest anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a nutshell," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Could not you go by telegraph?" said Frank, pointing up to the dumb old
+semaphore in whose tower he had established himself. "Or has not the
+chief got a wishing carpet? Or can't you ride to Gallipoli? Here are
+some excellent white-tailed mules, good enough for Pindar, whom
+Colvocoressis has just brought in from the monastery. 'Transportation
+for one!' Is there anything to be brought back? Nitre, powder, lead,
+junk, hard-tack, mules, horses, pigs, <i>polenta</i>, or <i>olla podrida</i>, or
+other of the stores of war?"</p>
+
+<p>No; there was nothing to bring back except myself. Lucky enough if I
+came back to tell my own story. And so we walked up on the tower deck to
+take a look.</p>
+
+<p>Blessed St. Lazarus, chief of Naples and of beggars! a little felucca
+was just rounding the Horse Head and coming into the bay, wing-wing. The
+fishermen in her had no thought that they were ever going to get into
+the Atlantic. May be they had never heard of the Ocean or of the
+Monthly. Can that be possible? Frank nodded, and I. He filled up with
+more Tunisian, beckoned to an orderly, and we walked down to the
+landing-jetty to meet them.</p>
+
+<p><i>"Viva Italia!"</i> shouted Frank, as they drew near enough to hear.</p>
+
+<p><i>"Viva Garibaldi!"</i> cried the skipper, as he let his sheet fly and
+rounded to the well-worn stones. A good voyage had they made of it, he
+and his two brown, ragged boys. Large fish and small, pink fish, blue,
+yellow, orange, striped fish and mottled, wriggled together, and flapped
+their tails in the well of the little boat. There were even too many to
+lie there and wriggle. The bottom of the boat was well covered with
+them, and, if she had not shipped waves enough to keep them cool, the
+boy Battista had bailed a plenty on them. Father and son hurried on
+shore, and Battista on board began to fling the scaly fellows out to
+them.</p>
+
+<p>A very small craft it was to double all those capes in, run the straits,
+and stretch across the bay. If it had been mine "to make reply," I
+should undoubtedly have made this, that I would see the quartermaster
+hanged, and his superiors, before I risked myself in any such
+rattletrap. But as, unfortunately, it was mine to go where I was sent, I
+merely set the orderly to throwing out fish with the boys, and began to
+talk with the father.</p>
+
+<p>Queer enough, just at that moment, there came over me the feeling that,
+as a graduate of the University, it was my duty to put up those red,
+white, and blue scaly fellows, who were flopping about there so briskly,
+and send them in alcohol to Agassiz. But there are so many duties of
+that kind which one neglects in a hard-worked world! As a graduate, it
+is my duty to send annually to the College Librarian a list of all the
+graduates who have died in the town I live in, with their fathers' and
+mothers' names, and the motives that led them to College, with anecdotes
+of their career, and the date of their death. There are two thousand
+three hundred and forty-five of them I believe, and I have never sent
+one half-anecdote about one! Such failure in duty made me grimly smile
+as I omitted to stop and put up these fish in alcohol, and as I plied
+the unconscious skipper with inquiries about his boat. "Had she ever
+been outside?" "O signor, she had been outside this very day. You cannot
+catch <i>tonno</i> till you have passed both capes,&mdash;least of all such fine
+fish as that is,"&mdash;and he kicked the poor wretch. Can it be true, as
+C&mdash;&mdash; says, that those dying flaps of theirs, are exquisite luxury to
+them, because for the first time they have their fill of oxygen? "Had he
+ever been beyond Peloro?" "O yes, signor; my wife, Caterina, was herself
+from Messina,"&mdash;and on great saints' days they had gone there often.
+Poor fellow, his great saint's day sealed his fate. I nodded to
+Frank,&mdash;Frank nodded to me,&mdash;and Frank blandly informed him that, by
+order of General Garibaldi, he would take the gentleman at once on
+board, pass the strait with him, "and then go where he tells you."</p>
+
+<p>The Southern Italian has the reputation, derived from Tom Moore, of
+being a coward. When I used to speak at school,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ay, down to the dust with them,&mdash;slaves as they are!"&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>stamping my foot at "dust," I certainly thought they were a very mean
+crew. But I dare say that Neapolitan school-boys have some similar
+school piece about the risings of Tom Moore's countrymen, which
+certainly have not been much more successful than the poor little
+Neapolitan revolution which he was pleased to satirize. Somehow or
+other, Victor Emanuel is, at this hour, king of Naples. Coward or not,
+this fine fellow of a fisherman did not flinch. It is my private opinion
+that he was not nearly as much afraid of the enterprise as I was. I made
+this observation at the moment with some satisfaction, sent Frank's man
+up to my lodgings with a note ordering my own traps sent down, and in an
+hour we were stretching out, under the twilight, across the little bay.</p>
+
+<p>No! I spare you the voyage. Sybaris is what we are after, all this time,
+if we can only get there. Very easy it would be for me to give you cheap
+scholarship from the &AElig;neid, about Palinurus and Scylla and Charybdis.
+Neither Scylla nor Charybdis bothered me,&mdash;as we passed wing-wing
+between them before a smart north wind. I had a little Hunter's Virgil
+with me, and read the whole voyage,&mdash;and confused Battista utterly by
+trying to make him remember something about Palinuro, of whom he had
+never heard. It was much as I afterwards asked my negro waiter at Fort
+Monroe about General Washington at Yorktown. "Never heard of him,
+sir,&mdash;was he in the Regular army?" So Battista thought Palinuro must
+have fished in the Italian fleet, with which the Sicilian boatmen were
+not well acquainted. Messina made no objections to us. Perhaps, if the
+sloop of war which lay there had known who was lying in the boat under
+her guns, I might not be writing these words to-day. Battista went
+ashore, got lemons, macaroni, hard bread, polenta, for themselves, the
+<i>Giornale di Messina</i> for me, and more Tunisian; and, not to lose that
+splendid breeze, we cracked on all day, passed Reggio, hugged the shore
+bravely, though it was rough, ran close under those cliffs which are the
+very end of the Apennines,&mdash;will it shock the modest reader if I say the
+very toe-nails of the Italian foot?&mdash;hauled more and more eastward, made
+Spartivento blue in the distance, made it purple, made it brown, made it
+green, still running admirably,&mdash;ten knots an hour we must have got
+between four and five that afternoon,&mdash;and by the time the lighthouse at
+Spartivento was well ablaze we were abreast of it, and might begin to
+haul more northward, so that, though we had a long course before us, we
+should at last be sailing almost directly towards our voyage's end,
+Gallipoli.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment&mdash;as in any sea often happens, if you come out from the
+more land-locked channel into the larger body of water&mdash;the wind
+appeared to change. Really, I suppose, we came into the steady southwest
+wind which had probably been drawing all day up toward the Adriatic. In
+two hours more we made the lighthouse of Stilo, and I was then tired
+enough to crawl down into the fearfully smelling little cuddy, and,
+wrapping Battista's heavy storm-jacket round my feet, I caught some sort
+of sleep.</p>
+
+<p>But not for very long. I struck my watch at three in the morning. And
+the air was so unworthy of that name,&mdash;it was such a thick paste,
+seeming to me more like a mixture of tar and oil and fresh fish and
+decayed fish and bilge-water than air itself,&mdash;that I voted three
+morning, and crawled up into the clear starlight,&mdash;how wonderful it was,
+and the fresh wet breeze that washed my face so cheerily!&mdash;and I bade
+Battista take his turn below, while I would lie there and mind the helm.
+If&mdash;if he had done what I proposed, I suppose I should not be writing
+these lines; but his father, good fellow, said: "No, signor, not yet. We
+leave the shore now for the broad bay, you see; and if the wind haul
+southward, we may need to go on the other tack. We will all stay here,
+till we see what the deep-sea wind may be." So we lay there, humming,
+singing, and telling stories, still this rampant southwest wind behind,
+as if all the powers of the Mediterranean meant to favor my mission to
+Gallipoli. The boat was now running straight before it. We stretched out
+bravely into the gulf; but, before the wind, it was astonishing how
+easily the lugger ran. He said to me at last, however, that on that
+course we were running to leeward of our object; but that it was the
+best point for his boat, and if the wind held, he would keep on so an
+hour longer, and trust to the land breeze in the morning to run down the
+opposite shore of the bay.</p>
+
+<p>"If" again. The wind did not keep on. Either the pole-star, and the
+dipper, and all the rest of them, had rebelled and were drifting
+westward,&mdash;and so it seemed; or this steady southwest gale was giving
+out; or, as I said before, we had come into the sweep of a current even
+stronger, pouring from the Levantine shores of the Mediterranean full up
+the Gulf of Tarentum. Not ten minutes after the skipper spoke, it was
+clear enough to both of us that the boat must go about, whether we
+wanted to or not, and we waked the other boy, to send him forward,
+before we accepted the necessity. Half asleep, he got up, courteously
+declined my effort to help him by me as he crossed the boat, stepped
+round on the gunwale behind me as I sat, and then, either in a lurch or
+in some misstep, caught his foot in the tiller as his father held it
+firm, and pitched down directly behind Battista himself, and, as I
+thought, into the sea. I sprang to leeward to throw something after him,
+and found him in the sea indeed, but hanging by both hands to the
+gunwale, safe enough, and in a minute, with Battista's help and mine, on
+board again. I remember how pleased I was that his father did not swear
+at him, but only laughed prettily, and bade him be quick, and step
+forward; and then, turning to the helm, which he had left free for the
+moment, he did not swear indeed, but he did cry "Santa Madre!" when he
+found there was no tiller there. The boy's foot had fairly wrenched it,
+not only from his father's hand, but from the rudder-head,&mdash;and it was
+gone!</p>
+
+<p>We held the old fellow firmly by his feet and legs, as he lay over the
+stern of the boat, head down, examining the condition of the
+rudder-head. The report was not favorable. I renewed the investigation
+myself in the same uncomfortable attitude. The phosphorescence of the
+sea was but an unsteady light, but light enough there was to reveal what
+daylight made hardly more certain,&mdash;that the wrench which had been given
+to the rotten old fixtures, shaky enough at best, had split the head of
+the rudder, so that the pintle hung but loosely in its bed, and that
+there was nothing available for us to rig a jury-tiller on. This
+discovery, as it became more and more clear to each of us four in
+succession, abated successively the volleys of advice which we were
+offering, and sent us back to our more quiet "Santa Madres" or to
+meditations on "what was next to best."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the boat was flying, under the sail she had before, straight
+before the wind, up the Gulf of Tarentum.</p>
+
+<p>If you cannot have what you like, it is best, in a finite world, to like
+what you have. And while the old man brought up from the cuddy his
+wretched and worthless stock of staves, rope-ends, and bits of iron, and
+contemplated them ruefully, as if asking them which would like to assume
+the shape of a rudder-head and tiller, if his fairy godmother would
+appear on the top of the mast for a moment, I was plying the boys with
+questions,&mdash;what would happen to us if we held on at this tearing rate,
+and rushed up the bay to the head thereof. The boys knew no more than
+they knew of Palinuro. Far enough, indeed, were we from their parish.
+The old man at last laid down the bit of brass which he had saved from
+some old waif, and listened to me as I pointed out to them on my map the
+course we were making, and, without answering me a word, fell on his
+knees and broke into most voluble prayer,&mdash;only interrupted by sobs of
+undisguised agony. The boys were almost as much surprised as I was. And
+as he prayed and sobbed, the boat rushed on!</p>
+
+<p>Santa Madre, San Giovanni, and Sant' Antonio,&mdash;we needed all their help,
+if it were only to keep him quiet; and when at last he rose from his
+knees, and came to himself enough to tend the sheets a little, I asked,
+as modestly as I could, what put this keen edge on his grief or his
+devotions. Then came such stories of hobgoblins, witches, devils,
+giants, elves, and fairies, at this head of the bay!&mdash;no man ever
+returned who landed there; his father and his father's father had
+charged him, and his brothers and his cousins, never to be lured to
+make a voyage there, and never to run for those coves, though schools of
+golden fish should lead the way. It was not till this moment, that,
+trying to make him look upon the map, I read myself there the words, at
+the mouth of the Crathis River, "Sybaris Ruine."</p>
+
+<p>Surely enough, this howling Euroclydon&mdash;for Euroclydon it now was&mdash;was
+bearing me and mine directly to Sybaris!</p>
+
+<p>And here was this devout old fisherman confirming the words of Smith's
+Dictionary, when it said that nobody had been there and returned, for
+generation upon generation.</p>
+
+<p>At a dozen knots an hour, as things were, I was going to Sybaris! Nor
+was I many hours from it. For at that moment we cannot have been more
+than five-and-thirty miles from the beach, where, in less than four
+hours, Euroclydon flung us on shore.</p>
+
+<p>The memory of the old green settees, and of Hutchinson and Wheeler and
+the other Latin-school boys, sustained me beneath the calamity which
+impended. Nor do I think at heart the boys felt so bad as their father
+about the djins and the devils, the powers of the earth and the powers
+of the air. Is there, perhaps, in the youthful mind, rather a passion
+for "seeing the folly" of life a little in that direction? None the less
+did we join him in rigging out the longest sweep we had aft, lashing it
+tight under the little rail which we had been leaning on, and trying
+gentle experiments, how far this extemporized rudder might bring the
+boat round to the wind. Nonsense the whole. By that time Euroclydon was
+on us, so that I would never have tried to put her about if we had had
+the best gear I ever handled, and our experiments only succeeded far
+enough to show that we were as utterly powerless as men could be.
+Meanwhile day was just beginning to break. I soothed the old man with
+such devout expressions as heretic might venture. I tried to turn him
+from the coming evil to the present necessity. I counselled with him
+whether it might not be safer to take in sail and drift along. But from
+this he dissented. Time enough to take in sail when we knew what shore
+we were coming to. He had no kedge or grapple or cord, indeed, that
+would pretend to hold this boat against this gale. We would beach her,
+if it pleased the Virgin; and if we could not,&mdash;shaking his head,&mdash;why,
+that would please the Virgin, too.</p>
+
+<p>And so Euroclydon hurried us on to Sybaris.</p>
+
+<p>The sun rose, O how magnificently! Is there anywhere to see sunrise like
+the Mediterranean? And if one may not be on the top of Katahdin, is
+there any place for sunrise like the very level of the sea? Already the
+Calabrian mountains of our western horizon were gray against the sky.
+One or another of us was forward all the time, trying to make out by
+what slopes the hills descended to the sea. Was it cliff of basalt, or
+was it reedy swamp, that was to receive us. I insisted at last on his
+reducing sail. For I felt sure that he was driving on under a sort of
+fatality which made him dare the worst. I was wholly right, for the boat
+now rose easier on the water, and was much more dry.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the wind flagged a little as the sun rose. At all events, he
+took courage, which I had never lost. I made his boy find us some
+oranges. I made them laugh by eating their cold polenta with them. I
+even made him confess, when I called him aft and sent Battista forward,
+that the shore we were nearing looked low. For we were near enough now
+to see stone pines and chestnut-trees. Did anybody see the towers of
+Sybaris?</p>
+
+<p>Not a tower! But, on the other hand, not a gnome, witch, Norna's Head,
+or other intimation of the underworld. The shore looked like many other
+Italian shores. It looked not very unlike what we Yankees call
+salt-marsh. At all events, we should not break our heads against a wall!
+Nor will I draw out the story of our anxieties, varying as the waves
+did on which we rose and fell so easily. As she forged on, it was clear
+at last that to some wanderers, at least, Sybaris had some hospitality.
+A long, low spit made out into the sea, with never a house on it, but
+brown with storm-worn shrubs, above the line of which were the
+stone-pines and chestnuts which had first given character to the shore.
+Hard for us, if we had been flung on the outside of this spit. But we
+were not. Else I had not been writing here to-day. We passed it by fifty
+fathom clear. Of course under its lee was our harbor. Battista let go
+the halyards in a moment, and the wet sails came rattling down. The old
+man, the boy, Battista, and I seized the best sweeps he had left. Two of
+us at each, working on the same side, we brought her head round as fast
+as she would bear it in that fearful sea. Inch by inch we wrought along
+to the smoother water, and breathed free at last, as we came under the
+partial protection of the friendly shore.</p>
+
+<p>Battista and his brother then hauled up the sail enough to give such
+headway to the boat as we thought our sweeps would control. And we crept
+along the shore for an hour, seeing nothing but reeds, and now and then
+a distant buffalo, when at last a very hard knock on a rock the boy
+ahead had not seen under water started the planks so that we knew that
+was dangerous play; and, without more solicitation, the old man beached
+the boat in a little cove where the reeds gave place for a trickling
+stream. I told them they might land or not, as they pleased. I would go
+ashore and get assistance or information. The old man clearly thought I
+was going to ask my assistance from the father of lies himself. But he
+was resigned to my will,&mdash;said he would wait for my return. I stripped,
+and waded ashore with my clothes upon my head, dressed as quickly as I
+could, and pushed up from the beach to the low upland.</p>
+
+<p>Clearly enough I was in a civilized country. Not that there was a
+gallows, as the old joke says; but there were tracks in the shingle of
+the beach showing where wheels had been, and these led me to a
+cart-track between high growths of that Mediterranean reed which grows
+all along in those low flats. There is one of the reeds on the hooks
+above my gun in the hall as you came in. I followed up the track, but
+without seeing barn, house, horse, or man, for a quarter of a mile,
+perhaps, when behold,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Not the footprint of a man! as to Robinson Crusoe;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Not a gallows and man hanging! as in the sailor story above named;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But a railroad track! Evidently a horse-railroad.</p>
+
+<p>"A horse-railroad in Italy!" said I, aloud. "A horse-railroad in
+Sybaris! It must have changed since the days of the coppersmiths!" And I
+flung myself on a heap of reeds which lay there, and waited.</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes I heard the fast step of horses, as I supposed; in a
+minute more four mules rounded the corner, and a "horse-car" came
+dashing along the road. I stepped forward and waved my hand, but the
+driver bowed respectfully, pointed back, and then to a board on top of
+his car, and I read, as he dashed by me, the word</p>
+
+<p>&#928;&#955;&#951;&#961;&#959;&#957;,</p>
+
+<p>displayed full above him; as one may read <i>Complet</i> on a Paris omnibus.</p>
+
+<p>Now &#928;&#955;&#951;&#961;&#959;&#957; is the Greek for full. "In Sybaris they do not let
+the horse-railroads grind the faces of the passengers," said I. "Not so
+wholly changed since the coppersmiths." And, within the minute, more
+quadrupedantal noises, more mules, and another car, which stopped at my
+signal. I entered, and found a dozen or more passengers, sitting back to
+back on a seat which ran up the middle of the car, as you might ride in
+an Irish jaunting-car. In this way it was impossible for the conductor
+to smuggle in a standing passenger, impossible for a passenger to catch
+cold from a cracked window, and possible for a passenger to see the
+scenery from the window. "Can it be possible," said I, "that the
+traditions of Sybaris really linger here?"</p>
+
+<p>I sat quite in the front of the car, so that I could see the fate of my
+first friend &#928;&#955;&#951;&#961;&#959;&#957;,&mdash;the full car. In a very few minutes it
+switched off from our track, leaving us still to pick up our complement,
+and then I saw that it dropped its mules, and was attached, on a side
+track, to an endless chain, which took it along at a much greater
+rapidity, so that it was soon out of sight. I addressed my next neighbor
+on the subject, in Greek which would have made my fortune in those old
+days of the pea-green settees. But he did not seem to make much of that,
+but in sufficiently good Italian told me, that, as soon as we were full,
+we should be attached in the same way to the chain, which was driven by
+stationary engines five or six stadia apart, and so indeed it proved. We
+picked up one or two market-women, a young artist or two, and a little
+boy. When the child got in, there was a nod and smile on people's faces;
+my next neighbor said to me, &#928;&#955;&#951;&#961;&#959;&#957;, as if with an air of
+relief; and sure enough, in a minute more, we were flying along at a
+2.20 pace, with neither mule nor engine in sight, stopping about once a
+mile to drop passengers, if there was need, and evidently approaching
+Sybaris.</p>
+
+<p>All along now were houses, each with its pretty garden of perhaps an
+acre, no fences, because no cattle at large. I wonder if the Vineland
+people know they caught that idea from Sybaris! All the houses were of
+one story,&mdash;stretching out as you remember Pliny's villa did, if Ware
+and Van Brunt ever showed you the plans,&mdash;or as Erastus Bigelow builds
+factories at Clinton. I learned afterwards that stair-builders and
+slaveholders are forbidden to live in Sybaris by the same article in the
+fundamental law. This accounts, with other things, for the vigorous
+health of their women. I supposed that this was a mere suburban habit,
+and, though the houses came nearer and nearer, yet, as no two houses
+touched in a block, I did not know we had come into the city till all
+the passengers left the car, and the conductor courteously told me we
+were at our journey's end.</p>
+
+<p>When this happens to you in Boston, and you leave your car, you find
+yourself huddled on a steep sloping sidewalk, under the rain or snow,
+with a hundred or more other passengers, all eager, all wondering, all
+unprovided for. But I found in Sybaris a large glass-roofed station,
+from which the other lines of neighborhood cars radiated, in which women
+and even little children were passing from route to to route, under the
+guidance of civil and intelligent persons, who, strange enough, made it
+their business to conduct these people to and fro, and did not consider
+it their duty to insult the traveller. For a moment my mind reverted to
+the contrast at home; but not long. As I stood admiring and amused at
+once, a bright, brisk little fellow stepped up to me, and asked what my
+purpose was, and which way I would go. He spoke in Greek first, but,
+seeing I did not catch his meaning, relapsed into very passable Italian,
+quite as good as mine.</p>
+
+<p>I told him that I was shipwrecked, and had come into town for
+assistance. He expressed sympathy, but wasted not a moment, led me to
+his chief at an office on one side, who gave me a card with the address
+of an officer whose duty it was to see to strangers, and said that he
+would in turn introduce me to the chief of the boat-builders; and then
+said, as if in apology for his promptness,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"&#935;&#961;&#951; &#958;&#949;&#953;&#965;&#959;&#957; &#960;&#945;&#961;&#949;&#959;&#957;&#964;&#945; &#966;&#953;&#955;&#949;&#953;&#957; &#949;&#952;&#949;&#955;&#959;&#957;&#964;&#945; &#948;&#949; &#960;&#949;&#956;&#960;&#949;&#953;&#957;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>He called to me a conductor of the red line, said &#926;&#949;&#957;&#959;&#962;, which
+we translate guest, but which I found in this case means "dead-head," or
+"free," bowed, and I saw him no more.</p>
+
+<p>"Strange country have I come to, indeed," said I, as I thought of the
+passports of Civita Vecchia, of the indifference of Scollay's Buildings,
+and of the surliness of Springfield. "And this is Sybaris!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">We</span> sent down a tug to the cove which I indicated on their
+topographical map, and to the terror of the old fisherman and his sons,
+to whom I had sent a note, which they could not read, our boat was towed
+up to the city quay, and was put under repairs. That last thump on the
+hidden rock was her worst injury, and it was a week before I could get
+away. It was in this time that I got the information I am now to give,
+partly from my own observations, partly from what George the Proxenus or
+his brother Philip told me,&mdash;more from what I got from a very pleasing
+person, the wife of another brother, at whose house I used to visit
+freely, and whose boys, fine fellows, were very fond of talking about
+America with me. They spoke English very funnily, and like little
+school-books. The ship-carpenter, a man named Alexander, was a very
+intelligent person; and, indeed, the whole social arrangement of the
+place was so simple, that it seemed to me that I got on very fast, and
+knew a great deal of them in a very short time.</p>
+
+<p>I told George one day, that I was surprised that he had so much time to
+give to me. He laughed, and said he could well believe that, as I had
+said that I was brought up in Boston. "When I was there," said he, "I
+could see that your people were all hospitable enough, but that the
+people who were good for anything were made to do all the work of the
+<i>vauriens</i>, and really had no time for friendship or hospitality. I
+remember an historian of yours, who crossed with me, said that there
+should be a motto stretched across Boston Bay, from one fort to another,
+with the words, 'No admittance, except on business.'"</p>
+
+<p>I did not more than half like this chaffing of Boston, and asked how
+they managed things in Sybaris.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you see," said he, "we hold pretty stiffly to the old Charondian
+laws, of which perhaps you know something; here's a copy of the code, if
+you would like to look over it," and he took one out of his pocket. "We
+are still very chary about amendments to statutes, so that very little
+time is spent in legislation; we have no bills at shops, and but little
+debt, and that is all on honor, so that there is not much
+account-keeping or litigation; you know what happens to gossips,&mdash;gossip
+takes a good deal of time elsewhere,&mdash;and somehow everybody does his
+share of work, so that all of us do have a good deal of what you call
+'leisure.' Whether," he added pensively, "in a world God put us into
+that we might love each other, and learn to love,&mdash;whether the time we
+spend in society, or the time we spend caged behind our office desks, is
+the time which should be called devoted to the 'business of life,' that
+remains to be seen."</p>
+
+<p>"How came you to Boston," said I, "and when?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, we all have to travel," said George, "if we mean to go into the
+administration. And I liked administration. I observe that you appoint a
+foreign ambassador because he can make a good stump speech in Kentucky.
+But since Charondas's time, training has been at the bottom of our
+system. And no man could offer himself here to serve on the school
+committee, unless he knew how other nations managed their schools."</p>
+
+<p>"Not if he had himself made school-books?" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"No!" laughed George, "for he might introduce them. With us no professor
+may teach from a text-book he has made himself, unless the highest
+council of education order it; and on the same principle we should never
+choose a bookseller on the school committee. And so, to go back," he
+said, "when my father found that administration was my passion, he sent
+me the grand tour. I learned a great deal in America, and am very fond
+of the Americans. But I never saw one here before."</p>
+
+<p>I did not ask what he learned in America, for I was more anxious to
+learn myself how they administered government in Sybaris.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The inns</span> at Sybaris are not very large, not extending much
+beyond the compass of a large private house. Mine was kept by a woman.
+As we sat there, smoking on the piazza, the first evening I was there, I
+asked George about this horse-railroad management, and the methods they
+took to secure such personal comfort.</p>
+
+<p>He said that my question cut pretty low down, for that the answer really
+involved the study of their whole system. "I have thought of it a good
+deal," said he, "when I have been in St. Petersburg, and in England and
+America; and as far as I can find out, our peculiarity in everything is,
+that we respect&mdash;I have sometimes thought we almost worshipped&mdash;the
+rights, even the notions or whims, of the individual citizen. With us
+the first object of the state, as an organization, is to care for the
+individual citizen, be he man, woman, or child. We consider the state to
+be made for the better and higher training of men, much as your divines
+say that the Church is. Instead of our lumping our citizens, therefore,
+and treating Jenny Lind and Tom Heenan to the same dose of public
+schooling,&mdash;instead of saying that what is sauce for the goose is sauce
+for the gander,&mdash;we try to see that each individual is protected in the
+enjoyment, not of what the majority likes, but of what he chooses, so
+long as his choice injures no other man."</p>
+
+<p>I thought, in one whiff, of Stuart Mill, and of the coppersmiths.</p>
+
+<p>"Our horse-railroad system grew out of this theory," continued he. "As
+long ago as Herodotus, people lived here in houses one story high, with
+these gardens between. But some generations ago, a young fellow named
+Apollidorus, who had been to Edinburgh, pulled down his father's house
+and built a block of what you call houses on the site of it. They were
+five stories high, had basements, and so on, with windows fore and aft,
+and, of course, none on the sides. The old fogies looked aghast. But he
+found plenty of fools to hire them. But the tenants had not been in a
+week, when the Kategoros, district attorney, had him up 'for taking
+away from a citizen what he could not restore.' This, you must know, is
+one of the severest charges in our criminal code.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, it was easy enough to show that the tenants went willingly;
+he showed dumb-waiters, and I know not what infernal contrivances of
+convenience within. But he could not show that the tenants had north
+windows and south windows, because they did not. The government, on
+their side, showed that men were made to breathe fresh air, and that he
+could not ventilate his houses as if they were open on all sides; they
+showed that women were not made to climb up and down ladders, and to
+live on stages at the tops of them; and he tried in vain to persuade the
+jury that this climbing was good for little children. He had lured these
+citizens into places dangerous for health, growth, strength, and
+comfort. And so he was compelled to erect a statue typical of strength,
+and a small hospital for infants, as his penalty. That spirited
+Hercules, which stands in front of the market, was a part of his fine.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, after a decision like this, concentration of inhabitants was
+out of the question. Every pulpit in Sybaris blazed with sermons on the
+text, 'Every man shall sit under his vine and under his fig-tree.'
+Everybody saw that a house without its own garden was an abomination,
+and easy communication with the suburbs was a necessity.</p>
+
+<p>"It was, indeed, easy enough to show, as the city engineer did, that the
+power wasted in lifting people up, and, for that matter, down stairs, in
+a five-story house, in one day, would carry all those people I do not
+know how many miles on a level railroad track in less time. What you
+call horse-railroads, therefore, became a necessity."</p>
+
+<p>I said they made a great row with us.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said he, "I saw they did. With us the government owns and repairs
+the track, as you do the track of any common road. We never have any
+difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," he added after a pause, "with us, if a conductor sprains the
+ankle of a citizen, it is a matter the state looks after. With you, the
+citizen must himself be the prosecutor, and virtually never is. Did you
+notice a pretty winged Mercury outside the station-house you came to?"</p>
+
+<p>I had noticed it.</p>
+
+<p>"That was put up, I don't know how long ago, in the infancy of these
+things. They took a car off one night, without public notice beforehand.
+One old man was coming in on it, to his daughter's wedding. He missed
+his connection out at Little Krastis, and lost half an hour. Down came
+the Kategoros. The company had taken from a citizen what they could not
+restore, namely, half an hour."</p>
+
+<p>George lighted another cigar, and laughed very heartily. "That's a great
+case in our reports," he said. "The company ventured to go to trial on
+it. They hoped they might overturn the old decisions, which were so old
+that nobody knows when they were made,&mdash;as old as the dancing horses,"
+said he, laughing. "They said <i>time</i> was not a thing,&mdash;it was a relation
+of ideas; that it did not exist in heaven; that they could not be made
+to suffer because they did not deliver back what no man ever saw, or
+touched, or tasted. What was half an hour? But the jury was pitiless. A
+lot of business men, you know,&mdash;they knew the value of time. What did
+they care for the metaphysics? And the company was bidden to put up an
+appropriate statue worth ten talents in front of their station-house, as
+a reminder to all their people that a citizen's time was worth
+something."</p>
+
+<p>This was George's first visit to me; and it was the first time,
+therefore, that I observed a queer thing. Just at this point he rose
+rather suddenly and bade me good evening. I begged him to stay, but had
+to repeat my invitation twice. His hand was on the handle of the door
+before he turned back. Then he sat down, and we went on talking; but
+before long he did the same thing again, and then again.</p>
+
+<p>At last I was provoked, and said: "What is the custom of your country?
+Do you have to take a walk every eleven minutes and a quarter?"</p>
+
+<p>George laughed again, and indeed blushed. "Do you know what a bore is?"
+said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Alas! I do," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said he, "the universal custom here is, that an uninvited guest,
+who calls on another man on his own business, rises at the end of eleven
+minutes, and offers to go. And the courts have ruled, very firmly, that
+there must be a <i>bona fide</i> effort. We get into such a habit of it,
+that, with you, I really did it unawares. The custom is as old as
+Cleisthenes and his wedding. But some of the decisions are not more than
+two or three centuries old, and they are very funny.</p>
+
+<p>"On the whole," he added, "I think it works well. Of course, between
+friends, it is absurd, but it is a great protection against a class of
+people who think their own concerns are the only things of value. You
+see you have only to say, when a man comes in, that you thank him for
+coming, that you wish he would stay, or to take his hat or his
+stick,&mdash;you have only to make him an invited guest,&mdash;and then the rule
+does not hold."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said I; "then I invite you to spend every evening with me while I
+am here."</p>
+
+<p>"Take care," said he; "the Government Almanac is printed and distributed
+gratuitously from the fines on bores. Their funds are getting very low
+up at the department, and they will be very sharp on your friends. So
+you need not be profuse in your invitations."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">This</span> conversation was a clew to a good many things which I saw
+while I was in the city. I never was in a place where there were so many
+tasteful, pretty little conveniences for everybody. At the quadrants,
+where the streets cross, there was always a pretty little sheltered seat
+for four or five people,&mdash;shaded, stuffed, dry, and always the morning
+and evening papers, and an advertisement of the times of boats and
+trains, for any one who might be waiting for a car or for a friend.
+Sometimes these were votive offerings, where public spirit had spoken in
+gratitude. More often they had been ordered at the cost of some one who
+had taken from a citizen what he could not repay. The private citizen
+might often hesitate about prosecuting a bore, or a nuisance, or a
+conceited company officer. But the Kategoroi made no bones about it.
+They called the citizen as a witness, and gave the criminal a reminder
+which posterity held in awe. Their point, as they always explained it to
+me, is, that the citizen's health and strength are essential to the
+state. The state cannot afford to have him maimed, any more than it can
+afford to have him drunk or ignorant. The individual, of course, cannot
+be following up his separate grievances with people who abridge his
+rights. But the public accuser can and does.</p>
+
+<p>With us, public servants, who know they are public servants, are always
+obliging and civil. I would not ask better treatment in my own home than
+I am sure of in Capitol, State-house, or city hall. It is only when you
+get to some miserable sub-bureau, where the servant of the servant of a
+creature of the state can bully you, that you come to grief. For
+instance the State of Massachusetts just now forbids corporations to
+work children more than ten hours a day. The <i>corporations</i> obey. But
+the overseers in the rooms, whom the corporations employ, work children
+eleven hours, or as many as they choose. They would not stand that in
+Sybaris.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">I was</span> walking one day with one of the bright boys of whom I
+spoke, and I asked him, as I had his father, if I was not keeping him
+away from his regular occupation. Ought he not be at school?</p>
+
+<p>"No," said he; "this is my off-term."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, what is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know? We only go to school three months in winter and three
+in summer. I thought you did so in America. I know Mr. Webster did. I
+read it in his Life."</p>
+
+<p>I was on the point of saying that we knew now how to train more powerful
+men than Mr. Webster, but the words stuck in my throat, and the boy
+rattled on.</p>
+
+<p>"The teachers have to be there all the time, except when they go in
+retreat. They take turns about retreat. But we are in two choroi; I am
+choros-boy now, James is anti-choros. Choros have school in January,
+February, March, July, August, September. Next year I shall be
+anti-choros."</p>
+
+<p>"Which do you like best,&mdash;off-term or school?" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"O, both is as good as one. When either begins, we like it. We get
+rather sick of either before the three months are over."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you do in your off-terms?" said I,&mdash;"go fishing?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, of course not," said he, "except Strep, and Hipp, and Chal, and
+those boys, because their fathers are fishermen. No, we have to be in
+our fathers' offices, we big boys; the little fellows, they let them
+stay at home. If I was here without you now, that truant-officer we
+passed just now would have had me at home before this time. Well, you
+see they think we learn about business, and I guess we do. I know I do,"
+said he, "and sometimes I think I should like to be a Proxenus when I am
+grown up, but I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>I asked George about this, the same evening. He said the boy was pretty
+nearly right about it. They had come round to the determination that the
+employment of children, merely because their wages were lower than
+men's, was very dangerous economy. The chances were that the children
+were over-worked, and that their constitution was fatally impaired. "We
+do not want any Manchester-trained children here." Then they had found
+that steady brain-work on girls, at the growing age, was pretty nearly
+slow murder in the long run. They did not let girls go to school with
+any persistency after they were twelve or fourteen. After they were
+twenty, they might study what they chose.</p>
+
+<p>"But the main difference between our schools and yours," said he, "is
+that your teacher is only expected to hear the lesson recited. Our
+teacher is expected to teach it also. You have in America, therefore,
+sixty scholars to one teacher. We do not pretend to have more than
+twenty to one teacher. We do this the easier because we let no child go
+to school more than half the time; nor, even with the strongest, more
+than four hours a day.</p>
+
+<p>"Why," said he, "I was at a college in America once, where, with
+splendid mathematicians, they had had but one man teach any mathematics
+for thirty years. And he was travelling in Europe when I was there. The
+others only heard recitations of those who could learn without being
+taught."</p>
+
+<p>"I was once there," said I.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> boat's repairs still lingered, and on Sunday little Phil.
+came round with a note from his mother, to ask if I would go to church
+with them. If I had rather go to the cathedral or elsewhere, Phil. would
+show me the way. I preferred to go with him and her together. It was a
+pretty little church,&mdash;quite open and airy it would seem to
+us,&mdash;excellent chance to see dancing vines, or flying birds, or falling
+rains, or other "meteors outside," if the preacher proved dull or the
+hymns undevout. But I found my attention was well held within. Not that
+the preaching was anything to be repeated. The sermon was short,
+unpretending, but alive and devout. It was a sonnet, all on one theme;
+that theme pressed, and pressed, and pressed again, and, of a sudden,
+the preacher was done. "You say you know God loves you," he said. "I
+hope you do, but I am going to tell you once more that he loves you, and
+once more and once more." What pleased me in it all was a certain unity
+of service, from the beginning to the end. The congregation's singing
+seemed to suggest the prayer; the prayer seemed to continue in the
+symphony of the organ; and, while I was in revery, the organ ceased; but
+as it was ordered, the sermon took up the theme of my revery, and so
+that one theme ran through the whole. The service was not ten things,
+like the ten parts of a concert, it was one act of communion or worship.
+Part of this was due, I guess, to this, that we were in a small church,
+sitting or kneeling near each other, close enough to get the feeling of
+communion,&mdash;not parted, indeed, in any way. We had been talking
+together, as we stood in the churchyard before the service began, and
+when we assembled in the church the sense of sympathy continued. I told
+Kleone that I liked the home feeling of the church, and she was pleased.
+She said she was afraid I should have preferred the cathedral. There
+were four large cathedrals, open, as the churches were, to all the town;
+and all the clergy, of whatever order, took turns in conducting the
+service in them. There were seven successive services in each of them
+that Sunday. But each clergyman had his own special charge beside,&mdash;I
+should think of not more than a hundred families. And these families,
+generally neighbors in the town, indeed, seemed, naturally enough, to
+grow into very familiar personal relations with each other.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">I asked</span> Philip one day how long his brother George would hold
+his office of host, or Proxenus. Philip turned a little sharply on me,
+and asked if I had any complaints to make, being, in fact, rather a
+quick-tempered person. I soothed him by explaining that all that I asked
+about was the tenure of office in their system, and he apologized.</p>
+
+<p>"He will be in as long as he chooses, probably. In theory, he remains in
+until a majority of the voters, which is to say the adult men and women,
+join in a petition for his removal. Then he will be removed at once.
+The government will appoint a temporary substitute, and order an
+election of his successor."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean there is no fixed election-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"None at all," said Philip. "We are always voting. When we stopped just
+now I went in to vote for an alderman of our ward, in place of a man who
+has resigned. I wish I had taken you in with me, though there was
+nothing to see. Only three or four great books, each headed with the
+name of a candidate. I wrote my name in Andrew Second's book. He is, on
+the whole, the best man. The books will be open three months. No one, of
+course, can vote more than once, and at the end of that time there will
+be a count, and a proclamation will be made. Then about removal; any one
+who is dissatisfied with a public officer puts his name up at the head
+of a book in the election office. Of course there are dozens of books
+all the time. But unless there is real incapacity, nobody cares.
+Sometimes, when one man wants another's place, he gets up a great
+breeze, the newspapers get hold of it, and everybody is canvassed who
+can be got to the spot. But it is very hard to turn out a competent
+officer. If in three months, however, at all the registries, a majority
+of the voters express a wish for a man's removal, he has to go out.
+Practically, I look in once a week at that office to see what is going
+on. It is something as you vote at your clubs."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you say women as well as men?" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"O, yes," said Philip, "unless a woman or a man has formally withdrawn
+from the roll. You see, the roll is the list, not only of voters, but of
+soldiers. For a man to withdraw, is to say he is a coward and dares not
+take his chance in war. Sometimes a woman does not like military
+service, and if she takes her name off I do not think the public feeling
+about it is quite the same as with a man. She may have things to do at
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"But do you mean that most of the women serve in the army?" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course they do," said he. "They wanted to vote, so we put them on
+the roll. You do not see them much. Most of the women's regiments are
+heavy artillery, in the forts, which can be worked just as well by
+persons of less as of more muscle if you have enough of them. Each
+regiment in our service is on duty a month, and in reserve six. You know
+we have no distant posts."</p>
+
+<p>"We have a great many near-sighted men in America," said I, "who cannot
+serve in the army."</p>
+
+<p>"We make our near-sighted men work heavy guns, serve in light artillery,
+or, in very bad cases, we detail them to the police work of the camps,"
+said he. "The deaf and dumb men we detail to serve the military
+telegraphs. They keep secrets well. The blind men serve in the bands.
+And the men without legs ride in barouches in state processions.
+Everybody serves somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"That is the reason," said I, with a sigh, "why everybody has so much
+time in Sybaris!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">But</span> the reader has more than enough of this. Else I would print
+my journal of "A Week in Sybaris." By Thursday the boat was mended. I
+hunted up the old fisherman and his boys. He was willing to go where my
+Excellency bade, but he said his boys wanted to stay. They would like to
+live here.</p>
+
+<p>"Among the devils?" said I.</p>
+
+<p>The old man confessed that the place for poor men was the best place he
+ever saw; the markets were cheap, the work was light, the inns were
+neat, the people were civil, the music was good, the churches were free,
+and the priests did not lie. He believed the reason that nobody ever
+came back from Sybaris was, that nobody wanted to.</p>
+
+<p>The Proxenus nodded, well pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"So Battista and his brother would like to stay a few months; and he
+found he might bring Caterina too, when my Excellency had returned from
+Gallipoli; or did my Excellency think that, when Garibaldi had driven
+out the Bourbons, all the world would be like Sybaris?"</p>
+
+<p>My Excellency hoped so; but did not dare promise.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">You</span> see now," said George, "why you hear so little of Sybaris.
+Enough people come to us. But you are the only man I ever saw leave
+Sybaris who did not mean to return."</p>
+
+<p>"And I," said I,&mdash;"do you think I am never coming here again?"</p>
+
+<p>"You found it a hard harbor to make," said the Proxenus. "We have
+published no sailing directions since St. Paul touched here, and those
+which he wrote&mdash;he sent them to the Corinthians yonder&mdash;neither they nor
+any one else have seemed to understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Good by."</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you! Good by." And I sailed for Gallipoli.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> I am writing in Westerly's snuggery, and in Providence they
+believe in Webster. I dare say it is worse in Worcester. A good many
+things are.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> The reader who cares to follow the detail is referred to
+Diodorus Siculus, XII.; Strabo, VI.; &AElig;lian, V. H. 9, c. 24; Athen&aelig;us,
+XII. 518; Plutarch in Pelopidas; Herodotus, V. and VI. Compare Laurent's
+Geographical Notes, and Wheeler and Gaisford; Pliny, III. 15, VII. 22,
+XVI. 33, VIII. 64, XXXI. 9; Aristotle, Polit. IV. 12, V. 3; Heyne's
+Opuscula, II. 74; Bentley's Phalaris, 367; Solinus, 2, &sect; 10, "luxuries
+grossly exaggerated"; Scymnus, 337-360; Aristophanes, Vesp. 1427, 1436;
+Lycophron, Alex. 1079; Polybius, Gen. Hist. II. 3, on the confederation
+of Sybaris, Krotan, and Kaulonia,&mdash;"a perplexing statement," says Grote,
+"showing that he must have conceived the history of Sybaris in a very
+different form from that in which it is commonly represented"; third
+volume of De Non, who disagrees with Magnan as to the site of Sybaris,
+and says the sea-shore is uninhabitable! Tuccagni Orlandini, Vol. XI.,
+Supplement, p. 294; besides the dictionaries and books of travels,
+including Murray. I have availed myself, without other reference, of
+most of these authorities.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_PIANO_IN_THE_UNITED_STATES" id="THE_PIANO_IN_THE_UNITED_STATES"></a>THE PIANO IN THE UNITED STATES.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Twenty-five thousand pianos were made in the United States last year!</p>
+
+<p>This is the estimate of the persons who know most of this branch of
+manufacture, but it is only an approximation to the truth; for, besides
+the sixty makers in New York, the thirty in Boston, the twenty in
+Philadelphia, the fifteen in Baltimore, the ten in Albany, and the less
+number in Cincinnati, Buffalo, Chicago, St. Louis, and San Francisco,
+there are small makers in many country towns, and even in villages, who
+buy the parts of a piano in the nearest city, put them together, and
+sell the instrument in the neighborhood. The returns of the houses which
+supply the ivory keys of the piano to all the makers in the country are
+confirmatory of this estimate; which, we may add, is that of Messrs.
+Steinway of New York, who have made it a point to collect both the
+literature and the statistics of the instrument, of which they are among
+the largest manufacturers in the world.</p>
+
+<p>The makers' prices of pianos now range from two hundred and ninety
+dollars to one thousand; and the prices to the public, from four hundred
+and fifty dollars to fifteen hundred. We may conclude, therefore, that
+the people of the United States during the year 1866 expended fifteen
+millions of dollars in the purchase of new pianos. It is not true that
+we export many pianos to foreign countries, as the public are led to
+suppose from the advertisements of imaginative manufacturers. American
+citizens&mdash;all but the few consummately able kings of business&mdash;allow a
+free play to their imagination in advertising the products of their
+skill. Canada buys a small number of our pianos; Cuba, a few; Mexico, a
+few; South America, a few; and now and then one is sent to Europe, or
+taken thither by a Thalberg or a Gottschalk; but an inflated currency
+and a war tariff make it impossible for Americans to compete with
+European makers in anything but excellence. In price, they cannot
+compete. Every disinterested and competent judge with whom we have
+conversed on this subject gives it as his deliberate opinion that the
+best American piano is the best of all pianos, and the one longest
+capable of resisting the effects of a trying climate; yet we cannot sell
+them, at present, in any considerable numbers, in any market but our
+own. Protectionists are requested to note this fact, which is not an
+isolated fact. America possesses such an astonishing genius for
+inventing and combining labor-saving machinery, that we could now supply
+the world with many of its choicest products, in the teeth of native
+competition, but for the tariff, the taxes, and the inflation, which
+double the cost of producing. The time may come, however, when we shall
+sell pianos at Paris, and watches in London, as we already do
+sewing-machines everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty-five thousand pianos a year, at a cost of fifteen millions of
+dollars! Presented in this manner, the figures produce an effect upon
+the mind, and we wonder that an imperfectly reconstructed country could
+absorb in a single year, and that year an unprosperous one, so large a
+number of costly musical instruments. But, upon performing a sum in long
+division, we discover that these startling figures merely mean, that
+every working-day in this country one hundred and twelve persons buy a
+new piano. When we consider, that every hotel, steamboat, and public
+school above a certain very moderate grade, must have from one to four
+pianos, and that young ladies' seminaries jingle with them from basement
+to garret, (one school in New York has thirty Chickerings,) and that
+almost every couple that sets up housekeeping on a respectable scale
+considers a piano only less indispensable than a kitchen range, we are
+rather inclined to wonder at the smallness than at the largeness of the
+number.</p>
+
+<p>The trade in new pianos, however, is nothing to the countless
+transactions in old. Here figures are impossible; but probably ten
+second-hand pianos are sold to one new one. The business of letting
+pianos is also one of great extent. It is computed by the well-informed,
+that the number of these instruments now "out," in the city of New York,
+is three thousand. There is one firm in Boston that usually has a
+thousand let. As the rent of a piano ranges from six dollars to twelve
+dollars a month,&mdash;cartage both ways paid by the hirer,&mdash;it may be
+inferred that this business, when conducted on a large scale, and with
+the requisite vigilance, is not unprofitable. In fact, the income of a
+piano-letting business has approached eighty thousand dollars per annum,
+of which one third was profit. It has, however, its risks and drawbacks.
+From June to September, the owner of the instruments must find storage
+for the greater part of his stock, and must do without most of his
+monthly returns. Many of those who hire pianos, too, are persons
+"hanging on the verge" of society, who have little respect for the
+property of others, and vanish to parts unknown, leaving a damaged piano
+behind them.</p>
+
+<p>England alone surpasses the United States in the number of pianos
+annually manufactured. In 1852, the one hundred and eighty English
+makers produced twenty-three thousand pianos,&mdash;fifteen hundred grands,
+fifteen hundred squares, and twenty thousand uprights. As England has
+enjoyed fifteen years of prosperity since, it is probable that the
+annual number now exceeds that of the United States. The English people,
+however, pay much less money for the thirty thousand pianos which they
+probably buy every year, than we do for our twenty-five thousand. In
+London, the retail price of the best Broadwood grand, in plain mahogany
+case, is one hundred and thirty-five guineas; which is a little more
+than half the price of the corresponding American instrument. The best
+London square piano, in plain case, is sixty guineas,&mdash;almost exactly
+half the American price. Two thirds of all the pianos made in England
+are low-priced uprights,&mdash;averaging thirty-five guineas,&mdash;which would
+not stand in our climate for a year. England, therefore, supplies
+herself and the British empire with pianos at an annual expenditure of
+about eight millions of our present dollars. American makers, we may
+add, have recently taken a hint from their English brethren with regard
+to the upright instrument. Space is getting to be the dearest of all
+luxuries in our cities, and it has become highly desirable to have
+pianos that occupy less of it than the square instrument which we
+usually see. Successful attempts have been recently made to apply the
+new methods of construction to the upright piano, with a view to make it
+as durable as those of the usual forms. Such a brisk demand has sprung
+up for the improved uprights, that the leading makers are producing them
+in considerable numbers, and the Messrs. Steinway are erecting a new
+building for the sole purpose of manufacturing them. The American
+uprights, however, cannot be cheap. Such is the nature of the American
+climate, that a piano, to be tolerable, must be excellent; and while
+parts of the upright cost more than the corresponding parts of the
+square, no part of it costs less. Six hundred dollars is the price of
+the upright in plain rosewood case,&mdash;fifty dollars more than a plain
+rosewood square.</p>
+
+<p>Paris pianos are renowned, the world over, and consequently three tenths
+of all the pianos made in Paris are exported to foreign countries.
+France, too, owing to the cheapness of labor, can make a better cheap
+piano than any other country. In 1852, there were ten thousand pianos
+made in Paris, at an average cost of one thousand francs each; and, we
+are informed, a very good new upright piano can now be bought in France
+for one hundred dollars. But in France the average wages of
+piano-makers are five francs per day; in London, ten shillings; in New
+York, four dollars and thirty-three cents. The cream of the business, in
+Paris, is divided among three makers,&mdash;Erard, Hertz, and Pleyel,&mdash;each
+of whom has a concert-hall of his own, to give <i>&eacute;clat</i> to his
+establishment. We presume Messrs. Steinway added "Steinway Hall" to the
+attractions of New York from the example of their Paris friends, and
+soon the metropolis will boast a "Chickering Hall" as well. This is an
+exceedingly expensive form of advertisement. Steinway Hall cost two
+hundred thousand dollars, and has not yet paid the cost of warming,
+cleaning, and lighting it. This, however, is partly owing to the
+good-nature of the proprietors, who find it hard to exact the rent from
+a poor artist after a losing concert, and who have a constitutional
+difficulty about saying <i>No</i>, when the use of the hall is asked for a
+charitable object.</p>
+
+<p>In Germany there are no manufactories of pianos on the scale of England,
+France, and the United States. A business of five pianos a week excites
+astonishment in a German state, and it is not uncommon there for one man
+to construct every part of a piano,&mdash;a work of three or four months. Mr.
+Steinway the elder has frequently done this in his native place, and
+could now do it. A great number of excellent instruments are made in
+Germany in the slow, patient, thorough manner of the Germans; but in the
+fashionable houses of Berlin and Vienna no German name is so much valued
+as those of the celebrated makers of Paris. In the London exhibition of
+1851, Russian pianos competed for the medals, some of which attracted
+much attention from the excellence of their construction. Messrs.
+Chickering assert, that the Russians were the first to employ
+successfully the device of "overstringing," as it is called, by which
+the bass strings are stretched over the others.</p>
+
+<p>The piano, then, one hundred and fifty-seven years after its invention,
+in spite of its great cost, has become the leading musical instrument
+of Christendom. England produces thirty thousand every year; the United
+States, twenty-five thousand; France, fifteen thousand; Germany, perhaps
+ten thousand; and all other countries, ten thousand; making a total of
+ninety thousand, or four hundred and twenty-two for every working-day.
+It is computed, that an average piano is the result of one hundred and
+twenty days' work; and, consequently, there must be at least fifty
+thousand men employed in the business. And it is only within a few years
+that the making of these noble instruments has been done on anything
+like the present scale. Messrs. Broadwood, of London, who have made in
+all one hundred and twenty-nine thousand pianos, only begin to count at
+the year 1780; and in the United States there were scarcely fifty pianos
+a year made fifty years ago.</p>
+
+<p>We need scarcely say that the production of music for the piano has kept
+pace with the advance of the instrument. Dr. Burney mentions, in his
+History of Music (Vol. IV. p. 664), that when he came to London in 1744,
+"Handel's Harpsichord Lessons and Organ Concertos, and the two First
+Books of Scarletti's Lessons, were all the good music for keyed
+instruments at that time in the nation." We have at this moment before
+us the catalogue of music sold by one house in Boston, Oliver Ditson &amp;
+Co. It is a closely printed volume of three hundred and sixty pages, and
+contains the titles of about thirty-three thousand pieces of music,
+designed to be performed, wholly or partly, on the piano. By far the
+greater number are piano music pure and simple. It is not a very rare
+occurrence for a new piece to have a sale of one hundred thousand copies
+in the United States. A composer who can produce the kind of music that
+pleases the greatest number, may derive a revenue from his art ten times
+greater than Mozart or Beethoven enjoyed in their most prosperous time.
+There are trifling waltzes and songs upon the list of Messrs. Ditson,
+which have yielded more profit than Mozart received for "Don Giovanni"
+and "The Magic Flute" together. We learn from the catalogue just
+mentioned, that the composers of music have an advantage over the
+authors of books, in being always able to secure a publisher for their
+productions. Messrs. Ditson announce that they are ready and willing to
+publish any piece of music by any composer on the following easy
+conditions: "Three dollars per page for engraving; two dollars and a
+half per hundred sheets of paper; and one dollar and a quarter per
+hundred pages for printing." At the same time they frankly notify
+ambitious teachers, that "not one piece in ten pays the cost of getting
+up, and not one in fifty proves a success."</p>
+
+<p>The piano, though its recent development has been so rapid, is the
+growth of ages, and we can, for three thousand years or more, dimly and
+imperfectly trace its growth. The instrument, indeed, has found an
+historian,&mdash;Dr. Rimbault of London,&mdash;who has gathered the scattered
+notices of its progress into a handsome quarto, now accessible in some
+of our public libraries. It is far from our desire to make a display of
+cheap erudition; yet perhaps ladies who love their piano may care to
+spend a minute or two in learning how it came to be the splendid triumph
+of human ingenuity, the precious addition to the happiness of existence,
+which they now find it to be. "I have had my share of trouble," we heard
+a lady say the other day, "but my piano has kept me happy." All ladies
+who have had the virtue to subdue this noble instrument to their will,
+can say something similar of the solace and joy they daily derive from
+it. The Greek legend that the twang of Diana's bow suggested to Apollo
+the invention of the lyre, was not a mere fancy; for the first stringed
+instrument of which we have any trace in ancient sculpture differed from
+an ordinary bow only in having more than one string. A two-stringed bow
+was, perhaps, the first step towards the grand piano of to-day.
+Additional strings involved the strengthening of the bow that held them;
+and, accordingly, we find the Egyptian harps, discovered in the
+catacombs by Wilkinson, very thick and massive in the lower part of the
+frame, which terminated sometimes in a large and solid female head. From
+the two-stringed bow to these huge twelve-stringed Egyptian harps, six
+feet high and beautifully finished with veneer, inlaid with ivory and
+mother-of-pearl, no one can say how many centuries elapsed. The catgut
+strings of the harps of three thousand years ago are still capable of
+giving a musical sound. The best workmen of the present time, we are
+assured, could not finish a harp more exquisitely than these are
+finished; yet they have no mechanism for tightening or loosening the
+strings, and no strings except such as were furnished by the harmless,
+necessary cat. The Egyptian harp, with all its splendor of decoration,
+was a rude and barbaric instrument.</p>
+
+<p>It has not been shown that Greece or Rome added one essential
+improvement to the stringed instruments which they derived from older
+nations. The Chickerings, Steinways, Erards, and Broadwoods of our day
+cannot lay a finger upon any part of a piano, and say that they owe it
+to the Greeks or to the Romans.</p>
+
+<p>The Cithara of the Middle Ages was a poor thing enough, in the form of a
+large P, with ten strings in the oval part; but it had <i>movable pegs</i>,
+and could be easily tuned. It was, therefore, a step toward the piano of
+the French Exposition of 1867.</p>
+
+<p>But the Psaltery was a great stride forward. This instrument was an
+arrangement of <i>strings on a box</i>. Here we have the principle of the
+sounding-board,&mdash;a thing of vital moment to the piano, and one upon
+which the utmost care is bestowed by all the great makers. Whoever first
+thought of stretching strings on a box may also be said to have half
+invented the guitar and the violin. No single subsequent thought has
+been so fruitful of consequences as this in the improvement of stringed
+instruments. The reader, of course, will not confound the psaltery of
+the Middle Ages with the psaltery of the Hebrews, respecting which
+nothing is known. The translators of the Old Testament assigned the
+names with which they were familiar to the musical instruments of the
+Jews.</p>
+
+<p>About the year 1200 we arrive at the Dulcimer, which was an immense
+psaltery, with improvements. Upon a harp-shaped box, eighteen to
+thirty-six feet long, fifty strings were stretched, which the player
+struck with a stick or a long-handled hammer. This instrument was a
+signal advance toward the grand piano. It <i>was</i> a piano, without its
+machinery.</p>
+
+<p>The next thing, obviously, must have been to contrive a method of
+striking the strings with certainty and evenness; and, accordingly, we
+find indications of a keyed instrument after the year 1300, called the
+Clavicytherium, or keyed cithara. The invention of keys permitted the
+strings to be covered over, and therefore the strings of the
+clavicytherium were enclosed <i>in</i> a box, instead of being stretched <i>on</i>
+a box. The first keys were merely long levers with a nub at the end of
+them, mounted on a pivot, which the player canted up at the strings on
+the see-saw principle. It has required four hundred years to bring the
+mechanism of the piano key to its present admirable perfection. The
+clavicytherium was usually a very small instrument,&mdash;an oblong box,
+three or four feet in length, that could be lifted by a girl of
+fourteen. The clavichord and manichord, which we read of in Mozart's
+letters, were only improved and better-made clavicytheria. How affecting
+the thought, that the divine Mozart had nothing better on which to try
+the ravishing airs of "The Magic Flute" than a wretched box of brass
+wires, twanged with pieces of quill! So it is always, and in all
+branches of art. Shakespeare's plays, Titian's pictures, the great
+cathedrals, Newton's discoveries, Mozart's and Handel's music, were
+executed while the implements of art and science were still very rude.</p>
+
+<p>Queen Elizabeth's instrument, the Virginals, was a box of strings, with
+improved keys, and mounted on four legs. In other words, it was a small
+and very bad piano. The excellent Pepys, in his account of the great
+fire of London of 1666, says: "River full of lighters and boats taking
+in goods, and good goods swimming in the water; and only I observed that
+hardly one lighter or boat in three that had the goods of a house in it,
+but there were a pair of virginalls in it." Why "a pair"? For the same
+reason that induces many persons to say "a pair of stairs," and "a pair
+of compasses," that is, no reason at all.</p>
+
+<p>It is plain that the virginals, or virgin's clavichord, was very far
+from holding the rank among musical instruments which the piano now
+possesses. If any of our readers should ever come upon a thin folio
+entitled "Musick's Monument," (London, 1676,) we advise him to clutch
+it, retire from the haunts of men, and abandon himself to the delight of
+reading the Izaak Walton of music. It is a most quaint and curious
+treatise upon "the Noble Lute, the best of instruments," with a chapter
+upon "the generous Viol," by Thomas Mace, "one of the clerks of Trinity
+College in the University of Cambridge." Master Mace deigns not to
+mention keyed instruments, probably regarding keys as old sailors regard
+the lubber's hole,&mdash;fit only for greenhorns. The "Noble Lute," of which
+Thomas Mace discourses, was a large, heavy, pot-bellied guitar with many
+strings. We learn from this enthusiastic author, that the noble lute had
+been calumniated by some ignorant persons; and it is in refuting their
+calumnious imputations that he pours out a torrent of knowledge upon his
+beloved instrument, and upon the state of music in England in 1675. In
+reply to the charge, that the noble lute was a very hard instrument to
+play upon, he gives posterity a piece of history. That the lute <i>was</i>
+hard once, he confesses, but asserts that "it is now easie, and very
+familiar."</p>
+
+<p>"The First and Chief Reason that it was Hard in former Times, was,
+Because they had to their Lutes but Few Strings; viz. to some 10, some
+12, and some 14 Strings, which in the beginning of my Time were almost
+altogether in use; (and is this present Year 1675. Fifty four years
+since I first began to undertake That Instrument). But soon after, they
+began to adde more Strings unto Their Lutes, so that we had Lutes of 16,
+18, and 20 Strings; which they finding to be so Great a Convenience,
+stayed not long till they added more, to the Number of 24, where we now
+rest satisfied; only upon my Theorboes I put 26 Strings, for some Good
+Reasons I shall be able to give in due Time and Place."</p>
+
+<p>Another aspersion upon the noble lute was, that it was "a Woman's
+Instrument." Master Mace gallantly observes, that if this were true, he
+cannot understand why it should suffer any disparagement on that
+account, "but rather that it should have the more Reputation and
+Honour."</p>
+
+<p>There are passages in this ancient book which take us back so agreeably
+to the concert-rooms and parlors of two hundred years ago, and give us
+such an insight into the musical resources of our forefathers, that we
+shall venture to copy two or three of them. The following brief
+discourse upon Pegs is very amusing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And you must know, that from the Badness of the Pegs, arise several
+Inconveniences; The first I have named, viz. the Loss of Labour. The 2d.
+is, the Loss of Time; for I have known some so extreme long in Tuning
+their Lutes and Viols, by reason only of Bad Pegs, that They have
+wearied out their Auditors before they began to Play. A 3d.
+Inconvenience is, that oftentimes, if a High-stretch'd small String
+happen to slip down, 'tis in great danger to break at the next winding
+up, especially in wet moist weather, and that It have been long slack.
+The 4th. is, that when a String hath been slipt back, it will not stand
+in Tune, under many Amendments; for it is continually in stretching
+itself, till it come to Its highest stretch. A 5th. is, that in the
+midst of a Consort, All the Company must leave off, because of some
+Eminent String slipping. A 6th. is, that sometimes ye shall have such a
+Rap upon the Knuckles, by a sharp-edg'd Peg, and a stiff strong String,
+that the very Skin will be taken off. And 7thly. It is oftentimes an
+occasion of the Thrusting off the Treble-Peg-Nut, and sometime of the
+Upper Long Head; And I have seen the Neck of an Old Viol, thrust off
+into two pieces, by reason of the Badness of the Pegs, meerly with the
+Anger and hasty Choller of Him that has been Tuning. Now I say that
+These are very Great Inconveniences, and do adde much to the Trouble and
+Hardness of the Instrument. I shall therefore inform you how ye may Help
+All These with Ease; viz. Thus. When you perceive any Peg to be troubled
+with the slippery Disease, assure your self he will never grow better of
+Himself, without some of Your Care; Therefore take Him out, and examine
+the Cause."</p>
+
+<p>He gives advice with regard to the preservation of the Lute in the moist
+English climate:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And that you may know how to shelter your Lute, in the worst of Ill
+weathers (which is moist) you shall do well, ever when you Lay it by in
+the day-time, to put It into a Bed, that is constantly used, between the
+Rug and Blanket; but never between the Sheets, because they may be moist
+with Sweat, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the most absolute and best place to keep It in always, by which
+doing, you will find many Great Conveniencies, which I shall here set
+down....</p>
+
+<p>"Therefore, a Bed will secure from all These Inconveniences, and keep
+your Glew so Hard as Glass, and All safe and sure; only to be excepted,
+That no Person be so inconsiderate, as to Tumble down upon the Bed,
+whilst the Lute is There; For I have known several Good Lutes spoil'd
+with such a Trick."</p>
+
+<p>We may infer from Master Mace his work, that the trivial virginals were
+gaining in popular estimation upon the nobler instrument which is the
+theme of his eulogy. He has no patience with those who object to his
+beloved lute that it is out of fashion. He remarks upon this subject in
+a truly delicious strain:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot understand, how Arts and Sciences should be subject unto any
+such Phantastical, Giddy, or Inconsiderate Toyish Conceits, as ever to
+be said to be in Fashion, or out of Fashion. I remember there was a
+Fashion, not many years since, for Women in their Apparel to be so Pent
+up by the Straitness, and Stiffness of their Gown-Shoulder-Sleeves, that
+They could not so much as Scratch Their Heads, for the Necessary Remove
+of a Biting Louse; nor Elevate their Arms scarcely to feed themselves
+Handsomly; nor Carve a Dish of Meat at a Table, but their whole Body
+must needs Bend towards the Dish. This must needs be concluded by
+Reason, a most Vnreasonable, and Inconvenient Fashion; and They as
+Vnreasonably Inconsiderate, who would be so Abus'd, and Bound up. I
+Confess It was a very Good Fashion, for some such Viragoes, who were
+us'd to Scratch their Husbands Faces or Eyes, and to pull them down by
+the Coxcombes. And I am subject to think, It was a meer Rogery in the
+Combination, or Club-council of the Taylors, to Abuse the Women in That
+Fashion, in Revenge of some of the Curst Dames their Wives."</p>
+
+<p>Some lute-makers, this author informs us, were so famous in Europe, that
+he had seen lutes of their making, "pittifull, old, batter'd, crack'd
+things," that were valued at a hundred pounds sterling each; and he had
+often seen lutes of three or four pounds' value "far more illustrious
+and taking to a Common eye." In refuting the "aspersion that one had as
+good keep a horse (for cost) as a Lute," he declares, that he never in
+his life "took more than five shillings the quarter to maintain a Lute
+with strings, only for the first stringing I ever took ten shillings."
+He says, however: "I do confess Those who will be Prodigal and
+Extraordinary Curious, may spend as much as may maintain two or three
+Horses, and Men to ride upon them too, if they please. But 20<i>s.</i> per
+ann. is an Ordinary Charge; and much more they need not spend, to
+practise very hard."</p>
+
+<p>Keyed instruments, despite the remonstrances of the lutists, continued
+to advance toward their present supremacy. As often as an important
+improvement was introduced, the instrument changed its name, just as in
+our day the melodeon was improved into the harmonium, then into the
+organ-harmonium, and finally into the cabinet organ. The virginals of
+1600 became the spinet of 1700,&mdash;so called because the pieces of quill
+employed in twanging the strings resembled thorns, and <i>spina</i>, in
+Latin, means thorn. Any lady who will take the trouble to mount to the
+fourth story of the Messrs. Chickering's piano store in the city of New
+York, may see such a spinet as Mrs. Washington, Mrs. Adams, and Mrs.
+Hamilton played upon when they were little girls. It is a small,
+harp-shaped instrument on legs, exceedingly coarse and clumsy in its
+construction,&mdash;the case rough and unpolished, the legs like those of a
+kitchen table, with wooden castors such as were formerly used in the
+construction of cheap bedsteads of the "trundle" variety. The keys,
+however, are much like those now in use, though they are fewer in
+number, and the ivory is yellow with age. If the reader would know the
+tone of this ancient instrument, he has but to stretch a brass wire
+across a box between two nails, and twang them with a short pointed
+piece of quill. And if the reader would know how much better the year
+1867 is than the year 1700, he may first hear this spinet played upon in
+Messrs. Chickering's dusty garret, and then descend to one of the floors
+below, and listen to the round, full, brilliant singing of a Chickering
+grand, of the present illustrious year. By as much as that grand piano
+is better than that poor little spinet, by so much is the present time
+better than the days when Louis XIV. was king. If any intelligent
+person doubts it, it is either because he does not know that age, or
+because he does not know this age.</p>
+
+<p>The spinet expanded into the harpsichord, the leading instrument from
+1700 to 1800. A harpsichord was nothing but a very large and powerful
+spinet. Some of them had two strings for each note; some had three; some
+had three kinds of strings,&mdash;catgut, brass, and steel; and some were
+painted and decorated in the most gorgeous style. Frederick the Great
+had one made for him in London, with silver hinges, silver pedals,
+inlaid case, and tortoise-shell front, at a cost of two hundred guineas.
+Every part of the construction of the spinet was improved, and many new
+minor devices were added; but the harpsichord, in its best estate, was
+nothing but a spinet, because its strings were always twanged by a piece
+of quill. How astonished would an audience be to hear a harpsichord of
+1750, and to be informed that such an instrument Handel felt himself
+fortunate to possess!</p>
+
+<p>Next, the piano,&mdash;invented at Florence in 1710, by Bartolommeo
+Cristofali.</p>
+
+<p>The essential difference between a harpsichord and a piano is described
+by the first name given to the piano, which was <i>hammer-harpsichord</i>, i.
+e. a harpsichord the strings of which were struck by hammers, not
+twanged by quills. The next name given to it was <i>forte-piano</i>, which
+signified soft, with power; and this name became <i>piano-forte</i>, which it
+still retains. One hundred years were required to prove to the musical
+public the value of an invention without which no further development of
+stringed instruments had been possible. No improvement in the mere
+mechanism of the harpsichord could ever have overcome the trivial effect
+of the twanging of the strings by pieces of quill; but the moment the
+hammer principle was introduced, nothing was wanting but improved
+mechanism to make it universal. It required, however, a century to
+produce the improvements sufficient to give the piano equal standing
+with the harpsichord. The first pianos gave forth a dull and feeble
+sound to ears accustomed to the clear and harp-like notes of the
+fashionable instrument.</p>
+
+<p>In that same upper room of the Messrs. Chickering, near the spinet just
+mentioned, there is an instrument, made perhaps about the year 1800,
+which explains why the piano was so slow in making its way. It resembles
+in form and size a grand piano of the present time, though of coarsest
+finish and most primitive construction, with thin, square, kitchen-table
+legs, and wooden knobs for castors. This interesting instrument has two
+rows of keys, and is <i>both</i> a harpsichord and a piano,&mdash;one set of keys
+twanging the wires, and the other set striking them. The effect of the
+piano notes is so faint and dull, that we cannot wonder at the general
+preference for the harpsichord for so many years. It appears to have
+been a common thing in the last century to combine two or more
+instruments in one. Dr. Charles Burney, writing in 1770, mentions "a
+very curious keyed instrument" made under the direction of Frederick II.
+of Prussia. "It is in shape like a large clavichord, has several changes
+of stops, and is occasionally a harp, a harpsichord, a lute, or
+piano-forte; but the most curious property of this instrument is, that,
+by drawing out the keys, the hammers are transferred to different
+strings. By which means a composition may be transposed half a note, a
+whole note, or a flat third lower at pleasure, without the embarrassment
+of different notes or clefs, real or imaginary."</p>
+
+<p>The same sprightly author tells us of "a fine Rucker harpsichord, which
+he has had painted inside and out with as much delicacy as the finest
+coach, or even snuff-box, I ever saw at Paris. On the outside is the
+birth of Venus; and on the inside of the cover, the story of Rameau's
+most famous opera, Castor and Pollux. Earth, Hell, and Elysium are there
+represented; in Elysium, sitting on a bank, with a lyre in his hand, is
+that celebrated composer himself."</p>
+
+<p>This gay instrument was at Paris. In Italy, the native home of music,
+the keyed instruments, in 1770, Dr. Burney says, were exceedingly
+inferior to those of the North of Europe. "Throughout Italy, they have
+generally little octave spinets to accompany singing in private houses,
+sometimes in a triangular form, but more frequently in the shape of an
+old virginal; of which the keys are so noisy and the tone is so feeble,
+that more wood is heard than wire. I found three English harpsichords in
+the three principal cities of Italy, which are regarded by the Italians
+as so many phenomena."</p>
+
+<p>To this day Italy depends upon foreign countries for her best musical
+instruments. Italy can as little make a grand piano as America can
+compose a grand opera.</p>
+
+<p>The history of the piano from 1710 to 1867 is nothing but a history of
+the improved mechanism of the instrument. The moment the idea was
+conceived of striking the strings with hammers, unlimited improvement
+was possible; and though the piano of to-day is covered all over with
+ingenious devices, the great, essential improvements are few in number.
+The hammer, for example, may contain one hundred ingenuities, but they
+are all included in the device of covering the first wooden hammers with
+cloth; and the master-thought of making the whole frame of the piano of
+iron suggested the line of improvement which secures the supremacy of
+the piano over all other stringed instruments forever.</p>
+
+<p>Sebastian Erard, the son of a Strasbourg upholsterer, went to Paris, a
+poor orphan of sixteen, in the year 1768, and, finding employment in the
+establishment of a harpsichord-maker, rose rapidly to the foremanship of
+the shop, and was soon in business for himself as a maker of
+harpsichords, harps, and pianos. To him, perhaps, more than to any other
+individual, the fine interior mechanism of the piano is indebted; and
+the house founded by Sebastian Erard still produces the pianos which
+enjoy the most extensive reputation in the Old World. He may be said to
+have created the "action" of the piano, though his devices have been
+subsequently improved upon by others. He found the piano in 1768 feeble
+and unknown; he left it, at his death in 1831, the most powerful,
+pleasing, and popular stringed instrument in existence; and, besides
+gaining a colossal fortune for himself, he bequeathed to his nephew,
+Pierre Erard, the most celebrated manufactory of pianos in the world.
+Next to Erard ranks John Broadwood, a Scotchman, who came to London
+about the time of Erard's arrival in Paris, and, like him, procured
+employment with a harpsichord-maker, the most noted one in England. John
+Broadwood was a "good apprentice," married his master's daughter,
+inherited his business, and carried it on with such success, that,
+to-day, the house of Broadwood and Sons is the first of its line in
+England. John Broadwood was chiefly meritorious for a <i>general</i>
+improvement in the construction of the instrument. If he did not
+originate many important devices, he was eager to adopt those of others,
+and he made the whole instrument with British thoroughness. The strings,
+the action, the case, the pedals, and all the numberless details of
+mechanism received his thoughtful attention, and show to the present
+time traces of his honest and intelligent mind. It was in this John
+Broadwood's factory that a poor German boy named John Jacob Astor earned
+the few pounds that paid his passage to America, and bought the seven
+flutes which were the foundation of the great Astor estate. For several
+years, the sale of the Broadwood pianos in New York was an important
+part of Mr. Astor's business. He used to sell his furs in London, and
+invest part of the proceeds in pianos, for exportation to New York.</p>
+
+<p>America began early to try her hand at improving the instrument. Mr.
+Jefferson, in the year 1800, in one of his letters to his daughter
+Martha, speaks of "a very ingenious, modest, and poor young man" in
+Philadelphia, who "has invented one of the prettiest improvements in
+the forte-piano I have ever seen." Mr. Jefferson, who was himself a
+player upon the violin, and had some little skill upon the harpsichord,
+adds, "It has tempted me to engage one for Monticello." This instrument
+was an upright piano, and we have found no mention of an upright of an
+earlier date. "His strings," says Mr. Jefferson, "are perpendicular, and
+he contrives within that height" (not given in the published extract)
+"to give his strings the same length as in the grand forte-piano, and
+fixes his three unisons to the same screw, which screw is in the
+direction of the strings, and therefore never yields. It scarcely gets
+out of tune at all, and then, for the most part, the three unisons are
+tuned at once." This is an interesting passage; for, although the
+"forte-pianos" of this modest young man have left no trace upon the
+history of the instrument, it shows that America had no sooner cast an
+eye upon its mechanism than she set to work improving it. Can it be that
+the upright piano was an American invention? It may be. The Messrs.
+Broadwood, in the little book which lay upon their pianos in the
+Exhibition of 1851, say that the first vertical or cabinet pianos were
+constructed by William Southwell, of their house, in 1804, four years
+after the date of Mr. Jefferson's letter.</p>
+
+<p>After 1800 there were a few pianos made every year in the United States,
+but none that could compare with the best Erards and Broadwoods, until
+the Chickering era, which began in 1823.</p>
+
+<p>The two Americans to whom music is most indebted in the United States
+are Jonas Chickering, piano-maker, born in New Hampshire in 1798, and
+Lowell Mason, singing teacher and composer of church tunes, born in
+Massachusetts in 1792. While Lowell Mason was creating the taste for
+music, Jonas Chickering was improving the instrument by which musical
+taste is chiefly gratified; and both being established in Boston, each
+of them was instrumental in advancing the fortunes of the other. Mr.
+Mason recommended the Chickering piano to his multitudinous classes and
+choirs, and thus powerfully aided to give that extent to Mr.
+Chickering's business which is necessary to the production of the best
+work. Both of them began their musical career, we may say, in childhood;
+for Jonas Chickering was only a cabinet-maker's apprentice when he
+astonished his native village by putting in excellent playing order a
+battered old piano, long before laid aside; and Lowell Mason, at
+sixteen, was already leading a large church choir, and drilling a brass
+band. The undertaking of this brass band by a boy was an amusing
+instance of Yankee audacity; for when the youth presented himself to the
+newly formed band to give them their first lesson, he found so many
+instruments in their hands which he had never seen nor heard of, that he
+could not proceed. "Gentlemen," said he, "I see that a good many of your
+instruments are out of order, and most of them need a little oil, or
+something of the kind. Our best plan will be to adjourn for a week.
+Leave all your instruments with me, and I will have them in perfect
+condition by the time we meet again." Before the band again came
+together, the young teacher, by working night and day, had gained a
+sufficient insight into the nature of the instruments to instruct those
+who knew nothing of them.</p>
+
+<p>Jonas Chickering was essentially a mechanic,&mdash;a most skilful, patient,
+thoughtful, faithful mechanic,&mdash;and it was his excellence as a mechanic
+which enabled him to rear an establishment which, beginning with one or
+two pianos a month, was producing, at the death of the founder, in 1853,
+fifteen hundred pianos a year. It was he who introduced into the piano
+the full iron frame. It was he who first made American pianos that were
+equal to the best imported ones. He is universally recognized as the
+true founder of the manufacture of the piano in the United States. No
+man has, perhaps, so nobly illustrated the character of the American
+mechanic, or more honored the name of American citizen. He was the soul
+of benevolence, truth, and honor. When we have recovered a little more
+from the infatuation which invests "public men" with supreme importance,
+we shall better know how to value those heroes of the apron, who, by a
+life of conscientious toil, place a new source of happiness, or of
+force, within the reach of their fellow-citizens.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Steinway, the founder of the great house of Steinway and Sons, has
+had a career not unlike that of Mr. Chickering. He also, in his native
+Brunswick, amused his boyhood by repairing old instruments of music, and
+making new ones. He made a cithara and a guitar for himself with only
+such tools as a boy can command. He also was apprenticed to a
+cabinet-maker, and was drawn away, by natural bias, from the business he
+had learned, to the making of organs and pianos. For many years he was a
+German piano-maker, producing, in the slow, German manner, two or three
+excellent instruments a month; striving ever after higher excellence,
+and growing more and more dissatisfied with the limited sphere in which
+the inhabitant of a small German state necessarily works. In 1849, being
+then past fifty years of age, and the father of four intelligent and
+gifted sons, he looked to America for a wider range and a more promising
+home for his boys. With German prudence, he sent one of them to New York
+to see what prospect there might be there for another maker of pianos.
+Charles Steinway came, saw, approved, returned, reported; and in 1850
+all the family reached New York, except the eldest son, Theodore, who
+succeeded to his father's business in Brunswick. Henry Steinway again
+showed himself wise in not immediately going into business. Depositing
+the capital he had brought with him in a safe place, he donned once more
+the journeyman's apron, and worked for three years in a New York piano
+factory to learn the ways of the trade in America; and his sons obtained
+similar employment,&mdash;one of them, fortunately, becoming a tuner, which
+brought him into relations with many music-teachers. During these three
+years, their knowledge and their capital increased every day, for they
+lived as wise men in such circumstances do live who mean to control
+their destiny. In plain English, they kept their eyes open, and lived on
+half their income. In 1853, in a small back shop in Varick Street, with
+infinite pains, they made their first piano, and a number of teachers
+and amateurs were invited to listen to it. It was warmly approved and
+speedily sold. Ten men were employed, who produced for the next two
+years one piano a week. In 1855, the Messrs. Steinway, still unknown to
+the public, placed one of their best instruments in the New York Crystal
+Palace Exhibition. A member of the musical jury has recorded the scene
+which occurred when the jury came to this unknown competitor:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"They were pursuing their rounds, and performing their duties with an
+ease and facility that promised a speedy termination to their labors,
+when suddenly they came upon an instrument that, from its external
+appearance,&mdash;solidly rich, yet free from the frippery that was then
+rather in fashion,&mdash;attracted their attention. One of the company opened
+the case, and carelessly struck a few chords. The others were doing the
+same with its neighbors, but somehow they ceased to chatter when the
+other instrument began to speak. One by one the jurors gathered round
+the strange polyphonist, and, without a word being spoken, every one
+knew that it was the best piano-forte in the Exhibition. The jurors were
+true to their duties. It is possible that some of them had predilections
+in favor of other makers; it is certain that one of them had,&mdash;the
+writer of the present notice. But when the time for the award came,
+there was no argument, no discussion, no bare presentment of minor
+claims; nothing, in fact, but a hearty indorsement of the singular
+merits of the strange instrument."</p>
+
+<p>From that time the Steinways made rapid progress. The tide of
+California gold was flowing in, and every day some one was getting rich
+enough to treat his family to a new piano. It was the Messrs. Steinway
+who chiefly supplied the new demand, without lessening by one instrument
+a month the business of older houses. Various improvements in the
+framing and mechanism of the piano have been invented and introduced by
+them; and, while some members of the family have superintended the
+manufacture, others have conducted the not less difficult business of
+selling. To this hour, the father of the family, in the dress of a
+workman, attends daily at the factory, as vigilant and active as ever,
+though now past seventy; and his surviving sons are as laboriously
+engaged in assisting him as they were in the infancy of the
+establishment.</p>
+
+<p>Besides the Chickerings and the Steinways, there are twenty
+manufacturers in the United States whose production exceeds one hundred
+pianos per annum. Messrs. Knabe &amp; Co. of Baltimore, who supply large
+portions of the South and West, sold about a thousand pianos in the year
+1866; W. P. Emerson of Boston, 935; Messrs. Haines Brothers of New York,
+830; Messrs. Hallett and Davis of Boston, 462; Ernest Gabler of New
+York, 312; Messrs. E. C. Lighte &amp; Co. of New York, 286; Messrs. Hazelton
+and Brothers of New York, 269; Albert Webber of New York, 266; Messrs.
+Decker Brothers of New York, 256; Messrs. George Steck and Co. of New
+York, 244; W. I. Bradbury of New York, 244; Messrs. Lindeman and Sons of
+New York, 223; the New York Piano-forte Company, 139. About one half of
+all the pianos made in the United States are made in the city of New
+York.</p>
+
+<p>To visit one of our large manufactories of pianos is a lesson in the
+noble art of taking pains. Genius itself, says Carlyle, means, first of
+all, "a transcendent capacity for taking trouble." Everywhere in these
+vast and interesting establishments we find what we may call the
+perfection of painstaking.</p>
+
+<p>The construction of an American piano is a continual act of defensive
+warfare against the future inroads of our climate,&mdash;a climate which is
+polar for a few days in January, tropical for a week or two in July,
+Nova-Scotian now and then in November, and at all times most trying to
+the finer woods, leathers, and fabrics. To make a piano is now not so
+difficult; but to make one that will stand in America,&mdash;that is very
+difficult. In the rear of the Messrs. Steinway's factory there is a yard
+for seasoning timber, which usually contains an amount of material equal
+to two hundred and fifty thousand ordinary boards, an inch thick and
+twelve feet long; and there it remains from four months to five years,
+according to its nature and magnitude. Most of the timber used in an
+American piano requires two years' seasoning at least. From this yard it
+is transferred to the steam-drying house, where it remains subjected to
+a high temperature for three months. The wood has then lost nearly all
+the warp there ever was in it, and the temperature may change fifty
+degrees in twelve hours (as it does sometimes in New York) without
+seriously affecting a fibre. Besides this, the timber is sawed in such a
+manner as to neutralize, in some degree, its tendency to warp, or,
+rather, so as to make it warp the right way. The reader would be
+surprised to hear the great makers converse on this subject of the
+warping of timber. They have studied the laws which govern warping; they
+know why wood warps, how each variety warps, how long a time each kind
+continues to warp, and how to fit one warp against another, so as to
+neutralize both. If two or more pieces of wood are to be glued together,
+it is never done at random; but they are so adjusted that one will tend
+to warp one way, and another another. Even the thin veneers upon the
+case act as a restraining force upon the baser wood which they cover,
+and in some parts of the instrument the veneer is double for the purpose
+of keeping both in order. An astonishing amount of thought and
+experiment has been expended upon this matter of warping,&mdash;so much,
+that now not a piece of wood is employed in a piano, the grain of which
+does not run in the precise direction which experience has shown to be
+the best.</p>
+
+<p>The forests of the whole earth have been searched for woods adapted to
+the different parts of the instrument. Dr. Rimbault, in his learned
+"History of the Piano-forte," published recently in London, gives a
+catalogue of the various woods, metals, skins, and fabrics used in the
+construction of a piano, which forcibly illustrates the delicacy of the
+modern instrument and the infinite care taken in its manufacture. We
+copy the list, though some of the materials differ from those used by
+American manufacturers.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Materials.</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Where used.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><i>Woods.</i></td><td align='left'><i>From</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Oak</td><td align='left'>Riga</td><td align='left'>Framing, various parts.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Deal</td><td align='left'>Norway</td><td align='left'>Wood-bracing, &amp;c.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Fir</td><td align='left'>Switzerland</td><td align='left'>Sounding-board.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Pine</td><td align='left'>America</td><td align='left'>Parts of framing, key-bed or bottom.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mahogany</td><td align='left'>Honduras</td><td align='left'>Solid wood of top, and various parts of the framing and the action.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Beech</td><td align='left'>England</td><td align='left'>Wrest-plank, bridge or sound-board, centre of legs.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Beef-wood</td><td align='left'>Brazils</td><td align='left'>Tongues in the beam, forming the divisions between the hammers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Birch</td><td align='left'>Canada</td><td align='left'>Belly-rail, a part of the framing.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Cedar</td><td align='left'>S. America</td><td align='left'>Round shanks of hammers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lime-tree</td><td align='left'>England</td><td align='left'>Keys.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Pear-tree</td><td align='left'>&mdash;&mdash;</td><td align='left'>Heads of dampers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sycamore</td><td align='left'>&mdash;&mdash;</td><td align='left'>Hoppers or levers, veneers on wrest-plank.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ebony</td><td align='left'>Ceylon</td><td align='left'>Black keys.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Spanish Mahogany</td><td align='left'>Cuba</td><td align='left'>For decoration.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Rosewood</td><td align='left'>Rio Janeiro</td><td align='left'>For decoration.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Satinwood</td><td align='left'>East Indies</td><td align='left'>For decoration.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>White Holly</td><td align='left'>England</td><td align='left'>For decoration.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Zebra-wood</td><td align='left'>Brazils</td><td align='left'>For decoration.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Other fancy woods</td><td align='left'>&mdash;&mdash;</td><td align='left'>For decoration.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Materials.</td><td align='left'>Where used.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><i>Woollen Fabrics.</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Baize; green, blue, and brown</td><td align='left'>Upper surface of key-frame, cushions for hammers to fall on, to damp dead part of strings, &amp;c.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Cloth, various qualities</td><td align='left'>For various parts of the action and in other places, to prevent jarring; also for dampers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Felt</td><td align='left'>External covering for hammers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><i>Leather.</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Buffalo</td><td align='left'>Under-covering of hammers-bass.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Saddle</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;" &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;tenor and treble.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Basil<br />Calf<br />Doeskin<br />Seal<br /> Sheepskin<br />Morocco</td><td align='left'>Various parts of action.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sole</td><td align='left'>Rings for pedal wires.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><i>Metal.</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Iron<br />Steel<br />Brass<br />Gun metal</td><td align='left'>Metallic bracing, and in various small screws, springs, centres, pins, &amp;c., &amp;c., throughout the instrument.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Steel wire</td><td align='left'>Strings.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Steel spun wire</td><td align='left'>Lapped strings.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Covered copper wire</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; lowest notes.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><i>Various.</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ivory</td><td align='left'>White keys.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Black lead</td><td align='left'>To smooth the rubbing surfaces of cloth or leather in the action.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Glue (of a particular quality made expressly for this trade.</td><td align='left'>Woodwork throughout.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Beeswax, emery paper, glass paper, French polish, oil, putty powder,spirits of wine, &amp;c., &amp;c.</td><td align='left'>Cleaning and finishing.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p>Such are the materials used. The processes to which they are subjected
+are far more numerous. So numerous are they and so complicated, that the
+Steinways, who employ five hundred and twelve men, and labor-saving
+machinery which does the work of five hundred men more, aided by three
+steam-engines of a hundred and twenty-five, fifty, and twenty-five
+horse-power, can only produce from forty-five to fifty-five pianos a
+week. The average number is about fifty,&mdash;six grand, four upright, and
+forty square. The reader has seen, doubtless, a piano with the top taken
+off; but perhaps it has never occurred to him what a tremendous <i>pull</i>
+those fifty to sixty strings are keeping up, day and night, from one
+year's end to another. The shortest and thinnest string of all pulls two
+hundred and sixty-two pounds,&mdash;about as much as we should care to lift;
+and the entire pull of the strings of a grand piano is sixty pounds less
+than twenty tons,&mdash;a load for twenty cart-horses. The fundamental
+difficulty in the construction of a piano has always been to support
+this continuous strain. When we look into a piano we see the "iron
+frame" so much vaunted in the advertisements, and so splendid with
+bronze and gilding; but it is not this thin plate of cast-iron that
+resists the strain of twenty tons. If the wires were to pull upon the
+iron for one second, it would fly into atoms. The iron plate is screwed
+to what is called the "bottom" of the piano, which is a mass of timber
+four inches thick, composed of three layers of plank glued together, and
+so arranged that the pull of the wires shall be in a line with the grain
+of the wood. The iron plate itself is subjected to a long course of
+treatment. The rough casting is brought from the foundery, placed under
+the drilling-machine, which bores many scores of holes of various sizes
+with marvellous rapidity. Then it is smoothed and finished with the
+file; next, it is japanned; after which it is baked in an oven for
+forty-eight hours. It is then ready for the bronzer and gilder, who
+covers the greater part of the surface with a light-yellow bronzing, and
+brightens it here and there with gilding. All this long process is
+necessary in order to make the plate <i>retain</i> its brilliancy of color.</p>
+
+<p>Upon this solid foundation of timber and iron the delicate instrument is
+built, and it is enclosed in a case constructed with still greater care.
+To make so large a box, and one so thin, as the case of a piano stand
+our summer heats and our furnace heats (still more trying), is a work of
+extreme difficulty. The seasoned boards are covered with a double
+veneer, designed to counteract all the tendencies to warp; and the
+surface is most laboriously polished. It takes three months to varnish
+and polish the case of a piano. In such a factory as the Steinways' or
+the Chickerings', there will be always six or seven hundred cases
+undergoing this expensive process. When the surface of the wood has been
+made as smooth as sand-paper can make it, the first coat of varnish is
+applied, and this requires eight days to harden. Then all the varnish is
+scraped off, except that which has sunk into the pores of the wood. The
+second coat is then put on; which, after eight days' drying, is also
+scraped away, until the surface of the veneer is laid bare again. After
+this four or five coats of varnish are added, at intervals of eight
+days, and, finally, the last polish is produced by the hand of the
+workman. The object of all this is not merely to produce a splendid and
+enduring gloss, but to make the case stand for a hundred years in a room
+which is heated by a furnace to seventy degrees by day, and in which
+water will freeze at night. During the war, when good varnish cost as
+much as the best champagne, the varnish bills of the leading makers were
+formidable indeed.</p>
+
+<p>The labor, however, is the chief item of expense. The average wages of
+the five hundred and twelve men employed by the Messrs. Steinway is
+twenty-six dollars a week. This force, aided by one hundred and two
+labor-saving machines, driven by steam-power equivalent to two hundred
+horses, produces a piano in one hour and fifteen minutes. A man with the
+ordinary tools can make a piano in about four months, but it could not
+possibly be as good a one as those produced in the large establishments.
+Nor, indeed, is such a feat ever attempted in the United States. The
+small makers, who manufacture from one to five instruments a week,
+generally, as already mentioned, buy the different parts from persons
+who make only parts. It is a business to make the hammers of a piano; it
+is another business to make the "action"; another, to make the keys;
+another, the legs; another, the cases; another, the pedals. The
+manufacture of the hardware used in a piano is a very important branch,
+and it is a separate business to sell it. The London Directory
+enumerates forty-two different trades and businesses related to the
+piano, and we presume there are not fewer in New York. Consequently,
+any man who knows enough of a piano to put one together, and can command
+capital enough to buy the parts of one instrument, may boldly fling his
+sign to the breeze, and announce himself to an inattentive public as a
+"piano-forte-maker." The only difficulty is to sell the piano when it is
+put together. At present it costs rather more money to sell a piano than
+it does to make one.</p>
+
+<p>When the case is finished, all except the final hand-polish, it is taken
+to the sounding-board room. The sounding-board&mdash;a thin, clear sheet of
+spruce under the strings&mdash;is the piano's soul, wanting which, it were a
+dead thing. Almost every resonant substance in nature has been tried for
+sounding-boards, but nothing has been found equal to spruce. Countless
+experiments have been made with a view to ascertain precisely the best
+way of shaping, arranging, and fixing the sounding-board, the best
+thickness, the best number and direction of the supporting ribs; and
+every great maker is happy in the conviction that he is a little better
+in sounding-boards than any of his rivals. Next, the strings are
+inserted; next, the action and the keys. Every one will pause to admire
+the hammers of the piano, so light, yet so capable of giving a telling
+blow, which evoke all the music of the strings, but mingle with that
+music no click, nor thud, nor thump, of their own. The felt employed
+varies in thickness from one sixteenth of an inch to an inch and an
+eighth, and costs $5.75 in gold per pound. Only Paris, it seems, can
+make it good enough for the purpose. Many of the keys have a double
+felting, compressed from an inch and a half to three quarters of an
+inch, and others again have an outer covering of leather to keep the
+strings from cutting the felt. Simple as the finished hammer looks,
+there are a hundred and fifty years of thought and experiment in it. It
+required half a century to exhaust the different kinds of wood, bone,
+and cork; and when, about 1760, the idea was conceived of covering the
+hammers with something soft, another century was to elapse before all
+the leathers and fabrics had been tried, and felt found to be the <i>ne
+plus ultra</i>. With regard to the action, or the mechanism by which the
+hammers are made to strike the strings, we must refer the inquisitive
+reader to the piano itself.</p>
+
+<p>When all the parts have been placed in the case, the instrument falls
+into the hands of the "regulator," who inspects, rectifies, tunes,
+harmonizes, perfects the whole. Nothing then remains but to convey it to
+the store, give it its final polish and its last tuning.</p>
+
+<p>The next thing is to sell it. Six hundred and fifty dollars seems a high
+price for a square piano, such as we used to buy for three hundred, and
+the "natural cost" of which does not much exceed two hundred dollars.
+Fifteen hundred dollars for a grand piano is also rather startling. But
+how much tax, does the reader suppose, is paid upon a
+fifteen-hundred-dollar grand? It is difficult to compute it; but it does
+not fall much below two hundred dollars. The five per cent
+manufacturer's tax, which is paid upon the price of the finished
+instrument, has also to be paid upon various parts, such as the wire;
+and upon the imported articles there is a high tariff. It is computed
+that the taxes upon very complicated articles, in which a great variety
+of materials are employed, such as carriages, pianos, organs, and fine
+furniture, amount to about one eighth of the price. The piano, too, is
+an expensive creature to keep, in these times of high rents, and its
+fare upon a railroad is higher than that of its owner. We saw, however,
+a magnificent piano, the other day, at the establishment of Messrs.
+Chickering, in Broadway, for which passage had been secured all the way
+to Oregon for thirty-five dollars,&mdash;only five dollars more than it would
+cost to transport it to Chicago. Happily for us, to whom fifteen hundred
+dollars&mdash;nay, six hundred and fifty dollars&mdash;is an enormous sum of
+money, a very good second-hand piano is always attainable for less than
+half the original price.</p>
+
+<p>For, reader, you must know that the ostentation of the rich is always
+putting costly pleasures within the reach of the refined not-rich. A
+piano in its time plays many parts, and figures in a variety of scenes.
+Like the more delicate and sympathetic kinds of human beings, it is
+naught unless it is valued; but, being valued, it is a treasure beyond
+price. Cold, glittering, and dumb, it stands among the tasteless
+splendors with which the wealthy ignorant cumber their dreary abodes,&mdash;a
+thing of ostentation merely,&mdash;as uninteresting as the women who surround
+it, gorgeously apparelled, but without conversation, conscious of
+defective parts of speech. "There is much music, excellent voice, in
+that little organ," but there is no one there who can "make it speak."
+They may "fret" the noble instrument; they "cannot play upon it."</p>
+
+<p>But a fool and his nine-hundred-dollar piano are soon parted. The red
+flag of the auctioneer announces its transfer to a drawing-room
+frequented by persons capable of enjoying the refined pleasures. Bright
+and joyous is the scene, about half past nine in the evening, when, by
+turns, the ladies try over their newest pieces, or else listen with
+intelligent pleasure to the performance of a master. Pleasant are the
+informal family concerts in such a house, when one sister breaks down
+under the difficulties of Thalberg, and yields the piano-stool to the
+musical genius of the family, who takes up the note, and, dashing gayly
+into the midst of "Egitto," forces a path through the wilderness, takes
+the Red Sea like a heroine, bursts at length into the triumphal prayer,
+and retires from the instrument as calm as a summer morning. On
+occasions of ceremony, too, the piano has a part to perform, though a
+humble one. Awkward pauses will occur in all but the best-regulated
+parties, and people will get together, in the best houses, who quench
+and neutralize one another. It is the piano that fills those pauses, and
+gives a welcome respite to the toil of forcing conversation. How could
+"society" go on without the occasional interposition of the piano? One
+hundred and sixty years ago, in those days beloved and vaunted by
+Thackeray, when Louis XIV. was king of France, and Anne queen of
+England, society danced, tattled, and gambled. Cards have receded as the
+piano has advanced in importance.</p>
+
+<p>From such a drawing-room as this, after a stay of some years, the piano
+may pass into a boarding-school, and thence into the sitting-room of a
+family who have pinched for two years to buy it. "It must have been,"
+says Henry Ward Beecher, "about the year 1820, in old Litchfield,
+Connecticut, upon waking one fine morning, that we heard music in the
+parlor, and, hastening down, beheld an upright piano, the first we ever
+saw or heard of! Nothing can describe the amazement of silence that
+filled us. It rose almost to superstitious reverence, and all that day
+was a dream and marvel." It is such pianos that are appreciated. It is
+in such parlors that the instrument best answers the end of its
+creation. There is many a piano in the back room of a little store, or
+in the uncarpeted sitting-room of a farm-house, that yields a larger
+revenue of delight than the splendid grand of a splendid drawing-room.
+In these humble abodes of refined intelligence, the piano is a dear and
+honored member of the family.</p>
+
+<p>The piano now has a rival in the United States in that fine instrument
+before mentioned, which has grown from the melodeon into the cabinet
+organ. We do not hesitate to say, that the cabinet organs of Messrs.
+Mason and Hamlin only need to be as generally known as the piano in
+order to share the favor of the public equally with it. It seems to us
+peculiarly the instrument for <i>men</i>. We trust the time is at hand when
+it will be seen that it is not less desirable for boys to learn to play
+upon an instrument than girls; and how much more a little skill in
+performing may do for a man than for a woman! A boy can hardly be a
+perfect savage, nor a man a money-maker or a pietist, who has acquired
+sufficient command of an instrument to play upon it with pleasure. How
+often, when we have been listening to the swelling music of the cabinet
+organs at the ware-rooms of Messrs. Mason and Hamlin in Broadway, have
+we desired to put one of those instruments in every clerk's
+boarding-house room, and tell him to take all the ennui, and half the
+peril, out of his life by learning to play upon it! No business man who
+works as intensely as we do can keep alive the celestial harmonies
+within him,&mdash;no, nor the early wrinkles from his face,&mdash;without some
+such pleasant mingling of bodily rest and mental exercise as playing
+upon an instrument.</p>
+
+<p>The simplicity of the means by which music is produced from the cabinet
+organ is truly remarkable. It is called a "reed" instrument; which leads
+many to suppose that the cane-brake is despoiled to procure its
+sound-giving apparatus. Not so. The reed employed is nothing but a thin
+strip of brass with a tongue slit in it, the vibration of which causes
+the musical sound. One of the reeds, though it produces a volume of
+sound only surpassed by the pipes of an organ, weighs about an ounce,
+and can be carried in a vest-pocket. In fact, a cabinet organ is simply
+an accordeon of immense power and improved mechanism. Twenty years ago,
+one of our melodeon-makers chanced to observe that the accordeon
+produced a better tone when it was drawn out than when it was pushed in;
+and this fact suggested the first great improvement in the melodeon.
+Before that time, the wind from the bellows, in all melodeons, was
+forced through the reeds. Melodeons on the improved principle were
+constructed so that the wind was drawn through the reeds. The credit of
+introducing this improvement is due to the well-known firm of Carhart,
+Needham, &amp; Co., and it was as decided an improvement in the melodeon as
+the introduction of the hammer in the harpsichord.</p>
+
+<p>At this point of development, the instrument was taken up by Messrs.
+Mason and Hamlin, who have covered it with improvements, and rendered it
+one of the most pleasing musical instruments in the possession of
+mankind. When we remarked above, that the American piano was the best in
+the world, we only expressed the opinion of others; but now that we
+assert the superiority of the American cabinet organ over similar
+instruments made in London and Paris, we are communicating knowledge of
+our own. Indeed, the superiority is so marked that it is apparent to the
+merest tyro in music. During the year 1866, the number of these
+instruments produced in the United States by the twenty-five
+manufacturers was about fifteen thousand, which were sold for one
+million six hundred thousand dollars, or a little more than one hundred
+dollars each. Messrs. Mason and Hamlin, who manufacture one fourth of
+the whole number, produce thirty-five kinds, varying in power, compass,
+and decoration, and in price from seventy-five dollars to twelve
+hundred. In the new towns of the great West, the cabinet organ is
+usually the first instrument of music to arrive, and, of late years, it
+takes its place with the piano in the fashionable drawing-rooms of the
+Atlantic States.</p>
+
+<p>Few Americans, we presume, expected that the department of the Paris
+Exposition in which the United States should most surpass other nations
+would be that appropriated to musical instruments. Even our cornets and
+bugles are highly commended in Paris. The cabinet organs, according to
+several correspondents, are much admired. We can hardly credit the
+assertion of an intelligent correspondent of the Tribune, that the
+superiority of the American pianos is not "questioned" by Erard, Pleyel,
+and Hertz, but we can well believe that it is acknowledged by the great
+players congregated at Paris. The aged Rossini is reported to have said,
+after listening to an American piano, "It is like a nightingale cooing
+in a thunder-storm."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="AN_EMBER-PICTURE" id="AN_EMBER-PICTURE"></a>AN EMBER-PICTURE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How strange are the freaks of memory!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The lessons of life we forget,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While a trifle, a trick of color,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the wonderful web is set,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Set by some mordant of fancy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, despite the wear and tear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of time or distance or trouble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Insists on its right to be there.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A chance had brought us together;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our talk was of matters of course;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We were nothing, one to the other,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But a short half-hour's resource.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We spoke of French acting and actors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And their easy, natural way,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the weather, for it was raining<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As we drove home from the play.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We debated the social nothings<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Men take such pains to discuss;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thunderous rumors of battle<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Were silent the while for us.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Arrived at her door, we left her<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a drippingly hurried adieu,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And our wheels went crunching the gravel<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the oak-darkened avenue.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As we drove away through the shadow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The candle she held in the door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From rain-varnished tree-trunk to tree-trunk<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Flashed fainter, and flashed no more,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Flashed fainter and wholly faded<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Before we had passed the wood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the light of the face behind it<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Went with me and stayed for good.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The vision of scarce a moment,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And hardly marked at the time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It comes unbidden to haunt me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like a scrap of ballad-rhyme.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Had she beauty? Well, not what they call so:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">You may find a thousand as fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet there's her face in my memory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With no special right to be there.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As I sit sometimes in the twilight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And call back to life in the coals<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old faces and hopes and fancies<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Long buried,&mdash;good rest to their souls!&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Her face shines out of the embers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I see her holding the light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hear the crunch of the gravel<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the sweep of the rain that night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis a face that can never grow older,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That never can part with its gleam;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis a gracious possession forever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For what is it all but a dream?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="AN_ARTISTS_DREAM" id="AN_ARTISTS_DREAM"></a>AN ARTIST'S DREAM.</h2>
+
+
+<p>When I reached Kenmure's house, one August evening, it was rather a
+disappointment to find that he and his charming Laura had absented
+themselves for twenty-four hours. I had not seen them since their
+marriage; my admiration for his varied genius and her unvarying grace
+was at its height, and I was really annoyed at the delay. My fair
+cousin, with her usual exact housekeeping, had prepared everything for
+her guest, and then bequeathed me, as she wrote, to Janet and baby
+Marian. It was a pleasant arrangement, for between baby Marian and me
+there existed a species of passion, I might almost say of betrothal,
+ever since that little three-year-old sunbeam had blessed my mother's
+house by lingering awhile in it, six months before. Still I went to bed
+disappointed, though the delightful windows of the chamber looked out
+upon the glimmering bay, and the swinging lanterns at the yard-arms of
+the frigates shone like some softer constellation beneath the brilliant
+sky. The house was so close upon the water that the cool waves seemed to
+plash deliciously against its very basement; and it was a comfort to
+think that, if there were no adequate human greetings that night, there
+would be plenty in the morning, since Marian would inevitably be pulling
+my eyelids apart before sunrise.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed scarcely dawn when I was roused by a little arm round my neck,
+and waked to think I had one of Raphael's cherubs by my side. Fingers of
+waxen softness were ruthlessly at work upon my eyes, and the little form
+that met my touch felt lithe and elastic, like a kitten's limbs. There
+was just light enough to see the child, perched on the edge of the bed,
+her soft blue dressing-gown trailing over the white night-dress, while
+her black and long-fringed eyes shone through the dimness of morning.
+She yielded gladly to my grasp, and I could fondle again the silken
+hair, the velvety brunette cheek, the plump, childish shoulders. Yet
+sleep still half held me, and when my cherub appeared to hold it a
+cherubic practice to begin the day with a demand for lively anecdote, I
+was fain drowsily to suggest that she might first tell some stories to
+her doll. With the sunny readiness that was a part of her nature, she
+straightway turned to that young lady,&mdash;plain Susan Halliday, with both
+cheeks patched, and eyes of different colors,&mdash;and soon discoursed both
+her and me into repose.</p>
+
+<p>When I waked again, it was to find the child conversing with the morning
+star, which still shone through the window, scarcely so lucent as her
+eyes, and bidding it go home to its mother, the sun. Another lapse into
+dreams, and then a more vivid awakening, and she had my ear at last, and
+won story after story, requiting them with legends of her own youth,
+"almost a year ago,"&mdash;how she was perilously lost, for instance, in the
+small front yard, with a little playmate, early in the afternoon, and
+how they came and peeped into the window, and thought all the world had
+forgotten them. Then the sweet voice, distinct in its articulation as
+Laura's, went straying off into wilder fancies, a chaos of autobiography
+and conjecture, like the letters of a war correspondent. You would have
+thought her little life had yielded more pangs and fears than might have
+sufficed for the discovery of the North Pole; but breakfast-time drew
+near at last, and Janet's honest voice was heard outside the door. I
+rather envied the good Scotchwoman the pleasant task of polishing the
+smooth cheeks, and combing the dishevelled silk; but when, a little
+later, the small maiden was riding down stairs in my arms, I envied no
+one.</p>
+
+<p>At sight of the bread and milk, my cherub was transformed into a hungry
+human child, chiefly anxious to reach the bottom of her porringer. I was
+with her a great deal that day. She gave no manner of trouble: it was
+like having the charge of a floating butterfly, endowed with warm arms
+to clasp, and a silvery voice to prattle. I sent Janet out to sail, with
+the other servants, by way of holiday, and Marian's perfect temperament
+was shown in the way she watched the departing.</p>
+
+<p>"There they go," she said, as she stood and danced at the window. "Now
+they are out of sight."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" I said, "are you pleased to have your friends go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered; "but I shall be pleased&mdash;er to see them come
+back." Life to her was no alternation of joy and grief, but only of joy
+and more joyous.</p>
+
+<p>Twilight brought us to an improvised concert. Climbing the piano-stool,
+she went over the notes with her little taper fingers, touching the keys
+in a light, knowing way, that proved her a musician's child. Then I must
+play for her, and let the dance begin. This was a wondrous performance
+on her part, and consisted at first in hopping up and down on one spot,
+with no change of motion, but in her hands. She resembled a minute and
+irrepressible Shaker, or a live and beautiful <i>marionnette</i>. Then she
+placed Janet in the middle of the floor, and performed the dance round
+her, after the manner of Vivien and Merlin. Then came her supper, which,
+like its predecessors, was a solid and absorbing meal; then one more
+fairy story, to magnetize her off, and she danced and sang herself up
+stairs. And if she first came to me in the morning with a halo round her
+head, she seemed still to retain it when I at last watched her kneeling
+in the little bed&mdash;perfectly motionless, with her hands placed together,
+and her long lashes sweeping her cheeks&mdash;to repeat two verses of a hymn
+which Janet had taught her. My nerves quivered a little when I saw that
+Susan Halliday had also been duly prepared for the night, and had been
+put in the same attitude, so far as her jointless anatomy permitted.
+This being ended, the doll and her mistress reposed together, and only
+an occasional toss of the vigorous limbs, or a stifled baby murmur,
+would thenceforth prove, through the darkened hours, that the one figure
+had in it more of life than the other.</p>
+
+<p>On the next morning Kenmure and Laura came back to us, and I walked down
+to receive them at the boat. I had forgotten how striking was their
+appearance, as they stood together. His broad, strong, Saxon look, his
+noble bearing and clear blue eyes, enhanced the fascination of her
+darker beauty.</p>
+
+<p>America is full of the short-lived bloom and freshness of girlhood; but
+grace is a rarer gift, and indeed it is only a few times in life that
+one sees anywhere a beauty that really controls us with a permanent
+charm. One should remember such personal loveliness, as one recalls some
+particular moonlight or sunset, with a special and concentrated joy,
+which the multiplicity of fainter impressions cannot disturb. When in
+those days we used to read, in Petrarch's one hundred and twenty-third
+sonnet, that he had once beheld on earth angelic manners and celestial
+charms, whose very remembrance was a delight and an affliction, since
+all else that he beheld seemed dream and shadow, we could easily fancy
+that nature had certain permanent attributes which accompanied the name
+of Laura.</p>
+
+<p>Our Laura had that rich brunette beauty before which the mere snow and
+roses of the blonde must always seem wan and unimpassioned. In the
+superb suffusions of her cheek there seemed to flow a tide of passions
+and powers, which might have been tumultuous in a meaner woman, but over
+which, in her, the clear and brilliant eyes, and the sweet, proud mouth,
+presided in unbroken calm. These superb tints implied resources only,
+not a struggle. With this torrent from the tropics in her veins, she was
+the most equable person I ever saw; and had a supreme and delicate
+good-sense, which, if not supplying the place of genius, at least
+comprehended its work. Not intellectually gifted herself, perhaps, she
+seemed the cause of gifts in others, and furnished the atmosphere in
+which all showed their best. With the steady and thoughtful enthusiasm
+of her Puritan ancestors, she combined that grace which is so rare among
+their descendants,&mdash;a grace which fascinated the humblest, while it
+would have been just the same in the society of kings. And her person
+had the equipoise and symmetry of her mind. While abounding in separate
+points of beauty, each a source of distinct and peculiar pleasure,&mdash;as
+the outline of her temples, the white line that parted her night-black
+hair, the bend of her wrists, the moulding of her finger-tips,&mdash;yet
+these details were lost in the overwhelming gracefulness of her
+presence, and the atmosphere of charm which she diffused over all human
+life.</p>
+
+<p>A few days passed rapidly by us. We walked and rode and boated and read.
+Little Marian came and went, a living sunbeam, a self-sufficing thing.
+It was soon obvious that she was far less demonstrative towards her
+parents than towards me; while her mother, gracious to her as to all,
+yet rarely caressed her, and Kenmure, though habitually kind, seemed
+rather to ignore her existence, and could scarcely tolerate that she
+should for one instant preoccupy his wife. For Laura he lived, and she
+must live for him. He had a studio, which I rarely entered and Marian
+never, while Laura was constantly there; and after the first cordiality
+was past, I observed that their daily expeditions were always arranged
+for two. The weather was beautiful, and they led the wildest outdoor
+life, cruising all day or all night among the islands, regardless of
+hours, and, as it sometimes seemed to me, of health. No matter: Kenmure
+liked it, and what he liked she loved. When at home, they were chiefly
+in the studio, he painting, modelling, poetizing perhaps, and she
+inseparably united with him in all. It was very beautiful, this
+unworldly and passionate love, and I could have borne to be omitted in
+their daily plans, since little Marian was left to me, save that it
+seemed so strange to omit her also. Besides, there grew to be something
+a little oppressive in this peculiar atmosphere; it was like living in a
+greenhouse.</p>
+
+<p>Yet they always spoke in the simplest way of this absorbing passion, as
+of something about which no reticence was needed; it was too sacred
+<i>not</i> to be mentioned; it would be wrong not to utter freely to all the
+world what was doubtless the best thing the world possessed. Thus
+Kenmure made Laura his model in all his art; not to coin her into wealth
+or fame,&mdash;he would have scorned it; he would have valued fame and
+wealth only as instruments for proclaiming her. Looking simply at these
+two lovers, then, it seemed as if no human union could be more noble or
+stainless. Yet so far as others were concerned, it sometimes seemed to
+me a kind of duplex selfishness, so profound and so undisguised as to
+make one shudder. "Is it," I asked myself at such moments, "a great
+consecration, or a great crime?" But something must be allowed, perhaps,
+for my own private dissatisfactions in Marian's behalf.</p>
+
+<p>I had easily persuaded Janet to let me have a peep every night at my
+darling, as she slept; and once I was surprised to find Laura sitting by
+the small white bed. Graceful and beautiful as she always was, she never
+before had seemed to me so lovely, for she never had seemed quite like a
+mother. But I could not demand a sweeter look of tenderness than that
+with which she now gazed upon her child.</p>
+
+<p>Little Marian lay with one brown, plump hand visible from its full white
+sleeve, while the other nestled half hid beneath the sheet, grasping a
+pair of blue morocco shoes, the last acquisition of her favorite doll.
+Drooping from beneath the pillow hung a handful of scarlet poppies,
+which the child had wished to place under her head, in the very
+superfluous project of putting herself to sleep thereby. Her soft brown
+hair was scattered on the sheet, her black lashes lay motionless upon
+the olive cheeks. Laura wished to move her, that I might see her the
+better.</p>
+
+<p>"You will wake her," exclaimed I, in alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Wake this little dormouse?" Laura lightly answered. "Impossible."</p>
+
+<p>And, twining her arms about her, the young mother lifted the child from
+the bed, three or four times, dropping her again heavily each time,
+while the healthy little creature remained utterly undisturbed,
+breathing the same quiet breath. I watched Laura with amazement; she
+seemed transformed.</p>
+
+<p>She gayly returned my eager look, and then, seeming suddenly to
+penetrate its meaning, cast down her radiant eyes, while the color
+mounted into her cheeks. "You thought," she said, almost sternly, "that
+I did not love my child."</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, half untruthfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I can hardly wonder," she continued, more sadly, "for it is only what I
+have said to myself a thousand times. Sometimes I think that I have
+lived in a dream, and one that few share with me. I have questioned
+others, and never yet found a woman who did not admit that her child was
+more to her, in her secret soul, than her husband. What can they mean?
+Such a thought is foreign to my nature."</p>
+
+<p>"Why separate the two?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>must</i> separate them," she answered, with the air of one driven to
+bay by her own self-reproaching. "I had, like other young girls, my
+dream of love and marriage. Unlike all the rest, I believe, my visions
+were fulfilled. The reality was more than the imagination; and I thought
+it would be so with my love for my child. The first cry of that baby
+told the difference to my ear. I knew it all from that moment; the bliss
+which had been mine as a wife would never be mine as a mother. If I had
+not known what it was to love my husband, I might have been content with
+my love for Marian. But look at that exquisite creature as she lies
+there asleep, and then think that I, her mother, should desert her if
+she were dying, for aught I know, at one word from him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Your feeling is morbid," I said, hardly knowing what to answer.</p>
+
+<p>"What good does it serve to know that?" she said, defiantly. "I say it
+to myself every day. Once when she was ill, and was given back to me in
+all the precious helplessness of babyhood, there was such a strange
+sweetness in it, I thought the charm might remain; but it vanished when
+she could run about once more. And she is such a healthy, self-reliant
+little thing," added Laura, glancing toward the bed with a momentary
+look of motherly pride that seemed strangely out of place amid these
+self-denunciations.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish her to be so," she added. "The best service I can do for her is
+to teach her to stand alone. And at some day," continued the beautiful
+woman, her whole face lighting up with happiness, "she may love as I
+have loved."</p>
+
+<p>"And your husband," I said, after a pause,&mdash;"does your feeling represent
+his?"</p>
+
+<p>"My husband," she said, "lives for his genius, as he should. You that
+know him, why do you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"And his heart?" I said, half frightened at my own temerity.</p>
+
+<p>"Heart?" she answered. "He loves <i>me</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Her color mounted higher yet; she had a look of pride, almost of
+haughtiness. All else seemed forgotten; she had turned away from the
+child's little bed, as if it had no existence. It flashed upon me that
+something of the poison of her artificial atmosphere was reaching her
+already.</p>
+
+<p>Kenmure's step was heard in the hall, and, with fire in her eyes, she
+hastened to meet him. I seemed actually to breathe freer after the
+departure of that enchanting woman, in danger of perishing inwardly, I
+said to myself, in an air too lavishly perfumed. Bending over Marian, I
+wondered if it were indeed possible that a perfectly healthy life had
+sprung from that union too intense and too absorbed. Yet I had often
+noticed that the child seemed to wear the temperaments of both her
+parents as a kind of playful disguise, and to peep at you, now out of
+the one, now from the other, showing that she had her own individual
+life behind.</p>
+
+<p>As if by some infantine instinct, the darling turned in her sleep, and
+came unconsciously nearer me. With a half-feeling of self-reproach, I
+drew around my neck, inch by inch, the little arms that tightened with a
+delicious thrill; and so I half reclined there till I myself dozed, and
+the watchful Janet, looking in, warned me away. Crossing the entry to my
+own chamber, I heard Kenmure and Laura down stairs, but I knew that I
+should be superfluous, and felt that I was sleepy.</p>
+
+<p>I had now, indeed, become always superfluous when they were together,
+though never when they were apart. Even they must be separated
+sometimes, and then each sought me, in order to discourse about the
+other. Kenmure showed me every sketch he had ever made of Laura. There
+she was, in all the wonderful range of her beauty,&mdash;in clay, in cameo,
+in pencil, in water-color, in oils. He showed me also his poems, and, at
+last, a longer one, for which pencil and graver had alike been laid
+aside. All these he kept in a great cabinet she had brought with her to
+their housekeeping; and it seemed to me that he also treasured every
+flower she had dropped, every slender glove she had worn, every ribbon
+from her hair. I could not wonder. Who would not thrill at the touch of
+some such memorial of Mary of Scotland, or of Heloise? and what was all
+the regal beauty of the past to him? Every room always seemed adorned
+when she was in it, empty when she had gone,&mdash;save that the trace of her
+still seemed left on everything, and all appeared but as a garment she
+had worn. It seemed that even her great mirror must retain, film over
+film, each reflection of her least movement, the turning of her head,
+the ungloving of her hand. Strange! that, with all this intoxicating
+presence, she yet led a life so free from self, so simple, so absorbed,
+that all trace of consciousness was excluded, and she seemed
+unsophisticated as her own child.</p>
+
+<p>As we were once thus employed in the studio, I asked Kenmure, abruptly,
+if he never shrank from the publicity he was thus giving Laura. "Madame
+R&eacute;camier was not quite pleased," I said, "that Canova had modelled her
+bust, even from imagination. Do you never shrink from permitting
+irreverent eyes to look on Laura's beauty? Think of men as you know
+them. Would you give each of them her miniature, perhaps to go with them
+into scenes of riot and shame?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would to Heaven I could!" said he, passionately. "What else could save
+them, if that did not? God lets his sun shine on the evil and on the
+good, but the evil need it most."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause; and then I ventured to ask him a question that had
+been many times upon my lips unspoken.</p>
+
+<p>"Does it never occur to you," I said, "that Laura cannot live on earth
+forever?"</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot disturb me about that," he answered, not sadly, but with a
+set, stern look, as if fencing for the hundredth time against an
+antagonist who was foredoomed to be his master in the end. "Laura will
+outlive me; she must outlive me. I am so sure of it, that, every time I
+come near her, I pray that I may not be paralyzed, and die outside her
+arms. Yet, in any event, what can I do but what I am doing,&mdash;devote my
+whole soul to the perpetuation of her beauty, through art? It is my only
+dream. What else is worth doing? It is for this I have tried, through
+sculpture, through painting, through verse, to depict her as she is.
+Thus far I have failed. Why have I failed? Is it because I have not
+lived a life sufficiently absorbed in her? or is it that there is no
+permitted way by which, after God has reclaimed her, the tradition of
+her perfect loveliness may be retained on earth?"</p>
+
+<p>The blinds of the piazza doorway opened, the sweet sea-air came in, the
+low and level rays of yellow sunset entered as softly as if the breeze
+were their chariot; and softer and stiller and sweeter than light or
+air, little Marian stood on the threshold. She had been in the fields
+with Janet, who had woven for her breeze-blown hair a wreath of the wild
+gerardia blossoms, whose purple beauty had reminded the good Scotchwoman
+of her own native heather. In her arms the child bore, like a little
+gleaner, a great sheaf of graceful golden-rod, as large as her grasp
+could bear. In all the artist's visions he had seen nothing so aerial,
+so lovely; in all his passionate portraitures of his idol, he had
+delineated nothing so like to her. Marian's cheeks mantled with rich and
+wine-like tints, her hair took a halo from the sunbeams, her lips
+parted over the little milk-white teeth; she looked at us with her
+mother's eyes. I turned to Kenmure to see if he could resist the
+influence.</p>
+
+<p>He scarcely gave her a glance. "Go, Marian," he said,&mdash;not impatiently,
+for he was too thoroughly courteous ever to be ungracious, even to a
+child,&mdash;but with a steady indifference that cut me with more pain than
+if he had struck her.</p>
+
+<p>The sun dropped behind the horizon, the halo faded from the shining
+hair, and every ray of light from the childish face. There came in its
+place that deep, wondering sadness which is more pathetic than any
+maturer sorrow,&mdash;just as a child's illness touches our hearts more than
+that of man or woman, it seems so premature and so plaintive. She turned
+away; it was the very first time I had ever seen the little face drawn
+down, or the tears gathering in the eyes. By some kind providence, the
+mother met Marian on the piazza, herself flushed and beautiful with
+walking, and caught the little thing in her arms with unwonted
+tenderness. It was enough for the elastic child. After one moment of
+such bliss she could go to Janet, go anywhere; and when the same
+graceful presence came in to us in the studio, we also could ask no
+more.</p>
+
+<p>We had music and moonlight, and were happy. The atmosphere seemed more
+human, less unreal. Going up stairs at last, I looked in at the nursery,
+and found my pet seeming rather flushed, and I fancied that she stirred
+uneasily. It passed, whatever it was; for next morning she came in to
+wake me, looking, as usual, as if a new heaven and earth had been coined
+purposely for her since she went to sleep. We had our usual long and
+important discourse,&mdash;this time tending to protracted narrative, of the
+Mother-Goose description,&mdash;until, if it had been possible for any human
+being to be late for breakfast in that house, we should have been the
+offenders. But she ultimately went down stairs on my shoulder, and, as
+Kenmure and Laura were out rowing, the baby put me in her own place,
+sat in her mother's chair, and ruled me with a rod of iron. How
+wonderful was the instinct by which this little creature, who so seldom
+heard one word of parental severity or parental fondness, yet knew so
+thoroughly the language of both! Had I been the most depraved of
+children, or the most angelic, I could not have been more sternly
+excluded from the sugar-bowl, or more overwhelmed with compensating
+kisses.</p>
+
+<p>Later on that day, while little Marian was taking the very profoundest
+nap that ever a baby was blessed with, (she had a pretty way of dropping
+asleep in unexpected corners of the house, like a kitten,) I somehow
+strayed into a confidential talk with Janet about her mistress. I was
+rather troubled to find that all her loyalty was for Laura, with nothing
+left for Kenmure, whom indeed she seemed to regard as a sort of
+objectionable altar, on which her darlings were being sacrificed. When
+she came to particulars, certain stray fears of my own were confirmed.
+It seemed that Laura's constitution was not fit, Janet averred, to bear
+these irregular hours, early and late; and she plaintively dwelt on the
+untasted oatmeal in the morning, the insufficient luncheon, the
+precarious dinner, the excessive walking, the evening damps. There was
+coming to be a look about her such as her mother had, who died at
+thirty. As for Marian&mdash;but here the complaint suddenly stopped; it would
+have required far stronger provocation to extract from the faithful soul
+one word that might seem to reflect on Laura.</p>
+
+<p>Another year, and her forebodings had come true. It is needless to dwell
+on the interval. Since then I have sometimes felt a regret almost
+insatiable, in the thought that I should have been absent while all that
+gracious beauty seemed fading and dissolving like a cloud; and yet at
+other times it has appeared a relief to think that Laura would ever
+remain to me in the fulness of her beauty, not a tint faded, not a
+lineament changed. With all my efforts, I arrived only in time to
+accompany Kenmure home at night, after the funeral service. We paused at
+the door of the empty house,&mdash;how empty! I hesitated, but Kenmure
+motioned to me to follow him in.</p>
+
+<p>We passed through the hall and went up stairs. Janet met us at the head
+of the stairway, and asked me if I would go in to look at little Marian,
+who was sleeping. I begged Kenmure to go also, but he refused, almost
+savagely, and went on with heavy step into Laura's deserted room.</p>
+
+<p>Almost the moment I entered the child's chamber, she waked up suddenly,
+looked at me, and said, "I know you, you are my friend." She never would
+call me her cousin, I was always her friend. Then she sat up in bed,
+with her eyes wide open, and said, as if stating a problem which had
+been put by for my solution, "I should like to see my mother."</p>
+
+<p>How our hearts are rent by the unquestioning faith of children, when
+they come to test the love which has so often worked what seemed to them
+miracles,&mdash;and ask of it miracles indeed! I tried to explain to her the
+continued existence of her beautiful mother, and she listened to it as
+if her eyes drank in all that I could say, and more. But the apparent
+distance between earth and heaven baffled her baby mind, as it so often
+and so sadly baffles the thoughts of us elders. I wondered what precise
+change seemed to her to have taken place. This all-fascinating Laura,
+whom she adored, and who had yet never been to her what other women are
+to their darlings,&mdash;did heaven seem to put her farther off, or bring her
+more near? I could never know. The healthy child had no morbid
+questionings; and as she had come into the world to be a sunbeam, she
+must not fail of that mission. She was kicking about the bed, by this
+time, in her nightgown, and holding her pink little toes in all sorts of
+difficult attitudes, when she suddenly said, looking me full in the
+face: "If my mother was so high up that she had her feet upon a star,
+do you think that I could see her?"</p>
+
+<p>This astronomical apotheosis startled me for a moment, but I said
+unhesitatingly, "Yes," feeling sure that the lustrous eyes that looked
+in mine could certainly see as far as Dante's, when Beatrice was
+transferred from his side to the highest realm of Paradise. I put my
+head beside hers upon the pillow, and stayed till I thought she was
+asleep.</p>
+
+<p>I then followed Kenmure into Laura's chamber. It was dusk, but the
+after-sunset glow still bathed the room with imperfect light, and he lay
+upon the bed, his hands clenched over his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>There was a deep bow-window where Laura used to sit and watch us,
+sometimes, when we put off in the boat. Her &aelig;olian harp was in the
+casement, breaking its heart in music. A delicate handkerchief was
+lodged between the cushions of the window-seat,&mdash;the very handkerchief
+she used to wave, in summer days long gone. The white boats went sailing
+beneath the evening light, children shouted and splashed in the water, a
+song came from a yacht, a steam-whistle shrilled from the receding
+steamer; but she for whom alone those little signs of life had been dear
+and precious would henceforth be as invisible to our eyes as if time and
+space had never held her; and the young moon and the evening star seemed
+but empty things, unless they could pilot us to some world where the
+splendor of her loveliness could match their own.</p>
+
+<p>Twilight faded, evening darkened, and still Kenmure lay motionless,
+until his strong form grew in my moody fancy to be like some carving of
+Michel Angelo, more than like a living man. And when he at last startled
+me by speaking, it was with a voice so far off and so strange, it might
+almost have come wandering down from the century when Michel Angelo
+lived.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right," he said. "I have been living in a dream. It has all
+vanished. I have kept no memorial of her presence, nothing to
+perpetuate the most beautiful of lives."</p>
+
+<p>Before I could answer, the door came softly open, and there stood in the
+doorway a small white figure, holding aloft a lighted taper of pure
+alabaster. It was Marian in her little night-dress, with the loose, blue
+wrapper trailing behind her, let go in the effort to hold carefully the
+doll, Susan Halliday, robed also for the night.</p>
+
+<p>"May I come in?" said the child.</p>
+
+<p>Kenmure was motionless at first, then, looking over his shoulder, said
+merely, "What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Janet said," continued Marian, in her clear and methodical way, "that
+my mother was up in heaven, and would help God hear my prayers at any
+rate; but if I pleased, I could come and say them by you."</p>
+
+<p>A shudder passed over Kenmure; then he turned away, and put his hands
+over his eyes. She waited for no answer, but, putting down the
+candlestick, in her wonted careful manner, upon a chair, she began to
+climb upon the bed, lifting laboriously one little rosy foot, then
+another, still dragging after her, with great effort, the doll. Nestling
+at her father's breast, I saw her kneel.</p>
+
+<p>"Once my mother put her arm round me, when I said my prayers." She made
+this remark, under her breath, less as a suggestion, it seemed, than as
+the simple statement of a fact.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly I saw Kenmure's arm move, and grasp her with that strong and
+gentle touch of his that I had so often noticed in the studio,&mdash;a touch
+that seemed quiet as the approach of fate, and as resistless. I knew him
+well enough to understand that iron adoption.</p>
+
+<p>He drew her toward him, her soft hair was on his breast, she looked
+fearlessly in his eyes, and I could hear the little prayer proceeding,
+yet in so low a whisper that I could not catch one word. She was
+infinitely solemn at such times, the darling; and there was always
+something in her low, clear tone, through all her prayings and
+philosophizings, which was strangely like her mother's voice. Sometimes
+she seemed to stop and ask a question, and at every answer I could see
+her father's arm tighten, and the iron girdle grow more close.</p>
+
+<p>The moments passed, the voices grew lower yet, the doll slid to the
+ground. Marian had drifted away upon a vaster ocean than that whose
+music lulled her from without,&mdash;upon that sea whose waves are dreams.
+The night was wearing on, the lights gleamed from the anchored vessels,
+the bay rippled serenely against the low sea-wall, the breeze blew
+gently in. Marian's baby breathing grew deeper and more tranquil; and as
+all the sorrows of the weary earth might be imagined to exhale
+themselves in spring through the breath of violets, so it seemed as if
+it might be with Kenmure's burdened heart. By degrees the strong man's
+deeper respirations mingled with those of the child, and their two
+separate beings seemed merged and solved into identity, as they
+slumbered, breast to breast, beneath the golden and quiet stars. I
+passed by without awaking them; I knew that the artist had attained his
+dream.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_RELIGIOUS_SIDE_OF_THE_ITALIAN_QUESTION" id="THE_RELIGIOUS_SIDE_OF_THE_ITALIAN_QUESTION"></a>THE RELIGIOUS SIDE OF THE ITALIAN QUESTION.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<p>I have of late frequently been asked by my English friends why it is
+that I decline to return to my country, and to associate my own efforts
+for the moral and political advancement of Italy with those of her
+governing classes. "The amnesty has opened up a path for the <i>legal</i>
+dissemination of your ideas," they tell me. "By taking the place already
+repeatedly offered you among the representatives of the people, you
+would secure to those who hold the helm of the state the support of the
+whole Republican party. Do you not, by throwing the weight of your name
+and influence on the side of the malcontents, increase the difficulties
+of the government, and prolong the fatal want of moral and political
+unity, without which the mere material fact of union is barren, and
+unproductive of benefit to the people?"</p>
+
+<p>The question is asked by serious men, who wish my country well, and is
+therefore deserving of a serious answer.</p>
+
+<p>Before treating the personal matter, however, let me say that, since
+1859, the Republican party has done precisely what my English friends
+required it to do. The Italian Republicans have actually assisted and
+upheld the government with an abnegation worthy of all
+praise,&mdash;sacrificing even their right of Apostolate to the great idea of
+Italian unity. Perceiving that the nation was determined to give
+monarchy the benefit of a trial, they have&mdash;in that reverence for the
+national will which is the first duty of Republicans&mdash;patiently awaited
+its results, and endured every form of misgovernment rather than afford
+a pretext to those in power for the non-fulfilment of their declared
+intention of initiating a war to regain our own territory and true
+frontier,&mdash;a war without which, as they well knew, the permanent
+security and dignity of Italy were impossible, and which, had it been
+conducted from a truly national point of view, would have wrought the
+moral redemption of our people.</p>
+
+<p>The monarchy, however, which, as I pointed out in my article on "The
+Republican Alliance," had had five years to prepare, and was in a
+position to take the field with thirty-five thousand regular troops,
+one hundred thousand mobilized National Guards, thirty thousand
+volunteers under Garibaldi, and the whole of Italy ready to act as
+reserve, and make any sacrifices in blood or money, abruptly broke off
+the war after the unqualifiable disasters of Custozza and Lissa, at a
+signal from France,&mdash;basely abandoning our true frontier, the heroic
+Trentino,&mdash;and accepted Venice as an alms scornfully flung to us by the
+man of the 2d of December.</p>
+
+<p>I may be told that a people of twenty-four millions who tamely submit to
+dishonor deserve it.</p>
+
+<p>I admit it; but it must not be forgotten that our masses are uneducated,
+and that it is the natural tendency of the uneducated to accept their
+rulers as their guides, and to govern their own conduct by the example
+of their <i>soi-disant</i> superiors; and I assert that, if our people have
+no consciousness of their great destiny, nor sense of their true power
+and mission,&mdash;if, while twenty-four millions of Italians are at the
+present day grouped around, I will not say the <i>conception</i> of unity,
+but the mere unstable <i>fact</i> of union, the great soul of Italy still
+lies prostrate in the tomb dug for her three centuries ago by the Papacy
+and the Empire,&mdash;the cause is to be found in the immorality and
+corruption of our rulers.</p>
+
+<p>The true life of a people must be sought in the ruling idea or
+conception by which it is governed and directed.</p>
+
+<p>The true idea of a nation implies the consciousness of a common <i>aim</i>,
+and the fraternal association and concentration of all the vital forces
+of the country towards the realization of that aim.</p>
+
+<p>The national aim is indicated by the past tradition, and confirmed by
+the present conscience, of the country.</p>
+
+<p>The national aim once ascertained, it becomes the basis of the sovereign
+power, and the criterion of judgment with regard to the acts of the
+citizens.</p>
+
+<p>Every act tending to promote the national aim is good; every act tending
+to a departure from that aim is evil.</p>
+
+<p>The moral law is supreme. The religion of duty forms the link between
+the nation and humanity; the source of its <i>right</i>, and the sign of its
+place and value in humanity.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Such are the essential characteristics of what we term a nation at the
+present day. Where these are wanting, there exists but an aggregate of
+families, temporarily united for the purpose of diminishing the ills of
+life, and loosely bound together by past habits or interests, which are
+destined, sooner or later, to clash. All intellectual or economic
+development among them,&mdash;unregulated by a great conception supreme over
+every selfish interest,&mdash;instead of being equally diffused over the
+various members of the national family, leads to the gradual formation
+of educated or financial <i>castes</i>, but obtains for the nation itself
+neither recognized function, position, dignity, nor glory among foreign
+peoples.</p>
+
+<p>These things, which are true of all peoples, are still more markedly so
+of a people emerging from a prolonged and deathlike stupor into new
+life. Other nations earnestly watch its every step. If its advance is
+illumined by the signs of a high mission, and its first manifestations
+sanctified by the baptism of a great <i>principle</i>, other nations will
+surround the new collective being with affection and hope, and be ready
+to follow it upon the path assigned to it by God. If they discover in it
+no signs of any noble inspiration, ruling moral conception, or potent
+future, they will learn to despise it, and to regard its territory as a
+new field for a predatory policy, and direct or indirect domination.</p>
+
+<p>Tradition has marked out and defined the characteristics of a high
+mission more distinctly in Italy than elsewhere. We alone, among the
+nations that have expired in the past, have twice arisen in resurrection
+and given new life to Europe. The innate tendency of the Italian mind
+always to harmonize <i>thought</i> and <i>action</i> confirms the prophecy of
+history, and points out the <i>r&ocirc;le</i> of Italy in the world to be a work
+of moral unification,&mdash;the utterance of the synthetic word of
+civilization.</p>
+
+<p>Italy is a religion.</p>
+
+<p>And if we look only to the <i>immediate</i> national aim, and the inevitable
+consequences that must follow the complete constitution of Italy as a
+nation, we see that to no people in Europe has been assigned a higher
+office in the fulfilment of the educational design, to the evolution of
+which Providence guides humanity from epoch to epoch. Our unity will be
+of itself a potent <i>initiative</i> in the world. The mere fact of our
+existence as a nation will carry with it an important modification of
+the external and internal life of Europe.</p>
+
+<p>Had we regained Venice through a war directed as justice and the
+exigencies of the case required, instead of basely submitting to the
+humiliation of receiving it from the hands of a foreign despot, we
+should have dissolved two empires, and called into existence a
+Slavo-Magyaro-Teutonic federation along the Danube, and a
+Slavo-Hellenic-Rouman federation in the east of Europe.</p>
+
+<p>We shall not regain Rome without dissolving the Papacy, and proclaiming,
+for the benefit of all humanity, that inviolability of conscience which
+Protestantism achieved for a fraction of Europe only, and confined
+within Biblical limits.</p>
+
+<p>Great ideas make great peoples, and the sense of the enormous power
+which is an inseparable condition of the existence of our Italy as a
+nation should have sufficed to make us great. That sense, however,&mdash;God
+alone knows the grief with which I write it,&mdash;that sense with us is
+wanting.</p>
+
+<p>And now a word as to the amnesty.</p>
+
+<p>Were it my nature to allow any personal considerations to interfere
+where the welfare of my country is concerned, I might answer that none
+who know me would expect me to give the lie to the whole of my past
+life, and sully the few years left to me by accepting an offer of
+<i>oblivion</i> and <i>pardon</i> for having loved Italy above all earthly things,
+and preached and striven for her unity when all others regarded it as a
+dream.</p>
+
+<p>But my purpose in the present writing is far other than self-defence;
+and the sequel will show that, even were the sacrifice of the dignity of
+my last years possible, it would be useless.</p>
+
+<p>My past, present, and future labors towards the moral and political
+regeneration of my country have been, are, and will be governed by a
+religious idea.</p>
+
+<p>The past, present, and future of our rulers have been, are, and will be
+led astray by materialism.</p>
+
+<p>Now the religious question sums up and dominates every other. Political
+questions are necessarily secondary and derivative.</p>
+
+<p>They who earnestly believe in the supremacy of the moral law as the sole
+legitimate source of all authority&mdash;in a religion of duty, of which
+politics should be the application&mdash;<i>cannot</i>, through any amount of
+personal abnegation, act in concert with a government based upon the
+worship of temporary and material interest.</p>
+
+<p>Our rulers have no great ruling conception,&mdash;no belief in the supremacy
+of the moral law,&mdash;no just notion of life, nor of the human unity,&mdash;no
+belief in a divinely appointed goal which it is the <i>duty</i> of mankind to
+reach through labor and sacrifice. They are materialists, and the
+logical consequence of their want of all faith in God and his law are
+the substitution of the idea of <i>interest</i> for the idea of <i>duty</i>,&mdash;of a
+paltry notion of <i>tactics</i>, for the fearless affirmation of the
+truth,&mdash;of opportunity, for principle.</p>
+
+<p>It is for this that they protest against, without resisting, wrong,&mdash;for
+this that they have abandoned the straight road to wander in tortuous
+by-paths, fascinated by the thought of displaying <i>state-craft</i>, and
+forgetting that it was through such paths we first descended into
+slavery. It is for this that our government has reduced Italy to the
+condition of a French prefecture, and that our parliamentary opposition
+copies the wretched tactics of the <i>Left</i> in the French Chamber, which
+prepared the way, during the Restoration, for the present corruption,
+degradation, and enslavement of their country.</p>
+
+<p>These things, I repeat, are <i>consequences</i>, not causes. We may change as
+we will the individuals at the head of the government; the system itself
+being based upon a false <i>principle</i>, the fatal idea will govern them.
+They <i>cannot</i> righteously direct the new life of the Italian people, and
+redeem them from a profound unconscious immorality of ancient date.</p>
+
+<p>The present duty of the democratic party in Italy, then,&mdash;since they
+cannot serve God and Mammon,&mdash;is to educate the people; and, remembering
+that the basis of all education is truth, to endeavor to prove to them
+that the actual political impotence and corruption of Italy are derived
+from two causes which may be summed up in one,&mdash;we have no religion, and
+we have set up a negation in its place.</p>
+
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<p>On the one side we have&mdash;as our only form and semblance of religion&mdash;the
+Papacy.</p>
+
+<p>I remember to have written, more than thirty years ago, when none other
+dared openly to venture on the problem,&mdash;when the boldest contented
+themselves with whispering of reforms in Church discipline, and those
+writers who, like Gioberti, set themselves up as philosophers, thought
+proper, as a matter of tactics, to caress the Utopia of an Italian
+primacy, intrusted to I know not what impossible revival of
+Catholicism,&mdash;I remember to have written then that both the Papacy and
+Catholicism were things extinct, and that their death was a consequence
+of <i>quite another death</i>.</p>
+
+<p>I spoke of the dogma which was the foundation of both.</p>
+
+<p>Years have confirmed what I then declared. The Papacy is now a corpse
+beyond all power of galvanization. It is the lying mockery of a
+religion,&mdash;a source of perennial corruption and immorality among the
+nations, and most fatally such to our own, upon whose very soul weighs
+the incubus and example of that lie. But at the present day we either
+know or ought to know the cause of this.</p>
+
+<p>All contact with the Papacy is contact with death, carrying the taint of
+its corruption over rising Italy, and educating her masses in
+falsehood,&mdash;not because cardinals, bishops, and monks traded in
+indulgences three centuries ago,&mdash;not because this or that Pope
+trafficked in cowardly concessions to princes, or in the matrimony of
+his own bastards with the bastards of dukes, petty tyrants, or kings, in
+order to obtain some patch of territory or temporal dominion,&mdash;not
+because they have governed and persecuted men according to their
+arbitrary will; but because they <i>cannot</i> do other, even if they would.</p>
+
+<p>These evils and these sins are not <i>causes</i>, but <i>consequences</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Even admitting the impossible hypothesis that the guilty individuals
+should be converted;&mdash;that the Jansenists, or other Reformers, should
+recall the misguided Popes to the charity and humility of their ancient
+way of life,&mdash;they could only cause the Papacy to die with greater
+dignity;&mdash;it can never again be what once it was, the ruler and director
+of the conscience of the peoples.</p>
+
+<p>The mission of the Papacy&mdash;a great and holy mission, whatever the
+fanatics of rebellion at the present day, falsifying history and
+calumniating the soul and mind of humanity in the past, may say to the
+contrary&mdash;is fulfilled. It was fulfilled six centuries ago; and no power
+of genius, no miracle of will, can avail to revive it. Innocent III. was
+the last true Pope. He was the last who endeavored to make the supremacy
+of the moral law of the epoch over the brute force of the temporal
+governments&mdash;of the spirit over matter, of God over C&aelig;sar&mdash;an organic
+social <i>fact</i>.</p>
+
+<p>And such was in truth the mission of the Papacy,&mdash;the secret of its
+power, and of the willing adherence and submission yielded to it by
+humanity for eight hundred years. That mission was incarnated in one of
+the greatest of Italians in genius, virtue, and iron strength of
+will,&mdash;Gregory VII.,&mdash;and yet he failed to prolong it. One hundred and
+fifty years afterwards, the gigantic attempt had become but the dim
+record of a past never to return. With the successors of Innocent III.
+began the decline of the Papacy; it ceased to infuse life into humanity.
+A hundred years later, and the Church had become scandalously corrupt in
+the higher spheres of its hierarchy, persecuting and superstitious in
+the lower. A hundred years later it was the ally, and in one hundred
+more the servant of C&aelig;sar, and had lost one half of Europe.</p>
+
+<p>From that time forward it has unceasingly declined, until it has sunk to
+the thing we now behold it;&mdash;disinherited of all power of inspiration
+over civilization; the impotent negation of all movement, of all
+liberty, of all development of science or life; destitute of all sense
+of duty, power of sacrifice, or faith in its own destiny; held up by
+foreign bayonets; trembling before the face of the peoples, and forsaken
+by humanity, which is seeking the path of progress elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>The Papacy has lost all moral basis, aim, sanction, and source of action
+at the present day. Its source of action in the past was derived from a
+conception of heaven since changed,&mdash;from a notion of life since proved
+imperfect,&mdash;from a conception of the moral law inferior to that of the
+new epoch in course of initiation,&mdash;from a solution of the eternal
+problem of the relation between man and God since rejected by the human
+heart, intellect, conscience, and tradition.</p>
+
+<p>The dogma itself which the Church once represented is exhausted and
+consumed. It no longer inspires faith, no longer has power to unite or
+direct the human race.</p>
+
+<p>The time of a new dogma is approaching, which will re-link earth with
+heaven in a vaster synthesis, fruitful of new and harmonious life.</p>
+
+<p>It is for this that the Papacy expires. And it is our duty to declare
+this, without hypocritical reticence, or formul&aelig; of speech, which,
+feigning to attack and venerate at one and the same time, do but parcel
+out, not solve the problem; because the future cannot be fully revealed
+until the past is entombed, and by weakly prolonging the delay we run
+the risk of introducing gangrene into the wound.</p>
+
+<p>The formula of life and of the law of life from which the Papacy derived
+its existence and its mission was that of the <i>fall</i> of man and his
+redemption. The logical and inevitable consequences of this formula
+were:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The doctrine of the necessity of <i>mediation</i> between man and God;</p>
+
+<p>The belief in a <i>direct</i>, <i>immediate</i>, and <i>immutable</i> revelation, and
+hence in a privileged class,&mdash;naturally destined to centralize in one
+individual,&mdash;the office of which was to preserve that revelation
+inviolate;</p>
+
+<p>The inefficacy of man's own efforts to achieve his own redemption, and
+the consequent substitution of unlimited <i>faith</i> in the <i>Mediator</i>, for
+works,&mdash;hence <i>grace</i> and <i>predestination</i> more or less explicitly
+substituted for <i>free-will</i>;</p>
+
+<p>The separation of the human race into the <i>elect</i> and the <i>non-elect</i>;</p>
+
+<p>The <i>salvation</i> of the one, and the eternal <i>damnation</i> of the other;
+and, above all,</p>
+
+<p>The duality between earth and heaven, between the <i>ideal</i> and the
+<i>real</i>, between the <i>aim</i> set before man and a world condemned to
+anathema by the <i>fall</i>, and incapable, through the imperfection of its
+finite elements, of affording him the means of realizing that aim.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, the religious synthesis which succeeded Polytheism did not
+contemplate, nor did the historical succession of the epochs allow it to
+contemplate, any conception of life embracing more than the
+<i>individual</i>; it offered the individual a means of salvation <i>in despite
+of</i> the egotism, tyranny, and corruption by which he is surrounded on
+earth, and which no individual effort could hope to overcome; it came to
+declare to him, <i>The world is adverse to thee; renounce the world and
+put thy faith in Christ; this will lead thee to heaven</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The new formula of life and its law&mdash;unknown at that day, but revealed
+to us in our own day by our knowledge of the tradition of humanity,
+confirmed by the voice of individual conscience, by the intuition of
+genius and the grand results of scientific research&mdash;may be summed up in
+the single word <i>Progress</i>,<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> which we now know to be, by Divine
+decree, the inherent tendency of human nature,&mdash;whether manifested in
+the individual or the collective being,&mdash;and destined, more or less
+speedily, but inevitably, to be evolved in time and space.</p>
+
+<p>The logical consequences of the new formula are:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The substitution of the idea of a <i>law</i> for the idea of a
+<i>Mediator</i>;&mdash;the idea of a <i>continuous</i> educational revelation for that
+of an <i>immediate</i> arbitrary revelation;</p>
+
+<p>The apostolate of genius and virtue, and of the great collective
+intuitions of the peoples, when roused to enthusiastic action in the
+service of a truth, substituted for the <i>privilege</i> of a priestly
+<i>class</i>;</p>
+
+<p>The sanctity of tradition, as the depository of the progress already
+achieved; and the sanctity of individual conscience, alike the pledge
+and the means of all future progress;</p>
+
+<p><i>Works</i>, sanctified by faith, substituted for mere faith alone, as the
+criterion of merit and means of salvation.</p>
+
+<p>The new formula of life cancels the dogma of <i>grace</i>, which is the
+negation of that capacity of perfectibility granted to <i>all</i> men; as
+well as that of <i>predestination</i>, which is the negation of <i>free-will</i>,
+and that of eternity of punishment, which is the negation of the divine
+element existing in every human soul.</p>
+
+<p>The new formula substitutes the conception of the slow, continuous
+progress of the human <i>Ego</i> throughout an indefinite series of
+existences, for the idea of an impossible perfection to be achieved in
+the course of one brief existence; it presents an absolutely, new view
+of the mission of man upon earth, and puts an end to the antagonism
+between earth and heaven, by teaching us that this world is an abode
+given to man <i>wherein</i> he is bound to merit salvation, by his own works,
+and hence enforces the necessity of endeavoring, by thought, by action,
+and by sacrifice, to transform the world,&mdash;the duty of realizing our
+ideal here below, as far as in us lies, for the benefit of future
+generations, and of reducing to an earthly <i>fact</i> as much as may be of
+the <i>kingdom</i>&mdash;the conception&mdash;of God.</p>
+
+<p>The religious synthesis which is slowly but infallibly taking the place
+of the synthesis of the past comprehends a new term,&mdash;the continuous
+<i>collective</i> life of humanity; and this alone is sufficient to change
+the <i>aim</i>, the <i>method</i>, and the moral <i>law</i> of our existence.</p>
+
+<p>All links with heaven broken, and useless to the earth, which is ready
+to hail the proclamation of a new dogma, the Papacy has no longer any
+<i>raison d'&ecirc;tre</i>. Once useful and holy, it is now a lie, a source only of
+corruption and immorality.</p>
+
+<p>Once useful and holy, I say, because, had it not been for the unity of
+moral life in which we were held for more than eight centuries by the
+Papacy, we should not now have been prepared to realize the new unity to
+come; had it not been for the dogma of human equality in heaven, we
+should not now have been prepared to proclaim the dogma of human
+equality on earth. And, I declare it a lie and a source of immorality at
+the present day, because every great institution becomes such if it
+seeks to perpetuate its authority after its mission is fulfilled. The
+substitution of the enslavement for the slaughter of the conquered foe
+was a step towards progress, as was the substitution of servitude for
+slavery. The formation of the <i>Bourgeoise</i> class was a progress from
+servitude. But he who at the present day should attempt to recede
+towards slavery and servitude, and presumptuously endeavor to perpetuate
+the exclusion of the proletarian from the rights and benefits of the
+social organization, would prove himself the enemy of all civilization,
+past and future, and a teacher of immorality.</p>
+
+<p>It is therefore the duty of all those amongst us who have it at heart to
+win <i>the city of the future</i> and the triumph of truth, to make war, not
+only upon the temporal power,&mdash;who should dare deny that to the admitted
+representative of God on earth?&mdash;but upon the Papacy itself. It is
+therefore our duty to go back to the dogma upon which the institution is
+founded, and to show that that dogma has become insufficient and unequal
+to the moral wants, aspirations, and dawning faith of humanity.</p>
+
+<p>They who at the present day attack the <i>Prince</i> of Rome, and yet profess
+to venerate the <i>Pope</i>, and to be sincere Catholics, are either guilty
+of flagrant contradiction, or are hypocrites.</p>
+
+<p>They who profess to reduce the problem to the realization of <i>a free
+Church in a free State</i> are either influenced by a fatal timidity, or
+destitute of every spark of moral conviction.</p>
+
+<p>The separation of Church and State is good as a weapon of defence
+against the corruptions of a Church no longer worthy the name. It
+is&mdash;like all the programmes of mere liberty&mdash;an implicit declaration
+that the institution against which we are compelled to invoke either our
+individual or collective rights is corrupt, and destined to perish.</p>
+
+<p>Individual or collective rights may be justly invoked against the
+authority of a religious institution as a remedial measure in a period
+of transition; just as it may occasionally be necessary to isolate a
+special locality for a given time, in order to protect others from
+infection. But the cause must be explicitly declared. By declaring it,
+you educate the country to look beyond the temporary measure,&mdash;to look
+forward to a return to a normal state of things, and to study the
+positive organic <i>principle</i> destined to govern that normal state. By
+keeping silence, you accustom the mass to disjoin the <i>moral</i> from the
+political, theory from practice, the ideal from the real, heaven from
+earth.</p>
+
+<p>When once all belief in the past synthesis shall be extinct, and faith
+in the new synthesis established, the State itself will be elected into
+a Church; it will incarnate in itself a religious principle, and become
+the representative of the moral law in the various manifestations of
+life.</p>
+
+<p>So long as it is separate from the State, the Church will always
+conspire to reconquer power over it in the interest of the past dogma.
+If separated from all collective and avowed faith by a negative policy,
+such as that adopted by the atheistic and indifferent French Parliament,
+the State will fall a prey to the anarchical doctrine of the sovereignty
+of the individual, and the worship of interest; it will sink into
+egotism and the adoration of the <i>accomplished fact</i>, and hence,
+inevitably, into despotism, as a remedy for the evils of anarchy.</p>
+
+<p>For an example of this among modern nations, we have only to look at
+France.</p>
+
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<p>On the other hand, in opposition to the Papacy, but itself a source of
+no less corruption, stands <i>materialism</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Materialism, the philosophy of all expiring epochs and peoples in decay,
+is, historically speaking, an old phenomenon, inseparable from the death
+of a religious dogma. It is the reaction of those superficial intellects
+which, incapable of taking a comprehensive view of the life of humanity,
+and tracing and deducing its essential characteristics from tradition,
+deny the religious ideal itself, instead of simply affirming the death
+of one of its incarnations.</p>
+
+<p>Luther compared the human mind to a drunken peasant, who, falling from
+one side of his horse, and set straight on his seat by one desirous of
+helping him, instantly falls again on the other side. The simile&mdash;if
+limited to periods of transition&mdash;is most just. The youth of Italy,
+suddenly emancipated from the servile education of more than three
+centuries, and intoxicated with their moral liberty, find themselves in
+the presence of a Church destitute of all mission, virtue, love for the
+people, or adoration of truth or progress,&mdash;destitute even of faith in
+itself. They see that the existing dogma is in flagrant contradiction of
+the ruling idea that governs all the aspirations of the epoch, and that
+its conception of divinity is inferior to that revealed by science,
+human conscience, philosophy, and the improved conception of life
+acquired by the study of the tradition of humanity, unknown to man
+previously to the discovery of his Eastern origin. Therefore, in
+order&mdash;as they believe&mdash;to establish their moral freedom radically and
+forever, they reject alike all idea of a church, a dogma, and a God.</p>
+
+<p>Philosophically speaking, the unreflecting exaggerations of men who have
+just risen up in rebellion do not portend any serious damage to human
+progress. These errors are a mere repetition of what has always taken
+place at the decay and death of every dogma, and will&mdash;as they always
+have done&mdash;sooner or later wear away. The day will come when our Italian
+youth will discover that, just as reasonably as they, not content with
+denying the Christian dogma, proceed to deny the existence of a God, and
+the religious life of humanity, their ancestors might have proceeded,
+from their denial and rejection of the feudal system, to the rejection
+of every form of social organization, or have declared art extinct
+forever during the transition period when the Greek form of art had
+ceased to correspond to those aspirations of the human mind which
+prepared the way for the cathedrals of the Middle Ages and the Christian
+school of art.</p>
+
+<p>Art, society, religion,&mdash;all these are faculties inseparable from human
+life itself, progressive as life itself, and eternal as life itself.
+Every epoch of humanity has had and will have its own social, artistic,
+and religious <i>expression</i>. In every epoch man will ask of tradition and
+of conscience whence he came, and to what goal he is bound; he will ask
+through what paths that goal is to be reached, and seek to solve the
+problem suggested by the existence within him of a conception of the
+Infinite, and of an ideal impossible of realization in the finite
+conditions of his earthly existence. He will, from time to time, adopt a
+different solution, in proportion as the horizon of tradition is
+progressively enlarged, and the human conscience enlightened; but
+assuredly it will never be a mere negation.</p>
+
+<p>Philosophically speaking, materialism is based upon a singular but
+constant confusion of two things radically distinct;&mdash;life, and its
+successive modes of manifestation; the <i>Ego</i>, and the organs by which it
+is revealed in a visible form to the external world, the non-<i>Ego</i>. The
+men who, having succeeded in analyzing the <i>instruments</i> by means of
+which life is made manifest in a series of successive finite phenomena,
+imagine that they have acquired a proof of the <i>materiality</i> of life
+itself, resemble the poor fool, who, having chemically analyzed the ink
+with which a poem was written, imagines he has penetrated the secret of
+the genius that composed it.</p>
+
+<p>Life,&mdash;thought,&mdash;the initiative power of motion,&mdash;the conception of the
+Infinite, of the Eternal, of God, which is inborn in the human
+mind,&mdash;the aspiration towards an ideal impossible of realization in the
+brief stage of our earthly existence,&mdash;the instinct of free will,&mdash;all
+that constitutes the mysterious link within us to a world beyond the
+visible,&mdash;defy all analysis by a philosophy exclusively experimental,
+and impotent to overpass the sphere of the secondary laws of being.</p>
+
+<p>If materialists choose to reject the teachings of tradition, the voice
+of human conscience and intuition, to limit themselves to the mechanism
+of analytical observation, and substitute their narrow, undirected
+physiology for biology and psychology,&mdash;if then, finding themselves
+unable by that imperfect method to comprehend the primary laws and
+origin of things, they childishly deny the existence of such laws, and
+declare all humanity before their time to have been deluded and
+incapable,&mdash;so be it. Nor should I, had Italy been a nation for half a
+century, have regarded their doctrines as fraught with any real danger.
+Humanity will not abandon its appointed path for them; and to hear
+them&mdash;in an age in which the discoveries of all great thinkers combine
+to demonstrate the existence of an intelligent preordained law of unity
+and progress&mdash;spouting materialism in the name of science, because they
+have skimmed a volume of Vogt, or attended a lecture by Moleschott,
+might rather move one to amusement than anger.</p>
+
+<p>But Italy is not a nation; she is only in the way to become one. And the
+present is therefore a moment of grave importance; for, even as the
+first examples set before infancy, so the first lessons taught to a
+people emerging from a long past of error and corruption, and hesitating
+as to the choice of its future, may be of serious import. The doctrines
+of federalism, which, if preached in France at the present day, would be
+but an innocent Utopia, threatened the dissolution of the country during
+the first years of the Revolution. They laid bare the path for foreign
+conquest, and roused the <i>Mountain</i> to bloody and terrible means of
+repression.</p>
+
+<p>Such for us are the wretched doctrines of which I speak. Fate has set
+before us a great and holy mission, which, if we fail to accomplish it
+now, may be postponed for half a century. Every delay, every error, may
+be fatal. And the people through whom we have to work are uneducated,
+liable to accept any error which wears a semblance of war against the
+past, and in danger, from their long habit of slavery, of relapsing
+into egotism.</p>
+
+<p>Now the tendency of the doctrines of materialism is to lead the mass to
+egotism through the path of interest. Therefore it grieves me to hear
+them preached by many worthy but inconsiderate young men amongst us; and
+I conjure them, by all they hold most sacred, to meditate deeply the
+moral consequences of the doctrines they preach, and especially to study
+their effect in the case of a neighboring nation, which carried negation
+to the extreme during the past century, and which we behold at the
+present day utterly corrupted by the worship of temporary and material
+interest, disinherited of all noble activity, and sunk in the
+degradation and infamy of slavery.</p>
+
+<p>Every error is a crime in those whose duty it is to watch over the
+cradle of a nation.</p>
+
+<p>Either we must admit the idea of a God,&mdash;of the moral law, which is an
+emanation from him,&mdash;and the idea of human duty, freely accepted by
+mankind, as the practical consequence of that law,&mdash;or we must admit the
+idea of a ruling force of things, and its practical consequence, the
+worship of individual force or success, the omnipotence of <i>fact</i>. From
+this dilemma there is no escape.</p>
+
+<p>Either we must accept the sovereignty of an <i>aim</i> prescribed by
+conscience, in which all the individuals composing a nation are bound to
+unite, and the pursuit of which constitutes the <i>nationality</i> of a given
+people among the many of which humanity is composed,&mdash;an aim recognized
+by them all, and superior to them all, and therefore <i>religious</i>; or we
+must accept the sovereignty of the <i>right</i>, arbitrarily defined, of each
+nation, and its practical consequences,&mdash;the pursuit by each individual
+of his own interest and his own <i>well-being</i>, the satisfaction of his
+own desires,&mdash;and the impossibility of any sovereign <i>duty</i>, to which
+all the citizens, from those who govern down to the humblest of the
+governed, owe obedience and sacrifice.</p>
+
+<p>Which of these doctrines will be most potent to lead our nation to high
+things? Let us not forget that, although the educated, intellectual, and
+virtuous may be willing to admit that the <i>well-being</i> of the individual
+should be founded&mdash;even at the cost of sacrifice&mdash;upon the <i>well-being</i>
+of the many, the majority will, as they always have done, understand
+their <i>well-being</i> to mean their positive satisfaction or enjoyment;
+they will reject the notion of sacrifice as painful, and endeavor to
+realize their own happiness, even to the injury of others. They will
+seek it one day from liberty, the next from the deceitful promises of a
+despot; but the practical result of encouraging them to strive for the
+realization of their own happiness as a right, will inevitably be to
+lead them to the mere gratification of their own individual egotism.</p>
+
+<p>If you reject all Supreme law, all Providential guidance, all aim, all
+obligation imposed by the belief in a mission towards humanity, you have
+no right to prescribe <i>your</i> conception of <i>well-being</i> to others, as
+worthier or better. You have no certain basis, no principle upon which
+to found a system of education; you have nothing left but force, if you
+are strong enough to impose it. Such was the method adopted by the
+French Revolutionists, and they, in their turn, succumbed to the force
+of others, without knowing in the name of what to protest. And you would
+have to do the same. Without God, you must either accept anarchy as the
+normal condition of things,&mdash;and this is impossible,&mdash;or you must seek
+your authority in the <i>force</i> of this or that individual, and thus open
+the way to despotism and tyranny.</p>
+
+<p>But what then becomes of the idea of progress?&mdash;what of the conception
+we have lately gained from historic science of the gradual but
+infallible education of humanity,&mdash;of the link of <i>solidary</i> ascending
+life which unites succeeding generations,&mdash;of the duty of sacrificing,
+if need be, the present generation to the elevation and morality of the
+generations of the future,&mdash;of the pre-eminence of the fatherland over
+individuals, and the certainty that their devotion and martyrdom will,
+in the fulness of time, advance the honor, greatness, or virtue of their
+nation?</p>
+
+<p>There are <i>materialists</i>, illogical and carried away by the impulses of
+a heart superior to their doctrines, who do both feel and act upon this
+worship of the ideal; but <i>materialism</i> denies it. Materialism, as a
+doctrine, only recognizes in the universe a finite and determinate
+quantity of matter, gifted with a definite number of properties, and
+susceptible of modification, but not of progress; in which certain
+productive forces act by the fortuitous agglomeration of circumstances
+not to be predicated or foreseen; or through the necessary succession of
+causes and effects,&mdash;of events inevitable and independent of all human
+action.</p>
+
+<p>Materialism admits neither the intervention of any creative
+intelligence, Divine initiative, nor human free-will; by denying the
+law-giving Intellect, it denies all intelligent Providential law; and
+the philosophy of the squirrel in its cage, which men term <i>Pantheism</i>
+at the present day, by confounding the <i>subject</i> and the <i>object</i> in
+one, cancels alike the <i>Ego</i> and non-<i>Ego</i>, good and evil, God and man,
+and, consequently, all individual mission or free-will. The wretched
+doctrine, recognizing no higher historic formula than the necessary
+alternation of vicissitudes, condemns humanity to tread eternally the
+same circle, being incapable of comprehending the conception of the
+spiral path of indefinite progress upon which humanity traces its
+gradual ascent towards an ideal beyond.</p>
+
+<p>Strange contradiction! Men whose aim it is to combat the practice of
+egotism instilled into the Italian people by tyranny, to inspire them
+with a sacred devotion to the fatherland, and make of them a great
+nation, the artificer of the progress of humanity, present as the first
+intellectual food of this people now awakening to new life, whose whole
+strength lies in their good instincts and virginity of intellect, a
+theory the ultimate consequences of which are to establish egotism upon
+a basis of right!</p>
+
+<p>They call upon their people worthily to carry on the grand traditions of
+their past, when all around them&mdash;popes, princes, military leaders,
+<i>literati</i>, and the servile herd&mdash;have either insolently trampled
+liberty under foot, or deserted its cause in cowardly indifference; and
+they preach to them a doctrine which deprives them of every pledge of
+future progress, every stimulus to affection, every noble aspiration
+towards sacrifice,&mdash;they take from them the faith that inspires
+confidence in victory, and renders even the defeat of to-day fruitful of
+triumph on the morrow. The same men who urge upon them the duty of
+shedding their blood for an idea begin by declaring to them: <i>There is
+no hope of any future for you. Faith in immortality&mdash;the lesson
+transmitted to you by all past humanity&mdash;is a falsehood; a breath of
+air, or trifling want of equilibrium in the animal functions, destroys
+you wholly and forever. There is even no certainty that the results of
+your labors will endure; there is no Providential law or design,
+consequently no possible theory of the future; you are but building up
+to-day what any unforeseen fact, blind force, or fortuitous circumstance
+may overthrow to-morrow.</i></p>
+
+<p>They teach these brothers of theirs, whom they desire to elevate and
+ennoble, that they are but dust,&mdash;a necessary, unconscious secretion of
+I know not what material substance; that the <i>thought</i> of a Kepler or
+Dante is <i>dust</i>, or rather <i>phosphorus</i>; that genius, from Prometheus to
+Jesus, brought down no divine spark from heaven; that the <i>moral law</i>,
+free-will, merit, and the consequent progress of the <i>Ego</i>, are
+illusions; that events are successively our masters,&mdash;inexorable,
+irresponsible, and insuperable to human will.</p>
+
+<p>And they see not that they thus confirm that servile submission to the
+<i>accomplished fact</i>, that doctrine of <i>opportunity</i>, that bastard
+Machiavellism, that worship of temporary interests, and that
+indifference to every great idea, which find expression in our country
+at the present day in the betrayal of national duty by our higher
+classes, and in the stupid resignation of our masses.</p>
+
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<p>I invoke the rising&mdash;and I should die consoled, even in exile, could I
+see the first signs of its advent, but this I dare not hope&mdash;I invoke
+the rising of a truly Italian school;&mdash;a school which, comprehending the
+causes of the downfall of the Papacy, and the impotence of the merely
+negative doctrine which our Italian youth have borrowed from superficial
+French materialists and the German copyists, should elevate itself above
+both, and come forward to announce the approaching and inevitable
+religious transformation which will put an end to the existing divorce
+between thought and action, and to the crisis of egotism and immorality
+through which Europe is passing.</p>
+
+<p>I invoke the rising of a school destined to prepare the way for the
+<i>initiative</i> of Italy;&mdash;which shall, on the one side, undertake the
+examination of the dogma upon which Catholicism was founded, and prove
+it to be worn out, exhausted, and in contradiction to our new conception
+of life and its laws; and, on the other hand, the refutation of
+materialism under whatsoever form it may present itself, and prove that
+it also is in contradiction of that new conception,&mdash;that it is a
+stupid, fatal negation of all moral law, of human free-will, of our
+every sacred hope, and of the calm and constant virtue of sacrifice.</p>
+
+<p>I invoke a school which shall philosophically develop all the
+consequences, the germ of which&mdash;neglected or ignored by superficial
+intellects&mdash;is contained in the word Progress considered as a new <i>term</i>
+in the great historical synthesis, the expression of the ascending
+advance of humanity from epoch to epoch, from religion to religion,
+towards a vaster conception of its own <i>aim</i> and its own law.</p>
+
+<p>I invoke the rising of a school destined to demonstrate to the youth of
+Italy that <i>rationalism</i> is but an <i>instrument</i>,&mdash;the instrument adopted
+in all periods of transition by the human intellect to aid its progress
+from a worn-out form of religion to one new and superior,&mdash;and science
+only an accumulation of materials to be arranged and organized in
+fruitful synthesis by a new moral conception;&mdash;a school that will recall
+philosophy from this puerile confusion of the <i>means</i> with the <i>aim</i>, to
+bring it back to its sole true basis, the knowledge of life and
+comprehension of its law.</p>
+
+<p>I invoke a school which will seek the truth of the epoch, not in mere
+analysis,&mdash;always barren and certain to mislead, if undirected by a
+ruling principle,&mdash;but in an earnest study of universal tradition, which
+is the manifestation of the collective life of humanity; and of
+conscience, which is the manifestation of the life of the individual.</p>
+
+<p>I invoke a school which shall redeem from the neglect cast upon it by
+theories deduced from one of our human faculties alone that <i>intuition</i>
+which is the concentration of all the faculties upon a given subject;&mdash;a
+school which, even while declaring it exhausted, will respect the
+<i>past</i>, without which the <i>future</i> would be impossible,&mdash;which will
+protest against those intellectual barbarians for whom every religion is
+falsehood, every form of civilization now extinct a folly, every great
+pope, king, or warrior now in the course of things surpassed a criminal
+or a hypocrite, and revoke the condemnation, thus uttered by presumption
+in the present, of the past labors and intellect of entire humanity;&mdash;a
+school which may condemn, but will not defame,&mdash;will judge, but never,
+through frenzy of rebellion, falsify history;&mdash;a school which will
+declare the death that <i>is</i>, without denying the life that <i>was</i>,&mdash;which
+will call upon Italy to emancipate herself for the achievement of new
+glories, but strip not a single leaf from her wreath of glories past.</p>
+
+<p>Such a school would regain for Italy her European initiative, her
+primacy.</p>
+
+<p>Italy&mdash;as I have said&mdash;is a religion.</p>
+
+<p>Some have affirmed this of France. They were mistaken. France&mdash;if we
+except the single moment when the Revolution and Napoleon summed up the
+achievements of the epoch of <i>individuality</i>&mdash;has never had any external
+mission, other than, occasionally, as an arm of the Church, the
+<i>instrument</i> of an idea emanating from Papal Rome.</p>
+
+<p>But the mission of Italy in the world was at all times religious, and
+the essential character of Italian genius was at all times religious.</p>
+
+<p>The essence of every religion lies in a power, unknown to mere science,
+of compelling man to reduce thought to action, and harmonize his
+practical life with his moral conception. The genius of our nation,
+whenever it has been spontaneously revealed, and exercised independently
+of all foreign inspiration, has always evinced the religious character,
+the unifying power to which I allude. Every conception of the Italian
+mind sought its incarnation in action,&mdash;strove to assume a form in the
+political sphere. The ideal and the real, elsewhere divided, have always
+tended to be united in our land. Sabines and Etruscans alike derived
+their civil organization and way of life from their conception of
+Heaven. The Pythagoreans founded their philosophy, religious
+associations, and political institutions at one and the same time. The
+source of the vitality and power of Rome lay in a religious sense of a
+collective mission, of an <i>aim</i> to be achieved, in the contemplation of
+which the individual was submerged. Our democratic republics were all
+religious. Our early philosophical thinkers were all tormented by the
+idea of translating their ideal conceptions into practical rules of
+government.</p>
+
+<p>And as to our external mission.</p>
+
+<p>We alone have twice given <i>moral</i> unity to Europe, to the known world.
+The voice that issued from Rome in the past was addressed to and
+reverenced by humanity,&mdash;"Urbs Orbi."</p>
+
+<p>Italy is a religion. And when, in my earliest years, I believed that
+the <i>initiative</i> of the third life of Europe would spring from the
+heart, the action, the enthusiasm and sacrifice of our people, I heard
+within me the grand voice of Rome sounding once again, hailed and
+accepted with loving reverence by the peoples, and telling of moral
+unity and fraternity in a faith common to all humanity. It was not the
+unity of the past,&mdash;which, though sacred and conducive to civilization
+for many centuries, did but emancipate <i>individual</i> man, and reveal to
+him an ideal of liberty and equality only to be realized in Heaven: it
+was a new unity, emancipating <i>collective</i> humanity, and revealing the
+formula of Association, through which liberty and equality are destined
+to be realized here on earth; sanctifying the earth and rendering it
+what God wills it should be,&mdash;a stage upon the path of perfection, a
+means given to man wherewith to deserve a higher and nobler existence
+hereafter.</p>
+
+<p>And I saw Rome, in the name of God and Republican Italy, substituting a
+declaration of <span class="smcap">principles</span> for the barren declaration of
+rights,&mdash;principles the logical consequences of the parent idea,
+<span class="smcap">progress</span>,&mdash;and revealing to the nations a common aim, and the
+basis of a new religion. And I saw Europe, weary of scepticism,
+egotism, and moral anarchy, receive the new faith with acclamations. I
+saw a new pact founded upon that faith,&mdash;a pact of united action in the
+work of human perfectibility, involving none of the evils or dangers of
+the former pact, because among the first consequences of a faith founded
+upon the dogma of progress would be the justification of <i>heresy</i>, as
+either a promise or endeavor after progress in the future.</p>
+
+<p>The vision which brightened my first dream of country has vanished, so
+far as concerns my own life. Even if that vision be ever fulfilled,&mdash;as
+I believe it will be,&mdash;I shall be in the tomb. May the young, as yet
+uncorrupted by scepticism, prepare the way for its realization; and may
+they, in the name of our national tradition and the future, unceasingly
+protest against all who seek to immobilize human life in the name of a
+dogma extinct, or to degrade it by diverting it from the eternal worship
+of the Ideal.</p>
+
+<p>The religious question is pre-eminent over every other at the present
+day, and the moral question is indissolubly linked with it. We are bound
+either to solve these, or renounce all idea of an Italian mission in the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 11em;"><span class="smcap">Joseph Mazzini</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> This sacred word, which sums up the dogma of the future,
+has been uttered by every school, but misunderstood by the majority.
+Materialists have usurped the use of it, to express man's
+ever-increasing power over the productive forces of the earth; and men
+of science, to indicate that accumulation of <i>facts</i> discovered and
+submitted to analysis which has led us to a better knowledge of
+secondary causes. Few understand it as the expression of a providential
+conception or design, inseparable from our human life and foundation of
+our moral law.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="REVIEWS_AND_LITERARY_NOTICES" id="REVIEWS_AND_LITERARY_NOTICES"></a>REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.</h2>
+
+
+<p><i><a name="Miss_Ravenels" id="Miss_Ravenels"></a>Miss Ravenel's Conversion from Secession to Loyalty.</i> By <span class="smcap">J. W. De
+Forrest</span>. New York: Harper and Brothers.</p>
+
+<p>The light, strong way in which our author goes forward in this story
+from the first, and does not leave difficulty to his readers, is
+pleasing to those accustomed to find an American novel a good deal like
+the now extinct American stage-coach whose passengers not only walked
+over bad pieces of road, but carried fence-rails on their shoulders to
+pry the vehicle out of the sloughs and miry places. It was partly the
+fault of the imperfect roads, no doubt, and it may be that our social
+ways have only just now settled into such a state as makes smooth going
+for the novelist; nevertheless, the old stage-coach was hard to travel
+in, and what with drafts upon one's good nature for assistance, it must
+be confessed that our novelists have been rather trying to their
+readers. It is well enough with us all while the road is good,&mdash;a study
+of individual character, a bit of landscape, a stretch of well-worn
+plot, gentle slopes of incident; but somewhere on the way the passengers
+are pretty sure to be asked to step out,&mdash;the ladies to walk on ahead,
+and the gentlemen to fetch fence-rails.</p>
+
+<p>Our author imagines a Southern loyalist and his daughter sojourning in
+New Boston, Barataria, during the first months of the war. Dr. Ravenel
+has escaped from New Orleans just before the Rebellion began, and has
+brought away with him the most sarcastic and humorous contempt and
+abhorrence of his late fellow-citizens, while his daughter, an ardent
+and charming little blonde Rebel, remembers Louisiana with longing and
+blind admiration. The Doctor, born in South Carolina, and living all his
+days among slaveholders and slavery, has not learned to love either; but
+Lillie differs from him so widely as to scream with joy when she hears
+of Bull Run. Naturally she cannot fall in love with Mr. Colburne, the
+young New Boston lawyer, who goes into the war conscientiously for his
+country's sake, and resolved for his own to make himself worthy and
+lovable in Lillie's blue eyes by destroying and desolating all that she
+holds dear. It requires her marriage with Colonel Carter&mdash;a Virginia
+gentleman, a good-natured drunkard and <i>rou&eacute;</i> and soldier of fortune on
+our side&mdash;to make her see Colburne's worth, as it requires some
+comparative study of New Orleans and New Boston, on her return to her
+own city, to make her love the North. Bereft of her husband by his own
+wicked weakness, and then widowed, she can at last wisely love and marry
+Colburne; and, cured of Secession by experiencing on her father's
+account the treatment received by Unionists in New Orleans, her
+conversion to loyalty is a question of time duly settled before the
+story ends.</p>
+
+<p>We sketch the plot without compunction, for these people of Mr. De
+Forrest's are so unlike characters in novels as to be like people in
+life, and none will wish the less to see them because he knows the
+outline of their history. Not only is the plot good and very well
+managed, but there is scarcely a feebly painted character or scene in
+the book. As to the style, it is so praiseworthy that we will not
+specifically censure occasional defects,&mdash;for the most part, slight
+turgidities notable chiefly from their contrast to the prevailing
+simplicity of the narrative.</p>
+
+<p>Our war has not only left us the burden of a tremendous national debt,
+but has laid upon our literature a charge under which it has hitherto
+staggered very lamely. Every author who deals in fiction feels it to be
+his duty to contribute towards the payment of the accumulated interest
+in the events of the war, by relating his work to them; and the heroes
+of young-lady writers in the magazines have been everywhere fighting the
+late campaigns over again, as young ladies would have fought them. We do
+not say that this is not well, but we suspect that Mr. De Forrest is the
+first to treat the war really and artistically. His campaigns do not try
+the reader's constitution, his battles are not bores. His soldiers are
+the soldiers we actually know,&mdash;the green wood of the volunteers, the
+warped stuff of men torn from civilization and cast suddenly into the
+barbarism of camps, the hard, dry, tough, true fibre of the veterans
+that came out of the struggle. There could hardly be a better type of
+the conscientious and patriotic soldier than Captain Colburne; and if
+Colonel Carter must not stand as type of the officers of the old army,
+he mast be acknowledged as true to the semi-civilization of the South.
+On the whole he is more entertaining than Colburne, as immoral people
+are apt to be to those who suffer nothing from them. "His contrasts of
+slanginess and gentility, his mingled audacity and <i>insouciance</i> of
+character, and all the picturesque ins and outs of his moral
+architecture, so different from the severe plainness of the spiritual
+temples common in New Boston," do take the eye of peace-bred
+Northerners, though never their sympathy. Throughout, we admire, as the
+author intends, Carter's thorough and enthusiastic soldiership, and we
+perceive the ruins of a generous nature in his aristocratic Virginian
+pride, his Virginian profusion, his imperfect Virginian sense of honor.
+When he comes to be shot, fighting bravely at the head of his column,
+after having swindled his government, and half unwillingly done his
+worst to break his wife's heart, we feel that our side has lost a good
+soldier, but that the world is on the whole something better for our
+loss. The reader must go to the novel itself for a perfect conception of
+this character, and preferably to those dialogues in which Colonel
+Carter so freely takes part; for in his development of Carter, at least,
+Mr. De Forrest is mainly dramatic. Indeed, all the talk in the book is
+free and natural, and, even without the hard swearing which
+distinguishes the speech of some, it would be difficult to mistake one
+speaker for another, as often happens in novels.</p>
+
+<p>The character of Dr. Ravenel, though so simple, is treated in a manner
+invariably delightful and engaging. His native purity, amiability, and
+generosity, which a life-long contact with slavery could not taint; his
+cordial scorn of Southern ideas; his fine and flawless instinct of
+honor; his warm-hearted courtesy and gentleness, and his gayety and wit;
+his love of his daughter and of mineralogy; his courage, modesty, and
+humanity,&mdash;these are the traits which recur in the differing situations
+with constant pleasure to the reader.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Lillie Ravenel is as charming as her adored papa, and is never less
+nor more than a bright, lovable, good, constant, inconsequent woman. It
+is to her that the book owes its few scenes of tenderness and sentiment;
+but she is by no means the most prominent character in the novel, as the
+infelicitous title would imply, and she serves chiefly to bring into
+stronger relief the traits of Colonel Carter and Doctor Ravenel. The
+author seems not even to make so much study of her as of Mrs. Larue, a
+lady whose peculiar character is skilfully drawn, and who will be quite
+probable and explicable to any who have studied the traits of the noble
+Latin race, and a little puzzling to those acquainted only with people
+of Northern civilization. Yet in Mrs. Larue the author comes near making
+his failure. There is a little too much of her,&mdash;it is as if the wily
+enchantress had cast her glamour upon the author himself,&mdash;and there is
+too much anxiety that the nature of her intrigue with Carter shall not
+be misunderstood. Nevertheless, she bears that stamp of verity which
+marks all Mr. De Forrest's creations, and which commends to our
+forbearance rather more of the highly colored and strongly-flavored
+parlance of the camps than could otherwise have demanded reproduction in
+literature. The bold strokes with which such an amusing and heroic
+reprobate as Van Zandt and such a pitiful poltroon as Gazaway are
+painted, are no less admirable than the nice touches which portray the
+Governor of Barataria, and some phases of the aristocratic,
+conscientious, truthful, angular, professorial society of New Boston,
+with its young college beaux and old college belles, and its life pure,
+colorless, and cold to the eye as celery, yet full of rich and wholesome
+juices. It is the goodness of New Boston, and of New England, which,
+however unbeautiful, has elevated and saved our whole national
+character; and in his book there is sufficient evidence of our author's
+appreciation of this fact, as well as of sympathy only and always with
+what is brave and true in life.</p>
+
+
+<p><i><a name="A_Journey_to_Ashango-Land" id="A_Journey_to_Ashango-Land"></a>A Journey to Ashango-Land: and further Penetration into Equatorial
+Africa.</i> By <span class="smcap">Paul B. Du Chaillu</span>. With Maps and Illustrations.
+New York: D. Appleton &amp; Co.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere in the heart of the African continent, Mr. Du Chaillu, laying
+his head upon a rock, after a day of uncommon hardship, finds reason to
+lament the ungratefulness of the traveller's fate, which brings him,
+through perilous adventure and great suffering, to the incredulity and
+coldness of a public unable to receive his story with perfect faith. It
+is such a meditation as ought to reproach very keenly the sceptics who
+doubted Mr. Du Chaillu's first book; it certainly renews in the reader
+of the present work the satisfaction felt in the comparative
+reasonableness of the things narrated, and his consequent ability to put
+an unmurmuring trust in the author. Here, indeed, is very little of the
+gorilla whom we formerly knew: his ferocity is greatly abated; he only
+once beats his breast and roars; he does not twist gun-barrels; his
+domestic habits are much simplified; his appearance here is relatively
+as unimportant as Mr. Pendennis's in the "Newcomes"; he is a deposed
+hero; and Mr. Du Chaillu pushes on to Ashango-Land without him.
+Otherwise, moreover, the narrative is quite credible, and, so far,
+unattractive, though there is still enough of incident to hold the idle,
+and enough of information in the appendices concerning the
+characteristics of the African skulls collected by Du Chaillu, the
+geographical and astronomical observations made <i>en route</i>, and the
+linguistic peculiarities noted, to interest the scientific. The book is
+perhaps not a fortunate one for those who occupy a place between these
+classes of readers, and who are tempted to ask of Mr. Du Chaillu, Have
+you really four hundred and thirty-seven royal octavo pages of news to
+tell us of Equatorial Africa?</p>
+
+<p>Our traveller landed in West Africa in the autumn of 1863, and, after a
+short excursion in the coast country in search of the gorilla, he
+ascended the Fernand Vaz in a steamer seventy miles, to Goumbi, whence
+he proceeded by canoe to Obindji. Here, provided with a retinue of one
+hundred men of the Commi nation, his overland journey began, and led
+him through the hilly country of the Bakalai southeastwardly to the
+village of Olenda. From this point, before continuing his route, he
+visited the falls of the Samba Nagoshi, some fifty miles to the
+northward, and Adingo Village, twenty miles below Olenda. Starting anew
+after these excursions, he penetrated the continent, on a line
+deflecting a little south of east, as far as Mouaou Kombo, which is
+something more than two hundred miles from the sea.</p>
+
+<p>In first landing from his ship, Mr. Du Chaillu lost his astronomical
+instruments, and was obliged to wait in the coast country until a new
+supply could be obtained from England. Midway on his journey to Mouaou
+Kombo, his photographic apparatus was stolen, and the chemicals were, as
+he supposes, swallowed by the robbers, to some of whom their dishonest
+experiments in photography proved fatal. The traveller's means of
+usefulness were limited to observation of the general character of the
+country, some investigation of its vegetable and animal life, and study
+of the customs of its human inhabitants,&mdash;in none of which does he
+develop much variety or novelty.</p>
+
+<p>Nearly the whole route lay through hilly or mountainous country, for the
+most part thickly wooded and sparsely peopled. There was a very notable
+absence of all the larger African animals, and those encountered seemed
+to be as peaceful in their characters as their neighbors, the tribes of
+wild men. The nations through which Du Chaillu passed after leaving the
+Commi were the Ashira, the Ishogo, the Apono, and the Ashango, and none
+appears to have differed greatly from the others except in name. In
+habits they are all extremely alike, uniting a primitive simplicity of
+costume and architecture to highly sophisticated traits of lying and
+stealing. They are not warlike, and not very cruel, except in cases of
+witchcraft, which are extremely dealt with,&mdash;as, indeed, they used to be
+in New England. Fetichism is the only religion of these tribes, and they
+seem to believe firmly in no superior powers but those of evil. They are
+docile, however, and susceptible of control. Du Chaillu had the
+misfortune to spread the small-pox among them from some infected members
+of his train; and although all their superstitious fears were excited
+against him, the people were held in check by their principal men; and
+Du Chaillu met with no serious molestation until he reached Mouaou
+Kombo. Here he found the inhabitants comparatively hostile and
+distrustful, and in firing off a salute,&mdash;with the double purpose of
+intimidating them and restoring them to confidence,&mdash;one of his retinue
+accidentally shot two of the villagers. All hopes of friendly
+intercourse and of further progress were now at an end, and Du Chaillu
+began a rapid retreat, his men casting away in their flight his
+photographs, journals, and note-books, and hopelessly impairing the
+value of the possible narrative which he might survive to write.</p>
+
+<p>Such narrative as he has actually written, we have briefly sketched. Its
+fault is want of condensation and of graphic power, so that, although
+you must follow the traveller through his difficulties and dangers, it
+is quite as much by effort of sympathy as by reason of interest that you
+do so. For the paucity of result from all the labor and hardship
+undergone, the author&mdash;considering the losses of material he
+sustained&mdash;cannot be justly criticised; but certainly the bulk of his
+volume makes its meagre substance somewhat too apparent.</p>
+
+
+<p><i><a name="Liffith_Lank_or_Lunacy" id="Liffith_Lank_or_Lunacy"></a>Liffith Lank, or Lunacy.</i> By <span class="smcap">C. H. Webb</span>. New York: Carleton.</p>
+
+<p><i>St. Twel'mo, or the Cuneiform Cyclopedist of Chattanooga.</i> By <span class="smcap">C. H.
+Webb</span>. New York: C. H. Webb.</p>
+
+<p>In the first of these clever and successful burlesques, Mr. Webb has
+travestied rather the ideas than the manner of Mr. Reade; and one who
+turned to "Liffith Lank" from the wonderful parodies in "Punch's Prize
+Novelists," or those exquisitely finished pieces of mimicry, the
+"Condensed Novelists" of the Californian Harte, would feel its want of
+fidelity to the method and style of the author burlesqued. Yet the
+essential absurdities of "Griffith Gaunt" are most amusingly brought out
+in "Liffith Lank"; and as the little work makes the reader laugh at the
+great one, he has no right, perhaps, to ask more of it, or to complain
+that it trusts too much to the facile pun for its effects, which are
+oftener broad than poignant.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, in spite of our logical content with "Liffith Lank," we
+are very glad to find "St. Twel'mo" much better, and we only doubt
+whether the game is worth the candle; but as the candle is Mr. Webb's,
+he can burn it, we suppose, upon whatever occasion he likes. He has here
+made a closer parody than in his first effort, and has lost nothing of
+the peculiar power with which he there satirized ideas. That quality of
+the Bront&eacute; sisters, of which Miss Evans of Mobile is one of the many
+American dilutions,&mdash;that quality by which any sort of masculine
+wickedness and brutality short of refusing ladies seats in horse-cars is
+made lovely and attractive to the well-read and well-bred of the
+sex,&mdash;is very pleasantly derided, while the tropical luxuriance of
+general information characteristic of "St. Elmo" is unsparingly
+ridiculed, with the help of frequent extracts from the novel itself.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Webb appears in "St. Twel'mo" as both publisher and author, and,
+with a good feeling significant of very great changes in the literary
+world since a poet toasted Napoleon because he hanged a bookseller,
+dedicates his little work "To his best friend and nearest relative, the
+publisher."</p>
+
+
+<p><i><a name="The_Literary_Life_of_James_K_Paulding" id="The_Literary_Life_of_James_K_Paulding"></a>The Literary Life of James K. Paulding.</i> Compiled by his Son,
+<span class="smcap">William I. Paulding</span>. New York: Charles Scribner and Company.</p>
+
+<p>James K. Paulding was born in 1778 at Great-Nine Partners, in Dutchess
+County, New York, and nineteen years later came to the city of New York
+to fill a clerkship in a public office. His family was related to that
+of Washington Irving by marriage; he was himself united to Irving by
+literary sympathy and ambition, and the two young men now formed a
+friendship which endured through life. They published the Salmagundi
+papers together, and they always corresponded; but with Irving
+literature became all in all, and with Paulding a favorite relaxation
+from political life and a merely collateral pursuit. He wrote partisan
+satires and philippics, waxing ever more bitter against the party to
+which Irving belonged, and against England, where Irving was tasting the
+sweets of appreciation and success. He came to be Navy Agent at New York
+in 1823, and in 1838 President Van Buren made him his Secretary of the
+Navy. Three years later he retired from public life, and spent his
+remaining days in the tranquil and uneventful indulgence of his literary
+tastes.</p>
+
+<p>Dying in 1859, he had survived nearly all his readers, and the present
+memoir was required to remind many, and to inform more, of the existence
+of such works as "The Backwoodsman," a poem; the Salmagundi papers in a
+second series; "Koningsmarke, the Long Finne, a story of the New World,"
+in two volumes; "The Merry Tales of the Three Wise Men of Gotham,"
+satirizing Owen's theories of society, law, and science; "The New Mirror
+for Travellers, and Guide to the Springs," a satire of fashionable life
+in the days before ladies with seventy-five trunks were born; "Tales of
+the Good Woman," a collection of short stories; "A Life of Washington";
+"American Comedies"; "The Old Continental," and "The Puritan and his
+Daughter," historical novels; and innumerable political papers of a
+serious or a satirical sort. As it has been the purpose of the author of
+this memoir to let Paulding's life in great part develop itself from his
+letters, so it has also been his plan to spare comment on his father's
+literary labors, and to allow their character to be estimated by
+extracts from his poems, romances, and satires. From these we gather the
+idea of greater quantity than quality; of a poetical taste rather than
+poetic faculty; of a whimsical rather than a humorous or witty man.
+There is a very marked resemblance to Washington Irving's manner in the
+prose, which is inevitably, of course, less polished than that of the
+more purely literary man, and which is apt to be insipid and strained in
+greater degree in the same direction. It would not be just to say that
+Paulding's style was formed upon that of Irving; but both had given
+their days and nights to the virtuous poverty of the essayists of the
+last century; and while one grew into something fresher and more
+original by dint of long and constant literary effort, the other,
+writing only occasionally, remained an old-fashioned mannerist to the
+last. When he died, he passed out of a world in which Macaulay, Dickens,
+Thackeray, and Hawthorne had never lived. The last delicacy of touch is
+wanting in all his work, whether verse or prose; yet the reader, though
+unsatisfied, does not turn from it without respect. If it is
+second-rate, it is not tricksy; its dulness is not antic, but decorous
+and quiet; its dignity, while it bores, enforces a sort of reverence
+which we do not pay to the ineffectual fire-works of our own more
+pyrotechnic literary time.</p>
+
+<p>Of Paulding himself one thinks, after reading the present memoir, with
+much regard and some regret. He was a sturdy patriot and cordial
+democrat, but he seems not to have thought human slavery so very bad a
+thing. He is perceptibly opinionated, and would have carried things with
+a high hand, whether as one of the government or one of the governed. He
+was not swift to adopt new ideas, but he was thoroughly honest in his
+opposition to them. His somewhat exaggerated estimate of his own
+importance in the world of letters and of politics was one of those
+venial errors which time readily repairs.</p>
+
+
+<p><i><a name="History_and_General_Description_of_New_France" id="History_and_General_Description_of_New_France"></a>History and General Description of New France.</i> By the Rev. <span class="smcap">P. F.
+X. de Charlevoix</span>, S. J. Translated, with Notes, by <span class="smcap">John Gilmary
+Shea</span>. New York: J. G. Shea. Vol. I.</p>
+
+<p>Charlevoix's "History of New France" is very well known to all who study
+American history in its sources. It is a well-written, scholarlike, and
+readable book, treating of a subject which the author perfectly
+understood, and of which he may be said to have been a part. Tried by
+the measure of his times, his research was thorough and tolerably exact.
+The work, in short, has always been justly regarded as a "standard," and
+very few later writers have thought it necessary to go beyond or behind
+it. Appended to it is a journal of the author's travels in America, in
+the form of a series of letters to the Duchesse de Lesdigui&egrave;res, full of
+interest, and a storehouse of trustworthy information.</p>
+
+<p>Charlevoix had been largely quoted and extensively read. Not to know
+him, indeed, was to be ignorant of some of the most memorable passages
+in the history of this continent; but, what is certainly remarkable, he
+had never found an English translator. At the time of the Old French
+War, when the public curiosity was strongly interested in everything
+relating to America, the journal appended to the history was "done into
+English" and eagerly read; but the history itself had remained to this
+time in the language in which it was originally written. This is not to
+be regretted, if it has been the occasion of giving us the truly
+admirable work which is the subject of this notice.</p>
+
+<p>The spirit and the manner in which Mr. Shea has entered upon his task
+are above all praise. It is with him a "labor of love." In these days of
+literary "jobs," when bad translating and careless editing are palmed
+off upon the amateurs of choice books in all the finery of broad margins
+and faultless typography, it is refreshing to meet with a book of which
+the mechanical excellence is fully equalled by the substantial value of
+its contents, and by the thorough, conscientious, and scholarlike
+character of the literary execution. The labor and the knowledge
+bestowed on this translation would have sufficed to produce an original
+history of high merit. Charlevoix rarely gives his authorities. Mr. Shea
+has more than supplied this deficiency. Not only has he traced out the
+sources of his author's statements and exhibited them in notes, but he
+has had recourse to sources of which Charlevoix knew nothing. He is thus
+enabled to substantiate, correct, or amplify the original narrative. He
+translates it, indeed, with literal precision, but, in his copious notes
+he sheds such a flood of new light upon it that this translation is of
+far more value to the student than the original work. Since Charlevoix's
+time, many documents, unknown to him, though bearing on his subject,
+have been discovered, and Mr. Shea has diligently availed himself of
+them. The tastes and studies of many years have made him familiar with
+this field of research, and prepared him to accomplish an undertaking
+which would otherwise have been impracticable.</p>
+
+<p>The first volume is illustrated by facsimiles of Charlevoix's maps,
+together with his portrait and those of Cartier and Menendez. It forms a
+large octavo of about three hundred pages, and as a specimen of the
+typographical art is scarcely to be surpassed. We learn that the second
+volume is about to appear.</p>
+
+
+<p><i><a name="The_Comparative_Geography_of_Palestine" id="The_Comparative_Geography_of_Palestine"></a>The Comparative Geography of Palestine, and the Sinaitic Peninsula.</i> By
+<span class="smcap">Carl Ritter</span>. Translated and adapted to the use of Biblical
+Students by <span class="smcap">William L. Gage</span>. New York: D. Appleton &amp; Co., 1866.
+4 vols.</p>
+
+<p>American critics have found fault with Mr. Gage, as it seems to us
+somewhat too strongly, for certain features of this work. He has been
+blamed for adapting it "to the use of Biblical students," as though
+thereby he must necessarily tamper with scientific accuracy of
+statement,&mdash;for too much condensation, and for too little,&mdash;for omitting
+Ritter's maps,&mdash;and for certain incongruities of figures and
+measurement. It has also been said, that the book itself, being fifteen
+years old, is already antiquated, and that many recent works, not
+mentioned by Ritter, or at least not adequately used, have modified our
+knowledge of Palestine since his day. But, after all, these critics have
+ended by saying that the work is a good and useful one, and by awarding
+credit to Mr. Gage for his fidelity, industry, and accuracy in his part
+of the work. So that, perhaps, the fault-finding was thrown in only as a
+necessary part of the duty of the reviewer; for fault-finding is, <i>ex
+officio</i>, his expected function. A judge ought always to be seated above
+the criminal, and every author before his reviewer is only a culprit.
+The author may have given years to the study of the subject to which his
+reviewer has only given hours. But what of that? The position of the
+reviewer is to look down, and his tone must always be <i>de haut en bas</i>.</p>
+
+<p>We do not, ourselves, profess to know as much of the geography of
+Palestine as Professor Ritter, probably not as much as Mr. Gage. Were it
+not for the sharp-eyed critics, we should have wholly missed the
+important verification of the surface-level of Lake Huleh. We have in
+past years studied our "Pal&auml;stina," by Von Raumer, and followed the
+careful Dr. Robinson with gratitude through his laborious researches.
+But we must confess that we are grateful for these volumes, even though
+they have no maps, and cannot but think it honorable in Mr. Gage to
+prefer to publish the book with none, rather than with poor ones. We see
+no harm in adapting the work to the use of Biblical students, by
+abridging of omitting the topics which have no bearing on the Bible
+history. No one else is obliged to purchase it, and the warning is given
+beforehand.</p>
+
+<p>These four volumes contain a vast amount of interesting and important
+matter concerning Sinai and Palestine. The journals of travellers of all
+times are laid under contribution, and you are allowed often to form
+your own judgments from the primitive narratives. You are like one
+sitting in a court and hearing a host of witnesses examined and
+cross-examined by able counsel, and then listening to the summing up of
+a learned judge. It is easy to see how much more vivid such descriptions
+must be than a dry <i>r&eacute;sum&eacute;</i> without these accompanying <i>pi&egrave;ces
+justificatifs</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The first of the four volumes concerns the peninsula of Mount Sinai. It
+gives the history of all the travels in that region, and the chief works
+concerning it from the earliest time; the routes to Mount Sinai; the
+voyages of Hiram and Solomon through the Red Sea to India; an
+interesting discussion of the name Ophir; the different groups of
+mountains in this region; the Bedouin tribes of the peninsula, and of
+Arabia Petr&aelig;a; and a full account of Petra, the monolithic city of Edom.</p>
+
+<p>The second volume begins with a comparative view of Syria, and a review
+of the authorities on the geography of Palestine. Then follows an
+account of the Land of Canaan and its inhabitants before the conquest by
+the Israelites, and of the tribes outside of Palestine who remained
+hostile to the Israelites. We next have an account of the great
+depression of the Jordan Valley, the river and its basin. Chapters on
+the sources of the Jordan, the Sea of Galilee, the caravan road to
+Damascus, and the river to the Dead Sea, and an account of the
+travellers who have surveyed the region, follow,&mdash;with an Appendix, in
+which is contained a discussion of the site of Capernaum, and Tobler's
+full list of works on Palestine.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. III. contains chapters on the Mouth of the Jordan; the Dead Sea;
+the Division among the Ten Tribes; an account of Jud&aelig;a, Samaria, and
+Galilee; the routes through the Land; and several scientific essays.</p>
+
+<p>Vol. IV. gives a full account of Jerusalem, ancient, medi&aelig;val, and
+modern; a discussion of the holy places; an account of the inhabitants;
+the region around Jerusalem; the roads to and from the city; Samaria;
+and Galilee;&mdash;concluding with an index of subjects, and another of
+texts.</p>
+
+<p>On the whole, we must express our gratitude to Mr. Gage for his labor of
+love, in thus giving us the results of the studies of his friend and
+master on this important theme. Students of the Bible and of Syrian
+geography can nowhere else find the matters treated so fully and
+conscientiously and exhaustively discussed as here.</p>
+
+<p>As the principal objection made to the translation of Mr. Gage is that
+it omits Ritter's maps, it is proper to state that Professor Kiepert
+declared them to be worthless; that the publisher declined an offer to
+sell five hundred sets, lying on his hands, to the Clarks of Edinburgh,
+because he could not conscientiously recommend them. Inasmuch as good
+Bible maps of Palestine are to be had everywhere, and as Robinson's are
+sold by themselves in a little volume, the student does not seem to
+have much reason to complain.</p>
+
+<p>The past quarter of a century has not added much to our knowledge of
+Palestine. Stanley, Bonor, Stewart, Lynch, Tobler, Barclay, De Saulcy,
+Sepp, Tristam, Porter, Wetystein, the Duc de Luyner, and others, have
+travelled and written, but the mysteries remain mysteries still.</p>
+
+
+<p><i><a name="Memoirs_and_Correspondence_of_Madame_Reacutecamier" id="Memoirs_and_Correspondence_of_Madame_Reacutecamier"></a>Memoirs and Correspondence of Madame R&eacute;camier.</i> Translated from the
+French and edited by <span class="smcap">Isaphene M. Luyster</span>. Fourth Edition.
+Boston: Roberts Brothers.</p>
+
+<p>In an article contributed a year or two since to these pages, Miss
+Luyster sketched the career of the beautiful and good woman whose
+history is minutely recounted in the volume before us. It is a
+fascinating history, for Madame R&eacute;camier was altogether as anomalous as
+any creation of French fiction. Her marriage was such only in name; she
+lived pure, and with unblemished repute, in the most vicious and
+scandalous times; she inspired friendship by coquetry; her heart was
+never touched, though full of womanly tenderness; a leader of society
+and of fashion, she never ceased to be timid and diffident; she ruled
+witty and intellectual circles by the charm of the most unepigrammatic
+sweetness, the merest good-heartedness.</p>
+
+<p>The correspondence of Madame R&eacute;camier consists almost entirely of
+letters written to her; for this adored friend of literary men wrote
+seldom herself, and at her death even caused to be destroyed the greater
+part of the few notes she had made toward an autobiography. In the
+present Memoirs Madame Lenormant chiefly relies upon her own personal
+knowledge of Madame R&eacute;camier's life, and upon contemporary hearsay. It
+is a very interesting book, as we have it, though at times provokingly
+unsatisfactory, and at times inflated and silly in style. It is not only
+a history of Madame R&eacute;camier, but a sketch of French society, politics,
+and literature during very long and interesting periods.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Luyster has faithfully performed the ever-thankless task of
+translation; and, in preparing Madame Lenormant's work for the American
+public, has somewhat restrained the author's tendency to confusion and
+diffusion. Here and there, as editor, she has added slight but useful
+notes, and has accompanied the Memoirs with a very pleasantly written
+introduction, giving a skilful and independent analysis of Madame
+R&eacute;camier's character.</p>
+
+
+<p><i><a name="Old_England" id="Old_England"></a>Old England: its Scenery, Art, and People.</i> By <span class="smcap">James M.
+Hoppin</span>, Professor in Yale College. New York; Hurd and Houghton.</p>
+
+<p>"The 'Pavilion,' with its puerile domes and minarets, recalls the false
+and flimsy epoch of that semi-Oriental monarch, George IV. His statue by
+Chantrey stands upon a promenade called the 'Old Steine.' The house of
+Mrs. Thrale, where Doctor Johnson visited, is still standing. The
+atmosphere of Brighton is considered to be favorable for invalids in the
+winter-time, as well as the summer."</p>
+
+<p>In this haphazard way many of the various objects of interest in Old
+England are introduced to his reader by a New England writer, who
+possibly mistakes the disorder of a note-book for literary ease, or who
+possibly has little of the method of picturesqueness in him. In either
+case his reader returns from Old England with the impression that his
+travelling-companion is a sensible, honest observer, who, in forming a
+book out of very good material, has often builded, not better, but
+worse, than he knew. There is no want of graphic touches; there is
+enough of fine and poetic feeling; but there is no perspective, no
+atmosphere: much of Old England through this book affects one somewhat
+as a faithful Chinese drawing of the moon might.</p>
+
+<p>At other times Mr. Hoppin's treatment of his subject is sufficiently
+artistic, and he has seen some places and persons not worn quite
+threadbare by travel. He did not pay the national visit to Mr. Tennyson,
+although he had a letter of introduction; and of those people whose
+hospitality he did enjoy, he writes with great discretion and good
+taste. His sketch of the High Church clergyman at Land's End is a case
+in point, and it has an interest to Americans for the light it throws
+upon the present conflict of religious thought in England.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hoppin writes best of the less frequented parts of England,&mdash;of
+Land's End, and of Cornwall and Penzance; but he writes no more
+particularly of them than of the suburbs of London. The chapter on
+London art and the London pulpit is a curious <i>m&eacute;lange</i> of shrewd,
+original thoughts about pictures and of acceptations of critical
+authority, of sectarian belief and of worldly toleration, together with
+a certain immaturity of literary judgment and a characteristic tendency
+to incoherence. "Turner," he says, "did a great work, if it were only to
+have been the occasion of Ruskin's marvellous eloquence"; and of Dr.
+Cumming he writes, as if transcribing literally from his note-book: "His
+voice is rich, and mellow without being powerful. He is a tall man, with
+high, white forehead and white hair. It was difficult to find a seat,
+even upon the pulpit stairs. Dr. Cumming, as a graceful, yet not
+effeminate preacher, has good claims to his celebrity."</p>
+
+<p>It remains for us to praise the author's conscientious effort at all
+times to convey information, and his success in this effort. He has
+doubtless seen everything that is worth seeing in the country he has
+passed over; and if we cannot accept the whole of his book as
+literature, we have still the impression that we should find it one of
+the best and thoroughest of hand-books for travel in Old England.</p>
+
+
+<p><i><a name="Hymns" id="Hymns"></a>Hymns.</i> By <span class="smcap">Harriet McEwen Kimball</span>, Boston: E. P. Dutton and
+Company.</p>
+
+<p>Religious emotion has asked very little of literary art; and if we are
+to let hymnology witness, it has received as little as it has asked in
+times past. To call upon Christ's name, to bless God for goodness and
+mercy, suffice it; and no form of words enabling it to do this seems to
+be found too feeble, or affected, or grotesque. For anything more, the
+inarticulate tones of music are as adequate to devotion as the sublimest
+formula that Milton or Dante could have shaped. It is only since
+religion has been so much philosophized, and has in so great degree
+ceased to be a passion, that we have begun to find the hymns which our
+forefathers sang with rapturous unconsciousness rather rubbishy
+literature. How blank, and void of all inspiration, they seem for the
+most part to be! Good men wrote them, but evidently in seasons of great
+mental depression. How commonplace is the language, how strained are the
+fancies, how weak the thoughts! Yet through these stops of lead and
+wood, the music of charity, love, repentance, aspiration, has poured
+from millions of humble hearts in sweetness that blessed and praised.</p>
+
+<p>With no thought probably of affecting the standard hymnnology were the
+hymns written in the little book before us. They are characterized by
+poetic purity of diction as well as tenderness of sentiment. They
+express, without freshness of intuition, the emotions and desires of a
+devoutly religious nature; and they commend themselves, like some of the
+best and earliest Christian hymns, by their realization of the Divine
+essence as something to be directly approached with filial and personal
+affection. Here is no burst of fervid devotion, but rather a quiet love,
+breathing contrition, faith, and praise in poems of gentle earnestness,
+which even the reader not imbued with the element of their inspiration
+may find graceful and pleasing.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No.
+117, July, 1867., by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 18914-h.htm or 18914-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/1/18914/
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+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
+http://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 http://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
+http://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 http://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 http://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 checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is 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:
+
+     http://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.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/18914-h/images/image001.jpg b/18914-h/images/image001.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..035fa85
--- /dev/null
+++ b/18914-h/images/image001.jpg
diff --git a/18914.txt b/18914.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5fb677b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/18914.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9304 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No. 117,
+July, 1867., by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No. 117, July, 1867.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: July 26, 2006 [EBook #18914]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
+
+
+A MAGAZINE OF
+
+_Literature, Science, Art, and Politics._
+
+VOLUME XX.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+BOSTON: TICKNOR AND FIELDS, 124 TREMONT STREET.
+
+1867.
+
+
+Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
+
+TICKNOR AND FIELDS,
+
+in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
+Massachusetts.
+
+UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO., CAMBRIDGE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's note: Minor typos have been corrected. Footnotes have been
+moved to the end of the article.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                                        Page
+
+Artist's Dream, An  _T. W. Higginson_               100
+
+Autobiography of a Quack, The. I., II.              466, 586
+
+Bornoo, A Native of                                 485
+
+Bowery at Night, The  _Charles Dawson Shanly_       602
+
+By-Ways of Europe. From Perpignan to Montserrat.
+  _Bayard Taylor_                                   495
+
+    "        "     A Visit to the Balearic Islands. I.
+  _Bayard Taylor_                                   680
+
+Busy Brains  _Austin Abbott_                        570
+
+Canadian Woods and Waters  _Charles Dawson Shanly_  311
+
+Cincinnati  _James Parton_                          229
+
+Conspiracy at Washington, The                       633
+
+Cretan Days  _Wm. J. Stillman_                      533
+
+Dinner Speaking  _Edward Everett Hale_              507
+
+Doctor Molke  _Dr. I. I. Hayes_                      43
+
+Edisto, Up the  _T. W. Higginson_                   157
+
+Foster, Stephen C., and Negro Minstrelsy
+  _Robert P. Nevin_                                 608
+
+Fugitives from Labor  _F. Sheldon_                  370
+
+Grandmother's Story: The Great Snow                 716
+
+Gray Goth, In the  _Miss E. Stuart Phelps_          559
+
+Great Public Character, A  _James Russell Lowell_   618
+
+Growth, Limitations, and Toleration of Shakespeare's Genius
+  _E. P. Whipple_                                   178
+
+Guardian Angel, The. VII., VIII., IX., X., XI., XII.
+  _Oliver Wendell Holmes_    1, 129, 257, 385, 513, 641
+
+Hospital Memories. I., II.
+  _Miss Eudora Clark_                          144, 324
+
+International Copyright  _James Parton_             430
+
+Jesuits in North America, The  _George E. Ellis_    362
+
+Jonson, Ben  _E. P. Whipple_                        403
+
+Longfellow's Translation of Dante's Divina Commedia 188
+
+Liliput Province, A  _W. Winwood Reade_             247
+
+Literature as an Art  _T. W. Higginson_             745
+
+Little Land of Appenzell, The  _Bayard Taylor_      213
+
+Minor Elizabethan Dramatists  _E. P. Whipple_       692
+
+Minor Italian Travels  _W. D. Howells_              337
+
+Mysterious Personage, A  _John Neal_                658
+
+Opinions of the late Dr. Nott, respecting Books, Studies and Orators
+  _E. D. Sanborn_                                   527
+
+Pacific Railroads, Our  _J. K. Medbery_             704
+
+Padua, At  _W. D. Howells_                           25
+
+Passage from Hawthorne's English Note-Books, A       15
+
+Piano in the United States, The  _James Parton_      82
+
+Poor Richard. II., III.  _Henry James, Jr._     32, 166
+
+Prophetic Voices about America. A Monograph
+  _Charles Sumner_                                  275
+
+Religious Side of the Italian Question, The
+  _Joseph Mazzini_                                  108
+
+Rose Rollins, The. I., II.  _Alice Cary_       420, 545
+
+Sunshine and Petrarch  _T. W. Higginson_            307
+
+Struggle for Life, A  _T. B. Aldrich_                56
+
+"The Lie"  _C. J. Sprague_                          598
+
+Throne of the Golden Foot, The  _J. W. Palmer_      453
+
+T. Adolphus Trollope, Writings of
+  _H. T. Tuckerman_                                 476
+
+Tour in the Dark, A                                 670
+
+Uncharitableness                                    415
+
+Visit to Sybaris, My  _Edward Everett Hale_          63
+
+Week's Riding, A                                    200
+
+What we Feel  _C. J. Sprague_                       740
+
+Wife by Wager, A   _E. H. House_                    350
+
+Workers in Silver, Among the  _James Parton_        729
+
+Young Desperado, A  _T. B. Aldrich_                 755
+
+
+POETRY.
+
+Are the Children at Home?  _Mrs. M. E. M. Sangster_ 557
+
+Autumn Song, An  _Edgar Fawcett_                    679
+
+Blue and the Gray, The  _F. M. Finch_               369
+
+Chanson without Music  _Oliver Wendell Holmes_      543
+
+Dirge for a Sailor  _George H. Boker_               157
+
+Ember-Picture, An  _James Russell Lowell_            99
+
+Feast of Harvest, The  _E. C. Stedman_              616
+
+Flight of the Goddess, The  _T. B. Aldrich_         452
+
+Freedom in Brazil  _John G. Whittier_                62
+
+Lost Genius, The  _J. J. Piatt_                     228
+
+Mona's Mother  _Alice Cary_                          22
+
+Mystery of Nature, The  _Theodore Tilton_           349
+
+Nightingale in the Study, The
+  _James Russell Lowell_                            323
+
+Sonnet  _George H. Boker_                           744
+
+Themistocles  _William Everett_                     398
+
+The Old Story  _Alice Cary_                         199
+
+Toujours Amour  _E. C. Stedman_                     728
+
+
+REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+Browne's Land of Thor                                    256
+
+Charlevoix's History of New France                       125
+
+Codman's Ten Months in Brazil                            383
+
+Cozzens's Sayings of Doctor Bushwhacker
+  and other Learned Men                                  512
+
+Critical and Social Essays, from the New York "Nation"   384
+
+Dall's (Mrs.) The College, the Market, and the Court     255
+
+Du Chaillu's Journey to Ashango-Land                     122
+
+Emerson's May-Day and Other Pieces                       376
+
+Half-Tints                                               256
+
+Holland's Kathrina                                       762
+
+Hoppin's Old England                                     127
+
+Hymns by Harriet McEwen Kimball                          128
+
+Jean Ingelow's Story of Doom, and other Poems            383
+
+Lea's Historical Sketch of Sacerdotal Celibacy
+  in the Christian Church                                378
+
+Literary Life of James K. Paulding, The                  124
+
+Memoirs and Correspondence of Madame Recamier            127
+
+Miss Ravenel's Conversion from Secession to Loyalty      120
+
+Morris's Life and Death of Jason                         640
+
+Morse on the Poem "Rock me to Sleep, Mother"             252
+
+Norton's Translation of The New Life of Dante            638
+
+Parsons's Deus Homo                                      512
+
+Parsons's Translation of the Inferno                     759
+
+Paulding's The Bulls and the Jonathans                   639
+
+Purnell's Literature and its Professors                  254
+
+Richmond during the War                                  762
+
+Ritter's Comparative Geography of Palestine              125
+
+Samuels's Ornithology and Ooelogy of New England          761
+
+Thackeray's Early and Late Papers                        252
+
+Tomes's Champagne Country                                511
+
+Webb's Liffith Lank, or Lunacy, and St. Twel'mo          123
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
+
+_A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics._
+
+VOL. XX.--JULY, 1867.--NO. CXVII.
+
+Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by TICKNOR AND
+FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
+Massachusetts.
+
+
+
+
+THE GUARDIAN ANGEL.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+SUSAN'S YOUNG MAN.
+
+There seems no reasonable doubt that Myrtle Hazard might have made a
+safe thing of it with Gifted Hopkins, (if so inclined,) provided that
+she had only been secured against interference. But the constant habit
+of reading his verses to Susan Posey was not without its risk to so
+excitable a nature as that of the young poet. Poets always were capable
+of divided affections, and Cowley's "Chronicle" is a confession that
+would fit the whole tribe of them. It is true that Gifted had no right
+to regard Susan's heart as open to the wiles of any new-comer. He knew
+that she considered herself, and was considered by another, as pledged
+and plighted. Yet she was such a devoted listener, her sympathies were
+so easily roused, her blue eyes glistened so tenderly at the least
+poetical hint, such as "Never, O never," "My aching heart," "Go, let me
+weep,"--any of those touching phrases out of the long catalogue which
+readily suggests itself,--that her influence was getting to be such that
+Myrtle (if really anxious to secure him) might look upon it with
+apprehension, and the owner of Susan's heart (if of a jealous
+disposition) might have thought it worth while to make a visit to Oxbow
+Village to see after his property.
+
+It may seem not impossible that some friend had suggested as much as
+this to the young lady's lover. The caution would have been unnecessary,
+or at least premature. Susan was loyal as ever to her absent friend.
+Gifted Hopkins had never yet presumed upon the familiar relations
+existing between them to attempt to shake her allegiance. It is quite as
+likely, after all, that the young gentleman about to make his appearance
+in Oxbow Village visited the place of his own accord, without a hint
+from anybody. But the fact concerns us more than the reason of it, just
+now.
+
+"Who do you think is coming, Mr. Gridley? Who _do_ you think is coming?"
+said Susan Posey, her face covered with a carnation such as the first
+season may see in a city belle, but not the second.
+
+"Well, Susan Posey, I suppose I must guess, though I am rather slow at
+that business. Perhaps the Governor. No, I don't think it can be the
+Governor, for you wouldn't look so happy if it was only his Excellency.
+It must be the President, Susan Posey,--President James Buchanan.
+Haven't I guessed right, now, tell me, my dear?"
+
+"O Mr. Gridley, you are too bad,--what do I care for governors and
+presidents? I know somebody that's worth fifty million thousand
+presidents,--and _he_'s coming,--my Clement is coming," said Susan, who
+had by this time learned to consider the awful Byles Gridley as her next
+friend and faithful counsellor.
+
+Susan could not stay long in the house after she got her note informing
+her that her friend was soon to be with her. Everybody told everything
+to Olive Eveleth, and Susan must run over to the Parsonage to tell her
+that there was a young gentleman coming to Oxbow Village; upon which
+Olive asked who it was, exactly as if she did not know; whereupon Susan
+dropped her eyes and said, "Clement,--I mean Mr. Lindsay."
+
+That was a fair piece of news now, and Olive had her bonnet on five
+minutes after Susan was gone, and was on her way to Bathsheba's,--it was
+too bad that the poor girl who lived so out of the world shouldn't know
+anything of what was going on in it. Bathsheba had been in all the
+morning, and the Doctor had said she must take the air every day; so
+Bathsheba had on _her_ bonnet a little after Olive had gone, and walked
+straight up to The Poplars to tell Myrtle Hazard that a certain young
+gentleman, Clement Lindsay, was coming to Oxbow Village.
+
+It was perhaps fortunate that there was no special significance to
+Myrtle in the name of Clement Lindsay. Since the adventure which had
+brought these two young persons together, and, after coming so near a
+disaster, had ended in a mere humiliation and disappointment, and but
+for Master Gridley's discreet kindness might have led to foolish
+scandal, Myrtle had never referred to it in any way. Nobody really knew
+what her plans had been except Olive and Cyprian, who had observed a
+very kind silence about the whole matter. The common version of the
+story was harmless, and near enough to the truth,--down the river,--boat
+upset,--pulled out,--taken care of by some women in a house farther
+down,--sick, brain fever,--pretty near it, anyhow,--old Dr. Hurlbut
+called in,--had her hair cut,--hystericky, etc., etc.
+
+Myrtle was contented with this statement, and asked no questions, and it
+was a perfectly understood thing that nobody alluded to the subject in
+her presence. It followed from all this that the name of Clement Lindsay
+had no peculiar meaning for her. Nor was she like to recognize him as
+the youth in whose company she had gone through her mortal peril, for
+all her recollections were confused and dream-like from the moment when
+she awoke and found herself in the foaming rapids just above the fall,
+until that when her senses returned, and she saw Master Byles Gridley
+standing over her with that look of tenderness in his square features
+which had lingered in her recollection, and made her feel towards him as
+if she were his daughter.
+
+Now this had its advantage; for as Clement was Susan's young man, and
+had been so for two or three years, it would have been a great pity to
+have any such curious relations established between him and Myrtle
+Hazard as a consciousness on both sides of what had happened would
+naturally suggest.
+
+"Who is this Clement Lindsay, Bathsheba?" Myrtle asked.
+
+"Why, Myrtle, don't you remember about Susan Posey's is-to-be,--the
+young man that has been--well, I don't know, but I suppose engaged to
+her ever since they were children almost?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I remember now. O dear! I have forgotten so many things I
+should think I had been dead and was coming back to life again. Do you
+know anything about him, Bathsheba? Didn't somebody say he was very
+handsome? I wonder if he is really in love with Susan Posey. Such a
+simple thing! I want to see him. I have seen so few young men."
+
+As Myrtle said these words, she lifted the sleeve a little on her left
+arm, by a half-instinctive and half-voluntary movement. The glimmering
+gold of Judith Pride's bracelet flashed out the yellow gleam which has
+been the reddening of so many hands and the blackening of so many souls
+since that innocent sin-breeder was first picked up in the land of
+Havilah. There came a sudden light into her eye, such as Bathsheba had
+never seen there before. It looked to her as if Myrtle were saying
+unconsciously to herself that she had the power of beauty, and would
+like to try its influence on the handsome young man whom she was soon to
+meet, even at the risk of unseating poor little Susan in his affections.
+This pained the gentle and humble-minded girl, who, without having
+tasted the world's pleasures, had meekly consecrated herself to the
+lowly duties which lay nearest to her. For Bathsheba's phrasing of life
+was in the monosyllables of a rigid faith. Her conceptions of the human
+soul were all simplicity and purity, but elementary. She could not
+conceive the vast license the creative energy allows itself in mingling
+the instincts which, after long conflict, may come into harmonious
+adjustment. The flash which Myrtle's eye had caught from the gleam of
+the golden bracelet filled Bathsheba with a sudden fear that she was
+like to be led away by the vanities of that world lying in wickedness of
+which the minister's daughter had heard so much and seen so little.
+
+Not that Bathsheba made any fine moral speeches to herself. She only
+felt a slight shock, such as a word or a look from one we love too often
+gives us,--such as a child's trivial gesture or movement makes a parent
+feel,--that impalpable something which in the slightest possible
+inflection of a syllable or gradation of a tone will sometimes leave a
+sting behind it, even in a trusting heart. This was all. But it was
+true that what she saw meant a great deal. It meant the dawning in
+Myrtle Hazard of one of her as yet unlived _secondary lives_.
+Bathsheba's virgin perceptions had caught a faint early ray of its
+glimmering twilight.
+
+She answered, after a very slight pause, which this explanation has made
+seem so long, that she had never seen the young gentleman, and that she
+did not know about Susan's sentiments. Only, as they had kept so long to
+each other, she supposed there must be love between them.
+
+Myrtle fell into a revery, with certain _tableaux_ glowing along its
+perspectives which poor little Susan Posey would have shivered to look
+upon, if they could have been transferred from the purple clouds of
+Myrtle's imagination to the pale silvery mists of Susan's pretty
+fancies. She sat in her day-dream long after Bathsheba had left her, her
+eyes fixed, not on the faded portrait of her beautiful ancestress, but
+on that other canvas where the dead Beauty seemed to live in all the
+splendors of her full-blown womanhood.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The young man whose name had set her thoughts roving _was_ handsome, as
+the glance at him already given might have foreshadowed. But his
+features had a graver impress than his age seemed to account for, and
+the sober tone of his letter to Susan implied that something had given
+him a maturity beyond his years. The story was not an uncommon one. At
+sixteen he had dreamed--and told his dream. At eighteen he had awoke,
+and found, as he believed, that a young heart had grown to his so that
+its life was dependent on his own. Whether it would have perished if its
+filaments had been gently disentangled from the object to which they had
+attached themselves, experienced judges of such matters may perhaps
+question. To justify Clement in his estimate of the danger of such an
+experiment, we must remember that to young people in their teens a first
+passion is a portentous and unprecedented phenomenon. The young man may
+have been mistaken in thinking that Susan would die if he left her, and
+may have done more than his duty in sacrificing himself; but if so, it
+was the mistake of a generous youth, who estimated the depth of
+another's feelings by his own. He measured the depth of his own rather
+by what he felt they might be, than by that of any abysses they had yet
+sounded.
+
+Clement was called a "genius" by those who knew him, and was
+consequently in danger of being spoiled early. The risk is great enough
+anywhere, but greatest in a new country, where there is an almost
+universal want of fixed standards of excellence.
+
+He was by nature an artist; a shaper with the pencil or the chisel, a
+planner, a contriver capable of turning his hand to almost any work of
+eye and hand. It would not have been strange if he thought he could do
+everything, having gifts which were capable of various application,--and
+being an American citizen. But though he was a good draughtsman, and had
+made some reliefs and modelled some figures, he called himself only an
+architect. He had given himself up to his art, not merely from a love of
+it and talent for it, but with a kind of heroic devotion, because he
+thought his country wanted a race of builders to clothe the new forms of
+religious, social, and national life afresh from the forest, the quarry,
+and the mine. Some thought he would succeed, others that he would be a
+brilliant failure.
+
+"Grand notions,--grand notions," the master with whom he studied said.
+"Large ground plan of life,--splendid elevation. A little wild in some
+of his fancies, perhaps, but he's only a boy, and he's the kind of boy
+that sometimes grows to be a pretty big man. Wait and see,--wait and
+see. He works days, and we can let him dream nights. There's a good deal
+of him, anyhow." His fellow-students were puzzled. Those who thought of
+their calling as a trade, and looked forward to the time when they
+should be embodying the ideals of municipal authorities in brick and
+stone, or making contracts with wealthy citizens, doubted whether
+Clement would have a sharp eye enough for business. "Too many whims, you
+know. All sorts of queer ideas in his head,--as if a boy like him was
+going to make things all over again!"
+
+No doubt there was something of youthful extravagance in his plans and
+expectations. But it was the untamed enthusiasm which is the source of
+all great thoughts and deeds,--a beautiful delirium which age commonly
+tames down, and for which the cold shower-bath the world furnishes
+_gratis_ proves a pretty certain cure.
+
+Creation is always preceded by chaos. The youthful architect's mind was
+confused by the multitude of suggestions which were crowding in upon it,
+and which he had not yet had time or developed mature strength
+sufficient to reduce to order. The young American of any freshness of
+intellect is stimulated to dangerous excess by the conditions of life
+into which he is born. There is a double proportion of oxygen in the
+New-World air. The chemists have not found it out yet, but human brains
+and breathing organs have long since made the discovery.
+
+Clement knew that his hasty entanglement had limited his possibilities
+of happiness in one direction, and he felt that there was a certain
+grandeur in the recompense of working out his defeated instincts through
+the ambitious medium of his noble art. Had not Pharaohs chosen it to
+proclaim their longings for immortality, Caesars their passion for pomp
+and luxury, and the priesthood to symbolize their conceptions of the
+heavenly mansions? His dreams were on a grand scale; such, after all,
+are the best possessions of youth. Had he but been free, or mated with a
+nature akin to his own, he would have felt himself as truly the heir of
+creation as any young man that lived. But his lot was cast, and his
+youth had all the serious aspect to himself of thoughtful manhood. In
+the region of his art alone he hoped always to find freedom and a
+companionship which his home life could never give him.
+
+Clement meant to have visited his beloved before he left Alderbank, but
+was called unexpectedly back to the city. Happily Susan was not
+exacting; she looked up to him with too great a feeling of distance
+between them to dare to question his actions. Perhaps she found a
+partial consolation in the company of Mr. Gifted Hopkins, who tried his
+new poems on her, which was the next best thing to addressing them to
+her. "Would that you were with us at this delightful season," she wrote
+in the autumn; "but no, your Susan must not repine. Yet, in the
+beautiful words of our native poet,
+
+    'O would, O would that thou wast here,
+    For absence makes thee doubly dear;
+    Ah! what is life while thou'rt away?
+    'Tis night without the orb of day!'"
+
+The poet referred to, it need hardly be said, was our young and
+promising friend G. H., as he sometimes modestly signed himself. The
+letter, it is unnecessary to state, was voluminous,--for a woman can
+tell her love, or other matter of interest, over and over again in as
+many forms as another poet, not G. H., found for his grief in ringing
+the musical changes of "In Memoriam."
+
+The answers to Susan's letters were kind, but not very long. They
+convinced her that it was a simple impossibility that Clement could come
+to Oxbow Village, on account of the great pressure of the work he had to
+keep him in the city, and the plans he _must_ finish at any rate. But at
+last the work was partially got rid of, and Clement was coming; yes, it
+was so nice, and, O dear! shouldn't she be real happy to see him?
+
+To Susan he appeared as a kind of divinity,--almost too grand for human
+nature's daily food. Yet, if the simple-hearted girl could have told
+herself the whole truth in plain words, she would have confessed to
+certain doubts which from time to time, and oftener of late, cast a
+shadow on her seemingly bright future. With all the pleasure that the
+thought of meeting Clement gave her, she felt a little tremor, a
+certain degree of awe, in contemplating his visit. If she could have
+clothed her self-humiliation in the gold and purple of the "Portuguese
+Sonnets," it would have been another matter; but the trouble with the
+most common sources of disquiet is that they have no wardrobe of flaming
+phraseology to air themselves in; the inward burning goes on without the
+relief and gratifying display of the crater.
+
+"A _friend_ of mine is coming to the village," she said to Mr. Gifted
+Hopkins. "I want you to see him. He is a genius,--as some other young
+men are." (This was obviously personal, and the youthful poet blushed
+with ingenuous delight.) "I have known him for ever so many years. He
+and I are _very good friends_." The poet knew that this meant an
+exclusive relation between them; and though the fact was no surprise to
+him, his countenance fell a little. The truth was, that his admiration
+was divided between Myrtle, who seemed to him divine and adorable, but
+distant, and Susan, who listened to his frequent poems, whom he was in
+the habit of seeing in artless domestic costumes, and whose attractions
+had been gaining upon him of late in the enforced absence of his
+divinity.
+
+He retired pensive from this interview, and, flinging himself at his
+desk, attempted wreaking his thoughts upon expression, to borrow the
+language of one of his brother bards, in a passionate lyric which he
+began thus:--
+
+    "ANOTHER'S!
+
+    "Another's! O the pang, the smart!
+      Fate owes to Love a deathless grudge,--
+    The barbed fang has rent a heart
+      Which--which--
+
+"judge--judge,--no, not judge. Budge, drudge, fudge--What a disgusting
+language English is! Nothing fit to couple with such a word as
+grudge! And the gush of an impassioned moment arrested in full
+flow, stopped short, corked up, for want of a paltry rhyme!
+Judge,--budge,--drudge,--nudge,--oh!--smudge,--misery!--fudge. In
+vain,--futile,--no use,--all up for to-night!"
+
+While the poet, headed off in this way by the poverty of his native
+tongue, sought inspiration by retiring into the world of dreams,--went
+to bed, in short,--his more fortunate rival was just entering the
+village, where he was to make his brief residence at the house of Deacon
+Rumrill, who, having been a loser by the devouring element, was glad to
+receive a stray boarder when any such were looking about for quarters.
+
+For some reason or other he was restless that evening, and took out a
+volume he had brought with him to beguile the earlier hours of the
+night. It was too late when he arrived to disturb the quiet of Mrs.
+Hopkins's household; and whatever may have been Clement's impatience, he
+held it in check, and sat tranquilly until midnight over the pages of
+the book with which he had prudently provided himself.
+
+"Hope you slept well last night," said the old Deacon, when Mr. Clement
+came down to breakfast the next morning.
+
+"Very well, thank you,--that is, after I got to bed. But I sat up pretty
+late reading my favorite Scott. I am apt to forget how the hours pass
+when I have one of his books in my hand."
+
+The worthy Deacon looked at Mr. Clement with a sudden accession of
+interest.
+
+"You couldn't find better reading, young man. Scott is _my_ favorite
+author. A great man. I have got his likeness in a gilt frame hanging up
+in the other room. I have read him all through three times."
+
+The young man's countenance brightened. He had not expected to find so
+much taste for elegant literature in an old village deacon.
+
+"What are your favorites among his writings, Deacon? I suppose you have
+your particular likings, as the rest of us have."
+
+The Deacon was flattered by the question. "Well," he answered, "I can
+hardly tell you. I like pretty much everything Scott ever wrote.
+Sometimes I think it is one thing, and sometimes another. Great on
+Paul's Epistles,--don't you think so?"
+
+The honest fact was, that Clement remembered very little about "Paul's
+Letters to his Kinsfolk,"--a book of Sir Walter's less famous than many
+of his others; but he signified his polite assent to the Deacon's
+statement, rather wondering at his choice of a favorite, and smiling at
+his queer way of talking about the Letters as Epistles.
+
+"I am afraid Scott is not so much read now-a-days as he once was, and as
+he ought to be," said Mr. Clement. "Such character, such nature and so
+much grace--"
+
+"That's it,--that's it, young man," the Deacon broke in,--"Natur' and
+Grace,--Natur' and Grace. Nobody ever knew better what those two words
+meant than Scott did, and I'm very glad to see you've chosen such good
+wholesome reading. You can't set up too late, young man, to read Scott.
+If I had twenty children, they should all begin reading Scott as soon as
+they were old enough to spell 'sin,'--and that's the first word my
+little ones learned, next to 'pa' and 'ma.' Nothing like beginning the
+lessons of life in good season."
+
+"What a grim old satirist!" Clement said to himself. "I wonder if the
+old man reads other novelists.--Do tell me, Deacon, if you have read
+Thackeray's last story?"
+
+"Thackery's story? Published by the American Tract Society?"
+
+"Not exactly," Clement answered, smiling, and quite delighted to find
+such an unexpected vein of grave pleasantry about the demure-looking
+church-dignitary; for the Deacon asked his question without moving a
+muscle, and took no cognizance whatever of the young man's tone and
+smile. First-class humorists are, as is well known, remarkable for the
+immovable solemnity of their features. Clement promised himself not a
+little amusement from the curiously sedate drollery of the venerable
+Deacon, who, it was plain from his conversation, had cultivated a
+literary taste which would make him a more agreeable companion than the
+common ecclesiastics of his grade in country villages.
+
+After breakfast, Mr. Clement walked forth in the direction of Mrs.
+Hopkins's house, thinking as he went of the pleasant surprise his visit
+would bring to his longing and doubtless pensive Susan; for though she
+knew he was coming, she did not know that he was at that moment in Oxbow
+Village.
+
+As he drew near the house, the first thing he saw was Susan Posey,
+almost running against her just as he turned a corner. She looked
+wonderfully lively and rosy, for the weather was getting keen and the
+frosts had begun to bite. A young gentleman was walking at her side, and
+reading to her from a paper he held in his hand. Both looked deeply
+interested,--so much so that Clement felt half ashamed of himself for
+intruding upon them so abruptly.
+
+But lovers are lovers, and Clement could not help joining them. The
+first thing, of course, was the utterance of two simultaneous
+exclamations, "Why, Clement!" "Why, Susan!" What might have come next in
+the programme, but for the presence of a third party, is matter of
+conjecture; but what did come next was a mighty awkward look on the part
+of Susan Posey, and the following short speech:--
+
+"Mr. Lindsay, let me introduce Mr. Hopkins, my friend, the poet I've
+written to you about. He was just reading two of his poems to me. Some
+other time, Gifted--Mr. Hopkins."
+
+"O no, Mr. Hopkins,--pray go on," said Clement. "I'm very fond of
+poetry."
+
+The poet did not require much urging, and began at once reciting over
+again the stanzas which were afterwards so much admired in the "Banner
+and Oracle,"--the first verse being, as the readers of that paper will
+remember,--
+
+    "She moves in splendor, like the ray
+      That flashes from unclouded skies,
+    And all the charms of night and day
+      Are mingled in her hair and eyes."
+
+Clement, who must have been in an agony of impatience to be alone with
+his beloved, commanded his feelings admirably. He signified his
+approbation of the poem by saying that the lines were smooth and the
+rhymes absolutely without blemish. The stanzas reminded him forcibly of
+one of the greatest poets of the century.
+
+Gifted flushed hot with pleasure. He had tasted the blood of his own
+rhymes; and when a poet gets as far as that, it is like wringing the bag
+of exhilarating gas from the lips of a fellow sucking at it, to drag his
+piece away from him.
+
+"Perhaps you will like these lines still better," he said; "the style is
+more modern:--
+
+    'O daughter of the spiced South,
+      Her bubbly grapes have spilled the wine
+      That staineth with its hue divine
+    The red flower of thy perfect mouth.'"
+
+And so on, through a series of stanzas like these, with the pulp of two
+rhymes between the upper and lower crust of two others.
+
+Clement was cornered. It was necessary to say something for the poet's
+sake,--perhaps for Susan's; for she was in a certain sense responsible
+for the poems of a youth of genius, of whom she had spoken so often and
+so enthusiastically.
+
+"Very good, Mr. Hopkins, and a form of verse little used, I should
+think, until of late years. You modelled this piece on the style of a
+famous living English poet, did you not?"
+
+"Indeed I did not, Mr. Lindsay,--I never imitate. Originality is, if I
+may be allowed to say so much for myself, my peculiar _forte_. Why, the
+critics allow as much as that. See here, Mr. Lindsay."
+
+Mr. Gifted Hopkins pulled out his pocket-book, and, taking therefrom a
+cutting from a newspaper,--which dropped helplessly open of itself, as
+if tired of the process, being very tender in the joints or creases, by
+reason of having been often folded and unfolded,--read aloud as
+follows:--
+
+     "The bard of Oxbow Village--our valued correspondent who writes
+     over the signature of G. H.--is, in our opinion, more
+     remarkable for his _originality_ than for any other of his
+     numerous gifts."
+
+Clement was apparently silenced by this, and the poet a little elated
+with a sense of triumph. Susan could not help sharing his feeling of
+satisfaction, and without meaning it in the least, nay, without knowing
+it, for she was as simple and pure as new milk, edged a little bit--the
+merest infinitesimal atom--nearer to Gifted Hopkins, who was on one side
+of her, while Clement walked on the other. Women love the conquering
+party,--it is the way of their sex. And poets, as we have seen, are
+wellnigh irresistible when they exert their dangerous power of
+fascination upon the female heart. But Clement was above jealousy; and,
+if he perceived anything of this movement, took no notice of it.
+
+He saw a good deal of his pretty Susan that day. She was tender in her
+expressions and manners as usual, but there was a little something in
+her looks and language from time to time that Clement did not know
+exactly what to make of. She colored once or twice when the young poet's
+name was mentioned. She was not so full of her little plans for the
+future as she had sometimes been, "everything was so uncertain," she
+said. Clement asked himself whether she felt quite as sure that her
+attachment would last as she once did. But there were no reproaches, not
+even any explanations, which are about as bad between lovers. There was
+nothing but an undefined feeling on his side that she did not cling
+quite so closely to him, perhaps, as he had once thought, and that, if
+he had happened to have been drowned that day when he went down with the
+beautiful young woman, it was just conceivable that Susan, who would
+have cried dreadfully, no doubt, would in time have listened to
+consolation from some other young man,--possibly from the young poet
+whose verses he had been admiring. Easy-crying widows take new husbands
+soonest; there is nothing like wet weather for transplanting, as Master
+Gridley used to say. Susan had a fluent natural gift for tears, as
+Clement well knew, after the exercise of which she used to brighten up
+like the rose which had been washed, just washed in a shower, mentioned
+by Cowper.
+
+As for the poet, he learned more of his own sentiments during this visit
+of Clement's than he had ever before known. He wandered about with a
+dreadfully disconsolate look upon his countenance. He showed a
+falling-off in his appetite at tea-time, which surprised and disturbed
+his mother, for she had filled the house with fragrant suggestions of
+good things coming, in honor of Mr. Lindsay, who was to be her guest at
+tea. And chiefly the genteel form of doughnut called in the native
+dialect _cymbal_ (_Qu._ Symbol? B. G.) which graced the board with its
+plastic forms, suggestive of the most pleasing objects,--the spiral
+ringlets pendent from the brow of beauty,--the magic circlet, which is
+the pledge of plighted affection,--the indissoluble knot, which typifies
+the union of hearts, which organs were also largely represented; this
+exceptional delicacy would at any other time have claimed his special
+notice. But his mother remarked that he paid little attention to these,
+and his "No, I thank you," when it came to the preserved "damsels" as
+some call them, carried a pang with it to the maternal bosom. The most
+touching evidence of his unhappiness--whether intentional or the result
+of accident was not evident--was a _broken heart_, which he left upon
+his plate, the meaning of which was as plain as anything in the language
+of flowers. His thoughts were gloomy during that day, running a good
+deal on the more picturesque and impressive methods of bidding a
+voluntary farewell to a world which had allured him with visions of
+beauty only to snatch them from his impassioned gaze. His mother saw
+something of this, and got from him a few disjointed words, which led
+her to lock up the clothes-line and hide her late husband's razors,--an
+affectionate, yet perhaps unnecessary precaution, for self-elimination
+contemplated from this point of view by those who have the natural
+outlet of verse to relieve them is rarely followed by a casualty. It may
+rather be considered as implying a more than average chance for
+longevity; as those who meditate an imposing finish naturally save
+themselves for it, and are therefore careful of their health until the
+time comes, and this is apt to be indefinitely postponed so long as
+there is a poem to write or a proof to be corrected.
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE SECOND MEETING.
+
+"Miss Eveleth requests the pleasure of Mr. Lindsay's company to meet a
+few friends on the evening of the Feast of St. Ambrose, December 7th,
+Wednesday.
+
+"THE PARSONAGE, December 6th."
+
+It was the luckiest thing in the world. They always made a little
+festival of that evening at the Rev. Ambrose Eveleth's, in honor of his
+canonized namesake, and because they liked to have a good time. It came
+this year just at the right moment, for here was a distinguished
+stranger visiting in the place. Oxbow Village seemed to be running over
+with its one extra young man,--as may be seen sometimes in larger
+villages, and even in cities of moderate dimensions.
+
+Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had called on Clement the very day of his
+arrival. He had already met the Deacon in the street, and asked some
+questions about his transient boarder.
+
+A very interesting young man, the Deacon said, much given to the reading
+of pious books. Up late at night after he came, reading Scott's
+Commentary. Appeared to be as fond of serious works as other young folks
+were of their novels and romances and other immoral publications. He,
+the Deacon, thought of having a few religious friends to meet the young
+gentleman, if he felt so disposed; and should like to have him, Mr.
+Bradshaw, come in and take a part in the exercises.--Mr. Bradshaw was
+unfortunately engaged. He thought the young gentleman could hardly find
+time for such a meeting during his brief visit.
+
+Mr. Bradshaw expected naturally to see a youth of imperfect
+constitution, and cachectic or dyspeptic tendencies, who was in training
+to furnish one of those biographies beginning with the statement that,
+from his infancy, the subject of it showed no inclination for boyish
+amusements, and so on, until he dies out, for the simple reason that
+there was not enough of him to live. Very interesting, no doubt, Master
+Byles Gridley would have said, but had no more to do with good, hearty,
+sound life than the history of those very little people to be seen in
+museums, preserved in jars of alcohol, like brandy peaches.
+
+When Mr. Clement Lindsay presented himself, Mr. Bradshaw was a good deal
+surprised to see a young fellow of such a mould. He pleased himself with
+the idea that he knew a man of mark at sight, and he set down Clement in
+that category at his first glance. The young man met his penetrating and
+questioning look with a frank, ingenuous, open aspect, before which he
+felt himself disarmed, as it were, and thrown upon other means of
+analysis. He would try him a little in talk.
+
+"I hope you like these people you are with. What sort of a man do you
+find my old friend the Deacon?"
+
+Clement laughed. "A very queer old character. Loves his joke as well,
+and is as sly in making it, as if he had studied Joe Miller instead of
+the Catechism."
+
+Mr. Bradshaw looked at the young man to know what he meant. Mr. Lindsay
+talked in a very easy way for a serious young person. He was puzzled. He
+did not see to the bottom of this description of the Deacon. With a
+lawyer's instinct, he kept his doubts to himself and tried his witness
+with a new question.
+
+"Did you talk about books at all with the old man?"
+
+"To be sure I did. Would you believe it, that aged saint is a great
+novel-reader. So he tells me. What is more, he brings up his children to
+that sort of reading, from the time when they first begin to spell. If
+anybody else had told me such a story about an old country deacon, I
+wouldn't have believed it; but he said so himself, to me, at breakfast
+this morning."
+
+Mr. Bradshaw felt as if either he or Mr. Lindsay must certainly be in
+the first stage of mild insanity, and he did not think that he himself
+could be out of his wits. He must try one more question. He had become
+so mystified that he forgot himself, and began putting his interrogation
+in legal form.
+
+"Will you state, if you please--I beg your pardon--may I ask who is your
+own favorite author?"
+
+"I think just now I like to read Scott better than almost anybody."
+
+"Do you mean the Rev. Thomas Scott, author of the Commentary?"
+
+Clement stared at Mr. Bradshaw, and wondered whether he was trying to
+make a fool of him. The young lawyer hardly looked as if he could be a
+fool himself.
+
+"I mean Sir Walter Scott," he said, dryly.
+
+"Oh!" said Mr. Bradshaw. He saw that there had been a slight
+misunderstanding between the young man and his worthy host, but it was
+none of his business, and there were other subjects of interest to talk
+about.
+
+"You know one of our charming young ladies very well, I believe, Mr.
+Lindsay. I think you are an old acquaintance of Miss Posey, whom we all
+consider so pretty."
+
+Poor Clement! The question pierced to the very marrow of his soul, but
+it was put with the utmost suavity and courtesy, and honeyed with a
+compliment to the young lady, too, so that there was no avoiding a
+direct and pleasant answer to it.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I have known the young lady you speak of for a long
+time, and very well,--in fact, as you must have heard, we are something
+more than friends. My visit here is principally on her account."
+
+"You must give the rest of us a chance to see something of you during
+your visit, Mr. Lindsay. I hope you are invited to Miss Eveleth's this
+evening?"
+
+"Yes, I got a note this morning. Tell me, Mr. Bradshaw, who is there
+that I shall meet this evening if I go? I have no doubt there are girls
+here I should like to see, and perhaps some young fellows that I should
+like to talk with. You know all that's prettiest and pleasantest, of
+course."'
+
+"O, we're a little place, Mr. Lindsay. A few nice people, the rest
+_comme ca_, you know. High-bush blackberries and low-bush
+blackberries,--you understand,--just so everywhere,--high-bush here and
+there, low-bush plenty. You must see the two parsons' daughters,--Saint
+Ambrose's and Saint Joseph's,--and another girl I want particularly to
+introduce you to. You shall form your own opinion of her. _I_ call her
+handsome and stylish, but you have got spoiled, you know. Our young
+poet, too, one we raised in this place, Mr. Lindsay, and a superior
+article of poet, as we think,--that is, some of us, for the rest of us
+are jealous of him, because the girls are all dying for him and want his
+autograph.--And Cyp,--yes, you must talk to Cyp,--he has ideas. But
+don't forget to get hold of old Byles--Master Gridley I mean--before you
+go. Big head. Brains enough for a cabinet minister, and fit out a
+college faculty with what was left over. Be sure you see old Byles. Set
+him talking about his book,--'Thoughts on the Universe.' Didn't sell
+much, but has got knowing things in it. I'll show you a copy, and then
+you can tell him you know it, and he will take to you. Come in and get
+your dinner with me to-morrow. We will dine late, as the city folks do,
+and after that we will go over to the Rector's. I should like to show
+you some of our village people."
+
+Mr. Bradshaw liked the thought of showing the young man to some of his
+friends there. As Clement was already "done for," or "bowled out," as
+the young lawyer would have expressed the fact of his being pledged in
+the matrimonial direction, there was nothing to be apprehended on the
+score of rivalry. And although Clement was particularly good-looking,
+and would have been called a distinguishable youth anywhere, Mr.
+Bradshaw considered himself far more than his match, in all probability,
+in social accomplishments. He expected, therefore, a certain amount of
+reflex credit for bringing such a fine young fellow in his company, and
+a second instalment of reputation from outshining him in conversation.
+This was rather nice calculating, but Murray Bradshaw always calculated.
+With most men life is like backgammon, half skill and half luck, but
+with him it was like chess. He never pushed a pawn without reckoning the
+cost, and when his mind was least busy it was sure to be half a dozen
+moves ahead of the game as it was standing.
+
+Mr. Bradshaw gave Clement a pretty dinner enough for such a place as
+Oxbow Village. He offered him some good wine, and would have made him
+talk so as to show his lining, to use one of his own expressions, but
+Clement had apparently been through that trifling experience, and could
+not be coaxed into saying more than he meant to say. Murray Bradshaw was
+very curious to find out how it was that he had become the victim of
+such a rudimentary miss as Susan Posey. Could she be an heiress in
+disguise? Why no, of course not; had not he made all proper inquiries
+about that when Susan came to town? A small inheritance from an aunt or
+uncle, or some such relative, enough to make her a desirable party in
+the eyes of certain villagers perhaps, but nothing to allure a man like
+this, whose face and figure as marketable possessions were worth say a
+hundred thousand in the girl's own right, as Mr. Bradshaw put it
+roughly, with another hundred thousand if his talent is what some say,
+and if his connection is a desirable one, a fancy price,--anything he
+would fetch. Of course not. Must have got caught when he was a child.
+Why the _diavolo_ didn't he break it off, then?
+
+There was no fault to find with the modest entertainment at the
+Parsonage. A splendid banquet in a great house is an admirable thing,
+provided always its getting up did not cost the entertainer an inward
+conflict, nor its recollection a twinge of economical regret, nor its
+bills a cramp of anxiety. A simple evening party in the smallest village
+is just as admirable in its degree, when the parlor is cheerfully
+lighted, and the board prettily spread, and the guests are made to feel
+comfortable without being reminded that anybody is making a painful
+effort.
+
+We know several of the young people who were there, and need not trouble
+ourselves for the others. Myrtle Hazard had promised to come. She had
+her own way of late as never before; in fact, the women were afraid of
+her. Miss Silence felt that she could not be responsible for her any
+longer. She had hopes for a time that Myrtle would go through the
+customary spiritual paroxysm under the influence of the Rev. Mr.
+Stoker's assiduous exhortations; but since she had broken off with him,
+Miss Silence had looked upon her as little better than a backslider. And
+now that the girl was beginning to show the tendencies which seemed to
+come straight down to her from the belle of the last century, (whose
+rich physical developments seemed to the under-vitalized spinster as in
+themselves a kind of offence against propriety,) the forlorn woman
+folded her thin hands and looked on hopelessly, hardly venturing a
+remonstrance for fear of some new explosion. As for Cynthia, she was
+comparatively easy since she had, through Mr. Byles Gridley, upset the
+minister's questionable apparatus of religious intimacy. She had, in
+fact, in a quiet way, given Mr. Bradshaw to understand that he would
+probably meet Myrtle at the Parsonage if he dropped in at their small
+gathering.
+
+Clement walked over to Mrs. Hopkins's after his dinner with the young
+lawyer, and asked if Susan was ready to go with him. At the sound of his
+voice, Gifted Hopkins smote his forehead, and called himself, in subdued
+tones, a miserable being. His imagination wavered uncertain for a while
+between pictures of various modes of ridding himself of existence, and
+fearful deeds involving the life of others. He had no fell purpose of
+actually doing either, but there was a gloomy pleasure in contemplating
+them as possibilities, and in mentally sketching the "Lines written in
+Despair" which would be found in what was but an hour before the pocket
+of the youthful bard, G. H., victim of a hopeless passion. All this
+emotion was in the nature of a surprise to the young man. He had fully
+believed himself desperately in love with Myrtle Hazard; and it was not
+until Clement came into the family circle with the right of eminent
+domain over the realm of Susan's affections, that this unfortunate
+discovered that Susan's pretty ways and morning dress and love of poetry
+and liking for his company had been too much for him, and that he was
+henceforth to be wretched during the remainder of his natural life,
+except so far as he could unburden himself in song.
+
+Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had asked the privilege of waiting upon
+Myrtle to the little party at the Eveleths. Myrtle was not insensible to
+the attractions of the young lawyer, though she had never thought of
+herself except as a child in her relations with any of these older
+persons. But she was not the same girl that she had been but a few
+months before. She had achieved her independence by her audacious and
+most dangerous enterprise. She had gone through strange nervous trials
+and spiritual experiences, which had matured her more rapidly than years
+of common life would have done. She had got back her health, bringing
+with it a riper wealth of womanhood. She had found her destiny in the
+consciousness that she inherited the beauty belonging to her blood, and
+which, after sleeping for a generation or two as if to rest from the
+glare of the pageant that follows beauty through its long career of
+triumph, had come to the light again in her life, and was to repeat the
+legends of the olden time in her own history.
+
+Myrtle's wardrobe had very little of ornament, such as the _modistes_ of
+the town would have thought essential to render a young girl like her
+presentable. There were a few heirlooms of old date, however, which she
+had kept as curiosities until now, and which she looked over until she
+found some lace and other convertible material, with which she enlivened
+her costume a little for the evening. As she clasped the antique
+bracelet around her wrist, she felt as if it were an amulet that gave
+her the power of charming which had been so long obsolete in her
+lineage. At the bottom of her heart she cherished a secret longing to
+try her fascinations on the young lawyer. Who could blame her? It was
+not an inwardly expressed intention,--it was the mere blind instinctive
+movement to subjugate the strongest of the other sex who had come in her
+way, which, as already said, is as natural to a woman as it is to a man
+to be captivated by the loveliest of those to whom he dares to aspire.
+
+Before William Murray Bradshaw and Myrtle Hazard had reached the
+Parsonage, the girl's cheeks were flushed and her dark eyes were
+flashing with a new excitement. The young man had not made love to her
+directly, but he had interested her in herself by a delicate and tender
+flattery of manner, and so set her fancies working that she was taken
+with him as never before, and wishing that the Parsonage had been a mile
+farther from The Poplars. It was impossible for a young girl like Myrtle
+to conceal the pleasure she received from listening to her seductive
+admirer, who was trying all his trained skill upon his artless
+companion. Murray Bradshaw felt sure that the game was in his hands if
+he played it with only common prudence. There was no need of hurrying
+this child,--it might startle her to make downright love abruptly; and
+now that he had an ally in her own household, and was to have access to
+her with a freedom he had never before enjoyed, there was a refined
+pleasure in playing his fish,--this gamest of golden-scaled
+creatures,--which had risen to his fly, and which he wished to hook, but
+not to land, until he was sure it would be worth his while.
+
+They entered the little parlor at the Parsonage looking so beaming, that
+Olive and Bathsheba exchanged glances which implied so much that it
+would take a full page to tell it with all the potentialities involved.
+
+"How magnificent Myrtle is this evening, Bathsheba!" said Cyprian
+Eveleth, pensively.
+
+"What a handsome pair they are, Cyprian!" said Bathsheba cheerfully.
+
+Cyprian sighed. "She always fascinates me whenever I look upon her.
+Isn't she the very picture of what a poet's love should be,--a poem
+herself,--a glorious lyric,--all light and music! See what a smile the
+creature has! And her voice! When did you ever hear such tones? And when
+was it ever so full of life before?"
+
+Bathsheba sighed. "I do not know any poets but Gifted Hopkins. Does not
+Myrtle look more in her place by the side of Murray Bradshaw than she
+would with Gifted hitched on her arm?"
+
+Just then the poet made his appearance. He looked depressed, as if it
+had cost him an effort to come. He was, however, charged with a message
+which he must deliver to the hostess of the evening.
+
+"They're coming presently," he said. "That young man and Susan. Wants
+you to introduce him, Mr. Bradshaw."
+
+The bell rang presently, and Murray Bradshaw slipped out into the entry
+to meet the two lovers.
+
+"How are you, my fortunate friend?" he said, as he met them at the door.
+"Of course you're well and happy as mortal man can be in this vale of
+tears. Charming, ravishing, quite delicious, that way of dressing your
+hair, Miss Posey! Nice girls here this evening, Mr. Lindsay. Looked
+lovely when I came out of the parlor. Can't say how they will show after
+this young lady puts in an appearance." In reply to which florid
+speeches Susan blushed, not knowing what else to do, and Clement smiled
+as naturally as if he had been sitting for his photograph.
+
+He felt, in a vague way, that he and Susan were being patronized, which
+is not a pleasant feeling to persons with a certain pride of character.
+There was no expression of contempt about Mr. Bradshaw's manner or
+language at which he could take offence. Only he had the air of a man
+who praises his neighbor without stint, with a calm consciousness that
+he himself is out of reach of comparison in the possessions or qualities
+which he is admiring in the other. Clement was right in his obscure
+perception of Mr. Bradshaw's feeling while he was making his phrases.
+That gentleman was, in another moment, to have the tingling delight of
+showing the grand creature he had just begun to tame. He was going to
+extinguish the pallid light of Susan's prettiness in the brightness of
+Myrtle's beauty. He would bring this young man, neutralized and rendered
+entirely harmless by his irrevocable pledge to a slight girl, face to
+face with a masterpiece of young womanhood, and say to him, not in
+words, but as plainly as speech could have told him, "Behold my
+captive!"
+
+It was a proud moment for Murray Bradshaw. He had seen, or thought that
+he had seen, the assured evidence of a speedy triumph over all the
+obstacles of Myrtle's youth and his own present seeming slight excess of
+maturity. Unless he were very greatly mistaken, he could now walk the
+course; the plate was his, no matter what might be the entries. And this
+youth, this handsome, spirited-looking, noble-aired young fellow, whose
+artist-eye could not miss a line of Myrtle's proud and almost defiant
+beauty, was to be the witness of his power, and to look in admiration
+upon his prize! He introduced him to the others, reserving her for the
+last. She was at that moment talking with the worthy Rector, and turned
+when Mr. Bradshaw spoke to her.
+
+"Miss Hazard, will you allow me to present to you my friend, Mr. Clement
+Lindsay?"
+
+They looked full upon each other, and spoke the common words of
+salutation. It was a strange meeting; but we who profess to tell the
+truth must tell strange things, or we shall be liars.
+
+In poor little Susan's letter there was some allusion to a bust of
+Innocence which the young artist had begun, but of which he had said
+nothing in his answer to her. He had roughed out a block of marble for
+that impersonation; sculpture was a delight to him, though secondary to
+his main pursuit. After his memorable adventure, the features and the
+forms of the girl he had rescued so haunted him that the pale ideal
+which was to work itself out in the bust faded away in its perpetual
+presence, and--alas, poor Susan!--in obedience to the impulse that he
+could not control, he left Innocence sleeping in the marble, and began
+modelling a figure of proud and noble and imperious beauty, to which he
+gave the name of Liberty.
+
+The original which had inspired his conception was before him. These
+were the lips to which his own had clung when he brought her back from
+the land of shadows. The hyacinthine curl of her lengthening locks had
+added something to her beauty; but it was the same face which had
+haunted him. This was the form he had borne seemingly lifeless in his
+arms, and the bosom which heaved so visibly before him was that which
+his eyes--. They were the calm eyes of a sculptor, but of a sculptor
+hardly twenty years old.
+
+Yes,--her bosom was heaving. She had an unexplained feeling of
+suffocation, and drew great breaths,--she could not have said why,--but
+she could not help it; and presently she became giddy, and had a great
+noise in her ears, and rolled her eyes about, and was on the point of
+going into an hysteric spasm. They called Dr. Hurlbut, who was making
+himself agreeable to Olive just then, to come and see what was the
+matter with Myrtle.
+
+"A little nervous turn,--that is all," he said. "Open the window. Loose
+the ribbon round her neck. Rub her hands. Sprinkle some water on her
+forehead. A few drops of cologne. Room too warm for her,--that's all, I
+think."
+
+Myrtle came to herself after a time without anything like a regular
+paroxysm. But she was excitable, and whatever the cause of the
+disturbance may have been, it seemed prudent that she should go home
+early; and the excellent Rector insisted on caring for her, much to the
+discontent of Mr. William Murray Bradshaw.
+
+"Demonish odd," said this gentleman, "wasn't it, Mr. Lindsay, that Miss
+Hazard should go off in that way? Did you ever see her before?"
+
+"I--I--have seen that young lady before," Clement answered.
+
+"Where did you meet her?" Mr. Bradshaw asked, with eager interest.
+
+"I met her in the Valley of the Shadow of Death," Clement answered, very
+solemnly.--"I leave this place to-morrow morning. Have you any commands
+for the city?"
+
+("Knows how to shut a fellow up pretty well for a young one, doesn't
+he?" Mr. Bradshaw thought to himself.)
+
+"Thank you, no," he answered, recovering himself. "Rather a melancholy
+place to make acquaintance in, I should think, that Valley you spoke of.
+I should like to know about it."
+
+Mr. Clement had the power of looking steadily into another person's eyes
+in a way that was by no means encouraging to curiosity or favorable to
+the process of cross-examination. Mr. Bradshaw was not disposed to press
+his question in the face of the calm, repressive look the young man gave
+him.
+
+"If he wasn't bagged, I shouldn't like the shape of things any too
+well," he said to himself.
+
+The conversation between Mr. Clement Lindsay and Miss Susan Posey, as
+they walked home together, was not very brilliant. "I am going
+to-morrow morning," he said, "and I must bid you good by to-night."
+Perhaps it is as well to leave two lovers to themselves, under these
+circumstances.
+
+Before he went he spoke to his worthy host, whose moderate demands he
+had to satisfy, and with whom he wished to exchange a few words.
+
+"And by the way, Deacon, I have no use for this book, and as it is in a
+good type, perhaps you would like it. Your favorite, Scott, and one of
+his greatest works. I have another edition of it at home, and don't care
+for this volume."
+
+"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Lindsay, much obleeged. I shall read that
+copy for your sake,--the best of books next to the Bible itself."
+
+After Mr. Lindsay had gone, the Deacon looked at the back of the book.
+"Scott's Works, Vol. IX." He opened it at hazard, and happened to fall
+on a well-known page, from which he began reading aloud, slowly,
+
+    "When Izrul, of the Lord beloved,
+    Out of the land of bondage came."
+
+The whole hymn pleased the grave Deacon. He had never seen this work of
+the author of the Commentary. No matter; anything that such a good man
+wrote must be good reading, and he would save it up for Sunday. The
+consequence of this was, that, when the Rev. Mr. Stoker stopped in on
+his way to meeting on the "Sabbath," he turned white with horror at the
+spectacle of the senior Deacon of his church sitting, open-mouthed and
+wide-eyed, absorbed in the pages of "Ivanhoe," which he found enormously
+interesting; but, so far as he had yet read, not occupied with religious
+matters so much as he had expected.
+
+Myrtle had no explanation to give of her nervous attack. Mr. Bradshaw
+called the day after the party, but did not see her. He met her walking,
+and thought she seemed a little more distant than common. That would
+never do. He called again at The Poplars a few days afterwards, and was
+met in the entry by Miss Cynthia, with whom he had a long conversation
+on matters involving Myrtle's interests and their own.
+
+
+
+
+A PASSAGE FROM HAWTHORNE'S ENGLISH NOTEBOOKS.
+
+
+Our road to Rydal lay through Ambleside, which is certainly a very
+pretty town, and looks cheerfully on a sunny day. We saw Miss
+Martineau's residence, called the Knoll, standing high up on a hillock,
+and having at its foot a Methodist chapel, for which, or whatever place
+of Christian worship, this good lady can have no occasion. We stopped a
+moment in the street below her house, and deliberated a little whether
+to call on her, but concluded otherwise.
+
+After leaving Ambleside, the road winds in and out among the hills, and
+soon brings us to a sheet (or napkin, rather, than a sheet) of water,
+which the driver tells us is Rydal Lake! We had already heard that it
+was but three quarters of a mile long, and one quarter broad; still, it
+being an idea of considerable size in our minds, we had inevitably drawn
+its ideal physical proportions on a somewhat corresponding scale. It
+certainly did look very small; and I said, in my American scorn, that I
+could carry it away easily in a porringer; for it is nothing more than a
+grassy-bordered pool among the surrounding hills, which ascend directly
+from its margin; so that one might fancy it not a permanent body of
+water, but a rather extensive accumulation of recent rain. Moreover, it
+was rippled with a breeze, and so, as I remember it, though the sun
+shone, it looked dull and sulky, like a child out of humor. Now the best
+thing these small ponds can do is to keep perfectly calm and smooth, and
+not to attempt to show off any airs of their own, but content themselves
+with serving as a mirror for whatever of beautiful or picturesque there
+may be in the scenery around them. The hills about Rydal water are not
+very lofty, but are sufficiently so as objects of every-day
+view,--objects to live with,--and they are craggier than those we have
+hitherto seen, and bare of wood, which indeed would hardly grow on some
+of their precipitous sides.
+
+On the roadside, as we reach the foot of the lake, stands a spruce and
+rather large house of modern aspect, but with several gables, and much
+overgrown with ivy,--a very pretty and comfortable house, built,
+adorned, and cared for with commendable taste. We inquired whose it was,
+and the coachman said it was "Mr. Wordsworth's," and that Mrs.
+Wordsworth was still residing there. So we were much delighted to have
+seen his abode; and as we were to stay the night at Grasmere, about two
+miles farther on, we determined to come back and inspect it as
+particularly as should be allowable. Accordingly, after taking rooms at
+Brown's Hotel, we drove back in our return car, and, reaching the head
+of Rydal water, alighted to walk through this familiar scene of so many
+years of Wordsworth's life. We ought to have seen De Quincey's former
+residence, and Hartley Coleridge's cottage, I believe, on our way, but
+were not aware of it at the time. Near the lake there is a stone quarry,
+and a cavern of some extent, artificially formed, probably, by taking
+out the stone. Above the shore of the lake, not a great way from
+Wordsworth's residence, there is a flight of steps hewn in a rock, and
+ascending to a seat, where a good view of the lake may be attained; and
+as Wordsworth has doubtless sat there hundreds of times, so did we
+ascend and sit down and look at the hills and at the flags on the
+lake's shore.
+
+Reaching the house that had been pointed out to us as Wordsworth's
+residence, we began to peer about at its front and gables, and over the
+garden-wall on both sides of the road, quickening our enthusiasm as much
+as we could, and meditating to pilfer some flower or ivy-leaf from the
+house or its vicinity, to be kept as sacred memorials. At this juncture
+a man approached, who announced himself as the gardener of the place,
+and said, too, that this was not Wordsworth's house at all, but the
+residence of Mr. Ball, a Quaker gentleman; but that his ground adjoined
+Wordsworth's, and that he had liberty to take visitors through the
+latter. How absurd it would have been if we had carried away ivy-leaves
+and tender recollections from this domicile of a respectable Quaker! The
+gardener was an intelligent young man, of pleasant, sociable, and
+respectful address; and as we went along, he talked about the poet, whom
+he had known, and who, he said, was very familiar with the country
+people. He led us through Mr. Ball's grounds, up a steep hillside, by
+winding, gravelled walks, with summer-houses at points favorable for
+them. It was a very shady and pleasant spot, containing about an acre of
+ground, and all turned to good account by the manner of laying it out;
+so that it seemed more than it really was. In one place, on a small,
+smooth slab of slate let into a rock, there is an inscription by
+Wordsworth, which I think I have read in his works, claiming kindly
+regards from those who visit the spot, after his departure, because many
+trees had been spared at his intercession. His own grounds, or rather
+his ornamental garden, is separated from Mr. Ball's only by a wire
+fence, or some such barrier, and the gates have no fastening, so that
+the whole appears like one possession, and doubtless was so as regarded
+the poet's walks and enjoyments. We approached by paths so winding, that
+I hardly know how the house stands in relation to the road; but, after
+much circuity, we really did see Wordsworth's residence,--an old house,
+with an uneven ridge-pole, built of stone, no doubt, but plastered over
+with some neutral tint,--a house that would not have been remarkably
+pretty in itself, but so delightfully situated, so secluded, so hedged
+about with shrubbery and adorned with flowers, so ivy-grown on one side,
+so beautified with the personal care of him who lived in it and loved
+it, that it seemed the very place for a poet's residence; and as if,
+while he lived so long in it, his poetry had manifested itself in
+flowers, shrubbery, and ivy. I never smelt such a delightful fragrance
+of flowers as there was all through the garden. In front of the house,
+there is a circular terrace, of two ascents, in raising which Wordsworth
+had himself performed much of the labor; and here there are seats, from
+which we obtained a fine view down the valley of the Rothay, with
+Windermere in the distance,--a view of several miles, and which we did
+not suppose could be seen, after winding among the hills so far from the
+lake. It is very beautiful and picture-like. While we sat here, mamma
+happened to refer to the ballad of little Barbara Lewthwaite, and Julian
+began to repeat the poem concerning her; and the gardener said that
+little Barbara had died not a great while ago, an elderly woman, leaving
+grown-up children behind her. Her marriage-name was Thompson, and the
+gardener believed there was nothing remarkable in her character.
+
+There is a summer-house at one extremity of the grounds, in deepest
+shadow, but with glimpses of mountain-views through trees which shut it
+in, and which have spread intercepting boughs since Wordsworth died. It
+is lined with pine-cones, in a pretty way enough, but of doubtful taste.
+I rather wonder that people of real taste should help Nature out, and
+beautify her, or perhaps rather _prettify_ her so much as they
+do,--opening vistas, showing one thing, hiding another, making a scene
+picturesque whether or no. I cannot rid myself of the feeling that there
+is something false, a kind of humbug, in all this. At any rate, the
+traces of it do not contribute to my enjoyment, and, indeed, it ought to
+be done so exquisitely as to leave no trace. But I ought not to
+criticise in any way a spot which gave me so much pleasure, and where it
+is good to think of Wordsworth in quiet, past days, walking in his
+home-shadow of trees which he knew, and training flowers, and trimming
+shrubs, and chanting in an undertone his own verses, up and down the
+winding walks.
+
+The gardener gave Julian a cone from the summer-house, which had fallen
+on the seat, and mamma got some mignonette, and leaves of laurel and
+ivy, and we wended our way back to the hotel.
+
+Wordsworth was not the owner of this house, it being the property of
+Lady Fleming. Mrs. Wordsworth still lives there, and is now at home.
+
+_Five o'clock._--All day it has been cloudy and showery, with thunder
+now and then; the mists hang low on the surrounding hills, adown which,
+at various points, we can see the snow-white fall of little
+streamlets--forces they call them here--swollen by the rain. An overcast
+day is not so gloomy in the hill-country as in the lowlands; there are
+more breaks, more transfusion of sky-light through the gloom, as has
+been the case to-day; and, as I found in Lenox, we get better acquainted
+with clouds by seeing at what height they lie on the hillsides, and find
+that the difference betwixt a fair day and a cloudy and rainy one is
+very superficial, after all. Nevertheless, rain is rain, and wets a man
+just as much among the mountains as anywhere else; so we have been kept
+within doors all day, till an hour or so ago, when Julian and I went
+down to the village in quest of the post-office.
+
+We took a path that leads from the hotel across the fields, and, coming
+into a wood, crosses the Rothay by a one-arched bridge, and passes the
+village church. The Rothay is very swift and turbulent to-day, and
+hurries along with foam-specks on its surface, filling its banks from
+brim to brim, a stream perhaps twenty feet wide, perhaps more; for I am
+willing that the good little river should have all it can fairly claim.
+It is the St. Lawrence of several of these English lakes, through which
+it flows, and carries off their superfluous waters. In its haste, and
+with its rushing sound, it was pleasant both to see and hear; and it
+sweeps by one side of the old churchyard where Wordsworth lies
+buried,--the side where his grave is made. The church of Grasmere is a
+very plain structure, with a low body, on one side of which is a low
+porch with a pointed arch. The tower is square, and looks ancient; but
+the whole is overlaid with plaster of a buff or pale-yellow hue. It was
+originally built, I suppose, of rough, shingly stones, as many of the
+houses hereabouts are now, and the plaster is used to give a finish. We
+found the gate of the churchyard wide open; and the grass was lying on
+the graves, having probably been mowed yesterday. It is but a small
+churchyard, and with few monuments of any pretension in it, most of them
+being slate headstones, standing erect. From the gate at which we
+entered a distinct foot-track leads to the corner nearest the
+river-side, and I turned into it by a sort of instinct, the more readily
+as I saw a tourist-looking man approaching from that point, and a woman
+looking among the gravestones. Both of these persons had gone by the
+time I came up, so that Julian and I were left to find Wordsworth's
+grave all by ourselves.
+
+At this corner of the churchyard there is a hawthorn bush or tree, the
+extremest branches of which stretch as far as where Wordsworth lies.
+This whole corner seems to be devoted to himself and his family and
+friends; and they all lie very closely together, side by side, and head
+to foot, as room could conveniently be found. Hartley Coleridge lies a
+little behind, in the direction of the church, his feet being towards
+Wordsworth's head, who lies in the row of those of his own blood. I
+found out Hartley Coleridge's grave sooner than Wordsworth's; for it is
+of marble, and, though simple enough, has more of sculptured device
+about it, having been erected, as I think the inscription states, by his
+brother and sister. Wordsworth's has only the very simplest slab of
+slate, with "William Wordsworth" and nothing else upon it. As I
+recollect it, it is the midmost grave of the row. It is, or has been,
+well grass-grown, but the grass is quite worn away from the top, though
+sufficiently luxuriant at the sides. It looks as if people had stood
+upon it, and so does the grave next to it, which, I believe, is of one
+of his children. I plucked some grass and weeds from it; and as he was
+buried within so few years, they may fairly be supposed to have drawn
+their nutriment from his mortal remains, and I gathered them from just
+above his head. There is no fault to be found with his grave,--within
+view of the hills, within sound of the river, murmuring near by,--no
+fault, except that he is crowded so closely with his kindred; and,
+moreover, that, being so old a churchyard, the earth over him must all
+have been human once. He might have had fresh earth to himself, but he
+chose this grave deliberately. No very stately and broad-based monument
+can ever be erected over it, without infringing upon, covering, and
+overshadowing the graves, not only of his family, but of individuals who
+probably were quite disconnected with him. But it is pleasant to think
+and know--were it but on the evidence of this choice of a
+resting-place--that he did not care for a stately monument. After
+leaving the churchyard, we wandered about in quest of the post-office,
+and for a long time without success. This little town of Grasmere seems
+to me as pretty a place as ever I met with in my life. It is quite shut
+in by hills that rise up immediately around it, like a neighborhood of
+kindly giants. These hills descend steeply to the verge of the level on
+which the village stands, and there they terminate at once, the whole
+site of the little town being as even as a floor. I call it a village;
+but it is no village at all, all the dwellings standing apart, each in
+its own little domain, and each, I believe, with its own little lane
+leading to it, independently of the rest. Most of these are old
+cottages, plastered white, with antique porches, and roses and other
+vines trained against them, and shrubbery growing about them; and some
+are covered with ivy. There are a few edifices of more pretension and of
+modern build, but not so strikingly as to put the rest out of
+countenance. The post-office, when we found it, proved to be an ivied
+cottage, with a good deal of shrubbery round it, having its own pathway,
+like the other cottages. The whole looks like a real seclusion, shut out
+from the great world by these encircling hills, on the sides of which,
+whenever they are not too steep, you see the division-lines of property,
+and tokens of cultivation,--taking from them their pretensions to savage
+majesty, but bringing them nearer to the heart of man.
+
+Since writing the above, I have been again with S---- to see
+Wordsworth's grave, and, finding the door of the church open, we went
+in. A woman and little girl were sweeping at the farther end, and the
+woman came towards us out of the cloud of dust which she had raised. We
+were surprised at the extremely antique appearance of the church. It is
+paved with bluish-gray flagstones, over which uncounted generations have
+trodden, leaving the floor as well laid as ever. The walls are very
+thick, and the arched windows open through them at a considerable
+distance above the floor. And down through the centre of the church runs
+a row of five arches, very rude and round-headed, all of rough stone,
+supported by rough and massive pillars, or rather square stone blocks,
+which stand in the pews, and stood in the same places, probably, long
+before the wood of those pews began to grow. Above this row of arches is
+another row, built upon the same mass of stone, and almost as broad, but
+lower; and on this upper row rests the framework, the oaken beams, the
+black skeleton of the roof. It is a very clumsy contrivance for
+supporting the roof, and if it were modern we certainly should condemn
+it as very ugly; but being the relic of a simple age, it comes in well
+with the antique simplicity of the whole structure. The roof goes up,
+barn-like, into its natural angle, and all the rafters and cross-beams
+are visible. There is an old font; and in the chancel is a niche, where,
+judging from a similar one in Furness Abbey, the holy water used to be
+placed for the priest's use while celebrating mass. Around the inside of
+the porch is a stone bench, placed against the wall, narrow and uneasy,
+but where a great many people had sat who now have found quieter
+resting-places.
+
+The woman was a very intelligent-looking person, not of the usual
+English ruddiness, but rather thin and somewhat pale, though bright of
+aspect. Her way of talking was very agreeable. She inquired if we wished
+to see Wordsworth's monument, and at once showed it to us,--a slab of
+white marble fixed against the upper end of the central row of stone
+arches, with a pretty long inscription, and a profile bust, in
+bas-relief, of his aged countenance. The monument is placed directly
+over Wordsworth's pew, and could best be seen and read from the very
+corner-seat where he used to sit. The pew is one of those occupying the
+centre of the church, and is just across the aisle from the pulpit, and
+is the best of all for the purpose of seeing and hearing the clergyman,
+and likewise as convenient as any, from its neighborhood to the altar.
+On the other side of the aisle, beneath the pulpit, is Lady Fleming's
+pew. This and one or two others are curtained; Wordsworth's was not. I
+think I can bring up his image in that corner seat of his pew--a
+white-headed, tall, spare man, plain in aspect--better than in any other
+situation. The woman said that she had known him very well, and that he
+had made some verses on a sister of hers. She repeated the first lines,
+something about a lamb; but neither S---- nor I remembered them.
+
+On the walls of the chancel there are monuments to the Flemings, and
+painted escutcheons of their arms; and along the side walls also, and on
+the square pillars of the row of arches, there are other monuments,
+generally of white marble, with the letters of the inscription
+blackened. On these pillars, likewise, and in many places in the walls,
+were hung verses from Scripture, painted on boards. At one of the doors
+was a poor-box, an elaborately carved little box of oak, with the date
+1648, and the name of the church--St. Oswald's--upon it. The whole
+interior of the edifice was plain, simple, almost to grimness,--or would
+have been so, only that the foolish church-wardens, or other authority,
+have washed it over with the same buff color with which they have
+overlaid the exterior. It is a pity; it lightens it up, and desecrates
+it horribly, especially as the woman says that there were formerly
+paintings on the walls, now obliterated forever. I could have stayed in
+the old church much longer, and could write much more about it, but
+there must be an end to everything. Pacing it from the farther end to
+the elevation before the altar, I found that it was twenty-five paces
+long.
+
+On looking again at the Rothay, I find I did it some injustice; for at
+the bridge, in its present swollen state, it is nearer twenty yards than
+twenty feet across. Its waters are very clear, and it rushes along with
+a speed which is delightful to see, after an acquaintance with the muddy
+and sluggish Avon and Leam.
+
+Since tea, I have taken a stroll from the hotel in a different direction
+from usual, and passed the Swan Inn, where Scott used to go daily to get
+a draught of liquor when he was visiting Wordsworth, who had no wine nor
+other inspiriting fluid in his house. It stands directly on the wayside,
+a small, whitewashed house, with an addition in the rear that seems to
+have been built since Scott's time. On the door is the painted sign of
+a swan,--and the name "Scott's Swan Hotel." I walked a considerable
+distance beyond it; but a shower coming up, I turned back, entered the
+inn, and, following the mistress into a snug little room, was served
+with a glass of bitter ale. It is a very plain and homely inn, and
+certainly could not have satisfied Scott's wants, if he had required
+anything very farfetched or delicate in his potations. I found two
+Westmoreland peasants in the room with ale before them. One went away
+almost immediately; but the other remained, and, entering into
+conversation with him, he told me that he was going to New Zealand, and
+expected to sail in September. I announced myself as an American, and he
+said that a large party had lately gone from hereabouts to America; but
+he seemed not to understand that there was any distinction between
+Canada and the States. These people had gone to Quebec. He was a very
+civil, well-behaved, kindly sort of person, of a simple character, which
+I took to belong to the class and locality, rather than to himself
+individually. I could not very well understand all that he said, owing
+to his provincial dialect; and when he spoke to his own countrymen, or
+to the women of the house, I really could but just catch a word here and
+there. How long it takes to melt English down into a homogeneous mass!
+He told me that there was a public library in Grasmere, to which he has
+access in common with the other inhabitants, and a reading-room
+connected with it, where he reads the "Times" in the evening. There was
+no American smartness in his mind. When I left the house, it was
+showering briskly; but the drops quite ceased, and the clouds began to
+break away, before I reached my hotel, and I saw the new moon over my
+right shoulder.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_July 21._--We left Grasmere yesterday, after breakfast, it being a
+delightful morning, with some clouds, but the cheerfullest sunshine on
+great part of the mountain-sides and on ourselves. We returned, in the
+first place, to Ambleside, along the border of Grasmere Lake, which
+would be a pretty little piece of water, with its steep and
+high-surrounding hills, were it not that a stubborn and straight-lined
+stone fence, running along the eastern shore, by the roadside, quite
+spoils its appearance. Rydal water, though nothing can make a lake of
+it, looked prettier and less diminutive than at the first view; and, in
+fact, I find that it is impossible to know accurately how any prospect
+or other thing looks until after at least a second view, which always
+essentially corrects the first. This, I think, is especially true in
+regard to objects which we have heard much about, and exercised our
+imagination upon; the first view being a vain attempt to reconcile our
+idea with the reality, and at the second we begin to accept the thing
+for what it really is. Wordsworth's situation is really a beautiful one;
+and Nab Scaur behind his house rises with a grand, protecting air. We
+passed Nab's cottage, in which De Quincey formerly lived, and where
+Hartley Coleridge lived and died. It is a small, buff-tinted, plastered,
+stone cottage, immediately on the roadside, and originally, I should
+think, of a very humble class; but it now looks as if persons of taste
+might some time or other have sat down in it, and caused flowers to
+spring up about it. It is very agreeably situated, under the great,
+precipitous hill, and with Rydal water close at hand, on the other side
+of the road. An advertisement of lodgings to let was put up on this
+cottage.
+
+I question whether any part of the world looks so beautiful as
+England--this part of England, at least--on a fine summer morning. It
+makes one think the more cheerfully of human life to see such a bright,
+universal verdure; such sweet, rural, peaceful, flower-bordered
+cottages,--not cottages of gentility, but dwellings of the laboring
+poor; such nice villas along the roadside, so tastefully contrived for
+comfort and beauty, and adorned more and more, year after year, with the
+care and afterthought of people who mean to live in them a great while,
+and feel as if their children might live in them also. And so they plant
+trees to overshadow their walks, and train ivy and all beautiful vines
+up against their walls,--and thus live for the future in another sense
+than we Americans do. And the climate helps them out, and makes
+everything moist and green, and full of tender life, instead of dry and
+arid, as human life and vegetable life are so apt to be with us.
+Certainly, England can present a more attractive face than we can, even
+in its humbler modes of life,--to say nothing of the beautiful lives
+that might be led, one would think, by the higher classes, whose
+gateways, with broad, smooth gravelled drives leading through them, one
+sees every mile or two along the road, winding into some proud
+seclusion. All this is passing away, and society must assume new
+relations; but there is no harm in believing that there has been
+something very good in English life,--good for all classes, while the
+world was in a state out of which these forms naturally grew.
+
+
+
+
+MONA'S MOTHER.
+
+
+    In the porch that brier-vines smother,
+    At her wheel, sits Mona's mother.
+      O, the day is dying bright!
+    Roseate shadows, silver dimming,
+    Ruby lights through amber swimming,
+      Bring the still and starry night.
+
+    Sudden she is 'ware of shadows
+    Going out across the meadows
+      From the slowly sinking sun,--
+    Going through the misty spaces
+    That the rippling ruby laces,
+    Shadows, like the violets tangled,
+    Like the soft light, softly mingled,
+      Till the two seem just as one!
+
+    Every tell-tale wind doth waft her
+    Little breaths of maiden laughter.
+      O, divinely dies the day!
+    And the swallow, on the rafter,
+      In her nest of sticks and clay,--
+    On the rafter, up above her,
+    With her patience doth reprove her,
+      Twittering soft the time away;
+    Never stopping, never stopping,
+    With her wings so warmly dropping
+      Round her nest of sticks and clay.
+
+    "Take, my bird, O take some other
+      Eve than this to twitter gay!"
+    Sayeth, prayeth Mona's mother,
+    To the slender-throated swallow
+      On her nest of sticks and clay;
+    For her sad eyes needs must follow
+    Down the misty, mint-sweet hollow,
+      Where the ruby colors play
+      With the gold, and with the gray.
+    "Yet, my little Lady-feather,
+      You do well to sit and sing,"
+    Crieth, sigheth Mona's mother.
+    "If you would, you could no other.
+      Can the leaf fail with the spring?
+    Can the tendril stay from twining
+      When the sap begins to run?
+    Or the dew-drop keep from shining
+      With her body full o' the sun?
+    Nor can you, from gladness, either;
+      Therefore, you do well to sing.
+    Up and o'er the downy lining
+      Of your bird-bed I can see
+    Two round little heads together,
+    Pushed out softly through your wing.
+      But alas! my bird, for me!"
+
+    In the porch with roses burning
+      All across, she sitteth lonely.
+      O, her soul is dark with dread!
+    Round and round her slow wheel turning,
+    Lady brow down-dropped serenely,
+    Lady hand uplifted queenly,
+    Pausing in the spinning only
+      To rejoin the broken thread,--
+    Pausing only for the winding,
+    With the carded silken binding
+      Of the flax, the distaff-head.
+
+    All along the branches creeping,
+    To their leafy beds of sleeping
+      Go the blue-birds and the brown;
+    Blackbird stoppeth now his clamor,
+    And the little yellowhammer
+      Droppeth head in winglet down.
+    Now the rocks rise bleak and barren
+      Through the twilight, gray and still;
+    In the marsh-land now the heron
+      Clappeth close his horny bill.
+    Death-watch now begins his drumming
+    And the fire-fly, going, coming,
+      Weaveth zigzag lines of light,--
+    Lines of zigzag, golden-threaded,
+    Up the marshy valley, shaded
+      O'er and o'er with vapors white.
+    Now the lily, open-hearted,
+    Of her dragon-fly deserted,
+      Swinging on the wind so low,
+    Gives herself, with trust audacious,
+    To the wild warm wave that washes
+      Through her fingers, soft and slow.
+
+    O the eyes of Mona's mother!
+      Dim they grow with tears unshed;
+    For no longer may they follow
+    Down the misty mint-sweet hollow,
+    Down along the yellow mosses
+    That the brook with silver crosses.
+      Ah! the day is dead, is dead;
+    And the cold and curdling shadows,
+    Stretching from the long, low meadows,
+    Darker, deeper, nearer spread,
+    Till she cannot see the twining
+    Of the briers, nor see the lining
+    Round the porch of roses red,--
+    Till she cannot see the hollow,
+    Nor the little steel-winged swallow,
+      On her clay-built nest o'erhead.
+
+    Mona's mother falleth mourning:
+      O, 't is hard, so hard, to see
+    Prattling child to woman turning,
+      As to grander company!
+    Little heart she lulled with hushes
+    Beating, burning up with blushes,
+    All with meditative dreaming
+    On the dear delicious gleaming
+    Of the bridal veil and ring;
+    Finding in the sweet ovations
+    Of its new, untried relations
+      Better joys than she can bring.
+
+    In her hand her wheel she keepeth,
+    And her heart within her leapeth,
+    With a burdened, bashful yearning,
+      For the babe's weight on her knee,
+      For the loving lisp of glee,
+    Sweet as larks' throats in the morning,
+      Sweet as hum of honey-bee.
+
+    "O my child!" cries Mona's mother,
+    "Will you, can you take another
+      Name ere mine upon your lips?
+    Can you, only for the asking,
+    Give to other hands the clasping
+      Of your rosy finger-tips?"
+
+    Fear on fear her sad soul borrows,--
+      O the dews are falling fair!
+    But no fair thing now can move her;
+    Vainly walks the moon above her,
+    Turning out her golden furrows
+      On the cloudy fields of air.
+
+    Sudden she is 'ware of shadows,
+    Coming in across the meadows,
+      And of murmurs, low as love,--
+    Murmurs mingled like the meeting
+    Of the winds, or like the beating
+      Of the wings of dove with dove.
+
+    In her hand the slow wheel stoppeth,
+    Silken flax from distaff droppeth,
+    And a cruel, killing pain
+    Striketh up from heart to brain;
+    And she knoweth by that token
+      That the spinning all is vain,
+    That the troth-plight has been spoken,
+    And the thread of life thus broken
+      Never can be joined again.
+
+
+
+
+AT PADUA.
+
+
+I.
+
+Those of my readers who have frequented the garden of Doctor Rappaccini
+no doubt recall with perfect distinctness the quaint old city of Padua.
+They remember its miles and miles of dim arcade over-roofing the
+sidewalks everywhere, affording excellent opportunity for the flirtation
+of lovers by day and the vengeance of rivals by night. They have seen
+the now vacant streets thronged with maskers, and the Venetian Podesta
+going in gorgeous state to and from the vast Palazzo della Ragione. They
+have witnessed ringing tournaments in those sad, empty squares, and
+races in the Prato della Valle, and many other wonders of different
+epochs, and their pleasure makes me half sorry that I should have lived
+for several years within an hour by rail from Padua, and should know
+little or nothing of these great sights from actual observation. I take
+shame to myself for having visited Padua so often and so familiarly as I
+used to do,--for having been bored and hungry there,--for having had
+toothache there, upon one occasion,--for having rejoiced more in a cup
+of coffee at Pedrocchi's than in the whole history of Padua,--for having
+slept repeatedly in the bad-bedded hotels of Padua and never once dreamt
+of Portia,--for having been more taken by the _salti mortali_[A] of a
+waiter who summed up my account at a Paduan restaurant, than by all the
+strategies with which the city has been many times captured and
+recaptured. Had I viewed Padua only over the wall of Doctor Rappaccini's
+garden, how different my impressions of the city would now be! This is
+one of the drawbacks of actual knowledge.
+
+"Ah! how can you write about Spain when once you have been there?" asked
+Heine of Theophile Gautier setting out on a journey thither.
+
+Nevertheless it seems to me that I remember something about Padua with a
+sort of romantic pleasure. There was a certain charm which I can dimly
+recall, in sauntering along the top of the old wall of the city, and
+looking down upon the plumy crests of the Indian-corn that nourished up
+so mightily from the dry bed of the moat. At such times I could not help
+figuring to myself the many sieges that the wall had known, with the
+fierce assault by day, the secret attack by night, the swarming foe upon
+the plains below, the bristling arms of the besieged upon the wall, the
+boom of the great mortars made of ropes and leather and throwing mighty
+balls of stone, the stormy flight of arrows, the ladders planted against
+the defences and staggering headlong into the moat, enriched for future
+agriculture not only by its sluggish waters, but by the blood of many
+men. I suppose that most of these visions were old stage spectacles
+furbished up anew, and that my armies were chiefly equipped with their
+obsolete implements of warfare from museums of armor and from cabinets
+of antiquities; but they were very vivid, for all that.
+
+I was never able, in passing a certain one of the city gates, to divest
+myself of an historic interest in the great loads of hay waiting
+admission on the outside. For an instant they masked again the Venetian
+troops that, in the war of the League of Cambray, entered the city in
+the hay-carts, shot down the landsknechts at the gates, and, uniting
+with the citizens, cut the German garrison to pieces. But it was a thing
+long past. The German garrison was here again; and the heirs of the
+landsknechts went clanking through the gate to the parade-ground, with
+that fierce clamor of their kettle-drums which is so much fiercer
+because unmingled with the noise of fifes. Once more now the Germans are
+gone, and, let us trust, forever; but when I saw them, there seemed
+little hope of their going. They had a great Biergarten on the top of
+the wall, and they had set up the altars of their heavy Bacchus in many
+parts of the city.
+
+I please myself with thinking that, if I walked on such a spring day as
+this in the arcaded Paduan streets, I should catch glimpses, through the
+gateways of the palaces, of gardens full of vivid bloom, and of
+fountains that tinkle there forever. If it were autumn, and I were in
+the great market-place before the Palazzo della Ragione, I should hear
+the baskets of amber-hued and honeyed grapes humming with the murmur of
+multitudinous bees, and making a music as if the wine itself were
+already singing in their gentle hearts. It is a great field of succulent
+verdure, that wide old market-place; and fancy loves to browse about
+among its gay stores of fruits and vegetables, brought thither by the
+world-old peasant-women who have been bringing fruits and vegetables to
+the Paduan market for so many centuries. They sit upon the ground before
+their great panniers, and knit and doze, and wake up with a drowsy
+"_Comandala?_" as you linger to look at their grapes. They have each a
+pair of scales,--the emblem of Injustice,--and will weigh you out a
+scant measure of the fruit, if you like. Their faces are yellow as
+parchment, and Time has written them so full of wrinkles that there is
+not room for another line. Doubtless these old parchment visages are
+palimpsests, and would tell the whole history of Padua if you could get
+at each successive inscription. Among their primal records there must be
+some account of the Roman city, as each little contadinella, remembered
+it on market-days; and one might read of the terror of Attila's sack, a
+little later, with the peasant-maid's personal recollections of the bold
+Hunnish trooper who ate up the grapes in her basket, and kissed her
+hard, round red cheeks,--for in that time she was a blooming girl,--and
+paid nothing for either privilege. What wild and confused reminiscences
+on the wrinkled visage we should find thereafter of the fierce
+republican times, of Ecelino, of the Carraras, of the Venetian rule! And
+is it not sad to think of systems and peoples all passing away, and
+these ancient women lasting still, and still selling grapes in front of
+the Palazzo della Ragione? What a long mortality!
+
+The youngest of their number is a thousand years older than the palace,
+which was begun in the twelfth century, and which is much the same now
+as it was when first completed. I know that, if I entered it, I should
+be sure of finding the great hall of the palace--the vastest hall in the
+world--dim and dull and dusty and delightful, with nothing in it except
+at one end Donatello's colossal marble-headed wooden horse of Troy,
+stared at from the other end by the two dog-faced Egyptian women in
+basalt placed there by Belzoni.
+
+Late in the drowsy summer afternoons I should have the Court of the
+University all to myself, and might study unmolested the blazons of the
+noble youth who have attended the school in different centuries ever
+since 1200, and have left their escutcheons on the walls to commemorate
+them. At the foot of the stairway ascending to the schools from the
+court is the statue of the learned lady who was once a professor in the
+University, and who, if her likeness belie not her looks, must have
+given a great charm to student life in other times. At present there are
+no lady professors at Padua, any more than at Harvard; and during late
+years the schools have suffered greatly from the interference of the
+Austrian government, which frequently closed them for months, on account
+of political demonstrations among the students. But now there is an end
+of this and many other stupid oppressions; and the time-honored
+University will doubtless regain its ancient importance. Even in 1864 it
+had nearly fifteen hundred students, and one met them everywhere under
+the arcades, and could not well mistake them, with that blended air of
+pirate and dandy which these studious young men loved to assume. They
+were to be seen a good deal on the promenades outside the walls, where
+the Paduan ladies are driven in their carriages in the afternoon, and
+where one sees the blood-horses and fine equipages for which Padua is
+famous. There used once to be races in the Prato della Valle, after the
+Italian notion of horse-races; but these are now discontinued, and there
+is nothing to be found there but the statues of scholars and soldiers
+and statesmen, posted in a circle around the old race-course. If you
+strolled thither about dusk on such a day as this, you might see the
+statues unbend a little from their stony rigidity, and in the failing
+light nod to each other very pleasantly through the trees. And if you
+stayed in Padua over night, what could be better to-morrow morning than
+a stroll through the great Botanical Garden,--the oldest botanical
+garden in the world,--the garden which first received in Europe the
+strange and splendid growths of our hemisphere,--the garden where Doctor
+Rappaccini doubtless found the germ of his mortal plant?
+
+On the whole, I believe I would rather go this moment to Padua than to
+Lowell or Lawrence, or even to Worcester; and as to the disadvantage of
+having seen Padua, I begin to think the whole place has now assumed so
+fantastic a character in my mind that I am almost as well qualified to
+write of it as if I had merely dreamed it.
+
+The day that we first visited the city was very rainy, and we spent most
+of the time in viewing the churches. These, even after the churches of
+Venice, one finds rich in art and historic interest, and they in no
+instance fall into the maniacal excesses of the Renaissance to which
+some of the temples of the latter city abandon themselves. Their
+architecture forms a sort of border-land between the Byzantine of Venice
+and the Lombardic of Verona. The superb domes of St. Anthony's emulate
+those of St. Mark's, and the porticos of other Paduan churches rest
+upon the backs of bird-headed lions and leopards that fascinate with
+their mystery and beauty.
+
+It was the wish to see the attributive Giottos in the Chapter which drew
+us first to St. Anthony's, and we saw them with the satisfaction
+naturally attending the contemplation of frescos discovered only since
+1858, after having been hidden under plaster and whitewash for many
+centuries; but we could not believe that Giotto's fame was destined to
+gain much by their rescue from oblivion. They are in no wise to be
+compared with this master's frescos in the Chapel of the
+Annunziata,--which, indeed, is in every way a place of wonder and
+delight. You reach it by passing through a garden lane bordered with
+roses, and a taciturn gardener comes out with clinking keys, and lets
+you into the chapel, where there is nobody but Giotto and Dante, nor
+seems to have been for ages. Cool it is, and of a pulverous smell, as a
+sacred place should be; a blessed benching goes round the wall, and you
+sit down and take unlimited comfort in the frescos. The gardener leaves
+you alone to the solitude and the silence, in which the talk of the
+painter and the exile is plain enough. Their contemporaries and yours
+are cordial in their gay companionship; through the half-open door
+falls, in a pause of the rain, the same sunshine that they saw lie
+there; the deathless birds that they heard sing out in the garden trees;
+it is the fresh sweetness of the grass mown six hundred years ago that
+breathes through all the lovely garden grounds.
+
+How mistaken was Ponce de Leon, to seek the fountain of youth in the New
+World! It is there,--in the Old World,--far back in the past. We are all
+old men and decrepit together in the present; the future is full of
+death; in the past we are light and glad as boys turned barefoot in the
+spring. The work of the heroes is play to us; the pang of the martyr is
+a thrill of rapture; the exile's longing is a strain of plaintive music
+touching and delighting us. We are not only young again, we are
+immortal. It is this divine sense of superiority to fate which is the
+supreme good won from travel in historic lands, and from the presence of
+memorable things, and which no sublimity of natural aspects can bestow.
+It is this which forms the wide difference between Europe and
+America,--a gulf that it will take a thousand years to bridge.
+
+It is a shame that the immortals should be limited in their pleasures by
+the fact that they have hired their brougham by the hour; yet we early
+quit the Chapel of Giotto on this account. We had chosen our driver from
+among many other drivers of broughams in the vicinity of Pedrocchi's,
+because he had such an honest look, and was not likely, we thought, to
+deal unfairly with us.
+
+"But first," said the signor who had selected him, "how much is your
+brougham an hour?"
+
+So and so.
+
+"Show me the tariff of fares."
+
+"There is no tariff."
+
+"There is. Show it to me."
+
+"It is lost, signor."
+
+"I think not. It is here in this pocket Get it out."
+
+The tariff appears, and with it the fact that he had demanded just what
+the boatman of the ballad received in gift,--thrice his fee.
+
+The driver mounted his seat, and served us so faithfully that day in
+Padua that we took him the next day for Arqua. At the end, when he had
+received his due, and a handsome _mancia_ besides, he was still
+unsatisfied, and referred to the tariff in proof that he had been
+under-paid. On that confronted and defeated, he thanked us very
+cordially, gave us the number of his brougham, and begged us to ask for
+him when we came next to Padua and needed a carriage.
+
+From the Chapel of the Annunziata he drove us to the Church of Santa
+Giustina, where is a very famous and noble picture by Romanino. But as
+this paper has nothing in the world to do with art, I here dismiss that
+subject, and with a gross and idle delight follow the sacristan down
+under this church to the prison of Santa Giustina.
+
+Of all the faculties of the mind there is none so little fatiguing to
+exercise as mere wonder; and, for my own sake, I try always to wonder at
+things without the least critical reservation. I therefore, in the sense
+of deglutition, bolted this prison at once, though subsequent
+experiences led me to look with grave indigestion upon the whole idea of
+prisons, their authenticity, and even their existence.
+
+As far as mere dimensions are concerned, the prison of Santa Giustina
+was not a hard one to swallow, being only three feet wide by about ten
+feet in length. In this limited space, Santa Giustina passed five years
+of the paternal reign of Nero (a virtuous and a long-suffering prince,
+whom, singularly enough, no historic artist has yet arisen to
+whitewash), and was then brought out into the larger cell adjoining, to
+suffer a blessed martyrdom. I am not sure now whether the sacristan said
+she was dashed to death on the stones, or cut to pieces with knives; but
+whatever the form of martyrdom, an iron ring in the ceiling was employed
+in it, as I know from seeing the ring,--a curiously well-preserved piece
+of ironmongery. Within the narrow prison of the saint, and just under
+the grating, through which the sacristan thrust his candle to illuminate
+it, was a mountain of candle-drippings,--a monument to the fact that
+faith still largely exists in this doubting world. My own credulity, not
+only with regard to this prison, but also touching the coffin of St.
+Luke, which I saw in the church, had so wrought upon the esteem of the
+sacristan, that he now took me to a well, into which, he said, had been
+cast the bones of three thousand Christian martyrs. He lowered a lantern
+into the well, and assured me that, if I looked through a certain
+screenwork there, I could see the bones. On experiment I could not see
+the bones, but this circumstance did not cause me to doubt their
+presence, particularly as I did see upon the screen a great number of
+coins offered for the repose of the martyrs' souls. I threw down some
+_soldi_, and thus enthralled the sacristan.
+
+If the signor cared to see prisons, he said, the driver must take him to
+those of Ecelino, at present the property of a private gentleman near
+by. As I had just bought a history of Ecelino, at a great bargain, from
+a second-hand bookstall, and had a lively interest in all the enormities
+of that nobleman, I sped the driver instantly to the villa of the Signor
+Pacchiarotti.
+
+It depends here altogether upon the freshness or mustiness of the
+reader's historical reading whether he cares to be reminded more
+particularly who Ecelino was. He flourished balefully in the early half
+of the thirteenth century as lord of Vicenza, Verona, Padua, and
+Brescia, and was defeated and hurt to death in an attempt to possess
+himself of Milan. He was in every respect a remarkable man for that
+time,--fearless, abstemious, continent, avaricious, hardy, and
+unspeakably ambitious and cruel. He survived and suppressed innumerable
+conspiracies, escaping even the thrust of the assassin whom the fame of
+his enormous wickedness had caused the Old Man of the Mountain to send
+against him. As lord of Padua he was more incredibly severe and bloody
+in his rule than as lord of the other cities, for the Paduans had been
+latest free, and conspired most frequently against him. He extirpated
+whole families on suspicion that a single member had been concerned in a
+meditated revolt. Little children and helpless women suffered hideous
+mutilation and shame at his hands. Six prisons in Padua were constantly
+filled by his arrests. The whole country was traversed by witnesses of
+his cruelties,--men and women deprived of an arm or leg, and begging
+from door to door. He had long been excommunicated; at last the Church
+proclaimed a crusade against him, and his lieutenant and nephew--more
+demoniacal, if possible, than himself--was driven out of Padua while he
+was operating against Mantua. Ecelino retired to Verona, and maintained
+a struggle against the crusade for nearly two years longer, with a
+courage which never failed him. Wounded and taken prisoner, the soldiers
+of the victorious army gathered about him, and heaped insult and
+reproach upon him; and one furious peasant, whose brother's feet had
+been cut off by Ecelino's command, dealt the helpless monster four blows
+upon the head with a scythe. By some, Ecelino is said to have died of
+these wounds alone; but by others it is related that his death was a
+kind of suicide, inasmuch as he himself put the case past surgery by
+tearing off the bandages from his hurts, and refusing all medicines.
+
+
+II.
+
+Entering at the enchanted portal of the Villa P----, we found ourselves
+in a realm of wonder. It was our misfortune not to see the magician who
+compelled all the marvels on which we looked, but for that very reason,
+perhaps, we have the clearest sense of his greatness. Everywhere we
+beheld the evidences of his ingenious but lugubrious fancy, which
+everywhere tended to a monumental and mortuary effect. A sort of
+vestibule first received us, and beyond this dripped and glimmered the
+garden. The walls of the vestibule were covered with inscriptions
+setting forth the sentiments of the philosophy and piety of all ages
+concerning life and death; we began with Confucius, and we ended with
+Benjamino Franklino. But as if these ideas of mortality were not
+sufficiently depressing, the funereal Signor P----had collected into
+earthern _amphorae_ the ashes of the most famous men of ancient and
+modern times, and arranged them so that a sense of their number and
+variety should at once strike his visitor. Each jar was conspicuously
+labelled with the name its illustrious dust had borne in life; and if
+one escaped with comparative cheerfulness from the thought that Seneca
+had died, there were in the very next pot the cinders of Napoleon to
+bully him back to a sense of his mortality.
+
+We were glad to have the gloomy fascination of these objects broken by
+the custodian, who approached to ask if we wished to see the prisons of
+Ecelino, and we willingly followed him into the rain out of our
+sepulchral shelter.
+
+Between the vestibule and the towers of the tyrant lay that garden
+already mentioned, and our guide led us through ranks of weeping
+statuary, and rainy bowers, and showery lanes of shrubbery, until we
+reached the door of his cottage. While he entered to fetch the key to
+the prisons, we noted that the towers were freshly painted and in
+perfect repair; and indeed the custodian said frankly enough, on
+reappearing, that they were merely built over the prisons on the site of
+the original towers. The storied stream of the Bacchiglione sweeps
+through the grounds, and now, swollen by the rainfall, it roared, a
+yellow torrent, under a corner of the prisons. The towers rise from
+masses of foliage, and form no unpleasing feature of what must be, in
+spite of Signor P----, a delightful Italian garden in sunny weather. The
+ground is not so flat as elsewhere in Padua, and this inequality gives
+an additional picturesqueness to the place. But as we were come in
+search of horrors, we scorned these merely lovely things, and hastened
+to immure ourselves in the dungeons below. The custodian, lighting a
+candle, (which ought, we felt, to have been a torch,) went before.
+
+We found the cells, though narrow and dark, not uncomfortable, and the
+guide conceded that they had undergone some repairs since Ecelino's
+time. But all the horrors for which we had come were there in perfect
+grisliness, and labelled by the ingenious Signor P---- with Latin
+inscriptions.
+
+In the first cell was a shrine of the Virgin, set in the wall. Beneath
+this, while the wretched prisoner knelt in prayer, a trap-door opened
+and precipitated him down upon the points of knives, from which his body
+fell into the Bacchiglione below. In the next cell, held by some rusty
+iron rings to the wall, was a skeleton, hanging by the wrists.
+
+"This," said the guide, "was another punishment of which Ecelino was
+very fond."
+
+A dreadful doubt seized my mind. "Was this skeleton found here?" I
+demanded.
+
+Without faltering an instant, without so much as winking an eye, the
+custodian replied, "_Appunto_."
+
+It was a great relief, and restored me to confidence in the
+establishment. I am at a loss to explain how my faith should have been
+confirmed afterwards by coming upon a guillotine--an awful instrument in
+the likeness of a straw-cutter, with a decapitated wooden figure under
+its blade--which the custodian confessed to be a modern improvement
+placed there by Signor P----. Yet my credulity was so strengthened by
+his candor, that I accepted without hesitation the torture of the
+water-drop when we came to it. The water-jar was as well preserved as if
+placed there but yesterday, and the skeleton beneath it--found as we saw
+it--was entire and perfect.
+
+In the adjoining cell sat a skeleton--found as we saw it--with its neck
+in the clutch of the garrote, which was one of Ecelino's more merciful
+punishments; while in still another cell the ferocity of the tyrant
+appeared in the penalty inflicted upon the wretch whose skeleton had
+been hanging for ages--as we saw it--head downwards from the ceiling.
+
+Beyond these, in a yet darker and drearier dungeon, stood a heavy oblong
+wooden box, with two apertures near the top, peering through which we
+found that we were looking into the eyeless sockets of a skull. Within
+this box Ecelino had immured the victim we beheld there, and left him to
+perish in view of the platters of food and goblets of drink placed just
+beyond the reach of his hands. The food we saw was of course not the
+original food.
+
+At last we came to the crowning horror of Villa P----, the supreme
+excess of Ecelino's cruelty. The guide entered the cell before us, and,
+as we gained the threshold, threw the light of his taper vividly upon a
+block that stood in the middle of the floor. Fixed to the block by an
+immense spike driven through from the back was the little slender hand
+of a woman, which lay there just as it had been struck from the living
+arm, and which, after the lapse of so many centuries, was still as
+perfectly preserved as if it had been embalmed. The sight had a most
+cruel fascination; and while one of the horror-seekers stood helplessly
+conjuring to his vision that scene of unknown dread,--the shrinking,
+shrieking woman dragged to the block, the wild, shrill, horrible screech
+following the blow that drove in the spike, the merciful swoon after the
+mutilation,--his companion, with a sudden pallor, demanded to be taken
+instantly away.
+
+In their swift withdrawal, they only glanced at a few detached
+instruments of torture,--all original Ecelinos, but intended for the
+infliction of minor and comparatively unimportant torments,--and then
+they passed from that place of fear.
+
+
+III.
+
+In the evening we sat talking at the Caffe Pedrocchi with an abbate, an
+acquaintance of ours, who was a Professor in the University of Padua.
+Pedrocchi's is the great caffe of Padua, a granite edifice of Egyptian
+architecture, which is the mausoleum of the proprietor's fortune. The
+pecuniary skeleton at the feast, however, does not much trouble the
+guests. They begin early in the evening to gather into the elegant
+saloons of the caffe,--somewhat too large for so small a city as
+Padua,--and they sit there late in the night over their cheerful cups
+and their ices with their newspaper and their talk. Not so many ladies
+are to be seen as at the caffe in Venice, for it is only in the greater
+cities that they go much to these public places. There are few students
+at Pedrocchi's, for they frequent the cheaper caffe; but you may nearly
+always find there some Professor of the University, and on the evening
+of which I speak, there were two present besides our abbate. Our
+friend's great passion was the English language, which he understood too
+well to venture to speak a great deal. He had been translating from that
+tongue into Italian certain American poems, and our talk was of these at
+first. Then we began to talk of distinguished American writers, of whom
+intelligent Italians always know at least four, in this
+succession,--Cooper, Mrs. Stowe, Longfellow, and Irving. Mrs. Stowe's
+_Capanna di Zio Tom_ is, of course, universally read; and my friend had
+also read _Il Fiore di Maggio_,--"The Mayflower." Of Longfellow, the
+"Evangeline" is familiar to Italians, through a translation of the poem;
+but our abbate knew all the poet's works, and one of the other
+Professors present that evening had made such faithful study of them as
+to have produced some translations rendering the original with
+remarkable fidelity and spirit. I have before me here his _brochure_,
+printed last year at Padua, and containing versions of "Enceladus,"
+"Excelsior," "A Psalm of Life," "The Old Clock on the Stairs," "Sand of
+the Desert in an Hour-Glass," "Twilight," "Daybreak," "The Quadroon
+Girl," and "Torquemada,"--pieces which give the Italians a fair notion
+of our poet's lyrical range, and which bear witness to Professor
+Messadaglia's sympathetic and familiar knowledge of his works. A young
+and gifted lady of Parma, now unhappily no more, published only a few
+months since a translation of "The Golden Legend"; and Professor
+Messadaglia, in his Preface, mentions a version of another of our poet's
+longer works on which the translator of the "Evangeline" is now engaged.
+
+At last, turning from literature, we spoke with the gentle abbate of
+our day's adventures, and eagerly related that of the Ecelino prisons.
+To have seen them was the most terrific pleasure of our lives.
+
+"Eh!" said our friend, "I believe you."
+
+"We mean those under the Villa P----."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+There was a tone of politely suppressed amusement in the abbate's voice;
+and after a moment's pause, in which we felt our awful experience
+slipping and sliding away from us, we ventured to say, "You don't mean
+that those are _not_ the veritable Ecelino prisons?"
+
+"Certainly they are nothing of the kind. The Ecelino prisons were
+destroyed when the Crusaders took Padua, with the exception of the tower
+which the Venetian Republic converted into an observatory."
+
+"But at least these prisons are on the site of Ecelino's castle?"
+
+"Nothing of the sort. His castle in that case would have been outside of
+the old city walls."
+
+"And those tortures and the prisons are all--"
+
+"Things got up for show. No doubt, Ecelino used such things, and many
+worse, of which even the ingenuity of Signor P---- cannot conceive. But
+he is an eccentric man, loving the horrors of history, and what he can
+do to realize them he has done in his prisons."
+
+"But the custodian, how could he lie so?"
+
+Our friend shrugged his shoulders. "Eh! easily. And perhaps he even
+believed what he said."
+
+The world began to assume an aspect of bewildering ungenuineness, and
+there seemed to be a treacherous quality of fiction in the ground under
+our feet. Even the play at the pretty little Teatro Sociale, where we
+went to pass the rest of the evening, appeared hollow and improbable. We
+thought the hero something of a bore, with his patience and goodness;
+and as for the heroine, pursued by the attentions of the rich
+profligate, we doubted if she were any better than she should be.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote A: _Salti mortali_ are those prodigious efforts of mental
+arithmetic by which Italian waiters, in verbally presenting your
+account, arrive at six as the product of two and two.]
+
+
+
+
+POOR RICHARD.
+
+A STORY IN THREE PARTS.
+
+
+PART II.
+
+Richard got through the following week he hardly knew how. He found
+occupation, to a much greater extent than he was actually aware of, in a
+sordid and yet heroic struggle with himself. For several months now, he
+had been leading, under Gertrude's inspiration, a strictly decent and
+sober life. So long as he was at comparative peace with Gertrude and
+with himself, such a life was more than easy; it was delightful. It
+produced a moral buoyancy infinitely more delicate and more constant
+than the gross exhilaration of his old habits. There was a kind of
+fascination in adding hour to hour, and day to day, in this record of
+his new-born austerity. Having abjured excesses, he practised temperance
+after the fashion of a novice: he raised it (or reduced it) to
+abstinence. He was like an unclean man who, having washed himself clean,
+remains in the water for the love of it. He wished to be religiously,
+superstitiously pure. This was easy, as we have said, so long as his
+goddess smiled, even though it were as a goddess indeed,--as a creature
+unattainable. But when she frowned, and the heavens grew dark, Richard's
+sole dependence was in his own will,--as flimsy a trust for an upward
+scramble, one would have premised, as a tuft of grass on the face of a
+perpendicular cliff. Flimsy as it looked, however, it served him. It
+started and crumbled, but it held, if only by a single fibre. When
+Richard had cantered fifty yards away from Gertrude's gate in a fit of
+stupid rage, he suddenly pulled up his horse and gulped down his
+passion, and swore an oath, that, suffer what torments of feeling he
+might, he would not at least break the continuity of his gross physical
+soberness. It was enough to be drunk in mind; he would not be drunk in
+body. A singular, almost ridiculous feeling of antagonism to Gertrude
+lent force to this resolution. "No, madam," he cried within himself, "I
+shall _not_ fall back. Do your best! I shall keep straight." We often
+outweather great offences and afflictions through a certain healthy
+instinct of egotism. Richard went to bed that night as grim and sober as
+a Trappist monk; and his foremost impulse the next day was to plunge
+headlong into some physical labor which should not allow him a moment's
+interval of idleness. He found no labor to his taste; but he spent the
+day so actively, in the mechanical annihilation of the successive hours,
+that Gertrude's image found no chance squarely to face him. He was
+engaged in the work of self-preservation,--the most serious and
+absorbing work possible to man. Compared to the results here at stake,
+his passion for Gertrude seemed but a fiction. It is perhaps difficult
+to give a more lively impression of the vigor of this passion, of its
+maturity and its strength, than by simply stating that it discreetly
+held itself in abeyance until Richard had set at rest his doubts of that
+which lies nearer than all else to the heart of man,--his doubts of the
+strength of his will. He answered these doubts by subjecting his
+resolution to a course of such cruel temptations as were likely either
+to shiver it to a myriad of pieces, or to season it perfectly to all the
+possible requirements of life. He took long rides over the country,
+passing within a stone's throw of as many of the scattered wayside
+taverns as could be combined in a single circuit. As he drew near them
+he sometimes slackened his pace, as if he were about to dismount, pulled
+up his horse, gazed a moment, then, thrusting in his spurs, galloped
+away again like one pursued. At other times; in the late evening, when
+the window-panes were aglow with the ruddy light within, he would walk
+slowly by, looking at the stars, and, after maintaining this stoical
+pace for a couple of miles, would hurry home to his own lonely and
+black-windowed dwelling. Having successfully performed this feat a
+certain number of times, he found his love coming back to him, bereft in
+the interval of its attendant jealousy. In obedience to it, he one
+morning leaped upon his horse and repaired to Gertrude's abode, with no
+definite notion of the terms in which he should introduce himself.
+
+He had made himself comparatively sure of his will; but he was yet to
+acquire the mastery of his impulses. As he gave up his horse, according
+to his wont, to one of the men at the stable, he saw another steed
+stalled there which he recognized as Captain Severn's. "Steady, my boy,"
+he murmured to himself, as he would have done to a frightened horse. On
+his way across the broad court-yard toward the house, he encountered the
+Captain, who had just taken his leave. Richard gave him a generous
+salute (he could not trust himself to more), and Severn answered with
+what was at least a strictly just one. Richard observed, however, that
+he was very pale, and that he was pulling a rosebud to pieces as he
+walked; whereupon our young man quickened his step. Finding the parlor
+empty, he instinctively crossed over to a small room adjoining it, which
+Gertrude had converted into a modest conservatory; and as he did so,
+hardly knowing it, he lightened his heavy-shod tread. The glass door was
+open and Richard looked in. There stood Gertrude with her back to him,
+bending apart with her hands a couple of tall flowering plants, and
+looking through the glazed partition behind them. Advancing a step, and
+glancing over the young girl's shoulder, Richard had just time to see
+Severn mounting his horse at the stable door, before Gertrude, startled
+by his approach, turned hastily round. Her face was flushed hot, and her
+eyes brimming with tears.
+
+"You!" she exclaimed, sharply.
+
+Richard's head swam. That single word was so charged with cordial
+impatience that it seemed the death-knell of his hope. He stepped inside
+the room and closed the door, keeping his hand on the knob.
+
+"Gertrude," he said, "you love that man!"
+
+"Well, sir?"
+
+"Do you confess it?" cried Richard.
+
+"Confess it? Richard Clare, how dare you use such language? I'm in no
+humor for a scene. Let me pass."
+
+Gertrude was angry; but as for Richard, it may almost be said that he
+was mad. "One scene a day is enough, I suppose," he cried. "What are
+these tears about? Wouldn't he have you? Did he refuse you, as you
+refused me? Poor Gertrude!"
+
+Gertrude looked at him a moment with concentrated scorn. "You fool!" she
+said, for all answer. She pushed his hand from the latch, flung open the
+door, and moved rapidly away.
+
+Left alone, Richard sank down on a sofa and covered his face with his
+hands. It burned them, but he sat motionless, repeating to himself,
+mechanically, as if to avert thought, "You fool! you fool!" At last he
+got up and made his way out.
+
+It seemed to Gertrude, for several hours after this scene, that she had
+at this juncture a strong case against Fortune. It is not our purpose to
+repeat the words which she had exchanged with Captain Severn. They had
+come within a single step of an _eclaircissement_, and when but another
+movement would have flooded their souls with light, some malignant
+influence had seized them by the throats. Had they too much pride?--too
+little imagination? We must content ourselves with this hypothesis.
+Severn, then, had walked mechanically across the yard, saying to
+himself, "She belongs to another"; and adding, as he saw Richard, "and
+such another!" Gertrude had stood at her window, repeating, under her
+breath, "He belongs to himself, himself alone." And as if this was not
+enough, when misconceived, slighted, wounded, she had faced about to her
+old, passionless, dutiful past, there on the path of retreat to this
+asylum Richard Clare had arisen to forewarn her that she should find no
+peace even at home. There was something in the violent impertinence of
+his appearance at this moment which gave her a dreadful feeling that
+fate was against her. More than this. There entered into her emotions a
+certain minute particle of awe of the man whose passion was so
+uncompromising. She felt that it was out of place any longer to pity
+him. He was the slave of his passion; but his passion was strong. In her
+reaction against the splendid civility of Severn's silence, (the real
+antithesis of which would have been simply the perfect courtesy of
+explicit devotion,) she found herself touching with pleasure on the fact
+of Richard's brutality. He at least had ventured to insult her. He had
+loved her enough to forget himself. He had dared to make himself odious
+in her eyes, because he had cast away his sanity. What cared he for the
+impression he made? He cared only for the impression he received. The
+violence of this reaction, however, was the measure of its duration. It
+was impossible that she should walk backward so fast without stumbling.
+Brought to her senses by this accident, she became aware that her
+judgment was missing. She smiled to herself as she reflected that it had
+been taking holiday for a whole afternoon. "Richard was right," she said
+to herself. "I am no fool. I can't be a fool if I try. I'm too
+thoroughly my father's daughter for that. I love that man, but I love
+myself better. Of course, then, I don't deserve to have him. If I loved
+him in a way to merit his love, I would sit down this moment and write
+him a note telling him that if he does not come back to me, I shall die.
+But I shall neither write the note nor die. I shall live and grow stout,
+and look after my chickens and my flowers and my colts, and thank the
+Lord in my old age that I have never done anything unwomanly. Well! I'm
+as He made me. Whether I can deceive others, I know not; but I certainly
+can't deceive myself. I'm quite as sharp as Gertrude Whittaker; and this
+it is that has kept me from making a fool of myself and writing to poor
+Richard the note that I wouldn't write to Captain Severn. I needed to
+fancy myself wronged. I suffer so little! I needed a sensation! So,
+shrewd Yankee that I am, I thought I would get one cheaply by taking up
+that unhappy boy! Heaven preserve me from the heroics, especially the
+economical heroics! The one heroic course possible, I decline. What,
+then, have I to complain of? Must I tear my hair because a man of taste
+has resisted my unspeakable charms? To be charming, you must be charmed
+yourself, or at least you must be able to be charmed; and that
+apparently I'm not. I didn't love him, or he would have known it. Love
+gets love, and no-love gets none."
+
+But at this point of her meditations Gertrude almost broke down. She
+felt that she was assigning herself but a dreary future. Never to be
+loved but by such a one as Richard Clare was a cheerless prospect; for
+it was identical with an eternal spinsterhood. "Am I, then," she
+exclaimed, quite as passionately as a woman need do,--"am I, then, cut
+off from a woman's dearest joys? What blasphemous nonsense! One thing is
+plain: I am made to be a mother; the wife may take care of herself. I am
+made to be a wife; the mistress may take care of _her_self. I am in the
+Lord's hands," added the poor girl, who, whether or no she could forget
+herself in an earthly love, had at all events this mark of a spontaneous
+nature, that she could forget herself in a heavenly one. But in the
+midst of her pious emotion, she was unable to subdue her conscience. It
+smote her heavily for her meditated falsity to Richard, for her
+miserable readiness to succumb to the strong temptation to seek a
+momentary resting-place in his gaping heart. She recoiled from this
+thought as from an act cruel and immoral. Was Richard's heart the place
+for her now, any more than it had been a month before? Was she to apply
+for comfort where she would not apply for counsel? Was she to drown her
+decent sorrows and regrets in a base, a dishonest, an extemporized
+passion? Having done the young man so bitter a wrong in intention,
+nothing would appease her magnanimous remorse (as time went on) but to
+repair it in fact. She went so far as keenly to regret the harsh words
+she had cast upon him in the conservatory. He had been insolent and
+unmannerly; but he had an excuse. Much should be forgiven him, for he
+loved much. Even now that Gertrude had imposed upon her feelings a
+sterner regimen than ever, she could not defend herself from a sweet and
+sentimental thrill--a thrill in which, as we have intimated, there was
+something of a tremor--at the recollection of his strident accents and
+his angry eyes. It was yet far from her heart to desire a renewal,
+however brief, of this exhibition. She wished simply to efface from the
+young man's morbid soul the impression of a real contempt; for she
+knew--or she thought that she knew--that against such an impression he
+was capable of taking the most fatal and inconsiderate comfort.
+
+Before many mornings had passed, accordingly, she had a horse saddled,
+and, dispensing with attendance, she rode rapidly over to his farm. The
+house door and half the windows stood open; but no answer came to her
+repeated summons. She made her way to the rear of the house, to the
+barn-yard, thinly tenanted by a few common fowl, and across the yard to
+a road which skirted its lower extremity and was accessible by an open
+gate. No human figure was in sight; nothing was visible in the hot
+stillness but the scattered and ripening crops, over which, in spite of
+her nervous solicitude, Miss Whittaker cast the glance of a connoisseur.
+A great uneasiness filled her mind as she measured the rich domain
+apparently deserted of its young master, and reflected that she perhaps
+was the cause of its abandonment. Ah, where was Richard? As she looked
+and listened in vain, her heart rose to her throat, and she felt herself
+on the point of calling all too wistfully upon his name. But her voice
+was stayed by the sound of a heavy rumble, as of cart-wheels, beyond a
+turn in the road. She touched up her horse and cantered along until she
+reached the turn. A great four-wheeled cart, laden with masses of newly
+broken stone, and drawn by four oxen, was slowly advancing towards her.
+Beside it, patiently cracking his whip and shouting monotonously, walked
+a young man in a slouched hat and a red shirt, with his trousers thrust
+into his dusty boots. It was Richard. As he saw Gertrude, he halted a
+moment, amazed, and then advanced, flicking the air with his whip.
+Gertrude's heart went out towards him in a silent Thank God! Her next
+reflection was that he had never looked so well. The truth is, that, in
+this rough adjustment, the native barbarian was duly represented. His
+face and neck were browned by a week in the fields, his eye was clear,
+his step seemed to have learned a certain manly dignity from its
+attendance on the heavy bestial tramp. Gertrude, as he reached her side,
+pulled up her horse and held out her gloved fingers to his brown dusty
+hand. He took them, looked for a moment into her face, and for the
+second time raised them to his lips.
+
+"Excuse my glove," she said, with a little smile.
+
+"Excuse mine," he answered, exhibiting his sunburnt, work-stained hand.
+
+"Richard," said Gertrude, "you never had less need of excuse in your
+life. You never looked half so well."
+
+He fixed his eyes upon her a moment. "Why, you have forgiven me!" he
+exclaimed.
+
+"Yes," said Gertrude, "I have forgiven you,--both you and myself. We
+both of us behaved very absurdly, but we both of us had reason. I wish
+you had come back."
+
+Richard looked about him, apparently at loss for a rejoinder. "I have
+been very busy," he said, at last, with a simplicity of tone slightly
+studied. An odd sense of dramatic effect prompted him to say neither
+more nor less.
+
+An equally delicate instinct forbade Gertrude to express all the joy
+which this assurance gave her. Excessive joy would have implied undue
+surprise; and it was a part of her plan frankly to expect the best
+things of her companion. "If you have been busy," she said, "I
+congratulate you. What have you been doing?"
+
+"O, a hundred things. I have been quarrying, and draining, and clearing,
+and I don't know what all. I thought the best thing was just to put my
+own hands to it. I am going to make a stone fence along the great lot on
+the hill there. Wallace is forever grumbling about his boundaries. I'll
+fix them once for all. What are you laughing at?"
+
+"I am laughing at certain foolish apprehensions that I have been
+indulging for a week past. You're wiser than I, Richard. I have no
+imagination."
+
+"Do you mean that _I_ have? I haven't enough to guess what you _do_
+mean."
+
+"Why, do you suppose, have I come over this morning?"
+
+"Because you thought I was sulking on account of your having called me a
+fool."
+
+"Sulking, or worse. What do I deserve for the wrong I have done you?"
+
+"You have done me no wrong. You reasoned fairly enough. You are not
+obliged to know me better than I know myself. It's just like you to be
+ready to take back that bad word, and try to make yourself believe that
+it was unjust. But it was perfectly just, and therefore I have managed
+to bear it. I _was_ a fool at that moment,--a stupid, impudent fool. I
+don't know whether that man had been making love to you or not. But you
+had, I think, been feeling love for him,--you looked it; I should have
+been less than a man, I should be unworthy of your--your affection, if I
+had failed to see it. I did see it,--I saw it as clearly as I see those
+oxen now; and yet I bounced in with my own ill-timed claims. To do so
+was to be a fool. To have been other than a fool would have been to have
+waited, to have backed out, to have bitten my tongue off before I spoke,
+to have done anything but what I did. I have no right to claim you,
+Gertrude, until I can woo you better than that. It was the most
+fortunate thing in the world that you spoke as you did: it was even
+kind. It saved me all the misery of groping about for a starting-point.
+Not to have spoken as you did would have been to fail of justice; and
+then, probably, I should have sulked, or, as you very considerately say,
+done worse. I had made a false move in the game, and the only thing to
+do was to repair it. But you were not obliged to know that I would so
+readily admit my move to have been false. Whenever I have made a fool of
+myself before, I have been for sticking it out, and trying to turn all
+mankind--that is, _you_--into a a fool too, so that I shouldn't be an
+exception. But this time, I think, I had a kind of inspiration. I felt
+that my case was desperate. I felt that if I adopted my folly now I
+adopted it forever. The other day I met a man who had just come home
+from Europe, and who spent last summer in Switzerland. He was telling me
+about the mountain-climbing over there,--how they get over the glaciers,
+and all that. He said that you sometimes came upon great slippery,
+steep, snow-covered slopes that end short off in a precipice, and that
+if you stumble or lose your footing as you cross them horizontally, why
+you go shooting down, and you're gone; that is, but for one little
+dodge. You have a long walking-pole with a sharp end, you know, and as
+you feel yourself sliding,--it's as likely as not to be in a sitting
+posture,--you just take this and ram it into the snow before you, and
+there you are, stopped. The thing is, of course, to drive it in far
+enough, so that it won't yield or break; and in any case it hurts
+infernally to come whizzing down upon this upright pole. But the
+interruption gives you time to pick yourself up. Well, so it was with me
+the other day. I stumbled and fell; I slipped, and was whizzing
+downward; but I just drove in my pole and pulled up short. It nearly
+tore me in two; but it saved my life." Richard made this speech with one
+hand leaning on the neck of Gertrude's horse, and the other on his own
+side, and with his head slightly thrown back and his eyes on hers. She
+had sat quietly in her saddle, returning his gaze. He had spoken slowly
+and deliberately; but without hesitation and without heat. "This is not
+romance," thought Gertrude, "it's reality." And this feeling it was that
+dictated her reply, divesting it of romance so effectually as almost to
+make it sound trivial.
+
+"It was fortunate you had a walking-pole," she said.
+
+"I shall never travel without one again."
+
+"Never, at least," smiled Gertrude, "with a companion who has the bad
+habit of pushing you off the path."
+
+"O, you may push all you like," said Richard. "I give you leave. But
+isn't this enough about myself?"
+
+"That's as you think."
+
+"Well, it's all I have to say for the present, except that I am
+prodigiously glad to see you, and that of course you will stay awhile."
+
+"But you have your work to do."
+
+"Dear me, never you mind my work. I've earned my dinner this morning, if
+you have no objection; and I propose to share it with you. So we will
+go back to the house." He turned her horse's head about, started up his
+oxen with his voice, and walked along beside her on the grassy roadside,
+with one hand in the horse's mane, and the other swinging his whip.
+
+Before they reached the yard-gate, Gertrude had revolved his speech.
+"Enough about himself," she said, silently echoing his words. "Yes,
+Heaven be praised, it _is_ about himself. I am but a means in this
+matter,--he himself, his own character, his own happiness, is the end."
+Under this conviction it seemed to her that her part was appreciably
+simplified. Richard was learning wisdom and self-control, and to
+exercise his reason. Such was the suit that he was destined to gain. Her
+duty was as far as possible to remain passive, and not to interfere with
+the working of the gods who had selected her as the instrument of their
+prodigy. As they reached the gate, Richard made a trumpet of his hands,
+and sent a ringing summons into the fields; whereupon a farm-boy
+approached, and, with an undisguised stare of amazement at Gertrude,
+took charge of his master's team. Gertrude rode up to the door-step,
+where her host assisted her to dismount, and bade her go in and make
+herself at home, while he busied himself with the bestowal of her horse.
+She found that, in her absence, the old woman who administered her
+friend's household had reappeared, and had laid out the preparations for
+his mid-day meal. By the time he returned, with his face and head
+shining from a fresh ablution, and his shirt-sleeves decently concealed
+by a coat, Gertrude had apparently won the complete confidence of the
+good wife.
+
+Gertrude doffed her hat, and tucked up her riding-skirt, and sat down to
+a _tete-a-tete_ over Richard's crumpled table-cloth. The young man
+played the host very soberly and naturally; and Gertrude hardly knew
+whether to augur from his perfect self-possession that her star was
+already on the wane, or that it had waxed into a steadfast and eternal
+sun. The solution of her doubts was not far to seek; Richard was
+absolutely at his ease in her presence. He had told her indeed that she
+intoxicated him; and truly, in those moments when she was compelled to
+oppose her dewy eloquence to his fervid importunities, her whole
+presence seemed to him to exhale a singularly potent sweetness. He had
+told her that she was an enchantress, and this assertion, too, had its
+measure of truth. But her spell was a steady one; it sprang not from her
+beauty, her wit, her figure,--it sprang from her character. When she
+found herself aroused to appeal or to resistance, Richard's pulses were
+quickened to what he had called intoxication, not by her smiles, her
+gestures, her glances, or any accession of that material beauty which
+she did not possess, but by a generous sense of her virtues in action.
+In other words, Gertrude exercised the magnificent power of making her
+lover forget her face. Agreeably to this fact, his habitual feeling in
+her presence was one of deep repose,--a sensation not unlike that which
+in the early afternoon, as he lounged in his orchard with a pipe, he
+derived from the sight of the hot and vaporous hills. He was innocent,
+then, of that delicious trouble which Gertrude's thoughts had touched
+upon as a not unnatural result of her visit, and which another woman's
+fancy would perhaps have dwelt upon as an indispensable proof of its
+success. "Porphyro grew faint," the poet assures us, as he stood in
+Madeline's chamber on Saint Agnes' eve. But Richard did not in the least
+grow faint now that his mistress was actually filling his musty old room
+with her voice, her touch, her looks; that she was sitting in his
+unfrequented chairs, trailing her skirt over his faded carpet, casting
+her perverted image upon his mirror, and breaking his daily bread. He
+was not fluttered when he sat at her well-served table, and trod her
+muffled floors. Why, then, should he be fluttered now? Gertrude was
+herself in all places, and (once granted that she was at peace) to be
+at her side was to drink peace as fully in one place as in another.
+
+Richard accordingly ate a great working-day dinner in Gertrude's
+despite, and she ate a small one for his sake. She asked questions
+moreover, and offered counsel with most sisterly freedom. She deplored
+the rents in his table-cloth, and the dismemberments of his furniture;
+and although by no means absurdly fastidious in the matter of household
+elegance, she could not but think that Richard would be a happier and a
+better man if he were a little more comfortable. She forbore, however,
+to criticise the poverty of his _entourage_, for she felt that the
+obvious answer was, that such a state of things was the penalty of his
+living alone; and it was desirable, under the circumstances, that this
+idea should remain implied.
+
+When at last Gertrude began to bethink herself of going, Richard broke a
+long silence by the following question: "Gertrude, _do_ you love that
+man?"
+
+"Richard," she answered, "I refused to tell you before, because you
+asked the question as a right. Of course you do so no longer. No. I do
+not love him. I have been near it,--but I have missed it. And now good
+by."
+
+For a week after her visit, Richard worked as bravely and steadily as he
+had done before it. But one morning he woke up lifeless, morally
+speaking. His strength had suddenly left him. He had been straining his
+faith in himself to a prodigious tension, and the chord had suddenly
+snapped. In the hope that Gertrude's tender fingers might repair it, he
+rode over to her towards evening. On his way through the village, he
+found people gathered in knots, reading fresh copies of the Boston
+newspapers over each other's shoulders, and learned that tidings had
+just come of a great battle in Virginia, which was also a great defeat.
+He procured a copy of the paper from a man who had read it out, and made
+haste to Gertrude's dwelling.
+
+Gertrude received his story with those passionate imprecations and
+regrets which were then in fashion. Before long, Major Luttrel presented
+himself, and for half an hour there was no talk but about the battle.
+The talk, however, was chiefly between Gertrude and the Major, who found
+considerable ground for difference, she being a great radical and he a
+decided conservative. Richard sat by, listening apparently, but with the
+appearance of one to whom the matter of the discourse was of much less
+interest than the manner of those engaged in it. At last, when tea was
+announced, Gertrude told her friends, very frankly, that she would not
+invite them to remain,--that her heart was too heavy with her country's
+woes, and with the thought of so great a butchery, to allow her to play
+the hostess,--and that, in short, she was in the humor to be alone. Of
+course there was nothing for the gentlemen but to obey; but Richard went
+out cursing the law, under which, in the hour of his mistress's sorrow,
+his company was a burden and not a relief. He watched in vain, as he
+bade her farewell, for some little sign that she would fain have him
+stay, but that as she wished to get rid of his companion civility
+demanded that she should dismiss them both. No such sign was
+forthcoming, for the simple reason that Gertrude was sensible of no
+conflict between her desires. The men mounted their horses in silence,
+and rode slowly along the lane which led from Miss Whittaker's stables
+to the high-road. As they approached the top of the lane, they perceived
+in the twilight a mounted figure coming towards them. Richard's heart
+began to beat with an angry foreboding, which was confirmed as the rider
+drew near and disclosed Captain Severn's features. Major Luttrel and he,
+being bound in courtesy to a brief greeting, pulled up their horses; and
+as an attempt to pass them in narrow quarters would have been a greater
+incivility than even Richard was prepared to commit, he likewise
+halted.
+
+"This is ugly news, isn't it?" said Severn. "It has determined me to go
+back to-morrow."
+
+"Go back where?" asked Richard.
+
+"To my regiment."
+
+"Are you well enough?" asked Major Luttrel. "How is that wound?"
+
+"It's so much better that I believe it can finish getting well down
+there as easily as here. Good by, Major. I hope we shall meet again."
+And he shook hands with Major Luttrel. "Good by, Mr. Clare." And,
+somewhat to Richard's surprise, he stretched over and held out his hand
+to him.
+
+Richard felt that it was tremulous, and, looking hard into his face, he
+thought it wore a certain unwonted look of excitement. And then his
+fancy coursed back to Gertrude, sitting where he had left her, in the
+sentimental twilight, alone with her heavy heart. With a word, he
+reflected, a single little word, a look, a motion, this happy man whose
+hand I hold can heal her sorrows. "Oh!" cried Richard, "that by this
+hand I might hold him fast forever!"
+
+It seemed to the Captain that Richard's grasp was needlessly protracted
+and severe. "What a grip the poor fellow has!" he thought. "Good by," he
+repeated aloud, disengaging himself.
+
+"Good by," said Richard. And then he added, he hardly knew why, "Are you
+going to bid good by to Miss Whittaker?"
+
+"Yes. Isn't she at home?"
+
+Whether Richard really paused or not before he answered, he never knew.
+There suddenly arose such a tumult in his bosom that it seemed to him
+several moments before he became conscious of his reply. But it is
+probable that to Severn it came only too soon.
+
+"No," said Richard; "she's not at home. We have just been calling." As
+he spoke, he shot a glance at his companion, armed with defiance of his
+impending denial. But the Major just met his glance and then dropped his
+eyes. This slight motion was a horrible revelation. He had served the
+Major too.
+
+"Ah? I'm sorry," said Severn, slacking his rein,--"I'm sorry." And from
+his saddle he looked down toward the house more longingly and
+regretfully than he knew.
+
+Richard felt himself turning from pale to consuming crimson. There was a
+simple sincerity in Severn's words which was almost irresistible. For a
+moment he felt like shouting out a loud denial of his falsehood: "She is
+there! she's alone and in tears, awaiting you. Go to her--and be
+damned!" But before he could gather his words into his throat, they were
+arrested by Major Luttrel's cool, clear voice, which in its calmness
+seemed to cast scorn upon his weakness.
+
+"Captain," said the Major, "I shall be very happy to take charge of your
+farewell."
+
+"Thank you, Major. Pray do. Say how extremely sorry I was. Good by
+again." And Captain Severn hastily turned his horse about, gave him his
+spurs, and galloped away, leaving his friends standing alone in the
+middle of the road. As the sound of his retreat expired, Richard, in
+spite of himself, drew a long breath. He sat motionless in the saddle,
+hanging his head.
+
+"Mr. Clare," said the Major, at last, "that was very cleverly done."
+
+Richard looked up. "I never told a lie before," said he.
+
+"Upon my soul, then, you did it uncommonly well. You did it so well I
+almost believed you. No wonder that Severn did."
+
+Richard was silent. Then suddenly he broke out, "In God's name, sir, why
+don't you call me a blackguard? I've done a beastly act!"
+
+"O, come," said the Major, "you needn't mind that, with me. We'll
+consider that said. I feel bound to let you know that I'm very, very
+much obliged to you. If you hadn't spoken, how do you know but that I
+might?"
+
+"If you had, I would have given you the lie, square in your teeth."
+
+"Would you, indeed? It's very fortunate, then, I held my tongue. If you
+will have it so, I won't deny that your little improvisation sounded
+very ugly. I'm devilish glad I didn't make it, if you come to that."
+
+Richard felt his wit sharpened by a most unholy scorn,--a scorn far
+greater for his companion than for himself. "I am glad to hear that it
+did sound ugly," he said. "To me, it seemed beautiful, holy, and just.
+For the space of a moment, it seemed absolutely right that I should say
+what I did. But you saw the lie in its horrid nakedness, and yet you let
+it pass. You have no excuse."
+
+"I beg your pardon. You are immensely ingenious, but you are immensely
+wrong. Are you going to make out that I am the guilty party? Upon my
+word, you're a cool hand. I _have_ an excuse. I have the excuse of being
+interested in Miss Whittaker's remaining unengaged."
+
+"So I suppose. But you don't love her. Otherwise--"
+
+Major Luttrel laid his hand on Richard's bridle. "Mr. Clare," said he,
+"I have no wish to talk metaphysics over this matter. You had better say
+no more. I know that your feelings are not of an enviable kind, and I am
+therefore prepared to be good-natured with you. But you must be civil
+yourself. You have done a shabby deed; you are ashamed of it, and you
+wish to shift the responsibility upon me, which is more shabby still. My
+advice is, that you behave like a man of spirit, and swallow your
+apprehensions. I trust that you are not going to make a fool of yourself
+by any apology or retraction in any quarter. As for its having seemed
+holy and just to do what you did, that is mere bosh. A lie is a lie, and
+as such is often excusable. As anything else,--as a thing beautiful,
+holy, or just,--it's quite inexcusable. Yours was a lie to you, and a
+lie to me. It serves me, and I accept it. I suppose you understand me. I
+adopt it. You don't suppose it was because I was frightened by those
+big black eyes of yours that I held my tongue. As for my loving or not
+loving Miss Whittaker, I have no report to make to you about it. I will
+simply say that I intend, if possible, to marry her."
+
+"She'll not have you. She'll never marry a cold-blooded rascal."
+
+"I think she'll prefer him to a hot-blooded one. Do you want to pick a
+quarrel with me? Do you want to make me lose my temper? I shall refuse
+you that satisfaction. You have been a coward, and you want to frighten
+some one before you go to bed to make up for it. Strike me, and I'll
+strike you in self-defence, but I'm not going to mind your talk. Have
+you anything to say? No? Well, then, good evening." And Major Luttrel
+started away.
+
+It was with rage that Richard was dumb. Had he been but a cat's-paw
+after all? Heaven forbid! He sat irresolute for an instant, and then
+turned suddenly and cantered back to Gertrude's gate. Here he stopped
+again; but after a short pause he went in over the gravel with a
+fast-beating heart. O, if Luttrel were but there to see him! For a
+moment he fancied he heard the sound of the Major's returning steps. If
+he would only come and find him at confession! It would be so easy to
+confess before him! He went along beside the house to the front, and
+stopped beneath the open drawing-room window.
+
+"Gertrude!" he cried softly, from his saddle.
+
+Gertrude immediately appeared. "You, Richard!" she exclaimed.
+
+Her voice was neither harsh nor sweet; but her words and her intonation
+recalled vividly to Richard's mind the scene in the conservatory. He
+fancied them keenly expressive of disappointment. He was invaded by a
+mischievous conviction that she had been expecting Captain Severn, or
+that at the least she had mistaken his voice for the Captain's. The
+truth is that she had half fancied it might be,--Richard's call having
+been little more than a loud whisper. The young man sat looking up at
+her, silent.
+
+"What do you want?" she asked. "Can I do anything for you?"
+
+Richard was not destined to do his duty that evening. A certain
+infinitesimal dryness of tone on Gertrude's part was the inevitable
+result of her finding that that whispered summons came only from
+Richard. She was preoccupied. Captain Severn had told her a fortnight
+before, that, in case of news of a defeat, he should not await the
+expiration of his leave of absence to return. Such news had now come,
+and her inference was that her friend would immediately take his
+departure. She could not but suppose that he would come and bid her
+farewell, and what might not be the incidents, the results, of such a
+visit? To tell the whole truth, it was under the pressure of these
+reflections that, twenty minutes before, Gertrude had dismissed our two
+gentlemen. That this long story should be told in the dozen words with
+which she greeted Richard, will seem unnatural to the disinterested
+reader. But in those words, poor Richard, with a lover's clairvoyance,
+read it at a single glance. The same resentful impulse, the same
+sickening of the heart, that he had felt in the conservatory, took
+possession of him once more. To be witness of Severn's passion for
+Gertrude,--that he could endure. To be witness of Gertrude's passion for
+Severn,--against that obligation his reason rebelled.
+
+"What is it you wish, Richard?" Gertrude repeated. "Have you forgotten
+anything?"
+
+"Nothing! nothing!" cried the young man. "It's no matter!"
+
+He gave a great pull at his bridle, and almost brought his horse back on
+his haunches, and then, wheeling him about on himself, he thrust in his
+spurs and galloped out of the gate.
+
+On the highway he came upon Major Luttrel, who stood looking down the
+lane.
+
+"I'm going to the Devil, sir!" cried Richard. "Give me your hand on it."
+
+Luttrel held out his hand. "My poor young man," said he, "you're out of
+your head. I'm sorry for you. You haven't been making a fool of
+yourself?"
+
+"Yes, a damnable fool of myself!"
+
+Luttrel breathed freely. "You'd better go home and go to bed," he said.
+"You'll make yourself ill by going on at this rate."
+
+"I--I'm afraid to go home," said Richard, in a broken voice. "For God's
+sake, come with me!"--and the wretched fellow burst into tears. "I'm too
+bad for any company but yours," he cried, in his sobs.
+
+The Major winced, but he took pity. "Come, come," said he, "we'll pull
+through. I'll go home with you."
+
+They rode off together. That night Richard went to bed miserably drunk;
+although Major Luttrel had left him at ten o'clock, adjuring him to
+drink no more. He awoke the next morning in a violent fever; and before
+evening the doctor, whom one of his hired men had brought to his
+bedside, had come and looked grave and pronounced him very ill.
+
+
+
+
+DOCTOR MOLKE.
+
+A SKETCH FROM LIFE.
+
+
+As my own fancy led me into the Greenland seas, so chance sent me into a
+Greenland port. It was a choice little harbor, a good way north of the
+Arctic Circle,--fairly within the realm of hyperborean barrenness,--very
+near the northernmost border of civilized settlement. But civilization
+was exhibited there by unmistakable evidences;--a very dilute
+civilization, it is true, yet, such as it was, outwardly recognizable;
+for Christian habitations and Christian beings were in sight from the
+vessel's deck,--at least some of the human beings who appeared upon the
+beach were dressed like Christians, and veritable smoke curled
+gracefully upward into the bright air above the roofs of houses from
+veritable chimneys.
+
+We had been fighting the Arctic ice and the Arctic storms for so long a
+time, that it was truly refreshing to get into this good harbor. The
+little craft which had borne us thither seemed positively to enjoy her
+repose, as she lay quietly to her anchors on the still waters, in the
+calm air and the blazing sunshine of the Arctic noonday. As for myself,
+I was simply wondering what I should find ashore. A slender fringe of
+European custom bordering native barbarism and dirt was what I
+anticipated; for, as I looked upon the naked rocks,--which there, as in
+other Greenland ports, afforded room for a few straggling huts of native
+fishermen and hunters, with only now and then a more pretentious white
+man's lodge,--I could hardly imagine that much would be found seductive
+to the fancy or inviting to the eye. A country where there is no soil to
+yield any part of man's subsistence seemed to offer such a slender
+chance for man in the battle of life, that I could well imagine it to be
+repulsive rather than attractive; yet I was eager to see how poor men
+might be, and live.
+
+While thus looking forward to a novel experience, I was unconsciously
+preparing myself for a great surprise. Whatever there might be of
+poverty in the condition of the few dozens of human beings who there
+forced a scanty subsistence from the sea, I was to discover one person
+in the place who did in no way share it,--who, born as it might seem to
+different destinies, yet, voluntarily choosing wild Nature for
+companionship, and rising superior to the forbidding climate and the
+general desolation, rejoiced here in his own strong manhood, and lived
+seemingly contented as well with himself as with the great world of
+which he heard from afar but the faint murmurs.
+
+The anchors had been down about an hour, and the bustle and confusion
+necessarily attending an entrance into port had subsided. The sails were
+stowed, the decks were cleared up, and the ropes were coiled. A port
+watch was set. The crew had received their "liberty," and there was much
+wondering among them whether Esquimau eyes could speak a tender welcome.
+Nor had the Danish flag been forgotten. That swallow-tailed emblem of a
+gallant nationality--which, according to song and tradition, has the
+enviable distinction of having
+
+    "Come from heaven down, my boys,
+    Ay, come from heaven down"--
+
+was fluttering from a white flag-staff at the front of the
+government-house, and we had answered its display by running up our own
+Danish colors at the fore, and saluting them with our signal-gun in all
+due form and courtesy.
+
+Soon after reaching the anchorage I had despatched an officer to look up
+the chief ruler of the place, and to assure him of the great pleasure I
+should have in calling upon him, if he would name an hour convenient to
+himself; and I was awaiting my messenger's return with some impatience,
+when suddenly I heard the thump of his heavy sea boots on the deck
+above. In a few moments he entered the cabin, and reported that the
+governor was absent, but that his office was temporarily filled by a
+gentleman who had been good enough to accompany him on board,--the
+surgeon of the settlement, Doctor Molke; and then stepping aside, Doctor
+Molke passed through the narrow doorway and stood before me, bowing. I
+bowed in return, and bade him welcome, saying, I suppose, just what any
+other person would have said under like circumstances, (not, however,
+supposing for a moment that I was understood,) and then, turning to the
+officer, I signified my wish that he should act as interpreter. But that
+was needless. My Greenland visitor answered me, in pure, unbroken
+English, with as little hesitation as if he had spoken no other language
+all his life; and in conclusion he said: "I come to invite you to my
+poor house, and to offer you my service. I can give you but a feeble
+welcome in this outlandish place, but such as I have is yours; and if
+you will accompany me ashore, I shall be much delighted."
+
+The delight was mutual; and it was not many minutes before, seated in
+the stern sheets of a whale-boat, we were pulling towards the land.
+
+My new-found friend interested me at once. The surprise at finding
+myself addressed in English was increased when I discovered that this
+Greenland official bore every mark of refinement, culture, and high
+breeding. His manner was wholly free from restraint; and it struck me as
+something odd that all the self-possession and ease of a thorough man of
+the world should be exhibited in this desert place. He did not seem to
+be at all aware that there was anything incongruous in either his dress
+or manner and his present situation; yet this man, who sat with me in
+the stern sheets of a battered whale-boat, pulling across a Greenland
+harbor to a Greenland settlement, might, with the simple addition of a
+pair of suitable gloves, have stepped as he was into a ball-room without
+giving rise to any other remark than would be excited by his bearing.
+
+His graceful figure was well set off by a neatly fitting and closely
+buttoned blue frock-coat, ornamented with gilt buttons, and embroidered
+cuffs, and heavily braided shoulder-knots. A decoration on his breast
+told that he was a favorite with his king. His finely shaped head was
+covered by a blue cloth cap, having a gilt band and the royal emblems.
+Over his shoulders was thrown a cloak of mottled seal-skins, lined with
+the warm and beautiful fur of the Arctic fox. His cleanly shaven face
+was finely formed and full of force, while a soft blue eye spoke of
+gentleness and good-nature, and with fair hair completed the evidences
+of Scandinavian birth.
+
+My curiosity became much excited. "How," thought I, "in the name of
+everything mysterious, has it happened that such a man should have
+turned up in such a place?" From curiosity I passed to amazement, as his
+mind unfolded itself, and his tastes were manifested. I was prepared to
+be received by a fur-clad hunter, a coppery-faced Esquimau, or a meek
+and pious missionary, upon whose face privation and penance had set
+their seal; but for this high-spirited, high-bred, graceful, and
+evidently accomplished gentleman, I was not prepared.
+
+I could not refrain from one leading observation. "I suppose, Doctor
+Molke," said I, "that you have not been here long enough to have yet
+wholly exhausted the novelty of these noble hills!"
+
+"Eleven years, one would think," replied he, "ought to pretty well
+exhaust anything; and yet I cannot say that these hills, upon which my
+eyes rest continually, have grown to be wearisome companions, even if
+they may appear something forbidding."
+
+Eleven years among these barren hills! Eleven years in Greenland!!
+Surely, thought I, this is something "passing strange."
+
+The scene around us as we crossed the bay was indeed imposing, and,
+though desolate enough, was certainly not without its bright and
+cheerful side. Behind us rose a majestic line of cliffs, climbing up
+into the clouds in giant steps, picturesque yet solid,--a great massive
+pedestal, as it were, supporting mountain piled on mountain, with caps
+of snow whitening their summits, and great glaciers hanging on their
+sides. Before us lay the town,--built upon a gnarled spur of primitive
+rock, which seemed to have crept from underneath the lofty cliffs, as a
+serpent from its hiding-place, and, after wriggling through the sea, to
+have stopped at length, when it had almost completely enclosed a
+beautiful sheet of water about a mile long by half a mile broad, leaving
+but one narrow, winding entrance to it. Through this entrance the swell
+of the sea could never come to disturb the silent bay, which lay there,
+nestling among the dark rocks beneath the mountain shadows, as calmly as
+a Swiss lake in an Alpine valley.
+
+But the rocky spur which supported on its rough back what there was of
+the town wore a most woe-begone and distressed aspect. A few little
+patches of grass and moss were visible, but generally there was nothing
+to be seen but the cold gray-red naked rocks, broken and twisted into
+knots and knobs, and cut across with deep and ugly cracks. I could but
+wonder that on such a dreary spot man should ever think of seeking a
+dwelling-place; and my companion must have interpreted my thoughts, for
+he pointed to the shore, and said playfully, "Ah! it is true, you behold
+at last the fruits of wisdom and instruction,--a city founded on a
+rock." And then, after a moment's pause, he added: "Let me point out to
+you the great features of this new wonder. First, to the right there,
+underneath that little, low, black, peaked roof, dwells the royal
+cook,--a Dane who came out here a long time ago, married a native of
+the country, and rejoices in a brood of half-breeds, among whom are four
+girls, rather dusky, but not ill-favored. Next in order is the
+government-house,--that pitch-coated structure near the flag-staff. This
+is the only building, you observe, that can boast of a double tier of
+windows. Next, a little higher up, you see, is my own lodge, bedaubed
+with pitch, like the other, to protect it against the assaults of the
+weather, and to stop the little cracks. Down by the beach, a little
+farther on, that largest building of all is the store-house, &c., where
+the Governor keeps all sorts of traps for trade with the natives, and
+where the shops are in which the cooper fixes up the oil-barrels, and
+where other like industrial pursuits are carried on. A little farther on
+you observe a low structure where the oil is stored. On the ledge above
+the shop you see another pitchy building. This furnishes quarters for
+the half-dozen Danish employees,--fellows who, not having married native
+wives, hunt and fish for the glory of Denmark. Near the den of these
+worthies you observe another,--a duplicate of that in which lives the
+cook. There lives the royal cooper; and not far from it are two others,
+not quite so pretentious, where dwell the carpenter and blacksmith,--all
+of whom have followed the worthy example of the cook, and have dusky
+sons and daughters to console their declining years. You may perhaps be
+able to distinguish a few moss-covered hovels dotted about here and
+there,--perhaps there may be twenty of them in all, though there are but
+few of them in sight. These are the huts of native hunters. At present
+they are not occupied, for, being without roofs that will turn water,
+the people are compelled to abandon them when the snow begins to melt in
+the spring, and betake themselves to seal-skin tents, some of which you
+observe scattered here and there among the rocks. And now I've shown you
+everything,--just in time, too, for here we are at the landing."
+
+We had drawn in close to the end of a narrow pier, run out into the
+water on slender piles, and, quickly ascending some steps, the Doctor
+led the way up to his house. The whole settlement had turned out to meet
+us, men, women, children, and dogs,--which latter, about two hundred in
+number, "little dogs and all," set up an ear-splitting cry, wild and
+strangely in keeping with every other part of the scene, and like
+nothing so much as the dismal evening concert of a pack of wolves. The
+children, on the other hand, kept quiet, and clung to their mothers, as
+all children do in exciting times; the mothers grinned and laughed and
+chattered, "as becomes the gentler sex" in the savage state; while the
+men, all smoking short clay pipes, (one of their customs borrowed from
+civilization,) looked on with that air of stolid indifference peculiar
+to the male barbarian. They were mostly dressed in suits of seal-skins,
+but some of them wore greasy Guernsey frocks and other European
+clothing. Many of the women carried cunning-looking babies strapped upon
+their backs in seal-skin pouches. The heads of men and women alike were
+for the most part capless; but every one of the dark, beardless faces
+was surmounted by a heavy mass of straight, uncombed, and tangled
+jet-black hair. There were some half-breed girls standing in little
+groups upon the rocks, who, adding something of taste to the simple need
+of an artificial covering for the body, were attired in dresses, which,
+although of the Esquimau fashion, were quite neatly ornamented. While
+passing through this curious crowd, the eye could not but find pleasure
+in the novel scene, the more especially as the delight of these
+half-barbarous people was excited to the highest pitch by the strange
+being who had come among them.
+
+But if what the eye drank in gave delight, less fortunate the nose; for
+from about the store-house and the native huts, and, indeed, from almost
+everywhere, welled up that horrid odor of decomposing oil and fish and
+flesh peculiar to a fishing-town. On this account, if on no other, I
+was not sorry when we reached our destination.
+
+"You like not this Greenland odor?" said my conductor. "Luckily it does
+not reach me here, or I should seek a still higher perch to roost
+on";--saying which, he opened the door and led the way inside, first
+through a little vestibule into a square hall, where we deposited our
+fur coats, and then to the right, into a small room furnished with a
+table, an old pine bench, a single chair, a case with glass doors
+containing white jars and glass bottles having Latin labels, and
+smelling dreadfully of doctor's stuffs.
+
+"I always come through here," said my host, "after passing the town. It
+gives the olfactories a new sensation. This, you observe, is the place
+where I physic the people."
+
+"Have you many patients, Doctor?" I inquired.
+
+"Not very many; but, considering that I go sometimes a hundred miles or
+so to see the suffering sinners, I have quite enough to satisfy me. Not
+much competition, you know. But come, we have some lunch waiting for us
+in the next room, and Sophy will be growing impatient."
+
+A lady, eh?
+
+The room into which the Doctor ushered me was neatly furnished. On the
+walls were hung some prints and paintings of fruits and animals and
+flowers, and in the centre stood a small round table covered with dishes
+carefully placed on a snowy cloth.
+
+All very nice, but who's Sophy?
+
+The Doctor tinkled a little bell, the tones of which told that it was
+silver; and then, all radiant with smiles and beaming with good-nature,
+Sophy entered. A strange apparition.
+
+"This is my housekeeper," said the Doctor, in explanation; "speak to the
+American, Sophy."
+
+And, without embarrassment or pausing for an instant, she advanced and
+bade me welcome, addressing me in fair English, and extending at the
+same time a delicate little hand, which peeped out from cuffs of
+eider-down. "I am glad," said she, "to see the American. I have been
+looking through the window at him ever since he left the ship."
+
+"Now, Sophy," said the Doctor, "let us see what you have got us for
+lunch."
+
+"O, I haven't anything at all, Doctor Molke," answered Sophy; "but I
+hope the American will excuse me until dinner, when I have some nice
+trout and venison."
+
+"'Pot-luck,' as I told you," exclaimed my host. "But never mind, Sophy,
+let's have it, be it what it may." And Sophy tripped lightly out of the
+room to do her master's bidding.
+
+"A right good girl that," said the Doctor, when the door was closed.
+"Takes capital care of me."
+
+Strange Sophy! A pretty face of dusky hue, and a fine figure attired in
+native costume, neatly ornamented and arranged with cultivated taste.
+Pantaloons of mottled seal-skin, and of silvery lustre, tapered down
+into long white boots, which enclosed the neatest of ankles and the
+daintiest of feet. A little jacket of Scotch plaid, with a collar and
+border of fur, covered the body to the waist, while from beneath the
+collar peeped up a pure white cambric handkerchief, covering the throat;
+and heavy masses of glossy black hair were intertwined with ribbons of
+gay red. Marvellous Sophy! Dusky daughter of a Danish father and a
+native mother. From her mother she had her rich brunette complexion and
+raven hair; from her father, Saxon features, and light blue Saxon eyes.
+
+If the housekeeper attracted my attention, so did the dishes which she
+set before me. Smoked salmon of exquisite delicacy, reindeer sausages,
+reindeer tongues nicely dried and thinly sliced, and fine fresh Danish
+bread, made up a style of "pot-luck" calculated to cause a hungry man
+from the high seas and sailors' "prog" to wish for the same style of
+luck for the remainder of his days. But when all this came to be washed
+down with the contents of sundry bottles with which Sophy dotted the
+clean white cloth, the "luck" was perfect, and there was nothing further
+to desire.
+
+"Ah! here we are," said my entertainer. "Sophy wishes to make amends for
+the dryness of her fare. This is a choice Margaux, and I can recommend
+it. But, Sophy, here, you haven't warmed this quite enough. Ah! my dear
+sir, you experience the trouble of a Greenland life. One can never get
+his wines properly tempered."
+
+One cannot get his wines properly tempered!--and this is the trouble of
+a Greenland life!! "Surely," thought I, "one might find something worse
+than this."
+
+"Here," picking up the next bottle, "we have some Johannisberg, very
+fine as I can assure you; but I have little fancy even for the best of
+these Rhenish wines. Too much like a pretty woman without soul. They
+never warm the imagination. There's something better to build upon there
+close beside your elbow. Since the claret's forbidden us for the
+present, I'll drink you welcome in that rich Madeira. Why, do you know,
+sir," rattled on the Doctor, as I passed the bottle, seemingly rejoiced
+in his very heart at having some one to talk to,--"do you know, sir,
+that I have kept that by me here these ten years past? My good old
+father sent it to me as a mark of special favor. Why, sir, it has a
+pedigree as long as one of Locksley's cloth-yard shafts. But the
+pedigree will keep: let's prove it,"--and he filled up two dainty French
+straw-stem glasses, and pledged me in the good old Danish style. Then,
+when the claret came back, this time all rightly tempered, the Doctor
+filled the glasses, and hoped that, when I "left this place, the girls
+would pull lustily on the tow-ropes."
+
+Hunger and thirst were soon appeased. "And now," said the Doctor, when
+this was done, "I know you are dying for the want of something fresh and
+green. You have probably tasted nothing that grew out of dear old Mother
+Earth since leaving home";--and he tinkled his silver bell again, and
+Sophy of the silver seal-skin pantaloons and dainty boots tripped softly
+through the door.
+
+"Sophy, haven't you a surprise for the American?"
+
+Sophy smiled knowingly, and said, "Yes," as she retreated. In a moment
+she came back, carrying a little silver dish, with a little green
+pyramid upon it. Out from the green peeped little round red
+globes,--_radishes_, as I lived!--round red radishes!--_ten_ round red
+radishes!
+
+"What! radishes in Greenland!" I exclaimed involuntarily.
+
+"Yes, and raised on my own farm, too; you shall see it by and by." The
+Doctor was enjoying my surprise, and Sophy looked on with undisguised
+satisfaction. Meanwhile I lost no time in tumbling the pyramid to
+pieces, and crunching the delicious bulbs. They disappeared in a
+twinkling. Their rich and luscious juices seemed to pour at once into
+the very blood, and to tingle at the very finger-tips. I never knew
+before the full enjoyment of the fresh growth of the soil. After so long
+a deprivation it was indeed a strange, as it will remain a lasting
+sensation. Never to my dying day shall I forget the ten radishes of
+Greenland.
+
+"You see that I was right," exclaimed my host, after the vigorous
+assault was ended. "And now," continued he, addressing Sophy, "bring the
+other things."
+
+The "other things" proved to be a plate of fine lettuce, a bit of
+Stilton cheese, and coffee in transparent little china cups, and sugar
+in a silver bowl, and then cigars,--everything of the best and purest;
+and as we passed from one thing to another, I became at length persuaded
+that the Arctic Circle was a myth, that my cruise among the icebergs was
+a dream, and that Greenland was set down wrongly on the maps. Long
+before this I had been convinced that Doctor Molke was a most mysterious
+character, and wholly unaccountable.
+
+After we had finished this sumptuous lunch and chatted for a while, the
+Doctor surprised me again by asking if I would like a game of billiards.
+(Billiards in Greenland, as well as radishes!) "But first," said he,
+"let us try this sunny Burgundy. Ah! these red wines are the only truly
+generous wines. They monopolize all the sensuous glories and
+associations of the fruit. With these red wines one drinks in the very
+soul and sentiment of the lands which grow the grapes that breed them."
+
+"Even if drank in Greenland?"
+
+"Yes, or at the very Pole. Geographical lines may confine our bodies;
+but nature is an untamed wild, where the spirit roams at will. If I am
+here hemmed in by barren hills, and live in a desert waste, yet, as one
+of your sweetest poets has put it, my
+
+            'Fancy, like the finger of a clock,
+    Runs the great circuit and is still at home';
+
+and truly, I believe that I have in this retreat about as much enjoyment
+of life as they who taste of it more freely; for while I can here feel
+all the world's warm pulsations, I am freed from its annoyances: if the
+sweet is less sweet, the bitter is less bitter. But--Well, let's have
+the billiards."
+
+My host now led the way into the billiard-room, which was tastefully
+ornamented with everything needful to harmonize with a handsome table
+standing in its centre, upon which we were soon knocking the balls about
+in an ill-matched game, for he beat me sadly. I was much surprised at
+the skilfulness of his play, and remarked that I thought it something
+singular that he "should there find any one to keep him so well in
+hand."
+
+"Ah! my dear sir," said he, "you have yet much to learn. This country is
+not so bad as you think for. Sophy--native-born Sophy--is my antagonist,
+and she beats me three times out of five." Wonderful Sophy!
+
+The game finished, my host next led the way into his study. A charming
+retreat as ever human wit and ingenuity devised. It was indeed rather a
+parlor than a study. The room was quite large, and was literally filled
+with odd bits of furniture, elegant and well kept. Heavy crimson
+curtains were draped about the windows, a rich crimson carpet covered
+the floor, and there were lounges and chairs of various patterns,
+adapted for every temper of mind or mood of body,--all of the same
+pleasing color. Odd _etageres_, hanging and standing, and a large solid
+walnut case, were all well filled with books, and other books were
+carefully arranged on a table in the centre of the room. Among them my
+eye quickly detected the works of various English authors, conspicuous
+among which were Shakespeare, Byron, Scott, Dickens, Cooper, and
+Washington Irving. Sam Slick had a place there, and close beside him was
+the renowned Lemuel Gulliver; and in science there were, beside many
+others, Brewster, Murchison, and Lyell. The books all showed that they
+were well used, and they embraced the principal classical stores of the
+French and German tongues, beside the English and his own native Danish.
+In short, the collection was precisely such as one would expect to find
+in any civilized place, where means were not wanting, the disposition to
+read a habit and a pleasure, and the books themselves boon companions.
+
+A charming feature of the room was the air of refreshing _neglige_ with
+which sundry robes of bear and fox skins were tossed about upon the
+chairs and lounges and floor; while the blank spaces of the walls were
+broken by numerous pictures, some of them apparently family relics, and
+on little brackets were various souvenirs of art and travel.
+
+"I call this my study," said the Doctor; "but in truth there is the real
+shop";--and he led me into a little room adjoining, in which there was
+but one window, one table, one chair, no shelves, a great number of
+books, lying about in every direction, and great quantities of paper. On
+the wall hung about two dozen pipes of various shapes and sizes, and a
+fine assortment of guns and rifles and all the paraphernalia of a
+practised sportsman. It was easy to see that there was one place where
+the native-born Sophy did not come.
+
+The chamber of this singular Greenland recluse was in keeping with his
+study. The walls were painted light blue, a blue carpet adorned the
+floor, blue curtains softened the light which stole through the windows,
+and blue hangings cast a pleasant hue over a snowy pillow. Although
+small, there was indeed nothing wanting, not even a well-arranged
+bath-room,--nothing that the most fastidious taste could covet or
+desire.
+
+"And now," said my entertainer, when we had got seated in the study,
+"does this present attractions sufficient to tempt you from your narrow
+bunk on shipboard? You are most heartily welcome to that blue den which
+you admire so much, and which I am heartily sick of, while I can make
+for myself a capital 'shake-down' here, or _vice versa_. If neither of
+these will suit you, then cast your eyes out of the window, and you will
+observe snow enough to build a more truly Arctic lodging."
+
+I stepped to the window, and there, sure enough, piled up beneath it and
+against the house, was a great bank of snow, which the summer's sun had
+not yet dissolved; and as I saw this, and then looked beyond it over the
+wretched little village, and the desolate waste of rocks on which it
+stood, and then on up the craggy steeps to the great white-topped
+mountains, I could but wonder what strange occurrence had sent this
+luxury-loving man, with books only for companions, into such a howling
+wilderness. Was it his own fancy? or was it some cruel necessity? In
+truth, the surprise was so great that I found myself suddenly turning
+from the scene outside to that within, not indeed without an impulse
+that the whole thing might have vanished in the interval, as the palace
+of Aladdin in the Arabian tale.
+
+My host was watching me attentively, no doubt reading my thoughts, for
+as I turned round he asked if I "liked the contrast." To be quite
+candid, I was forced to own myself greatly wondering "that a den so well
+fitted for the latitude of Paris should be stumbled upon away up here so
+near the Pole."
+
+"Hardly in keeping with 'the eternal fitness of things,' eh?"
+
+"Precisely so."
+
+"You think, then, because a fellow chooses to live in barbarous
+Greenland, he must needs turn barbarian?"
+
+"Not exactly that, but we are in the habit of associating the
+appreciation of comfort and luxury with the desire for social
+intercourse,--certainly not with banishment like this."
+
+"Then you would be inclined to think there is something unnatural, in
+short, mysterious, in my being here,--tastes, fancies, inclinations, and
+all?"
+
+"I confess it would so strike me, if I took the liberty to speculate
+upon it."
+
+"Very far from the truth, I do assure you. I am not obliged to be here
+any more than you are. I came from pure choice, and am at liberty to
+return when I please. In truth, I do go home with the ship to
+Copenhagen, once in three or four years, and spend a winter there,
+living the while in a den much like what you here see; but I am always
+glad enough to get back again. The salary which I receive from the
+government does not support me as I live, so you see _that_ is not a
+motive. But I am perfectly independent, have capital health, lots of
+adventure, hardship enough (for you must know that, if I do sleep under
+a sky-blue canopy, I am esteemed one of the most hardy men in all
+Greenland) to satisfy the most insatiate appetite and perverse
+disposition."
+
+"Sufficient reason, I should say, for a year or so, but hardly one would
+think, for a lifetime."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because the novelty of adventure wears off in a little time. Good
+health never gives us satisfaction, for we do not give it thought until
+we lose it, so that can never be an impelling motive; and as for
+independence, what is that, when one can never be freed from himself? In
+short, I should say one so circumstanced as you are would die of ennui;
+that his mind, constantly thrown back upon itself, must, sooner or
+later, result in a weariness even worse than death itself. However, I am
+only curious, not critical."
+
+"But you forget these shelves. Those books are my friends; of them I
+never grow weary, they never grow weary of me; we understand each other
+perfectly,--they talk to me when I would listen, they sing to me when I
+would be charmed, they play for me when I would be amused. Ah! my dear
+sir, this country is great as all countries are great, each in its way;
+and this is a great country to read books in. Upon my word, I wonder
+everybody don't fill ships with books and come up here, burn the ships,
+as did the great Spaniard, and each spend the remainder of his days in
+devouring his ship-load of books."
+
+"A pretty picture of the country, truly; but let me ask how often do
+books reach you?"
+
+"Once a year,--when the Danish ship comes out to bring us bread, sugar,
+coffee, coal, and such-like things, and to take home the few little
+trifles, such as furs, oil, and fish, which the natives have picked up
+in the interval."
+
+"Books to the contrary, I should say the ship would not return more than
+once without me, were I in your situation."
+
+"So you would think me a sensible fellow, no doubt, if I would pick up
+this box and carry it off to Paris, or may be to New York?"
+
+"That's exactly what I was thinking; or rather it would certainly have
+appeared to me more reasonable if you had built it there in the first
+instance."
+
+"Quite the contrary, I do assure you,--quite the contrary. Indeed, I can
+prove to your entire satisfaction that I am a very sensible man; but
+wait until I have shown you all my possessions. Will you look at my
+farm?"
+
+Farm!--well, this was, after all, exhibiting some claims of the country
+to the consideration of a civilized man. A farm in Greenland was
+something I was hardly prepared for.
+
+The Doctor now rose and led the way to the rear of the house, into a
+yard about eighty feet square, enclosed by a high board fence.
+
+"This is my farm," said the Doctor.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Here, look. It isn't a large one." And he pointed to a patch of earth
+about thirty feet long by four wide, enclosed with boards and covered
+over with glass. Under the glass were growing lettuce, radishes, and
+pepper-grass, all looking as bright and fresh and green and well
+contented as if they, like the man for whose benefit they grew, cared
+little where they sprouted, so only they grew. The ten round red
+radishes of the recent luncheon were accounted for.
+
+"So you see," exclaimed the Doctor, "something besides a lover of books
+can take root in this country. Are you not growing reconciled to it? To
+be sure they are fed on pap from home; but so does the farmer who
+cultivates them get his books from the same quarter."
+
+"How is that? Do you mean to say you bring the earth they grow in from
+home?"
+
+"Even so. This is good rich Jutland earth, brought in barrels by ship
+from Copenhagen."
+
+An imported farm! One more novelty.
+
+"Now you shall see my barn";--and we passed over to a little tightly
+made building in the opposite corner, where the first thing that greeted
+my ears was the bleating of goats and the grunting of pigs; and as the
+door was opened, I heard the cackling and flutter of chickens. Twenty
+chickens, two pigs, and three goats!
+
+"All brought from Copenhagen with the farm";--and the Doctor began to
+talk to them in a very familiar manner in the Danish tongue. They all
+recognized the kindly voice of their master, and flocked round him to be
+fed; and while this was being done I observed that he had provided for
+the safety of his brood by securing in the centre of their house a large
+stove, which was now cold, but which in the winter must give them
+abundant heat. And so the Doctor, besides his round red radishes and his
+nice fresh butter, had pork and milk and eggs of native growth.
+
+The next object of interest to attract attention was the Doctor's
+"smoke-house," then in full operation. This was simply a large hogshead,
+with one head pierced with holes and the other head knocked out. The end
+without a head was set upon a circle of stones, which supported it about
+a foot above the ground, and inside of this circle a great volume of
+smoke was being generated, and which came puffing out through the holes
+in the head above. Inside of this simple contrivance were suspended a
+number of fine salmon, the delicate flesh of which was being dried by
+the heat, and penetrated by the sweet aroma of the smoke, which came
+puffing through the holes. The smoke arose from a smouldering fire of
+the leaves and branches of the Andromeda (_Andromeda tetrigona_), the
+heather of Greenland,--a trailing plant with a pretty purple blossom,
+which grows in sheltered places in great abundance. Besides moss, this
+is the only vegetable production of North Greenland that will burn, and
+it is sometimes used by the natives for fuel, after it is dried by the
+sun, for which purpose it is torn up and spread over the rocks. The
+perfume of the smoke is truly delicious, which accounts for the
+excellent flavor of the salmon which the Doctor had given me for lunch.
+Nothing, indeed, could exceed the delicacy of the fish thus prepared.
+
+The inspection of the Doctor's garden, or "farm," as he facetiously
+called it, occupied us during the remainder of the afternoon; and so
+novel was everything to me, from the Doctor down to his vegetables and
+perfumed fish, that the time passed away unnoticed, and I was quite
+astonished when Sophy came to announce "dinner."
+
+We were soon seated at the table where we had been before, and Sophy
+served the dinner. Her soup was excellent, the trout were of fine
+quality and well cooked, the haunch was done to a turn, the wines were
+this time rightly tempered, the champagne needed not to be iced, more of
+the round red radishes appeared in season, and then followed lettuce and
+cheese and coffee, and then we found ourselves at another game of
+billiards, and at length were settled for the evening in the Doctor's
+study, one on either side of a table, on which stood all the ingredients
+for an arrack punch, and a bundle of cigars.
+
+Our conversation naturally enough ran upon the affairs of the big world
+on the other side of the Arctic Circle,--upon its politics and
+literature and science and art, passing lightly from one to the other,
+lingering now and then over some book which we had mutually fancied. I
+found my companion perfectly posted up to within a year, and inquired
+how he managed so well. "Ah! you must know," answered he, "that is a
+clever little illusion of mine. I'm always precisely one year behind the
+rest of the world. The Danish ship brings me a file of papers for the
+past twelve months, the principal reviews and periodicals, the latest
+maps, such books as I have sent for the year previous, and, beside this,
+the bookseller and my other home friends make me up an assortment of
+what they think will please me. Now, you see, in devouring this, I
+pursue an absolute method. The books, of course, I take up as the fancy
+pleases me; but the reviews, periodicals, and newspapers I turn over to
+Sophy, and the faithful creature places on my breakfast-table every
+morning exactly what was published that day one year before. Clever,
+isn't it? You see I get every day the news, and go through the drama of
+the year with perhaps quite as much satisfaction as they who live the
+passing days in the midst of the occurring events. Each day's paper
+opens a new act in the play, and what matters it that the 'news' is one
+year old? It is none the less news to me; and, besides, are not Gibbon,
+Shakespeare, and Mother Goose still more ancient?"
+
+I could but smile at this ingenious device; and the Doctor, seeing
+plainly that I was deeply interested in his novel mode of life, loosened
+a tongue which, in truth, needed little encouragement, and rattled away
+over the rough and smooth of his Greenland experiences, with an
+enjoyment on his part perhaps scarcely less than mine; for it was easy
+to see that his love of wild adventure kept pace with his love of
+comfort, and that he heartily enjoyed the exposures of his career and
+the reputation which his hardihood had acquired for him. I perceived,
+too, that he possessed a warm and vivid imagination, and that, clothing
+everything he saw and everything he did with a fitting sentiment of
+strength or beauty, he had blended wild nature and his own strange life
+into a romantic scheme which completely filled his fancy,--apparently,
+at least, leaving nothing unsupplied,--and this he enjoyed to the very
+bottom of his soul.
+
+The hours glided swiftly away as we sat sipping our punch and smoking
+our cigars in that quaint study of the Doctor's, chatting of this and of
+that; and a novel feature of the evening was, that, as we talked on and
+on, the light grew not dim with the passing hours; for when the hand of
+a Danish clock which ticked above the mantel told nine, and ten, and
+eleven o'clock, it was still broad day; and then in the full blaze of
+sunshine the clock rang out the "witching hour" of midnight. The sun,
+low down upon the northern horizon, poured his bright rays over the
+hills and sea, throwing the dark shadow of the mountains over the town,
+but illuminating everything to right and left with that soft and
+pleasant light which we so often see at home in the early morning of the
+spring.
+
+After the clock had struck twelve, we threw our fur cloaks over our
+shoulders, and strolled out into this strange midnight. Passing through
+the town, I remarked the quiet which everywhere prevailed, and how all
+nature seemed to have caught the inspiration of the hour. Not a soul was
+stirring abroad; the dogs, crouching in clusters, were all asleep; and
+it seemed as if my little vessel lay under the shadows of the cliffs
+with a consciousness that midnight is a solemn thing even in sunshine;
+and never did the sun shine more brightly, or a more brilliantly
+illuminated landscape give stronger evidence of day. But wearied nature
+had sought repose, even though no "sable cloud with silver lining"
+turned upon the world its darkening shadow,--for the hour of rest was
+come. Walking on over the rough rocks, we came at length upon the sea,
+and I noticed that the very birds which were wont to paddle about in
+great flocks upon the waters, or fly gayly through the air, had crawled
+upon the shore, and, tucking their heads beneath their wings, had gone
+to sleep. Even the little flowers and blades of grass seemed to droop,
+as if wearied with the long hours of the day, and, defying the restless
+sun to rob them of their natural repose, had fallen to sleep with the
+beasts and birds. The very sea itself seemed to have caught the
+infection of the hour, dissolving in its blue depths the golden clouds
+of day.
+
+The night was far from cold, and, selecting the most tempting and sunny
+spot, we sat down upon a rock close beside the sea, watching the gentle
+wavelets playing on the sand, and the changing light as the sun rolled
+on, glistening upon the hills and upon the icebergs, which, in countless
+numbers, lay upon the watery plain before us, like great monoliths of
+Parian marble, waiting but for the sculptor's chisel to stand forth in
+fluted pillar and solid architrave,--floating Parthenons and Pantheons
+and Temples of the Sun.
+
+The scene was favorable to the conversation which had been broken off
+when we left the study, and the Doctor came back to it of his own
+accord. I was much absorbed with the grandeur of this midnight scene,
+and had remained for some time quiet. My companion, breaking in
+abruptly, said: "I think I promised to prove to you that I am the most
+sensible fellow alive. Now let me tell you, to begin with, that I would
+not exchange this view for any other I have ever seen. It is one of
+which I am very fond; for at this hour the repose which you here see is
+frequently repeated; and, to compare big things with little, it might be
+likened to some huge lion sleeping over his prey, which he is not yet
+prepared to eat, quick to catch the first sound of movement. There is
+something truly terrible in this untamed nature. Man's struggle here
+gives him something to rejoice in; and I would not barter it for the
+effeminate life to which I should be destined at home, on any account
+whatever. Perhaps, if I should there be compelled absolutely to earn my
+daily bread, the case might be different, for enforced occupation is
+quite too sober an affair to give time for much reflection; but I should
+most likely lead an idle sort of life there, and should simply live
+without--so far as I can see--a motive. I should encounter few perils,
+have few sorrows, fewer disappointments, and want for nothing,--nothing,
+indeed, but temptation to exert myself, or prove my own manhood in its
+strength, or enjoy the luxury of risking the precious breath of life,
+which is so little worth, and which is so easily knocked away. You have
+seen one side of me,--how I live. Well, I enjoy life and make the most
+of it, after my own fashion, as everybody should do. If it is a
+luxurious fashion, as you are pleased to say, it but gives me a keener
+relish for the opposite; and that it does not unfit me for encountering
+the hardships of the field is proved by the reputation for endurance
+which I have among the natives. If I sleep between well-aired sheets one
+night, I can coil myself up among my dogs on the ice-fields the next,
+and sleep there as well,--I care not if it's as cold as the frigid
+circle of Lucifer. If I have a _penchant_ for Burgundy, and like to
+drink it out of French glass, I can drink train-oil out of a tin cup
+when I am cold and hungry, and never murmur. I like well-fitting
+clothes, but rough furs suit me just as well in season. Why, it would
+make you laugh fit to kill yourself to see these Danish workingmen,--the
+laborers, you know, with whom I sometimes travel,--fellows that can't
+read nor write, poor mechanics, rough sailors, 'hewers of wood and
+drawers of water' generally for this poor settlement,--who never tasted
+Burgundy in all their lives, and would rather have one keg of corn
+brandy than a tun of it, and who never took their frugal fare off
+anything more tempting than tin. Do you think that these people can,
+under any circumstances, be induced to strengthen their limbs with
+eating blubber or drinking train-oil? Not a bit of it. Do you think they
+can be induced to sleep outside of their own not overly elegant
+lodgings, without groaning, and everlastingly desiring to get back
+again? Not they."
+
+I could not help asking the Doctor what impelled him to exposure, of
+which he had grown so fond.
+
+"The motives are various. I have done a good deal of exploring, have
+reached many of the glaciers, have dabbled in natural history,
+meteorology, magnetism, &c., &c., besides making many photographs and
+geographical surveys, and have sent home to various societies and
+museums many curiosities and much information. My name, as you know,
+stands well enough among the dons of science. But apart from this, my
+duties require me to travel about at all times and all seasons. You must
+know that everybody in this country lives upon the shore, and therefore
+the settlements are reached only by the sea. In the winter I travel over
+the ice with my dog sledge, and in the summer, when the ice has broken
+up, I go from place to place in that little five-ton yacht which you saw
+lying in the harbor. Sometimes I go from choice, stopping at the
+villages, and exhibiting my professional abilities upon Dane or native,
+as the case may be. Often I am sent for. The Greenlanders don't like to
+die any better than other people, and they all have an impression that,
+if Dr. Molke only looks upon them, they are safe. So if an old woman but
+gets the belly-ache, away goes her son or husband for the Doctor.
+Perhaps it is in summer, and the distance may be a hundred miles or
+more. No matter, he gets into his kayak and paddles through all sorts of
+weather, and, at the rate of seven knots an hour, comes for me. Glad of
+the excuse for a change, to say nothing (and the less perhaps any of us
+say on that score the better) of the claims of humanity, I send Sophy
+after Adam (a converted native), and directly along comes Adam with his
+son Carl; and my medicine and instrument cases, my gun and rifle, and a
+plentiful supply of ammunition, a tent, and some fur bedding, a lamp,
+and other camp fixtures, and a little simple food, are put into the
+boat, and off we go. Perhaps a gale springs up, and we are forced to
+make a harbor in some little island; or perhaps it falls calm, and we
+crawl into one, under oars. It is sure to be alive with ducks and geese
+and snipe. The shooting is superb. Happen what may, come storm or calm
+or fine weather, though often wet and cold, and frequently in danger,
+yet I have a grand time of it. I may be back in a day, two days, a week,
+or I may be gone a month. Then the winter comes back, and I have again
+to answer another summons. The same traps are put on the sledge, to
+which are harnessed the twelve finest dogs in the town,--my own
+team,--and, at the wildest pace with which this wolfish herd can rush
+along, Adam guides me to my destination. Perhaps it may be early in the
+winter, and the ice is in places thin. We very likely break through, and
+get wet, and are in danger of freezing. Perhaps we reach a crack which
+we cannot pass, and have to hold on, possibly in a hut of snow, waiting
+for the frost to build a bridge for us to pass. This is the wildest and
+most dangerous of my experiences,--this dog-sledging it from place to
+place in the early or late winter,--and I have had many wild adventures.
+In the middle of the winter, when it is dark pretty much all the time,
+and the snow is hard and crisp, and the clear, cold bracing air makes
+the blood run freely through the veins, is the best time for travelling;
+for then we may start a bear, and be pretty sure of catching him before
+he gets on rotten ice or across a crack defying us in the pursuit."
+
+By this time the sun had begun to climb above the hills, and the shadow
+of the cliffs had passed over the town, so we stole back again to the
+Doctor's house. The Doctor insisted that I should not sleep on board, so
+we returned to the study, where I was soon wrapt in a sound sleep on the
+Doctor's "shake-down," from which I never once awoke until there came a
+loud tapping on the door.
+
+"Who's there?"
+
+"Sophy."
+
+"What's Sophy want?"
+
+"Breakfast."
+
+Breakfast indeed! It was hard to believe that I was to come back to the
+experiences of life under such a summons, for I had dreamed that I was
+on a visit to the Man in the Moon, and was enjoying a genuine surprise
+at finding him happy and well contented, seated in the centre of an
+extinct volcano, with all the riches of the great satellite gathered
+round him, hanging in tempting clusters on its horns.
+
+But my eyes at length were opened wide enough to see, near by, the very
+terrestrial ruins of our evening's pastime; and if these had left any
+doubts upon my mind as to the reality of my present situation, those
+doubts would certainly have been removed by the cheerful voice of the
+Doctor; for a loud "Good morning!" came from out the painted chamber,
+and from beneath the sky-blue canopy a graceful query of the night.
+"What of the night, sleeper?--what of the night?" Then I was quickly out
+upon the floor, and dressed, and in the cosey little room where the
+fruits and flowers were hanging on the wall, and where the bright face
+of Sophy, and aromatic coffee, and a charming little breakfast, were
+awaiting us with a kindly welcome.
+
+Breakfast over, I left the Doctor to expend his skill and knowledge on a
+patient who had sent to claim his services, and strolled out over the
+rocks behind the town,--wondering all the while at the strangeness of
+the human fancy and its power on the will; and I reflected, too, and
+remembered that, in the explanation of the satisfying character of the
+life which my new-found friend was leading, there had been no clew given
+to the first great motive which had destined such a finely organized and
+altogether splendid man to such a career. Was he exempt from the lot of
+other mortals, or must he too own, like all the rest of us, when we own
+the truth, that every firm step we ever made in those days of our early
+lives when steps were critical, was made to please a woman, to win her
+slightest praise, to heal a wound or drown a sorrow of her making? I
+would have given much to have the question answered, for then a thing
+now mysterious would have become as plain as day; but there was no one
+there to heed the question, or to give the answer, and I could only
+wander on over the rough rocks, wondering more and more.
+
+
+
+
+A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.
+
+
+One morning last April, as I was passing through Boston Common, which
+lies pleasantly between my residence and my office, I met a gentleman
+lounging along The Mall. I am generally preoccupied when walking, and
+often thrid my way through crowded streets without distinctly observing
+a single soul. But this man's face forced itself upon me, and a very
+singular face it was. His eyes were faded, and his hair, which he wore
+long, was flecked with gray. His hair and eyes, if I may say so, were
+seventy years old, the rest of him not thirty. The youthfulness of his
+figure, the elasticity of his gait, and the venerable appearance of his
+head, were incongruities that drew more than one pair of curious eyes
+towards him. He was evidently an American,--the New England cut of
+countenance is unmistakable,--evidently a man who had seen something of
+the world; but strangely old and young.
+
+Before reaching the Park Street gate, I had taken up the thread of
+thought which he had unconsciously broken; yet throughout the day this
+old young man, with his unwrinkled brow and silvered locks, glided in
+like a phantom between me and my duties.
+
+The next morning I again encountered him on The Mall. He was resting
+lazily on the green rails, watching two little sloops in distress, which
+two ragged ship-owners had consigned to the mimic perils of the Pond.
+The vessels lay becalmed in the middle of the ocean, displaying a
+tantalizing lack of sympathy with the frantic helplessness of the owners
+on shore. As the gentleman observed their dilemma, a light came into his
+faded eyes, then died out, leaving them drearier than before. I wondered
+if he, too, in his time, had sent out ships that drifted and drifted and
+never came to port; and if these poor toys were to him types of his own
+losses.
+
+"I would like to know that man's story," I said, half aloud, halting in
+one of those winding paths which branch off from the quietness of the
+Pond, and end in the rush and tumult of Tremont Street.
+
+"Would you?" replied a voice at my side. I turned and faced Mr. H----, a
+neighbor of mine, who laughed heartily at finding me talking to myself.
+"Well," he added, reflectingly, "I can tell you this man's story; and if
+you will match the narrative with anything as curious, I shall be glad
+to hear it."
+
+"You know him then?"
+
+"Yes and no. I happened to be in Paris when he was buried."
+
+"Buried!"
+
+"Well, strictly speaking, not buried; but something quite like it. If
+you've a spare half-hour," continued my interlocutor, "we'll sit on this
+bench, and I will tell you all I know of an affair that made some noise
+in Paris a couple of years ago. The gentleman himself, standing yonder,
+will serve as a sort of frontispiece to the romance,--a full-page
+illustration, as it were."
+
+The following pages contain the story that Mr. H---- related to me.
+While he was telling it, a gentle wind arose; the miniature sloops
+drifted feebly about the ocean; the wretched owners flew from point to
+point, as the deceptive breeze promised to waft the barks to either
+shore; the early robins trilled now and then from the newly fringed
+elms; and the old young man leaned on the rail in the sunshine, wearily,
+little dreaming that two gossips were discussing his affairs within
+twenty yards of him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three people were sitting in a chamber whose one large window overlooked
+the Place Vendome. M. Dorine, with his back half turned on the other two
+occupants of the apartment, was reading the _Moniteur_, pausing from
+time to time to wipe his glasses, and taking scrupulous pains not to
+glance towards the lounge at his right, on which were seated
+Mademoiselle Dorine and a young American gentleman, whose handsome face
+rather frankly told his position in the family. There was not a happier
+man in Paris that afternoon than Philip Wentworth. Life had become so
+delicious to him that he shrunk from looking beyond to-day. What could
+the future add to his full heart? what might it not take away? In
+certain natures the deepest joy has always something of melancholy in
+it, a presentiment, a fleeting sadness, a feeling without a name.
+Wentworth was conscious of this subtile shadow, that night, when he rose
+from the lounge, and thoughtfully held Julie's hand to his lip for a
+moment before parting. A careless observer would not have thought him,
+as he was, the happiest man in Paris.
+
+M. Dorine laid down his paper and came forward. "If the house," he said,
+"is such as M. Martin describes it, I advise you to close with him at
+once. I would accompany you, Philip, but the truth is, I am too sad at
+losing this little bird to assist you in selecting a cage for her.
+Remember, the last train for town leaves at five. Be sure not to miss
+it; for we have seats for M. Sardou's new comedy to-morrow night. By
+to-morrow night," he added laughingly, "little Julie here will be an old
+lady, ----'t is such an age from now until then."
+
+The next morning the train bore Philip to one of the loveliest spots
+within thirty miles of Paris. An hour's walk through green lanes brought
+him to M. Martin's estate. In a kind of dream the young man wandered
+from room to room, inspected the conservatory, the stables, the lawns,
+the strip of woodland through which a merry brook sang to itself
+continually; and, after dining with M. Martin, completed the purchase,
+and turned his steps towards the station, just in time to catch the
+express train.
+
+As Paris stretched out before him, with its million lights twinkling in
+the early dusk, and its sharp spires here and there pricking the sky, it
+seemed to Philip as if years had elapsed since he left the city. On
+reaching Paris he drove to his hotel, where he found several letters
+lying on the table. He did not trouble himself even to glance at their
+superscriptions as he threw aside his travelling surtout for a more
+appropriate dress.
+
+If, in his impatience to see Mademoiselle Dorine, the cars had appeared
+to walk, the fiacre which he had secured at the station appeared to
+creep. At last it turned into the Place Vendome, and drew up before M.
+Dorine's residence. The door opened as Philip's foot touched the first
+step. The servant silently took his cloak and hat, with a special
+deference, Philip thought; but was he not now one of the family?
+
+"M. Dorine," said the servant slowly, "is unable to see Monsieur at
+present. He wishes Monsieur to be shown up to the _salon_."
+
+"Is Mademoiselle--"
+
+"Yes, Monsieur."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"Alone, Monsieur," repeated the man, looking curiously at Philip, who
+could scarcely repress an exclamation of pleasure.
+
+It was the first time that such a privilege had been accorded him. His
+interviews with Julie had always taken place in the presence of M.
+Dorine, or some member of the household. A well-bred Parisian girl has
+but a formal acquaintance with her lover.
+
+Philip did not linger on the staircase; his heart sang in his bosom as
+he flew up the steps, two at a time. Ah! this wine of air which one
+drinks at twenty, and seldom after! He hastened through the softly
+lighted hall, in which he detected the faint scent of her favorite
+flowers, and stealthily opened the door of the _salon_.
+
+The room was darkened. Underneath the chandelier stood a slim black
+casket on trestles. A lighted candle, a crucifix, and some white flowers
+were on a table near by. Julie Dorine was dead.
+
+When M. Dorine heard the indescribable cry that rang through the silent
+house, he hurried from the library, and found Philip standing like a
+ghost in the middle of the chamber.
+
+It was not until long afterwards that Wentworth learned the details of
+the calamity that had befallen him. On the previous night Mademoiselle
+Dorine had retired to her room in seemingly perfect health. She
+dismissed her maid with a request to be awakened early the next morning.
+At the appointed hour the girl entered the chamber. Mademoiselle Dorine
+was sitting in an arm-chair, apparently asleep. The candle had burnt
+down to the socket; a book lay half open on the carpet at her feet. The
+girl started when she saw that the bed had not been occupied, and that
+her mistress still wore an evening dress. She rushed to Mademoiselle
+Dorine's side. It was not slumber. It was death.
+
+Two messages were at once despatched to Philip, one to the station at
+G----, the other to his hotel. The first missed him on the road, the
+second he had neglected to open. On his arrival at M. Dorine's house,
+the servant, under the supposition that Wentworth had been advised of
+Mademoiselle Dorine's death, broke the intelligence with awkward
+cruelty, by showing him directly to the _salon_.
+
+Mademoiselle Dorine's wealth, her beauty, the suddenness of her death,
+and the romance that had in some way attached itself to her love for the
+young American, drew crowds to witness the funeral ceremonies which took
+place in the church in the Rue d'Aguesseau. The body was to be laid in
+M. Dorine's tomb, in the cemetery of Montmartre.
+
+This tomb requires a few words of description. First there was a grating
+of filigraned iron; through this you looked into a small vestibule or
+hall, at the end of which was a massive door of oak opening upon a short
+flight of stone steps descending into the tomb. The vault was fifteen or
+twenty feet square, ingeniously ventilated from the ceiling, but
+unlighted. It contained two sarcophagi: the first held the remains of
+Madame Dorine, long since dead; the other was new, and bore on one side
+the letters J. D., in monogram, interwoven with fleurs-de-lis.
+
+The funeral train stopped at the gate of the small garden that enclosed
+the place of burial, only the immediate relatives following the bearers
+into the tomb. A slender wax candle, such as is used in Catholic
+churches, burnt at the foot of the uncovered sarcophagus, casting a dim
+glow over the centre of the apartment, and deepening the shadows which
+seemed to huddle together in the corners. By this flickering light the
+coffin was placed in its granite shell, the heavy slab laid over it
+reverently, and the oaken door revolved on its rusty hinges, shutting
+out the uncertain ray of sunshine that had ventured to peep in on the
+darkness.
+
+M. Dorine, muffled in his cloak, threw himself on the back seat of the
+carriage, too abstracted in his grief to observe that he was the only
+occupant of the vehicle. There was a sound of wheels grating on the
+gravelled avenue, and then all was silence again in the cemetery of
+Montmartre. At the main entrance the carriages parted company, dashing
+off into various streets at a pace that seemed to express a sense of
+relief. The band plays a dead march going to the grave, but _Fra
+Diavolo_ coming from it.
+
+It is not with the retreating carriages that our interest lies. Nor yet
+wholly with the dead in her mysterious dream; but with Philip Wentworth.
+
+The rattle of wheels had died out of the air when Philip opened his
+eyes, bewildered, like a man abruptly roused from slumber. He raised
+himself on one arm and stared into the surrounding blackness. Where was
+he? In a second the truth flashed upon him. He had been left in the
+tomb! While kneeling on the farther side of the stone box, perhaps he
+had fainted, and in the last solemn rites his absence had been
+unnoticed.
+
+His first emotion was one of natural terror. But this passed as quickly
+as it came. Life had ceased to be so very precious to him; and if it
+were his fate to die at Julie's side, was not that the fulfilment of the
+desire which he had expressed to himself a hundred times that morning?
+What did it matter, a few years sooner or later? He must lay down the
+burden at last. Why not then? A pang of self-reproach followed the
+thought. Could he so lightly throw aside the love that had bent over his
+cradle. The sacred name of mother rose involuntarily to his lips. Was it
+not cowardly to yield up without a struggle the life which he should
+guard for her sake? Was it not his duty to the living and the dead to
+face the difficulties of his position, and overcome them if it were
+within human power?
+
+With an organization as delicate as a woman's, he had that spirit which,
+however sluggish in repose, can leap with a kind of exultation to
+measure its strength with disaster. The vague fear of the supernatural,
+that would affect most men in a similar situation, found no room in his
+heart. He was simply shut in a chamber from which it was necessary that
+he should obtain release within a given period. That this chamber
+contained the body of the woman he loved, so far from adding to the
+terror of the case, was a circumstance from which he drew consolation.
+She was a beautiful white statue now. Her soul was far hence; and if
+that pure spirit could return, would it not be to shield him with her
+love? It was impossible that the place should not engender some thought
+of the kind. He did not put the thought entirely from him as he rose to
+his feet and stretched out his hands in the darkness; but his mind was
+too healthy and practical to indulge long in such speculations.
+
+Philip chanced to have in his pocket a box of wax-tapers which smokers
+use. After several ineffectual attempts, he succeeded in igniting one
+against the dank wall, and by its momentary glare perceived that the
+candle had been left in the tomb. This would serve him in examining the
+fastenings of the vault. If he could force the inner door by any means,
+and reach the grating, of which he had an indistinct recollection, he
+might hope to make himself heard. But the oaken door was immovable, as
+solid as the wall itself, into which it fitted air-tight. Even if he had
+had the requisite tools, there were no fastenings to be removed: the
+hinges were set on the outside.
+
+Having ascertained this, he replaced the candle on the floor, and leaned
+against the wall thoughtfully, watching the blue fan of flame that
+wavered to and fro, threatening to detach itself from the wick. "At all
+events," he thought, "the place is ventilated." Suddenly Philip sprang
+forward and extinguished the light. His existence depended on that
+candle!
+
+He had read somewhere, in some account of shipwreck, how the survivors
+had lived for days upon a few candles which one of the passengers had
+insanely thrown into the long-boat. And here he had been burning away
+his very life.
+
+By the transient illumination of one of the tapers, he looked at his
+watch. It had stopped at eleven,--but at eleven that day, or the
+preceding night? The funeral, he knew, had left the church at ten. How
+many hours had passed since then? Of what duration had been his swoon?
+Alas! it was no longer possible for him to measure those hours which
+crawl like snails by the wretched, and fly like swallows over the happy.
+
+He picked up the candle, and seated himself on the stone steps. He was a
+sanguine man, this Wentworth, but, as he weighed the chances of escape,
+the prospect did not seem encouraging. Of course he would be missed. His
+disappearance under the circumstances would surely alarm his friends;
+they would instigate a search for him; but who would think of searching
+for a live man in the cemetery of Montmartre? The Prefect of Police
+would set a hundred intelligences at work to find him; the Seine might
+be dragged, _les miserables_ turned over at the dead-house; a minute
+description of him would be in every detective's pocket; and he--in M.
+Dorine's family tomb!
+
+Yet, on the other hand, it was here he was last seen; from this point a
+keen detective would naturally work up the case. Then might not the
+undertaker return for the candlestick, probably not left by design? Or,
+again, might not M. Dorine send fresh wreaths of flowers, to take the
+place of those which now diffused a pungent, aromatic odor throughout
+the chamber? Ah! what unlikely chances! But if one of these things did
+not happen speedily, it had better never happen. How long could he keep
+life in himself?
+
+With unaccelerated pulse, he quietly cut the half-burned candle into
+four equal parts. "To-night," he meditated, "I will eat the first of
+these pieces; to-morrow, the second; to-morrow evening, the third; the
+next day, the fourth; and then--then I'll wait!"
+
+He had taken no breakfast that morning, unless a cup of coffee can be
+called a breakfast. He had never been very hungry before. He was
+ravenously hungry now. But he postponed the meal as long as practicable.
+It must have been near midnight, according to his calculation, when he
+determined to try the first of his four singular repasts. The bit of
+white-wax was tasteless; but it served its purpose.
+
+His appetite for the time appeased, he found a new discomfort. The
+humidity of the walls, and the wind that crept through the unseen
+ventilator, chilled him to the bone. To keep walking was his only
+resource. A sort of drowsiness, too, occasionally came over him. It took
+all his will to fight it off. To sleep, he felt, was to die; and he had
+made up his mind to live.
+
+Very strange fancies flitted through his head as he groped up and down
+the stone floor of the dungeon, feeling his way along the wall to avoid
+the sepulchres. Voices that had long been silent spoke words that had
+long been forgotten; faces he had known in childhood grew palpable
+against the dark. His whole life in detail was unrolled before him like
+a panorama; the changes of a year, with its burden of love and death,
+its sweets and its bitternesses, were epitomized in a single second. The
+desire to sleep had left him. But the keen hunger came again.
+
+It must be near morning now, he mused; perhaps the sun is just gilding
+the pinnacles and domes of the city; or, may be, a dull, drizzling rain
+is beating on Paris, sobbing on these mounds above me. Paris! it seems
+like a dream. Did I ever walk in its gay streets in the golden air? O
+the delight and pain and passion of that sweet human life!
+
+Philip became conscious that the gloom, the silence, and the cold were
+gradually conquering him. The feverish activity of his brain brought on
+a reaction. He grew lethargic, he sunk down on the steps, and thought of
+nothing. His hand fell by chance on one of the pieces of candle; he
+grasped it and devoured it mechanically. This revived him. "How
+strange," he thought, "that I am not thirsty. Is it possible that the
+dampness of the walls, which I must inhale with every breath, has
+supplied the need of water? Not a drop has passed my lips for two days,
+and still I experience no thirst. That drowsiness, thank Heaven, has
+gone. I think I was never wide awake until this hour. It would be an
+anodyne like poison that could weigh down my eyelids. No doubt the dread
+of sleep has something to do with this."
+
+The minutes were like hours. Now he walked as briskly as he dared up and
+down the tomb; now he rested against the door. More than once he was
+tempted to throw himself upon the stone coffin that held Julie, and make
+no further struggle for his life.
+
+Only one piece of candle remained. He had eaten the third portion, not
+to satisfy hunger, but from a precautionary motive. He had taken it as a
+man takes some disagreeable drug upon the result of which hangs safety.
+The time was rapidly approaching when even this poor substitute for
+nourishment would be exhausted. He delayed that moment. He gave himself
+a long fast this time. The half-inch of candle which he held in his hand
+was a sacred thing to him. It was his last defence against death.
+
+At length, with such a sinking at heart as he had not known before, he
+raised it to his lips. Then he paused, then he hurled the fragment
+across the tomb, then the oaken door was flung open, and Philip, with
+dazzled eyes, saw M. Dorine's form sharply defined against the blue sky.
+
+When they led him out, half blinded, into the broad daylight, M. Dorine
+noticed that Philip's hair, which a short time since was as black as a
+crow's wing, had actually turned gray in places. The man's eyes, too,
+had faded; the darkness had spoiled their lustre.
+
+"And how long was he really confined in the tomb?" I asked, as Mr.
+H----concluded the story.
+
+_"Just one hour and twenty minutes!"_ replied Mr. H----, smiling
+blandly.
+
+As he spoke, the little sloops, with their sails all blown out like
+white roses, came floating bravely into port, and Philip Wentworth
+lounged by us, wearily, in the pleasant April sunshine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. H----'s narrative made a deep impression on me. Here was a man who
+had undergone a strange ordeal. Here was a man whose sufferings were
+unique. His was no threadbare experience. Eighty minutes had seemed like
+two days to him! If he had really been immured two days in the tomb, the
+story, from my point of view, would have lost its tragic element.
+
+After this it was but natural I should regard Mr. Wentworth with
+deepened interest. As I met him from day to day, passing through the
+Common with that same abstracted air, there was something in his
+loneliness which touched me. I wondered that I had not before read in
+his pale meditative face some such sad history as Mr. H---- had confided
+to me. I formed the resolution of speaking to him, though with what
+purpose was not very clear to my mind. One May morning we met at the
+intersection of two paths. He courteously halted to allow me the
+precedence.
+
+"Mr. Wentworth," I began, "I--"
+
+He interrupted me.
+
+"My name, sir," he said, in an off-hand manner, "is Jones."
+
+"Jo-Jo-Jones!" I gasped.
+
+"Not Jo Jones," he returned coldly, "Frederick."
+
+Mr. Jones, or whatever his name is, will never know, unless he reads
+these pages, why a man accosted him one morning as "Mr. Wentworth," and
+then abruptly rushed down the nearest path, and disappeared in the
+crowd.
+
+The fact is, I had been duped by Mr. H----. Mr. H---- occasionally
+contributes a story to the magazines. He had actually tried the effect
+of one of his romances on me!
+
+My hero, as I subsequently learned, is no hero at all, but a commonplace
+young man who has some connection with the building of that pretty
+granite bridge which will shortly span the crooked little lake in the
+Public Garden.
+
+When I think of the cool ingenuity and readiness with which Mr.
+H----built up his airy fabric on my credulity, I am half inclined to
+laugh; though I feel not slightly irritated at having been the
+unresisting victim of his Black Art.
+
+
+
+
+FREEDOM IN BRAZIL.
+
+
+    With clearer light, Cross of the South, shine forth
+      In blue Brazilian skies;
+    And thou, O river, cleaving half the earth
+      From sunset to sunrise,
+    From the great mountains to the Atlantic waves
+      Thy joy's long anthem pour.
+    Yet a few days (God make them less!) and slaves
+      Shall shame thy pride no more.
+    No fettered feet thy shaded margins press;
+      But all men shall walk free
+    Where thou, the high-priest of the wilderness,
+      Hast wedded sea to sea.
+
+    And thou, great-hearted ruler, through whose mouth
+      The word of God is said,
+    Once more, "Let there be light!"--Son of the South,
+      Lift up thy honored head,
+    Wear unashamed a crown by thy desert
+      More than by birth thy own,
+    Careless of watch and ward; thou art begirt
+      By grateful hearts alone.
+    The moated wall and battle-ship may fail,
+      But safe shall justice prove;
+    Stronger than greaves of brass or iron mail
+      The panoply of love.
+
+    Crowned doubly by man's blessing and God's grace,
+      Thy future is secure;
+    Who frees a people makes his statue's place
+      In Time's Valhalla sure.
+    Lo! from his Neva's banks the Scythian Czar
+      Stretches to thee his hand
+    Who, with the pencil of the Northern star,
+      Wrote freedom on his land.
+    And he whose grave is holy by our calm
+      And prairied Sangamon,
+    From his gaunt hand shall drop the martyr's palm
+      To greet thee with "Well done!"
+
+    And thou, O Earth, with smiles thy face make sweet,
+      And let thy wail be stilled,
+    To hear the Muse of prophecy repeat
+      Her promise half fulfilled.
+    The Voice that spake at Nazareth speaks still,
+      No sound thereof hath died;
+    Alike thy hope and Heaven's eternal will
+      Shall yet be satisfied.
+    The years are slow, the vision tarrieth long,
+      And far the end may be;
+    But, one by one, the fiends of ancient wrong
+      Go out and leave thee free.
+
+
+
+
+MY VISIT TO SYBARIS.
+
+
+It is a great while since I first took an interest in Sybaris. Sybarites
+have a bad name. But before I had heard of them anywhere else, I had
+painfully looked out the words in the three or four precious anecdotes
+about Sybaris in the old Greek Reader; and I had made up my boy's mind
+about the Sybarites. When I came to know the name they had got
+elsewhere, I could not but say that the world had been very unjust to
+them!
+
+O dear! I can see it now,--the old Latin school-room, where we used to
+sit, and hammer over that Greek, after the small boys had gone. They
+went at eleven; we--because we were twelve years old--stayed till
+twelve. From eleven to twelve we sat, with only those small boys who had
+been "kept" for their sins, and Mr. Dillaway. The room was long and
+narrow; how long and how narrow, you may see, if you will go and examine
+M. Duchesne's model of "Boston as it was," and pay twenty-five cents to
+the Richmond schools. For all this is of the past; and in the same spot
+in space where once a month the Examiner Club now meets at Parker's, and
+discusses the difference between religion and superstition, the folly of
+copyright, and the origin of things, the boys who did not then belong to
+the Examiner Club, say Fox and Clarke and Furness and Waldo Emerson,
+thumbed their Greek Readers in "Boston as it was," and learned the truth
+about Sybaris! A long, narrow room, I say, whose walls, when I knew them
+first, were of that tawny orange wash which is appropriated to kitchens.
+But by a master stroke of Mr. Dillaway's these walls were made lilac or
+purple one summer vacation. We sat, to recite, on long settees,
+pea-green in color, which would teeter slightly on the well-worn floor.
+There, for an hour daily, while brighter boys than I recited, I sat an
+hour musing, looking at the immense Jacobs's Greek Reader, and waiting
+my turn to come. If you did not look off your book much, no harm came to
+you. So, in the hour, you got fifty-three minutes and a few odd seconds
+of day-dream, for six minutes and two thirds of reciting, unless, which
+was unusual, some fellow above you broke down, and a question passed
+along of a sudden recalled you to modern life. I have been sitting on
+that old green settee, and at the same time riding on horseback in
+Virginia, through an open wooded country, with one of Lord Fairfax's
+grandsons and two pretty cousins of his, and a fallow deer has just
+appeared in the distance, when, by the failure of Hutchinson or Wheeler,
+just above me, poor Mr. Dillaway has had to ask me, "Ingham, what verbs
+omit the reduplication?" Talk of war! Where is versatility, otherwise
+called presence of mind, so needed as in recitation at a public school?
+
+Well, there, I say, I made acquaintance with Sybaris. Nay, strictly
+speaking, my first visits to Sybaris were made there and then. What the
+Greek Reader tells of Sybaris is in three or four anecdotes, woven into
+that strange, incoherent patchwork of "Geography." In that place are
+patched together a statement of Strabo and one of Athenaeus about two
+things in Sybaris which may have belonged some eight hundred years
+apart. But what of that to a school-boy! Will your descendants, dear
+reader, in the year 3579 A. D., be much troubled, if, in the English
+Reader of their day, Queen Victoria shall be made to drink Spartan black
+broth with William the Conqueror out of a conch-shell in New Zealand?
+
+With regard to Sybaris, then, the old Jacobs's Greek Reader tells the
+following stories: "The Sybarites were distinguished for luxury. They
+did not permit the trades which made a loud noise, such as those of
+brass-workers, carpenters, and the like, to be carried on in the heart
+of the city, so that their sleep might be wholly undisturbed by
+noise.... And a Sybarite who had gone to Lacedaemon, and had been invited
+to the public meal, after he had sat on their wooden benches and
+partaken of their fare, said that he had been astonished at the
+fearlessness of the Lacedaemonians when he knew it only by report; but
+now that he had seen them, he thought that they did not excel other men,
+for he thought that any brave man had much rather die than be obliged to
+live such a life as they did." Then there is another story, among the
+"miscellaneous anecdotes," of a Sybarite who was asked if he had slept
+well. He said, No, that he believed he had a crumpled rose-leaf under
+him in the night. And there is yet another, of one of them who said that
+it made his back ache to see another man digging.
+
+I have asked Polly, as I write, to look in Mark Lemon's Jest-Book for
+these stories. They are not in the index there. But I dare say they are
+in Cotton Mather and Jeremy Taylor. Any way, they are bits of very cheap
+Greek. Now it is on these stories that the reputation of the Sybarites
+in modern times appears to depend.
+
+Now look at them. This Sybarite at Sparta said, that in war death was
+often easier than the hardships of life. Well, is not that true? Have
+not thousands of brave men said it? When the English and French got
+themselves established on the wrong side of Sebastopol, what did that
+engineer officer of the French say to somebody who came to inspect his
+works? He was talking of St. Arnaud, their first commander. "Cunning
+dog," said he, "he went and died." Death was easier than life. But
+nobody ever said he was a coward or effeminate because he said this.
+Why, if Mr. Fields would permit an excursus in twelve numbers here, on
+this theme, we would defer Sybaris to the 1st of April, 1868, while we
+illustrated the Sybarite's manly epigram, which these stupid Spartans
+could only gape at, but could not understand.
+
+Then take the rose-leaf story. Suppose by good luck you were
+breakfasting with General Grant, or Pelissier, or the Duke of
+Wellington. Suppose you said, "I hope you slept well," and the great
+soldier said, "No, I did not; I think a rose-leaf must have stood up
+edgewise under me." Would you go off and say in your book of travels
+that the Americans, or the French, or the English are all effeminate
+pleasure-seekers, because one of them made this nice little joke? Would
+you like to have the name "American" go down to all time, defined as
+Webster[B] defines Sybarite?
+
+     A-M[)E]R'I-CAN, _n._ [Fr. _Americain_, Lat. _Americanus_, from
+     Lat. _America_, a continent noted for the effeminacy and
+     voluptuousness of its inhabitants.] A person devoted to luxury
+     and pleasure.
+
+Should you think that was quite fair for your great-grandson's
+grandson's descendant in the twenty-seventh remove to read, who is going
+to be instructed about Queen Victoria and William the Conqueror?
+
+Worst of all, and most frequently quoted, is the story of the
+coppersmiths. The Sybarites, it is said, ordered that the coppersmiths
+and brass-founders should all reside in one part of the city, and bang
+their respective metals where the neighbors had voluntarily chosen to
+listen to banging. What if they did? Does not every manufacturing city
+practically do the same thing? What did Nicholas Tillinghast use to say
+to the boys and girls at Bridgewater? "The tendency of cities is to
+resolve themselves into order."
+
+Is not Wall Street at this hour a street of bankers? Is not the Boston
+Pearl Street a street of leather men? Is not the bridge at Florence
+given over to jewellers? Was not my valise, there, bought in Rome at the
+street of trunk-makers? Do not all booksellers like to huddle together
+as long as they can? And when Ticknor and Fields move a few inches from
+Washington Street to Tremont Street, do not Russell and Bates, and
+Childs and Jenks, and De Vries and Ibarra, follow them as soon as the
+shops can be got ready?
+
+"But it is the motive," pipes up the old gray ghost of propriety, who
+started this abuse of the Sybarites in some stupid Spartan black-broth
+shop (English that for _cafe_), two thousand two hundred and twenty-two
+years ago,--which ghost I am now belaboring,--"it is the motive. The
+Sybarites moved the brass-founders, because they wanted to sleep after
+the brass-founders got up in the morning." What if they did, you old rat
+in the arras? Is there any law, human or divine, which says that at one
+and the same hour all men shall rise from bed in this world? My
+excellent milkman, Mr. Whit, rises from bed daily at two o'clock. If he
+does not, my family, including Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and Acts, will
+not have their fresh milk at 7.37, at which time we breakfast or pretend
+to. But because he rises at two, must we all rise at two, and sit
+wretchedly whining on our respective camp-stools, waiting for Mr. Whit
+to arrive with the grateful beverage? Many is the time, when I have been
+watching with a sick child at five in a summer morning, when the little
+fellow had just dropped into a grateful morning doze, that I have
+listened and waited, dreading the arrival of the Providence morning
+express. Because I knew that, a mile and a half out of Boston, the
+engine would begin to blow its shrill whistle, for the purpose, I
+believe, of calling the Boston station-men to their duty. Three or four
+minutes of that _skre-e-e-e_ must there be, as that train swept by our
+end of the town. And hoping and wishing never did any good; the train
+would come, and the child would wake. Is not that a magnificent power
+for one engine-man to have over the morning rest of thirty thousand
+sleeping people, because you, old Spartan croaker, who can't sleep easy
+underground it seems, want to have everybody waked up at the same hour
+in the morning. When I hear that whistle, and the fifty other whistles
+of the factories that have since followed its wayward and unlicensed
+example, I have wished more than once that we had in Boston a little
+more of the firm government of Sybaris.
+
+For if, as it would appear from these instances, Sybaris were a city
+which grew to wealth and strength by the recognition of the personal
+rights of each individual in the state,--if Sybaris were a republic,
+where the individual was respected, had his rights, and was not left to
+the average chances of the majority of men,--then Sybaris had found out
+something which no modern city has found out, and which it is a pity we
+have all forgotten.
+
+I do not say that I went through all this speculation at the Latin
+school. I got no further there than to see that the Sybarites had got a
+very bad name, and that the causes did not appear in the Greek Reader. I
+supposed there were causes somewhere, which it was not proper to put
+into the Greek Reader. Perhaps there were. But if there were, I have
+never found them,--not being indeed very well acquainted with the lines
+of reading in which those who wanted to find them should look for them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+What I did find of Sybaris, when I could read Greek rather more easily,
+and could get access to some decent atlases, was briefly this.
+
+Well forward in the hollow of the arched foot of the boot of Italy, two
+little rivers run into the Gulf of Tarentum. One was named Crathis, one
+was named Sybaris. Here stood the ancient city of Sybaris, founded,
+about the time of Romulus or Numa Pompilius, by a colony from Greece.
+For two hundred years and more,--almost as long, dear Atlantic, as your
+beloved Boston has subsisted,--Sybaris flourished, and was the Rome of
+that region, ruling it from sea to sea.
+
+It was the capital of four states,--a sort of New England, if you will
+observe,--and could send three hundred thousand armed men into the
+field. The walls of the city were six miles in circumference, while the
+suburbs covered the banks of the Crathis for a space of seven miles. At
+last the neighboring state of Crotona, under the lead of Milon the
+Athlete (he of the calf and ox and split log), the Heenan or John
+Morrissey of his day, vanquished the more refined Sybarites, turned the
+waters of the Crathis upon their prosperous city, and destroyed it. But
+the Sybarites had had that thing happen too often to be discouraged.
+Five times, say the historians, had Sybaris been destroyed, and five
+times they built it up again. This time the Athenians sent ten vessels,
+with men to help them, under Lampon and Xenocritus. And they, with those
+who stood by the wreck, gave their new city the name of Thurii. Among
+the new colonists were Herodotus, and Lysias the orator, who was then a
+boy. The spirit that had given Sybaris its comfort and its immense
+population appeared in the legislation of the new state. It received its
+laws from CHARONDAS, one of the noblest legislators of the world. Study
+these laws and you will see that in the young Sybaris the individual had
+his rights, which the public preserved for him, though he were wholly in
+a minority. There is an evident determination that a man shall live
+while he lives, and that, too, in no sensual interpretation of the
+words.
+
+Of the laws made by Charondas for the new Sybaris a few are preserved.
+
+1. A calumniator was marched round the city in disgrace, crowned with
+tamarisk. "In consequence," says the Scholiast, "they all left the
+city." O for such a result, from whatever legislation, in our modern
+Pedlingtons, great or little!
+
+2. All persons were forbidden to associate with the bad.
+
+3. "He made another law, better than these, and neglected by the older
+legislators. For he enacted that all the sons of the citizens should be
+instructed in letters, the city paying the salaries of the teachers. For
+he held that the poor, not being able to pay their teachers from their
+own property, would be deprived of the most valuable discipline." There
+is FREE EDUCATION for you, two thousand and seventy-six years before the
+date of your first Massachusetts free school; and the theory of free
+education completely stated.
+
+4. Deserters or cowards in battle had to sit in women's dresses in the
+Forum three days.
+
+5. With regard to the amendment of laws, any man or woman who moved one
+did it with a noose round his neck, and was hanged if the people refused
+it. Only three laws were ever amended, therefore, all which are recorded
+in the history. Observe that the women might move amendments,--and think
+of the simplicity of legislation!
+
+6. The law provided for cash payments, and the government gave no
+protection for those who sold on credit.
+
+7. Their communication with other nations was perfectly free.
+
+I might give more instances. I should like to tell some of the curious
+stories which illustrate this simple legislation. Poor Charondas himself
+fell a victim to it. One of the laws provided that no man should wear a
+sword into the public assembly. No Cromwells there! Unfortunately, by
+accident, Charondas wore his own there one day. Brave fellow! when the
+fault was pointed out, he killed himself with it.
+
+Now do you wonder that a city where there were no calumniators, no long
+credit, no bills at the grocers, no fighting at town meetings, no
+amendments to the laws, no intentional and open association with
+profligates, and where everybody was educated by the state to letters,
+proved a comfortable place to live in? It is of the old Sybaris that the
+coppersmith and the rose-leaf stories are told; and it was the new
+Sybaris that made the laws. But do you not see that there is one spirit
+in the whole? Here was a nation which believed that the highest work of
+a nation was to train its people. It did not believe in fight, like
+Milon or Heenan or the old Spartans; it did not believe in legislation,
+like Massachusetts and New York; it did not believe in commerce, like
+Carthage and England. It believed in men and women. It respected men and
+women. It educated men and women. It gave their rights to men and women.
+And so the Spartans called them effeminate. And the Greek Reader made
+fun of them. But perhaps the people who lived there were indifferent to
+the opinions of the Spartans and of the Greek Reader. Herodotus lived
+there till he died; wrote his history there, among other things. Lysias,
+the orator, took part in the administration. It is not from them, you
+may be sure, that you get the anecdotes which ridicule the old city of
+Sybaris!
+
+You and I would probably be satisfied with such company as that of
+Herodotus and Charondas and Lysias. So we hunt the history down to see
+if there may be lodgings to let there this summer, but only to find that
+it all pales out in the ignorance of our modern days. The name gets
+changed into Lupiae; but there it turns out that Pausanias made "a
+strange mistake," and should have written Copia,--which was perhaps
+Cossa, or sometimes Cosa. Pyrrhus appears, and Hadrian rebuilds
+something, and the "Oltramontani," whoever they may have been, ravage
+it, and finally the Saracens fire and sack it; and so, in the latest
+Italian itinerary you can find, there is no post-road goes near it, only
+a _strada rotabile_ (wheel-track) upon the hills; and, alas! even the
+_rotabile_ gives way at last, and all the map will own to is a _strada
+pedonale_, or foot-path. But the map is of the less consequence, when
+you find that the man who edited it had no later dates than the
+beginning of the last century, when the family of Serra had transferred
+the title to Sybaris to a Genoese family without a name, who received
+from it forty thousand ducats yearly, and would have received more, if
+their agents had been more faithful. There the place fades out of
+history, and you find in your Swinburne, "that the locality has _never_
+been thoroughly examined"; in your Smith's Dictionary, that "the whole
+subject is very obscure, and a careful examination still much needed";
+in the Cyclopaedia, that the site of Sybaris is lost. Craven saw the
+rivers Crathis and Sybaris. He seems not to have seen the wall of
+Sybaris, which he supposed to be under water. He does say of Cassano,
+the nearest town he came to, that "no other spot can boast of such
+advantages." In short, no man living who has written any book about it
+dares say that anybody has looked upon the certain site of Sybaris for
+more than a hundred years.[C] If a man wanted to write a mythical story,
+where could he find a better scene?
+
+Now is not this a very remarkable thing? Here was a city, which, under
+its two names of Sybaris or of Thurium, was for centuries the regnant
+city of all that part of the world. It could call into the field three
+hundred thousand men,--an army enough larger than Athens ever furnished,
+or Sparta. It was a far more populous and powerful state than ever
+Athens was, or Sparta, or the whole of Hellas. It invented and carried
+into effect free popular education,--a gift to the administration of
+free government larger than ever Rome rendered. It received and honored
+Charondas, the great practical legislator, from whose laws no man shall
+say how much has trickled down into the Code Napoleon or the Revised
+Statutes of New York, through the humble studies of the Roman jurists.
+It maintained in peace, prosperity, happiness, and, as its maligners
+say, in comfort, an immense population. If they had not been as
+comfortable as they were,--if a tenth part of them had received alms
+every year, and a tenth part were flogged in the public schools every
+year,--if one in forty had been sent to prison every year, as in the
+happy city which publishes the "Atlantic Monthly,"--then Sybaris,
+perhaps, would never have got its bad name for luxury. Such a city
+lived, flourished, ruled, for hundreds of years. Of such a city all that
+you know now with certainty is, that its coin is "the most beautifully
+finished in the cabinets of ancient coinage"; and that no traveller even
+pretends to be sure that he has been to the site of it for more than a
+hundred years. That speaks well for your nineteenth century.
+
+Now the reader who has come thus far will understand that I, having come
+thus far, in twenty-odd years since those days of teetering on the
+pea-green settee, had always kept Sybaris in the background of my head,
+as a problem to be solved, and an inquiry to be followed to its
+completion. There could hardly have been a man in the world better
+satisfied than I to be the hero of the adventure which I am now about to
+describe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If the reader remembers anything about Garibaldi's triumphal entry into
+Porto Cavallo in Sicily in the spring of 1859, he will remember that,
+between the months of March and April in that year, the great chieftain
+made, in that wretched little fishing haven, a long pause, which was not
+at the time understood by the journals or by their military critics, and
+which, indeed, to this hour has never been publicly explained. I suppose
+I know as much about it as any man now living. But I am not writing
+Garibaldi's memoirs, nor, indeed, my own, excepting so far as they
+relate to Sybaris; and it is strictly nobody's business to inquire as to
+that detention, unless it interest the ex-king of Naples, who may write
+to me, if he chooses, addressing Frederic Ingham, Esq., Waterville, N.
+H. Nor is it anybody's business how long I had then been on Garibaldi's
+staff. From the number of his staff-officers who have since visited me
+in America, very much in want of a pair of pantaloons, or a ticket to
+New York, or something with which they might buy a glass of whiskey, I
+should think that his staff alone must have made up a much more
+considerable army than Naples, or even Sybaris, ever brought into the
+field. But where these men were when I was with him, I do not know. I
+only know that there was but a handful of us then, hard-worked fellows,
+good-natured, and not above our work. Of its military details we knew
+wretchedly little. But as we had no artillery, ignorance was less
+dangerous in the chief of artillery; as we had no maps to draw, poor
+draughtsmanship did not much embarrass the engineer in chief. For me, I
+was nothing but an aid, and I was glad to do anything that fell to me as
+well as I knew how. And, as usual in human life, I found that a cool
+head, a steady resolve, a concentrated purpose, and an unselfish
+readiness to obey, carried me a great way. I listened instead of
+talking, and thus got a reputation for knowing a great deal. When the
+time to act came, I acted without waiting for the wave to recede; and
+thus I sprang into many a boat dry-shod, while people who believed in
+what is popularly called prudence missed their chance, and either lost
+the boat or fell into the water.
+
+This is by the way. It was under these circumstances that I received my
+orders, wholly secret and unexpected, to take a boat at once, pass the
+straits, and cross the Bay of Tarentum, to communicate at Gallipoli
+with--no matter whom. Perhaps I was going to the "Castle of Otranto." A
+hundred years hence anybody who chooses will know. Meanwhile, if there
+should be a reaction in Otranto, I do not choose to shorten anybody's
+neck for him.
+
+Well, it was five in the afternoon,--near sundown at that season. I
+went to dear old Frank Chaney,--the jolliest of jolly Englishmen, who
+was acting quartermaster-general,--and told him I must have
+transportation. I can see him and hear him now,--as he sat on his barrel
+head, smoked his vile Tunisian tobacco in his beloved short meerschaum,
+which was left to him ever since he was at Bonn, as he pretended, a
+student with Prince Albert. He did not swear,--I don't think he ever
+did. But he looked perplexed enough to swear. And very droll was the
+twinkle of his eye. The truth was, that every sort of a thing that would
+sail, and every wretch of a fisherman that could sail her, had been, as
+he knew, and as I knew, sent off that very morning to rendezvous at
+Carrara, for the contingent which we were hoping had slipped through
+Cavour's pretended neutrality. And here was an order for him to furnish
+me "transportation" in exactly the opposite direction.
+
+"Do you know of anything, yourself, Fred?" said he.
+
+"Not a coffin," said I.
+
+"Did the chief suggest anything?"
+
+"Not a nutshell," said I.
+
+"Could not you go by telegraph?" said Frank, pointing up to the dumb old
+semaphore in whose tower he had established himself. "Or has not the
+chief got a wishing carpet? Or can't you ride to Gallipoli? Here are
+some excellent white-tailed mules, good enough for Pindar, whom
+Colvocoressis has just brought in from the monastery. 'Transportation
+for one!' Is there anything to be brought back? Nitre, powder, lead,
+junk, hard-tack, mules, horses, pigs, _polenta_, or _olla podrida_, or
+other of the stores of war?"
+
+No; there was nothing to bring back except myself. Lucky enough if I
+came back to tell my own story. And so we walked up on the tower deck to
+take a look.
+
+Blessed St. Lazarus, chief of Naples and of beggars! a little felucca
+was just rounding the Horse Head and coming into the bay, wing-wing. The
+fishermen in her had no thought that they were ever going to get into
+the Atlantic. May be they had never heard of the Ocean or of the
+Monthly. Can that be possible? Frank nodded, and I. He filled up with
+more Tunisian, beckoned to an orderly, and we walked down to the
+landing-jetty to meet them.
+
+_"Viva Italia!"_ shouted Frank, as they drew near enough to hear.
+
+_"Viva Garibaldi!"_ cried the skipper, as he let his sheet fly and
+rounded to the well-worn stones. A good voyage had they made of it, he
+and his two brown, ragged boys. Large fish and small, pink fish, blue,
+yellow, orange, striped fish and mottled, wriggled together, and flapped
+their tails in the well of the little boat. There were even too many to
+lie there and wriggle. The bottom of the boat was well covered with
+them, and, if she had not shipped waves enough to keep them cool, the
+boy Battista had bailed a plenty on them. Father and son hurried on
+shore, and Battista on board began to fling the scaly fellows out to
+them.
+
+A very small craft it was to double all those capes in, run the straits,
+and stretch across the bay. If it had been mine "to make reply," I
+should undoubtedly have made this, that I would see the quartermaster
+hanged, and his superiors, before I risked myself in any such
+rattletrap. But as, unfortunately, it was mine to go where I was sent, I
+merely set the orderly to throwing out fish with the boys, and began to
+talk with the father.
+
+Queer enough, just at that moment, there came over me the feeling that,
+as a graduate of the University, it was my duty to put up those red,
+white, and blue scaly fellows, who were flopping about there so briskly,
+and send them in alcohol to Agassiz. But there are so many duties of
+that kind which one neglects in a hard-worked world! As a graduate, it
+is my duty to send annually to the College Librarian a list of all the
+graduates who have died in the town I live in, with their fathers' and
+mothers' names, and the motives that led them to College, with anecdotes
+of their career, and the date of their death. There are two thousand
+three hundred and forty-five of them I believe, and I have never sent
+one half-anecdote about one! Such failure in duty made me grimly smile
+as I omitted to stop and put up these fish in alcohol, and as I plied
+the unconscious skipper with inquiries about his boat. "Had she ever
+been outside?" "O signor, she had been outside this very day. You cannot
+catch _tonno_ till you have passed both capes,--least of all such fine
+fish as that is,"--and he kicked the poor wretch. Can it be true, as
+C---- says, that those dying flaps of theirs, are exquisite luxury to
+them, because for the first time they have their fill of oxygen? "Had he
+ever been beyond Peloro?" "O yes, signor; my wife, Caterina, was herself
+from Messina,"--and on great saints' days they had gone there often.
+Poor fellow, his great saint's day sealed his fate. I nodded to
+Frank,--Frank nodded to me,--and Frank blandly informed him that, by
+order of General Garibaldi, he would take the gentleman at once on
+board, pass the strait with him, "and then go where he tells you."
+
+The Southern Italian has the reputation, derived from Tom Moore, of
+being a coward. When I used to speak at school,
+
+    "Ay, down to the dust with them,--slaves as they are!"--
+
+stamping my foot at "dust," I certainly thought they were a very mean
+crew. But I dare say that Neapolitan school-boys have some similar
+school piece about the risings of Tom Moore's countrymen, which
+certainly have not been much more successful than the poor little
+Neapolitan revolution which he was pleased to satirize. Somehow or
+other, Victor Emanuel is, at this hour, king of Naples. Coward or not,
+this fine fellow of a fisherman did not flinch. It is my private opinion
+that he was not nearly as much afraid of the enterprise as I was. I made
+this observation at the moment with some satisfaction, sent Frank's man
+up to my lodgings with a note ordering my own traps sent down, and in an
+hour we were stretching out, under the twilight, across the little bay.
+
+No! I spare you the voyage. Sybaris is what we are after, all this time,
+if we can only get there. Very easy it would be for me to give you cheap
+scholarship from the AEneid, about Palinurus and Scylla and Charybdis.
+Neither Scylla nor Charybdis bothered me,--as we passed wing-wing
+between them before a smart north wind. I had a little Hunter's Virgil
+with me, and read the whole voyage,--and confused Battista utterly by
+trying to make him remember something about Palinuro, of whom he had
+never heard. It was much as I afterwards asked my negro waiter at Fort
+Monroe about General Washington at Yorktown. "Never heard of him,
+sir,--was he in the Regular army?" So Battista thought Palinuro must
+have fished in the Italian fleet, with which the Sicilian boatmen were
+not well acquainted. Messina made no objections to us. Perhaps, if the
+sloop of war which lay there had known who was lying in the boat under
+her guns, I might not be writing these words to-day. Battista went
+ashore, got lemons, macaroni, hard bread, polenta, for themselves, the
+_Giornale di Messina_ for me, and more Tunisian; and, not to lose that
+splendid breeze, we cracked on all day, passed Reggio, hugged the shore
+bravely, though it was rough, ran close under those cliffs which are the
+very end of the Apennines,--will it shock the modest reader if I say the
+very toe-nails of the Italian foot?--hauled more and more eastward, made
+Spartivento blue in the distance, made it purple, made it brown, made it
+green, still running admirably,--ten knots an hour we must have got
+between four and five that afternoon,--and by the time the lighthouse at
+Spartivento was well ablaze we were abreast of it, and might begin to
+haul more northward, so that, though we had a long course before us, we
+should at last be sailing almost directly towards our voyage's end,
+Gallipoli.
+
+At that moment--as in any sea often happens, if you come out from the
+more land-locked channel into the larger body of water--the wind
+appeared to change. Really, I suppose, we came into the steady southwest
+wind which had probably been drawing all day up toward the Adriatic. In
+two hours more we made the lighthouse of Stilo, and I was then tired
+enough to crawl down into the fearfully smelling little cuddy, and,
+wrapping Battista's heavy storm-jacket round my feet, I caught some sort
+of sleep.
+
+But not for very long. I struck my watch at three in the morning. And
+the air was so unworthy of that name,--it was such a thick paste,
+seeming to me more like a mixture of tar and oil and fresh fish and
+decayed fish and bilge-water than air itself,--that I voted three
+morning, and crawled up into the clear starlight,--how wonderful it was,
+and the fresh wet breeze that washed my face so cheerily!--and I bade
+Battista take his turn below, while I would lie there and mind the helm.
+If--if he had done what I proposed, I suppose I should not be writing
+these lines; but his father, good fellow, said: "No, signor, not yet. We
+leave the shore now for the broad bay, you see; and if the wind haul
+southward, we may need to go on the other tack. We will all stay here,
+till we see what the deep-sea wind may be." So we lay there, humming,
+singing, and telling stories, still this rampant southwest wind behind,
+as if all the powers of the Mediterranean meant to favor my mission to
+Gallipoli. The boat was now running straight before it. We stretched out
+bravely into the gulf; but, before the wind, it was astonishing how
+easily the lugger ran. He said to me at last, however, that on that
+course we were running to leeward of our object; but that it was the
+best point for his boat, and if the wind held, he would keep on so an
+hour longer, and trust to the land breeze in the morning to run down the
+opposite shore of the bay.
+
+"If" again. The wind did not keep on. Either the pole-star, and the
+dipper, and all the rest of them, had rebelled and were drifting
+westward,--and so it seemed; or this steady southwest gale was giving
+out; or, as I said before, we had come into the sweep of a current even
+stronger, pouring from the Levantine shores of the Mediterranean full up
+the Gulf of Tarentum. Not ten minutes after the skipper spoke, it was
+clear enough to both of us that the boat must go about, whether we
+wanted to or not, and we waked the other boy, to send him forward,
+before we accepted the necessity. Half asleep, he got up, courteously
+declined my effort to help him by me as he crossed the boat, stepped
+round on the gunwale behind me as I sat, and then, either in a lurch or
+in some misstep, caught his foot in the tiller as his father held it
+firm, and pitched down directly behind Battista himself, and, as I
+thought, into the sea. I sprang to leeward to throw something after him,
+and found him in the sea indeed, but hanging by both hands to the
+gunwale, safe enough, and in a minute, with Battista's help and mine, on
+board again. I remember how pleased I was that his father did not swear
+at him, but only laughed prettily, and bade him be quick, and step
+forward; and then, turning to the helm, which he had left free for the
+moment, he did not swear indeed, but he did cry "Santa Madre!" when he
+found there was no tiller there. The boy's foot had fairly wrenched it,
+not only from his father's hand, but from the rudder-head,--and it was
+gone!
+
+We held the old fellow firmly by his feet and legs, as he lay over the
+stern of the boat, head down, examining the condition of the
+rudder-head. The report was not favorable. I renewed the investigation
+myself in the same uncomfortable attitude. The phosphorescence of the
+sea was but an unsteady light, but light enough there was to reveal what
+daylight made hardly more certain,--that the wrench which had been given
+to the rotten old fixtures, shaky enough at best, had split the head of
+the rudder, so that the pintle hung but loosely in its bed, and that
+there was nothing available for us to rig a jury-tiller on. This
+discovery, as it became more and more clear to each of us four in
+succession, abated successively the volleys of advice which we were
+offering, and sent us back to our more quiet "Santa Madres" or to
+meditations on "what was next to best."
+
+Meanwhile the boat was flying, under the sail she had before, straight
+before the wind, up the Gulf of Tarentum.
+
+If you cannot have what you like, it is best, in a finite world, to like
+what you have. And while the old man brought up from the cuddy his
+wretched and worthless stock of staves, rope-ends, and bits of iron, and
+contemplated them ruefully, as if asking them which would like to assume
+the shape of a rudder-head and tiller, if his fairy godmother would
+appear on the top of the mast for a moment, I was plying the boys with
+questions,--what would happen to us if we held on at this tearing rate,
+and rushed up the bay to the head thereof. The boys knew no more than
+they knew of Palinuro. Far enough, indeed, were we from their parish.
+The old man at last laid down the bit of brass which he had saved from
+some old waif, and listened to me as I pointed out to them on my map the
+course we were making, and, without answering me a word, fell on his
+knees and broke into most voluble prayer,--only interrupted by sobs of
+undisguised agony. The boys were almost as much surprised as I was. And
+as he prayed and sobbed, the boat rushed on!
+
+Santa Madre, San Giovanni, and Sant' Antonio,--we needed all their help,
+if it were only to keep him quiet; and when at last he rose from his
+knees, and came to himself enough to tend the sheets a little, I asked,
+as modestly as I could, what put this keen edge on his grief or his
+devotions. Then came such stories of hobgoblins, witches, devils,
+giants, elves, and fairies, at this head of the bay!--no man ever
+returned who landed there; his father and his father's father had
+charged him, and his brothers and his cousins, never to be lured to
+make a voyage there, and never to run for those coves, though schools of
+golden fish should lead the way. It was not till this moment, that,
+trying to make him look upon the map, I read myself there the words, at
+the mouth of the Crathis River, "Sybaris Ruine."
+
+Surely enough, this howling Euroclydon--for Euroclydon it now was--was
+bearing me and mine directly to Sybaris!
+
+And here was this devout old fisherman confirming the words of Smith's
+Dictionary, when it said that nobody had been there and returned, for
+generation upon generation.
+
+At a dozen knots an hour, as things were, I was going to Sybaris! Nor
+was I many hours from it. For at that moment we cannot have been more
+than five-and-thirty miles from the beach, where, in less than four
+hours, Euroclydon flung us on shore.
+
+The memory of the old green settees, and of Hutchinson and Wheeler and
+the other Latin-school boys, sustained me beneath the calamity which
+impended. Nor do I think at heart the boys felt so bad as their father
+about the djins and the devils, the powers of the earth and the powers
+of the air. Is there, perhaps, in the youthful mind, rather a passion
+for "seeing the folly" of life a little in that direction? None the less
+did we join him in rigging out the longest sweep we had aft, lashing it
+tight under the little rail which we had been leaning on, and trying
+gentle experiments, how far this extemporized rudder might bring the
+boat round to the wind. Nonsense the whole. By that time Euroclydon was
+on us, so that I would never have tried to put her about if we had had
+the best gear I ever handled, and our experiments only succeeded far
+enough to show that we were as utterly powerless as men could be.
+Meanwhile day was just beginning to break. I soothed the old man with
+such devout expressions as heretic might venture. I tried to turn him
+from the coming evil to the present necessity. I counselled with him
+whether it might not be safer to take in sail and drift along. But from
+this he dissented. Time enough to take in sail when we knew what shore
+we were coming to. He had no kedge or grapple or cord, indeed, that
+would pretend to hold this boat against this gale. We would beach her,
+if it pleased the Virgin; and if we could not,--shaking his head,--why,
+that would please the Virgin, too.
+
+And so Euroclydon hurried us on to Sybaris.
+
+The sun rose, O how magnificently! Is there anywhere to see sunrise like
+the Mediterranean? And if one may not be on the top of Katahdin, is
+there any place for sunrise like the very level of the sea? Already the
+Calabrian mountains of our western horizon were gray against the sky.
+One or another of us was forward all the time, trying to make out by
+what slopes the hills descended to the sea. Was it cliff of basalt, or
+was it reedy swamp, that was to receive us. I insisted at last on his
+reducing sail. For I felt sure that he was driving on under a sort of
+fatality which made him dare the worst. I was wholly right, for the boat
+now rose easier on the water, and was much more dry.
+
+Perhaps the wind flagged a little as the sun rose. At all events, he
+took courage, which I had never lost. I made his boy find us some
+oranges. I made them laugh by eating their cold polenta with them. I
+even made him confess, when I called him aft and sent Battista forward,
+that the shore we were nearing looked low. For we were near enough now
+to see stone pines and chestnut-trees. Did anybody see the towers of
+Sybaris?
+
+Not a tower! But, on the other hand, not a gnome, witch, Norna's Head,
+or other intimation of the underworld. The shore looked like many other
+Italian shores. It looked not very unlike what we Yankees call
+salt-marsh. At all events, we should not break our heads against a wall!
+Nor will I draw out the story of our anxieties, varying as the waves
+did on which we rose and fell so easily. As she forged on, it was clear
+at last that to some wanderers, at least, Sybaris had some hospitality.
+A long, low spit made out into the sea, with never a house on it, but
+brown with storm-worn shrubs, above the line of which were the
+stone-pines and chestnuts which had first given character to the shore.
+Hard for us, if we had been flung on the outside of this spit. But we
+were not. Else I had not been writing here to-day. We passed it by fifty
+fathom clear. Of course under its lee was our harbor. Battista let go
+the halyards in a moment, and the wet sails came rattling down. The old
+man, the boy, Battista, and I seized the best sweeps he had left. Two of
+us at each, working on the same side, we brought her head round as fast
+as she would bear it in that fearful sea. Inch by inch we wrought along
+to the smoother water, and breathed free at last, as we came under the
+partial protection of the friendly shore.
+
+Battista and his brother then hauled up the sail enough to give such
+headway to the boat as we thought our sweeps would control. And we crept
+along the shore for an hour, seeing nothing but reeds, and now and then
+a distant buffalo, when at last a very hard knock on a rock the boy
+ahead had not seen under water started the planks so that we knew that
+was dangerous play; and, without more solicitation, the old man beached
+the boat in a little cove where the reeds gave place for a trickling
+stream. I told them they might land or not, as they pleased. I would go
+ashore and get assistance or information. The old man clearly thought I
+was going to ask my assistance from the father of lies himself. But he
+was resigned to my will,--said he would wait for my return. I stripped,
+and waded ashore with my clothes upon my head, dressed as quickly as I
+could, and pushed up from the beach to the low upland.
+
+Clearly enough I was in a civilized country. Not that there was a
+gallows, as the old joke says; but there were tracks in the shingle of
+the beach showing where wheels had been, and these led me to a
+cart-track between high growths of that Mediterranean reed which grows
+all along in those low flats. There is one of the reeds on the hooks
+above my gun in the hall as you came in. I followed up the track, but
+without seeing barn, house, horse, or man, for a quarter of a mile,
+perhaps, when behold,--
+
+Not the footprint of a man! as to Robinson Crusoe;--
+
+Not a gallows and man hanging! as in the sailor story above named;--
+
+But a railroad track! Evidently a horse-railroad.
+
+"A horse-railroad in Italy!" said I, aloud. "A horse-railroad in
+Sybaris! It must have changed since the days of the coppersmiths!" And I
+flung myself on a heap of reeds which lay there, and waited.
+
+In two minutes I heard the fast step of horses, as I supposed; in a
+minute more four mules rounded the corner, and a "horse-car" came
+dashing along the road. I stepped forward and waved my hand, but the
+driver bowed respectfully, pointed back, and then to a board on top of
+his car, and I read, as he dashed by me, the word
+
+[Greek: Pleron],
+
+displayed full above him; as one may read _Complet_ on a Paris omnibus.
+
+Now [Greek: Pleron] is the Greek for full. "In Sybaris they do not let
+the horse-railroads grind the faces of the passengers," said I. "Not so
+wholly changed since the coppersmiths." And, within the minute, more
+quadrupedantal noises, more mules, and another car, which stopped at my
+signal. I entered, and found a dozen or more passengers, sitting back to
+back on a seat which ran up the middle of the car, as you might ride in
+an Irish jaunting-car. In this way it was impossible for the conductor
+to smuggle in a standing passenger, impossible for a passenger to catch
+cold from a cracked window, and possible for a passenger to see the
+scenery from the window. "Can it be possible," said I, "that the
+traditions of Sybaris really linger here?"
+
+I sat quite in the front of the car, so that I could see the fate of my
+first friend [Greek: Pleron],--the full car. In a very few minutes it
+switched off from our track, leaving us still to pick up our complement,
+and then I saw that it dropped its mules, and was attached, on a side
+track, to an endless chain, which took it along at a much greater
+rapidity, so that it was soon out of sight. I addressed my next neighbor
+on the subject, in Greek which would have made my fortune in those old
+days of the pea-green settees. But he did not seem to make much of that,
+but in sufficiently good Italian told me, that, as soon as we were full,
+we should be attached in the same way to the chain, which was driven by
+stationary engines five or six stadia apart, and so indeed it proved. We
+picked up one or two market-women, a young artist or two, and a little
+boy. When the child got in, there was a nod and smile on people's faces;
+my next neighbor said to me, [Greek: Pleron], as if with an air of
+relief; and sure enough, in a minute more, we were flying along at a
+2.20 pace, with neither mule nor engine in sight, stopping about once a
+mile to drop passengers, if there was need, and evidently approaching
+Sybaris.
+
+All along now were houses, each with its pretty garden of perhaps an
+acre, no fences, because no cattle at large. I wonder if the Vineland
+people know they caught that idea from Sybaris! All the houses were of
+one story,--stretching out as you remember Pliny's villa did, if Ware
+and Van Brunt ever showed you the plans,--or as Erastus Bigelow builds
+factories at Clinton. I learned afterwards that stair-builders and
+slaveholders are forbidden to live in Sybaris by the same article in the
+fundamental law. This accounts, with other things, for the vigorous
+health of their women. I supposed that this was a mere suburban habit,
+and, though the houses came nearer and nearer, yet, as no two houses
+touched in a block, I did not know we had come into the city till all
+the passengers left the car, and the conductor courteously told me we
+were at our journey's end.
+
+When this happens to you in Boston, and you leave your car, you find
+yourself huddled on a steep sloping sidewalk, under the rain or snow,
+with a hundred or more other passengers, all eager, all wondering, all
+unprovided for. But I found in Sybaris a large glass-roofed station,
+from which the other lines of neighborhood cars radiated, in which women
+and even little children were passing from route to to route, under the
+guidance of civil and intelligent persons, who, strange enough, made it
+their business to conduct these people to and fro, and did not consider
+it their duty to insult the traveller. For a moment my mind reverted to
+the contrast at home; but not long. As I stood admiring and amused at
+once, a bright, brisk little fellow stepped up to me, and asked what my
+purpose was, and which way I would go. He spoke in Greek first, but,
+seeing I did not catch his meaning, relapsed into very passable Italian,
+quite as good as mine.
+
+I told him that I was shipwrecked, and had come into town for
+assistance. He expressed sympathy, but wasted not a moment, led me to
+his chief at an office on one side, who gave me a card with the address
+of an officer whose duty it was to see to strangers, and said that he
+would in turn introduce me to the chief of the boat-builders; and then
+said, as if in apology for his promptness,
+
+    "[Greek: Chre xeiuon pareonta philein, ethelonta de pempein.]"
+    "Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest."
+
+He called to me a conductor of the red line, said [Greek: Xenos], which
+we translate guest, but which I found in this case means "dead-head," or
+"free," bowed, and I saw him no more.
+
+"Strange country have I come to, indeed," said I, as I thought of the
+passports of Civita Vecchia, of the indifference of Scollay's Buildings,
+and of the surliness of Springfield. "And this is Sybaris!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We sent down a tug to the cove which I indicated on their topographical
+map, and to the terror of the old fisherman and his sons, to whom I had
+sent a note, which they could not read, our boat was towed up to the
+city quay, and was put under repairs. That last thump on the hidden rock
+was her worst injury, and it was a week before I could get away. It was
+in this time that I got the information I am now to give, partly from my
+own observations, partly from what George the Proxenus or his brother
+Philip told me,--more from what I got from a very pleasing person, the
+wife of another brother, at whose house I used to visit freely, and
+whose boys, fine fellows, were very fond of talking about America with
+me. They spoke English very funnily, and like little school-books. The
+ship-carpenter, a man named Alexander, was a very intelligent person;
+and, indeed, the whole social arrangement of the place was so simple,
+that it seemed to me that I got on very fast, and knew a great deal of
+them in a very short time.
+
+I told George one day, that I was surprised that he had so much time to
+give to me. He laughed, and said he could well believe that, as I had
+said that I was brought up in Boston. "When I was there," said he, "I
+could see that your people were all hospitable enough, but that the
+people who were good for anything were made to do all the work of the
+_vauriens_, and really had no time for friendship or hospitality. I
+remember an historian of yours, who crossed with me, said that there
+should be a motto stretched across Boston Bay, from one fort to another,
+with the words, 'No admittance, except on business.'"
+
+I did not more than half like this chaffing of Boston, and asked how
+they managed things in Sybaris.
+
+"Why, you see," said he, "we hold pretty stiffly to the old Charondian
+laws, of which perhaps you know something; here's a copy of the code, if
+you would like to look over it," and he took one out of his pocket. "We
+are still very chary about amendments to statutes, so that very little
+time is spent in legislation; we have no bills at shops, and but little
+debt, and that is all on honor, so that there is not much
+account-keeping or litigation; you know what happens to gossips,--gossip
+takes a good deal of time elsewhere,--and somehow everybody does his
+share of work, so that all of us do have a good deal of what you call
+'leisure.' Whether," he added pensively, "in a world God put us into
+that we might love each other, and learn to love,--whether the time we
+spend in society, or the time we spend caged behind our office desks, is
+the time which should be called devoted to the 'business of life,' that
+remains to be seen."
+
+"How came you to Boston," said I, "and when?"
+
+"O, we all have to travel," said George, "if we mean to go into the
+administration. And I liked administration. I observe that you appoint a
+foreign ambassador because he can make a good stump speech in Kentucky.
+But since Charondas's time, training has been at the bottom of our
+system. And no man could offer himself here to serve on the school
+committee, unless he knew how other nations managed their schools."
+
+"Not if he had himself made school-books?" said I.
+
+"No!" laughed George, "for he might introduce them. With us no professor
+may teach from a text-book he has made himself, unless the highest
+council of education order it; and on the same principle we should never
+choose a bookseller on the school committee. And so, to go back," he
+said, "when my father found that administration was my passion, he sent
+me the grand tour. I learned a great deal in America, and am very fond
+of the Americans. But I never saw one here before."
+
+I did not ask what he learned in America, for I was more anxious to
+learn myself how they administered government in Sybaris.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The inns at Sybaris are not very large, not extending much beyond the
+compass of a large private house. Mine was kept by a woman. As we sat
+there, smoking on the piazza, the first evening I was there, I asked
+George about this horse-railroad management, and the methods they took
+to secure such personal comfort.
+
+He said that my question cut pretty low down, for that the answer really
+involved the study of their whole system. "I have thought of it a good
+deal," said he, "when I have been in St. Petersburg, and in England and
+America; and as far as I can find out, our peculiarity in everything is,
+that we respect--I have sometimes thought we almost worshipped--the
+rights, even the notions or whims, of the individual citizen. With us
+the first object of the state, as an organization, is to care for the
+individual citizen, be he man, woman, or child. We consider the state to
+be made for the better and higher training of men, much as your divines
+say that the Church is. Instead of our lumping our citizens, therefore,
+and treating Jenny Lind and Tom Heenan to the same dose of public
+schooling,--instead of saying that what is sauce for the goose is sauce
+for the gander,--we try to see that each individual is protected in the
+enjoyment, not of what the majority likes, but of what he chooses, so
+long as his choice injures no other man."
+
+I thought, in one whiff, of Stuart Mill, and of the coppersmiths.
+
+"Our horse-railroad system grew out of this theory," continued he. "As
+long ago as Herodotus, people lived here in houses one story high, with
+these gardens between. But some generations ago, a young fellow named
+Apollidorus, who had been to Edinburgh, pulled down his father's house
+and built a block of what you call houses on the site of it. They were
+five stories high, had basements, and so on, with windows fore and aft,
+and, of course, none on the sides. The old fogies looked aghast. But he
+found plenty of fools to hire them. But the tenants had not been in a
+week, when the Kategoros, district attorney, had him up 'for taking
+away from a citizen what he could not restore.' This, you must know, is
+one of the severest charges in our criminal code.
+
+"Of course, it was easy enough to show that the tenants went willingly;
+he showed dumb-waiters, and I know not what infernal contrivances of
+convenience within. But he could not show that the tenants had north
+windows and south windows, because they did not. The government, on
+their side, showed that men were made to breathe fresh air, and that he
+could not ventilate his houses as if they were open on all sides; they
+showed that women were not made to climb up and down ladders, and to
+live on stages at the tops of them; and he tried in vain to persuade the
+jury that this climbing was good for little children. He had lured these
+citizens into places dangerous for health, growth, strength, and
+comfort. And so he was compelled to erect a statue typical of strength,
+and a small hospital for infants, as his penalty. That spirited
+Hercules, which stands in front of the market, was a part of his fine.
+
+"Of course, after a decision like this, concentration of inhabitants was
+out of the question. Every pulpit in Sybaris blazed with sermons on the
+text, 'Every man shall sit under his vine and under his fig-tree.'
+Everybody saw that a house without its own garden was an abomination,
+and easy communication with the suburbs was a necessity.
+
+"It was, indeed, easy enough to show, as the city engineer did, that the
+power wasted in lifting people up, and, for that matter, down stairs, in
+a five-story house, in one day, would carry all those people I do not
+know how many miles on a level railroad track in less time. What you
+call horse-railroads, therefore, became a necessity."
+
+I said they made a great row with us.
+
+"Yes," said he, "I saw they did. With us the government owns and repairs
+the track, as you do the track of any common road. We never have any
+difficulty.
+
+"You see," he added after a pause, "with us, if a conductor sprains the
+ankle of a citizen, it is a matter the state looks after. With you, the
+citizen must himself be the prosecutor, and virtually never is. Did you
+notice a pretty winged Mercury outside the station-house you came to?"
+
+I had noticed it.
+
+"That was put up, I don't know how long ago, in the infancy of these
+things. They took a car off one night, without public notice beforehand.
+One old man was coming in on it, to his daughter's wedding. He missed
+his connection out at Little Krastis, and lost half an hour. Down came
+the Kategoros. The company had taken from a citizen what they could not
+restore, namely, half an hour."
+
+George lighted another cigar, and laughed very heartily. "That's a great
+case in our reports," he said. "The company ventured to go to trial on
+it. They hoped they might overturn the old decisions, which were so old
+that nobody knows when they were made,--as old as the dancing horses,"
+said he, laughing. "They said _time_ was not a thing,--it was a relation
+of ideas; that it did not exist in heaven; that they could not be made
+to suffer because they did not deliver back what no man ever saw, or
+touched, or tasted. What was half an hour? But the jury was pitiless. A
+lot of business men, you know,--they knew the value of time. What did
+they care for the metaphysics? And the company was bidden to put up an
+appropriate statue worth ten talents in front of their station-house, as
+a reminder to all their people that a citizen's time was worth
+something."
+
+This was George's first visit to me; and it was the first time,
+therefore, that I observed a queer thing. Just at this point he rose
+rather suddenly and bade me good evening. I begged him to stay, but had
+to repeat my invitation twice. His hand was on the handle of the door
+before he turned back. Then he sat down, and we went on talking; but
+before long he did the same thing again, and then again.
+
+At last I was provoked, and said: "What is the custom of your country?
+Do you have to take a walk every eleven minutes and a quarter?"
+
+George laughed again, and indeed blushed. "Do you know what a bore is?"
+said he.
+
+"Alas! I do," said I.
+
+"Well," said he, "the universal custom here is, that an uninvited guest,
+who calls on another man on his own business, rises at the end of eleven
+minutes, and offers to go. And the courts have ruled, very firmly, that
+there must be a _bona fide_ effort. We get into such a habit of it,
+that, with you, I really did it unawares. The custom is as old as
+Cleisthenes and his wedding. But some of the decisions are not more than
+two or three centuries old, and they are very funny.
+
+"On the whole," he added, "I think it works well. Of course, between
+friends, it is absurd, but it is a great protection against a class of
+people who think their own concerns are the only things of value. You
+see you have only to say, when a man comes in, that you thank him for
+coming, that you wish he would stay, or to take his hat or his
+stick,--you have only to make him an invited guest,--and then the rule
+does not hold."
+
+"Ah!" said I; "then I invite you to spend every evening with me while I
+am here."
+
+"Take care," said he; "the Government Almanac is printed and distributed
+gratuitously from the fines on bores. Their funds are getting very low
+up at the department, and they will be very sharp on your friends. So
+you need not be profuse in your invitations."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This conversation was a clew to a good many things which I saw while I
+was in the city. I never was in a place where there were so many
+tasteful, pretty little conveniences for everybody. At the quadrants,
+where the streets cross, there was always a pretty little sheltered seat
+for four or five people,--shaded, stuffed, dry, and always the morning
+and evening papers, and an advertisement of the times of boats and
+trains, for any one who might be waiting for a car or for a friend.
+Sometimes these were votive offerings, where public spirit had spoken in
+gratitude. More often they had been ordered at the cost of some one who
+had taken from a citizen what he could not repay. The private citizen
+might often hesitate about prosecuting a bore, or a nuisance, or a
+conceited company officer. But the Kategoroi made no bones about it.
+They called the citizen as a witness, and gave the criminal a reminder
+which posterity held in awe. Their point, as they always explained it to
+me, is, that the citizen's health and strength are essential to the
+state. The state cannot afford to have him maimed, any more than it can
+afford to have him drunk or ignorant. The individual, of course, cannot
+be following up his separate grievances with people who abridge his
+rights. But the public accuser can and does.
+
+With us, public servants, who know they are public servants, are always
+obliging and civil. I would not ask better treatment in my own home than
+I am sure of in Capitol, State-house, or city hall. It is only when you
+get to some miserable sub-bureau, where the servant of the servant of a
+creature of the state can bully you, that you come to grief. For
+instance the State of Massachusetts just now forbids corporations to
+work children more than ten hours a day. The _corporations_ obey. But
+the overseers in the rooms, whom the corporations employ, work children
+eleven hours, or as many as they choose. They would not stand that in
+Sybaris.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I was walking one day with one of the bright boys of whom I spoke, and I
+asked him, as I had his father, if I was not keeping him away from his
+regular occupation. Ought he not be at school?
+
+"No," said he; "this is my off-term."
+
+"Pray, what is that?"
+
+"Don't you know? We only go to school three months in winter and three
+in summer. I thought you did so in America. I know Mr. Webster did. I
+read it in his Life."
+
+I was on the point of saying that we knew now how to train more powerful
+men than Mr. Webster, but the words stuck in my throat, and the boy
+rattled on.
+
+"The teachers have to be there all the time, except when they go in
+retreat. They take turns about retreat. But we are in two choroi; I am
+choros-boy now, James is anti-choros. Choros have school in January,
+February, March, July, August, September. Next year I shall be
+anti-choros."
+
+"Which do you like best,--off-term or school?" said I.
+
+"O, both is as good as one. When either begins, we like it. We get
+rather sick of either before the three months are over."
+
+"What do you do in your off-terms?" said I,--"go fishing?"
+
+"No, of course not," said he, "except Strep, and Hipp, and Chal, and
+those boys, because their fathers are fishermen. No, we have to be in
+our fathers' offices, we big boys; the little fellows, they let them
+stay at home. If I was here without you now, that truant-officer we
+passed just now would have had me at home before this time. Well, you
+see they think we learn about business, and I guess we do. I know I do,"
+said he, "and sometimes I think I should like to be a Proxenus when I am
+grown up, but I do not know."
+
+I asked George about this, the same evening. He said the boy was pretty
+nearly right about it. They had come round to the determination that the
+employment of children, merely because their wages were lower than
+men's, was very dangerous economy. The chances were that the children
+were over-worked, and that their constitution was fatally impaired. "We
+do not want any Manchester-trained children here." Then they had found
+that steady brain-work on girls, at the growing age, was pretty nearly
+slow murder in the long run. They did not let girls go to school with
+any persistency after they were twelve or fourteen. After they were
+twenty, they might study what they chose.
+
+"But the main difference between our schools and yours," said he, "is
+that your teacher is only expected to hear the lesson recited. Our
+teacher is expected to teach it also. You have in America, therefore,
+sixty scholars to one teacher. We do not pretend to have more than
+twenty to one teacher. We do this the easier because we let no child go
+to school more than half the time; nor, even with the strongest, more
+than four hours a day.
+
+"Why," said he, "I was at a college in America once, where, with
+splendid mathematicians, they had had but one man teach any mathematics
+for thirty years. And he was travelling in Europe when I was there. The
+others only heard recitations of those who could learn without being
+taught."
+
+"I was once there," said I.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The boat's repairs still lingered, and on Sunday little Phil. came round
+with a note from his mother, to ask if I would go to church with them.
+If I had rather go to the cathedral or elsewhere, Phil. would show me
+the way. I preferred to go with him and her together. It was a pretty
+little church,--quite open and airy it would seem to us,--excellent
+chance to see dancing vines, or flying birds, or falling rains, or other
+"meteors outside," if the preacher proved dull or the hymns undevout.
+But I found my attention was well held within. Not that the preaching
+was anything to be repeated. The sermon was short, unpretending, but
+alive and devout. It was a sonnet, all on one theme; that theme pressed,
+and pressed, and pressed again, and, of a sudden, the preacher was done.
+"You say you know God loves you," he said. "I hope you do, but I am
+going to tell you once more that he loves you, and once more and once
+more." What pleased me in it all was a certain unity of service, from
+the beginning to the end. The congregation's singing seemed to suggest
+the prayer; the prayer seemed to continue in the symphony of the organ;
+and, while I was in revery, the organ ceased; but as it was ordered, the
+sermon took up the theme of my revery, and so that one theme ran through
+the whole. The service was not ten things, like the ten parts of a
+concert, it was one act of communion or worship. Part of this was due, I
+guess, to this, that we were in a small church, sitting or kneeling near
+each other, close enough to get the feeling of communion,--not parted,
+indeed, in any way. We had been talking together, as we stood in the
+churchyard before the service began, and when we assembled in the church
+the sense of sympathy continued. I told Kleone that I liked the home
+feeling of the church, and she was pleased. She said she was afraid I
+should have preferred the cathedral. There were four large cathedrals,
+open, as the churches were, to all the town; and all the clergy, of
+whatever order, took turns in conducting the service in them. There were
+seven successive services in each of them that Sunday. But each
+clergyman had his own special charge beside,--I should think of not more
+than a hundred families. And these families, generally neighbors in the
+town, indeed, seemed, naturally enough, to grow into very familiar
+personal relations with each other.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I asked Philip one day how long his brother George would hold his office
+of host, or Proxenus. Philip turned a little sharply on me, and asked if
+I had any complaints to make, being, in fact, rather a quick-tempered
+person. I soothed him by explaining that all that I asked about was the
+tenure of office in their system, and he apologized.
+
+"He will be in as long as he chooses, probably. In theory, he remains in
+until a majority of the voters, which is to say the adult men and women,
+join in a petition for his removal. Then he will be removed at once.
+The government will appoint a temporary substitute, and order an
+election of his successor."
+
+"Do you mean there is no fixed election-day?"
+
+"None at all," said Philip. "We are always voting. When we stopped just
+now I went in to vote for an alderman of our ward, in place of a man who
+has resigned. I wish I had taken you in with me, though there was
+nothing to see. Only three or four great books, each headed with the
+name of a candidate. I wrote my name in Andrew Second's book. He is, on
+the whole, the best man. The books will be open three months. No one, of
+course, can vote more than once, and at the end of that time there will
+be a count, and a proclamation will be made. Then about removal; any one
+who is dissatisfied with a public officer puts his name up at the head
+of a book in the election office. Of course there are dozens of books
+all the time. But unless there is real incapacity, nobody cares.
+Sometimes, when one man wants another's place, he gets up a great
+breeze, the newspapers get hold of it, and everybody is canvassed who
+can be got to the spot. But it is very hard to turn out a competent
+officer. If in three months, however, at all the registries, a majority
+of the voters express a wish for a man's removal, he has to go out.
+Practically, I look in once a week at that office to see what is going
+on. It is something as you vote at your clubs."
+
+"Did you say women as well as men?" said I.
+
+"O, yes," said Philip, "unless a woman or a man has formally withdrawn
+from the roll. You see, the roll is the list, not only of voters, but of
+soldiers. For a man to withdraw, is to say he is a coward and dares not
+take his chance in war. Sometimes a woman does not like military
+service, and if she takes her name off I do not think the public feeling
+about it is quite the same as with a man. She may have things to do at
+home."
+
+"But do you mean that most of the women serve in the army?" said I.
+
+"Of course they do," said he. "They wanted to vote, so we put them on
+the roll. You do not see them much. Most of the women's regiments are
+heavy artillery, in the forts, which can be worked just as well by
+persons of less as of more muscle if you have enough of them. Each
+regiment in our service is on duty a month, and in reserve six. You know
+we have no distant posts."
+
+"We have a great many near-sighted men in America," said I, "who cannot
+serve in the army."
+
+"We make our near-sighted men work heavy guns, serve in light artillery,
+or, in very bad cases, we detail them to the police work of the camps,"
+said he. "The deaf and dumb men we detail to serve the military
+telegraphs. They keep secrets well. The blind men serve in the bands.
+And the men without legs ride in barouches in state processions.
+Everybody serves somewhere."
+
+"That is the reason," said I, with a sigh, "why everybody has so much
+time in Sybaris!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But the reader has more than enough of this. Else I would print my
+journal of "A Week in Sybaris." By Thursday the boat was mended. I
+hunted up the old fisherman and his boys. He was willing to go where my
+Excellency bade, but he said his boys wanted to stay. They would like to
+live here.
+
+"Among the devils?" said I.
+
+The old man confessed that the place for poor men was the best place he
+ever saw; the markets were cheap, the work was light, the inns were
+neat, the people were civil, the music was good, the churches were free,
+and the priests did not lie. He believed the reason that nobody ever
+came back from Sybaris was, that nobody wanted to.
+
+The Proxenus nodded, well pleased.
+
+"So Battista and his brother would like to stay a few months; and he
+found he might bring Caterina too, when my Excellency had returned from
+Gallipoli; or did my Excellency think that, when Garibaldi had driven
+out the Bourbons, all the world would be like Sybaris?"
+
+My Excellency hoped so; but did not dare promise.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"You see now," said George, "why you hear so little of Sybaris. Enough
+people come to us. But you are the only man I ever saw leave Sybaris who
+did not mean to return."
+
+"And I," said I,--"do you think I am never coming here again?"
+
+"You found it a hard harbor to make," said the Proxenus. "We have
+published no sailing directions since St. Paul touched here, and those
+which he wrote--he sent them to the Corinthians yonder--neither they nor
+any one else have seemed to understand."
+
+"Good by."
+
+"God bless you! Good by." And I sailed for Gallipoli.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote B: I am writing in Westerly's snuggery, and in Providence they
+believe in Webster. I dare say it is worse in Worcester. A good many
+things are.]
+
+[Footnote C: The reader who cares to follow the detail is referred to
+Diodorus Siculus, XII.; Strabo, VI.; AElian, V. H. 9, c. 24; Athenaeus,
+XII. 518; Plutarch in Pelopidas; Herodotus, V. and VI. Compare Laurent's
+Geographical Notes, and Wheeler and Gaisford; Pliny, III. 15, VII. 22,
+XVI. 33, VIII. 64, XXXI. 9; Aristotle, Polit. IV. 12, V. 3; Heyne's
+Opuscula, II. 74; Bentley's Phalaris, 367; Solinus, 2, Sec. 10, "luxuries
+grossly exaggerated"; Scymnus, 337-360; Aristophanes, Vesp. 1427, 1436;
+Lycophron, Alex. 1079; Polybius, Gen. Hist. II. 3, on the confederation
+of Sybaris, Krotan, and Kaulonia,--"a perplexing statement," says Grote,
+"showing that he must have conceived the history of Sybaris in a very
+different form from that in which it is commonly represented"; third
+volume of De Non, who disagrees with Magnan as to the site of Sybaris,
+and says the sea-shore is uninhabitable! Tuccagni Orlandini, Vol. XI.,
+Supplement, p. 294; besides the dictionaries and books of travels,
+including Murray. I have availed myself, without other reference, of
+most of these authorities.]
+
+
+
+
+THE PIANO IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+
+Twenty-five thousand pianos were made in the United States last year!
+
+This is the estimate of the persons who know most of this branch of
+manufacture, but it is only an approximation to the truth; for, besides
+the sixty makers in New York, the thirty in Boston, the twenty in
+Philadelphia, the fifteen in Baltimore, the ten in Albany, and the less
+number in Cincinnati, Buffalo, Chicago, St. Louis, and San Francisco,
+there are small makers in many country towns, and even in villages, who
+buy the parts of a piano in the nearest city, put them together, and
+sell the instrument in the neighborhood. The returns of the houses which
+supply the ivory keys of the piano to all the makers in the country are
+confirmatory of this estimate; which, we may add, is that of Messrs.
+Steinway of New York, who have made it a point to collect both the
+literature and the statistics of the instrument, of which they are among
+the largest manufacturers in the world.
+
+The makers' prices of pianos now range from two hundred and ninety
+dollars to one thousand; and the prices to the public, from four hundred
+and fifty dollars to fifteen hundred. We may conclude, therefore, that
+the people of the United States during the year 1866 expended fifteen
+millions of dollars in the purchase of new pianos. It is not true that
+we export many pianos to foreign countries, as the public are led to
+suppose from the advertisements of imaginative manufacturers. American
+citizens--all but the few consummately able kings of business--allow a
+free play to their imagination in advertising the products of their
+skill. Canada buys a small number of our pianos; Cuba, a few; Mexico, a
+few; South America, a few; and now and then one is sent to Europe, or
+taken thither by a Thalberg or a Gottschalk; but an inflated currency
+and a war tariff make it impossible for Americans to compete with
+European makers in anything but excellence. In price, they cannot
+compete. Every disinterested and competent judge with whom we have
+conversed on this subject gives it as his deliberate opinion that the
+best American piano is the best of all pianos, and the one longest
+capable of resisting the effects of a trying climate; yet we cannot sell
+them, at present, in any considerable numbers, in any market but our
+own. Protectionists are requested to note this fact, which is not an
+isolated fact. America possesses such an astonishing genius for
+inventing and combining labor-saving machinery, that we could now supply
+the world with many of its choicest products, in the teeth of native
+competition, but for the tariff, the taxes, and the inflation, which
+double the cost of producing. The time may come, however, when we shall
+sell pianos at Paris, and watches in London, as we already do
+sewing-machines everywhere.
+
+Twenty-five thousand pianos a year, at a cost of fifteen millions of
+dollars! Presented in this manner, the figures produce an effect upon
+the mind, and we wonder that an imperfectly reconstructed country could
+absorb in a single year, and that year an unprosperous one, so large a
+number of costly musical instruments. But, upon performing a sum in long
+division, we discover that these startling figures merely mean, that
+every working-day in this country one hundred and twelve persons buy a
+new piano. When we consider, that every hotel, steamboat, and public
+school above a certain very moderate grade, must have from one to four
+pianos, and that young ladies' seminaries jingle with them from basement
+to garret, (one school in New York has thirty Chickerings,) and that
+almost every couple that sets up housekeeping on a respectable scale
+considers a piano only less indispensable than a kitchen range, we are
+rather inclined to wonder at the smallness than at the largeness of the
+number.
+
+The trade in new pianos, however, is nothing to the countless
+transactions in old. Here figures are impossible; but probably ten
+second-hand pianos are sold to one new one. The business of letting
+pianos is also one of great extent. It is computed by the well-informed,
+that the number of these instruments now "out," in the city of New York,
+is three thousand. There is one firm in Boston that usually has a
+thousand let. As the rent of a piano ranges from six dollars to twelve
+dollars a month,--cartage both ways paid by the hirer,--it may be
+inferred that this business, when conducted on a large scale, and with
+the requisite vigilance, is not unprofitable. In fact, the income of a
+piano-letting business has approached eighty thousand dollars per annum,
+of which one third was profit. It has, however, its risks and drawbacks.
+From June to September, the owner of the instruments must find storage
+for the greater part of his stock, and must do without most of his
+monthly returns. Many of those who hire pianos, too, are persons
+"hanging on the verge" of society, who have little respect for the
+property of others, and vanish to parts unknown, leaving a damaged piano
+behind them.
+
+England alone surpasses the United States in the number of pianos
+annually manufactured. In 1852, the one hundred and eighty English
+makers produced twenty-three thousand pianos,--fifteen hundred grands,
+fifteen hundred squares, and twenty thousand uprights. As England has
+enjoyed fifteen years of prosperity since, it is probable that the
+annual number now exceeds that of the United States. The English people,
+however, pay much less money for the thirty thousand pianos which they
+probably buy every year, than we do for our twenty-five thousand. In
+London, the retail price of the best Broadwood grand, in plain mahogany
+case, is one hundred and thirty-five guineas; which is a little more
+than half the price of the corresponding American instrument. The best
+London square piano, in plain case, is sixty guineas,--almost exactly
+half the American price. Two thirds of all the pianos made in England
+are low-priced uprights,--averaging thirty-five guineas,--which would
+not stand in our climate for a year. England, therefore, supplies
+herself and the British empire with pianos at an annual expenditure of
+about eight millions of our present dollars. American makers, we may
+add, have recently taken a hint from their English brethren with regard
+to the upright instrument. Space is getting to be the dearest of all
+luxuries in our cities, and it has become highly desirable to have
+pianos that occupy less of it than the square instrument which we
+usually see. Successful attempts have been recently made to apply the
+new methods of construction to the upright piano, with a view to make it
+as durable as those of the usual forms. Such a brisk demand has sprung
+up for the improved uprights, that the leading makers are producing them
+in considerable numbers, and the Messrs. Steinway are erecting a new
+building for the sole purpose of manufacturing them. The American
+uprights, however, cannot be cheap. Such is the nature of the American
+climate, that a piano, to be tolerable, must be excellent; and while
+parts of the upright cost more than the corresponding parts of the
+square, no part of it costs less. Six hundred dollars is the price of
+the upright in plain rosewood case,--fifty dollars more than a plain
+rosewood square.
+
+Paris pianos are renowned, the world over, and consequently three tenths
+of all the pianos made in Paris are exported to foreign countries.
+France, too, owing to the cheapness of labor, can make a better cheap
+piano than any other country. In 1852, there were ten thousand pianos
+made in Paris, at an average cost of one thousand francs each; and, we
+are informed, a very good new upright piano can now be bought in France
+for one hundred dollars. But in France the average wages of
+piano-makers are five francs per day; in London, ten shillings; in New
+York, four dollars and thirty-three cents. The cream of the business, in
+Paris, is divided among three makers,--Erard, Hertz, and Pleyel,--each
+of whom has a concert-hall of his own, to give _eclat_ to his
+establishment. We presume Messrs. Steinway added "Steinway Hall" to the
+attractions of New York from the example of their Paris friends, and
+soon the metropolis will boast a "Chickering Hall" as well. This is an
+exceedingly expensive form of advertisement. Steinway Hall cost two
+hundred thousand dollars, and has not yet paid the cost of warming,
+cleaning, and lighting it. This, however, is partly owing to the
+good-nature of the proprietors, who find it hard to exact the rent from
+a poor artist after a losing concert, and who have a constitutional
+difficulty about saying _No_, when the use of the hall is asked for a
+charitable object.
+
+In Germany there are no manufactories of pianos on the scale of England,
+France, and the United States. A business of five pianos a week excites
+astonishment in a German state, and it is not uncommon there for one man
+to construct every part of a piano,--a work of three or four months. Mr.
+Steinway the elder has frequently done this in his native place, and
+could now do it. A great number of excellent instruments are made in
+Germany in the slow, patient, thorough manner of the Germans; but in the
+fashionable houses of Berlin and Vienna no German name is so much valued
+as those of the celebrated makers of Paris. In the London exhibition of
+1851, Russian pianos competed for the medals, some of which attracted
+much attention from the excellence of their construction. Messrs.
+Chickering assert, that the Russians were the first to employ
+successfully the device of "overstringing," as it is called, by which
+the bass strings are stretched over the others.
+
+The piano, then, one hundred and fifty-seven years after its invention,
+in spite of its great cost, has become the leading musical instrument
+of Christendom. England produces thirty thousand every year; the United
+States, twenty-five thousand; France, fifteen thousand; Germany, perhaps
+ten thousand; and all other countries, ten thousand; making a total of
+ninety thousand, or four hundred and twenty-two for every working-day.
+It is computed, that an average piano is the result of one hundred and
+twenty days' work; and, consequently, there must be at least fifty
+thousand men employed in the business. And it is only within a few years
+that the making of these noble instruments has been done on anything
+like the present scale. Messrs. Broadwood, of London, who have made in
+all one hundred and twenty-nine thousand pianos, only begin to count at
+the year 1780; and in the United States there were scarcely fifty pianos
+a year made fifty years ago.
+
+We need scarcely say that the production of music for the piano has kept
+pace with the advance of the instrument. Dr. Burney mentions, in his
+History of Music (Vol. IV. p. 664), that when he came to London in 1744,
+"Handel's Harpsichord Lessons and Organ Concertos, and the two First
+Books of Scarletti's Lessons, were all the good music for keyed
+instruments at that time in the nation." We have at this moment before
+us the catalogue of music sold by one house in Boston, Oliver Ditson &
+Co. It is a closely printed volume of three hundred and sixty pages, and
+contains the titles of about thirty-three thousand pieces of music,
+designed to be performed, wholly or partly, on the piano. By far the
+greater number are piano music pure and simple. It is not a very rare
+occurrence for a new piece to have a sale of one hundred thousand copies
+in the United States. A composer who can produce the kind of music that
+pleases the greatest number, may derive a revenue from his art ten times
+greater than Mozart or Beethoven enjoyed in their most prosperous time.
+There are trifling waltzes and songs upon the list of Messrs. Ditson,
+which have yielded more profit than Mozart received for "Don Giovanni"
+and "The Magic Flute" together. We learn from the catalogue just
+mentioned, that the composers of music have an advantage over the
+authors of books, in being always able to secure a publisher for their
+productions. Messrs. Ditson announce that they are ready and willing to
+publish any piece of music by any composer on the following easy
+conditions: "Three dollars per page for engraving; two dollars and a
+half per hundred sheets of paper; and one dollar and a quarter per
+hundred pages for printing." At the same time they frankly notify
+ambitious teachers, that "not one piece in ten pays the cost of getting
+up, and not one in fifty proves a success."
+
+The piano, though its recent development has been so rapid, is the
+growth of ages, and we can, for three thousand years or more, dimly and
+imperfectly trace its growth. The instrument, indeed, has found an
+historian,--Dr. Rimbault of London,--who has gathered the scattered
+notices of its progress into a handsome quarto, now accessible in some
+of our public libraries. It is far from our desire to make a display of
+cheap erudition; yet perhaps ladies who love their piano may care to
+spend a minute or two in learning how it came to be the splendid triumph
+of human ingenuity, the precious addition to the happiness of existence,
+which they now find it to be. "I have had my share of trouble," we heard
+a lady say the other day, "but my piano has kept me happy." All ladies
+who have had the virtue to subdue this noble instrument to their will,
+can say something similar of the solace and joy they daily derive from
+it. The Greek legend that the twang of Diana's bow suggested to Apollo
+the invention of the lyre, was not a mere fancy; for the first stringed
+instrument of which we have any trace in ancient sculpture differed from
+an ordinary bow only in having more than one string. A two-stringed bow
+was, perhaps, the first step towards the grand piano of to-day.
+Additional strings involved the strengthening of the bow that held them;
+and, accordingly, we find the Egyptian harps, discovered in the
+catacombs by Wilkinson, very thick and massive in the lower part of the
+frame, which terminated sometimes in a large and solid female head. From
+the two-stringed bow to these huge twelve-stringed Egyptian harps, six
+feet high and beautifully finished with veneer, inlaid with ivory and
+mother-of-pearl, no one can say how many centuries elapsed. The catgut
+strings of the harps of three thousand years ago are still capable of
+giving a musical sound. The best workmen of the present time, we are
+assured, could not finish a harp more exquisitely than these are
+finished; yet they have no mechanism for tightening or loosening the
+strings, and no strings except such as were furnished by the harmless,
+necessary cat. The Egyptian harp, with all its splendor of decoration,
+was a rude and barbaric instrument.
+
+It has not been shown that Greece or Rome added one essential
+improvement to the stringed instruments which they derived from older
+nations. The Chickerings, Steinways, Erards, and Broadwoods of our day
+cannot lay a finger upon any part of a piano, and say that they owe it
+to the Greeks or to the Romans.
+
+The Cithara of the Middle Ages was a poor thing enough, in the form of a
+large P, with ten strings in the oval part; but it had _movable pegs_,
+and could be easily tuned. It was, therefore, a step toward the piano of
+the French Exposition of 1867.
+
+But the Psaltery was a great stride forward. This instrument was an
+arrangement of _strings on a box_. Here we have the principle of the
+sounding-board,--a thing of vital moment to the piano, and one upon
+which the utmost care is bestowed by all the great makers. Whoever first
+thought of stretching strings on a box may also be said to have half
+invented the guitar and the violin. No single subsequent thought has
+been so fruitful of consequences as this in the improvement of stringed
+instruments. The reader, of course, will not confound the psaltery of
+the Middle Ages with the psaltery of the Hebrews, respecting which
+nothing is known. The translators of the Old Testament assigned the
+names with which they were familiar to the musical instruments of the
+Jews.
+
+About the year 1200 we arrive at the Dulcimer, which was an immense
+psaltery, with improvements. Upon a harp-shaped box, eighteen to
+thirty-six feet long, fifty strings were stretched, which the player
+struck with a stick or a long-handled hammer. This instrument was a
+signal advance toward the grand piano. It _was_ a piano, without its
+machinery.
+
+The next thing, obviously, must have been to contrive a method of
+striking the strings with certainty and evenness; and, accordingly, we
+find indications of a keyed instrument after the year 1300, called the
+Clavicytherium, or keyed cithara. The invention of keys permitted the
+strings to be covered over, and therefore the strings of the
+clavicytherium were enclosed _in_ a box, instead of being stretched _on_
+a box. The first keys were merely long levers with a nub at the end of
+them, mounted on a pivot, which the player canted up at the strings on
+the see-saw principle. It has required four hundred years to bring the
+mechanism of the piano key to its present admirable perfection. The
+clavicytherium was usually a very small instrument,--an oblong box,
+three or four feet in length, that could be lifted by a girl of
+fourteen. The clavichord and manichord, which we read of in Mozart's
+letters, were only improved and better-made clavicytheria. How affecting
+the thought, that the divine Mozart had nothing better on which to try
+the ravishing airs of "The Magic Flute" than a wretched box of brass
+wires, twanged with pieces of quill! So it is always, and in all
+branches of art. Shakespeare's plays, Titian's pictures, the great
+cathedrals, Newton's discoveries, Mozart's and Handel's music, were
+executed while the implements of art and science were still very rude.
+
+Queen Elizabeth's instrument, the Virginals, was a box of strings, with
+improved keys, and mounted on four legs. In other words, it was a small
+and very bad piano. The excellent Pepys, in his account of the great
+fire of London of 1666, says: "River full of lighters and boats taking
+in goods, and good goods swimming in the water; and only I observed that
+hardly one lighter or boat in three that had the goods of a house in it,
+but there were a pair of virginalls in it." Why "a pair"? For the same
+reason that induces many persons to say "a pair of stairs," and "a pair
+of compasses," that is, no reason at all.
+
+It is plain that the virginals, or virgin's clavichord, was very far
+from holding the rank among musical instruments which the piano now
+possesses. If any of our readers should ever come upon a thin folio
+entitled "Musick's Monument," (London, 1676,) we advise him to clutch
+it, retire from the haunts of men, and abandon himself to the delight of
+reading the Izaak Walton of music. It is a most quaint and curious
+treatise upon "the Noble Lute, the best of instruments," with a chapter
+upon "the generous Viol," by Thomas Mace, "one of the clerks of Trinity
+College in the University of Cambridge." Master Mace deigns not to
+mention keyed instruments, probably regarding keys as old sailors regard
+the lubber's hole,--fit only for greenhorns. The "Noble Lute," of which
+Thomas Mace discourses, was a large, heavy, pot-bellied guitar with many
+strings. We learn from this enthusiastic author, that the noble lute had
+been calumniated by some ignorant persons; and it is in refuting their
+calumnious imputations that he pours out a torrent of knowledge upon his
+beloved instrument, and upon the state of music in England in 1675. In
+reply to the charge, that the noble lute was a very hard instrument to
+play upon, he gives posterity a piece of history. That the lute _was_
+hard once, he confesses, but asserts that "it is now easie, and very
+familiar."
+
+"The First and Chief Reason that it was Hard in former Times, was,
+Because they had to their Lutes but Few Strings; viz. to some 10, some
+12, and some 14 Strings, which in the beginning of my Time were almost
+altogether in use; (and is this present Year 1675. Fifty four years
+since I first began to undertake That Instrument). But soon after, they
+began to adde more Strings unto Their Lutes, so that we had Lutes of 16,
+18, and 20 Strings; which they finding to be so Great a Convenience,
+stayed not long till they added more, to the Number of 24, where we now
+rest satisfied; only upon my Theorboes I put 26 Strings, for some Good
+Reasons I shall be able to give in due Time and Place."
+
+Another aspersion upon the noble lute was, that it was "a Woman's
+Instrument." Master Mace gallantly observes, that if this were true, he
+cannot understand why it should suffer any disparagement on that
+account, "but rather that it should have the more Reputation and
+Honour."
+
+There are passages in this ancient book which take us back so agreeably
+to the concert-rooms and parlors of two hundred years ago, and give us
+such an insight into the musical resources of our forefathers, that we
+shall venture to copy two or three of them. The following brief
+discourse upon Pegs is very amusing:--
+
+"And you must know, that from the Badness of the Pegs, arise several
+Inconveniences; The first I have named, viz. the Loss of Labour. The 2d.
+is, the Loss of Time; for I have known some so extreme long in Tuning
+their Lutes and Viols, by reason only of Bad Pegs, that They have
+wearied out their Auditors before they began to Play. A 3d.
+Inconvenience is, that oftentimes, if a High-stretch'd small String
+happen to slip down, 'tis in great danger to break at the next winding
+up, especially in wet moist weather, and that It have been long slack.
+The 4th. is, that when a String hath been slipt back, it will not stand
+in Tune, under many Amendments; for it is continually in stretching
+itself, till it come to Its highest stretch. A 5th. is, that in the
+midst of a Consort, All the Company must leave off, because of some
+Eminent String slipping. A 6th. is, that sometimes ye shall have such a
+Rap upon the Knuckles, by a sharp-edg'd Peg, and a stiff strong String,
+that the very Skin will be taken off. And 7thly. It is oftentimes an
+occasion of the Thrusting off the Treble-Peg-Nut, and sometime of the
+Upper Long Head; And I have seen the Neck of an Old Viol, thrust off
+into two pieces, by reason of the Badness of the Pegs, meerly with the
+Anger and hasty Choller of Him that has been Tuning. Now I say that
+These are very Great Inconveniences, and do adde much to the Trouble and
+Hardness of the Instrument. I shall therefore inform you how ye may Help
+All These with Ease; viz. Thus. When you perceive any Peg to be troubled
+with the slippery Disease, assure your self he will never grow better of
+Himself, without some of Your Care; Therefore take Him out, and examine
+the Cause."
+
+He gives advice with regard to the preservation of the Lute in the moist
+English climate:--
+
+"And that you may know how to shelter your Lute, in the worst of Ill
+weathers (which is moist) you shall do well, ever when you Lay it by in
+the day-time, to put It into a Bed, that is constantly used, between the
+Rug and Blanket; but never between the Sheets, because they may be moist
+with Sweat, &c.
+
+"This is the most absolute and best place to keep It in always, by which
+doing, you will find many Great Conveniencies, which I shall here set
+down....
+
+"Therefore, a Bed will secure from all These Inconveniences, and keep
+your Glew so Hard as Glass, and All safe and sure; only to be excepted,
+That no Person be so inconsiderate, as to Tumble down upon the Bed,
+whilst the Lute is There; For I have known several Good Lutes spoil'd
+with such a Trick."
+
+We may infer from Master Mace his work, that the trivial virginals were
+gaining in popular estimation upon the nobler instrument which is the
+theme of his eulogy. He has no patience with those who object to his
+beloved lute that it is out of fashion. He remarks upon this subject in
+a truly delicious strain:--
+
+"I cannot understand, how Arts and Sciences should be subject unto any
+such Phantastical, Giddy, or Inconsiderate Toyish Conceits, as ever to
+be said to be in Fashion, or out of Fashion. I remember there was a
+Fashion, not many years since, for Women in their Apparel to be so Pent
+up by the Straitness, and Stiffness of their Gown-Shoulder-Sleeves, that
+They could not so much as Scratch Their Heads, for the Necessary Remove
+of a Biting Louse; nor Elevate their Arms scarcely to feed themselves
+Handsomly; nor Carve a Dish of Meat at a Table, but their whole Body
+must needs Bend towards the Dish. This must needs be concluded by
+Reason, a most Vnreasonable, and Inconvenient Fashion; and They as
+Vnreasonably Inconsiderate, who would be so Abus'd, and Bound up. I
+Confess It was a very Good Fashion, for some such Viragoes, who were
+us'd to Scratch their Husbands Faces or Eyes, and to pull them down by
+the Coxcombes. And I am subject to think, It was a meer Rogery in the
+Combination, or Club-council of the Taylors, to Abuse the Women in That
+Fashion, in Revenge of some of the Curst Dames their Wives."
+
+Some lute-makers, this author informs us, were so famous in Europe, that
+he had seen lutes of their making, "pittifull, old, batter'd, crack'd
+things," that were valued at a hundred pounds sterling each; and he had
+often seen lutes of three or four pounds' value "far more illustrious
+and taking to a Common eye." In refuting the "aspersion that one had as
+good keep a horse (for cost) as a Lute," he declares, that he never in
+his life "took more than five shillings the quarter to maintain a Lute
+with strings, only for the first stringing I ever took ten shillings."
+He says, however: "I do confess Those who will be Prodigal and
+Extraordinary Curious, may spend as much as may maintain two or three
+Horses, and Men to ride upon them too, if they please. But 20_s._ per
+ann. is an Ordinary Charge; and much more they need not spend, to
+practise very hard."
+
+Keyed instruments, despite the remonstrances of the lutists, continued
+to advance toward their present supremacy. As often as an important
+improvement was introduced, the instrument changed its name, just as in
+our day the melodeon was improved into the harmonium, then into the
+organ-harmonium, and finally into the cabinet organ. The virginals of
+1600 became the spinet of 1700,--so called because the pieces of quill
+employed in twanging the strings resembled thorns, and _spina_, in
+Latin, means thorn. Any lady who will take the trouble to mount to the
+fourth story of the Messrs. Chickering's piano store in the city of New
+York, may see such a spinet as Mrs. Washington, Mrs. Adams, and Mrs.
+Hamilton played upon when they were little girls. It is a small,
+harp-shaped instrument on legs, exceedingly coarse and clumsy in its
+construction,--the case rough and unpolished, the legs like those of a
+kitchen table, with wooden castors such as were formerly used in the
+construction of cheap bedsteads of the "trundle" variety. The keys,
+however, are much like those now in use, though they are fewer in
+number, and the ivory is yellow with age. If the reader would know the
+tone of this ancient instrument, he has but to stretch a brass wire
+across a box between two nails, and twang them with a short pointed
+piece of quill. And if the reader would know how much better the year
+1867 is than the year 1700, he may first hear this spinet played upon in
+Messrs. Chickering's dusty garret, and then descend to one of the floors
+below, and listen to the round, full, brilliant singing of a Chickering
+grand, of the present illustrious year. By as much as that grand piano
+is better than that poor little spinet, by so much is the present time
+better than the days when Louis XIV. was king. If any intelligent
+person doubts it, it is either because he does not know that age, or
+because he does not know this age.
+
+The spinet expanded into the harpsichord, the leading instrument from
+1700 to 1800. A harpsichord was nothing but a very large and powerful
+spinet. Some of them had two strings for each note; some had three; some
+had three kinds of strings,--catgut, brass, and steel; and some were
+painted and decorated in the most gorgeous style. Frederick the Great
+had one made for him in London, with silver hinges, silver pedals,
+inlaid case, and tortoise-shell front, at a cost of two hundred guineas.
+Every part of the construction of the spinet was improved, and many new
+minor devices were added; but the harpsichord, in its best estate, was
+nothing but a spinet, because its strings were always twanged by a piece
+of quill. How astonished would an audience be to hear a harpsichord of
+1750, and to be informed that such an instrument Handel felt himself
+fortunate to possess!
+
+Next, the piano,--invented at Florence in 1710, by Bartolommeo
+Cristofali.
+
+The essential difference between a harpsichord and a piano is described
+by the first name given to the piano, which was _hammer-harpsichord_, i.
+e. a harpsichord the strings of which were struck by hammers, not
+twanged by quills. The next name given to it was _forte-piano_, which
+signified soft, with power; and this name became _piano-forte_, which it
+still retains. One hundred years were required to prove to the musical
+public the value of an invention without which no further development of
+stringed instruments had been possible. No improvement in the mere
+mechanism of the harpsichord could ever have overcome the trivial effect
+of the twanging of the strings by pieces of quill; but the moment the
+hammer principle was introduced, nothing was wanting but improved
+mechanism to make it universal. It required, however, a century to
+produce the improvements sufficient to give the piano equal standing
+with the harpsichord. The first pianos gave forth a dull and feeble
+sound to ears accustomed to the clear and harp-like notes of the
+fashionable instrument.
+
+In that same upper room of the Messrs. Chickering, near the spinet just
+mentioned, there is an instrument, made perhaps about the year 1800,
+which explains why the piano was so slow in making its way. It resembles
+in form and size a grand piano of the present time, though of coarsest
+finish and most primitive construction, with thin, square, kitchen-table
+legs, and wooden knobs for castors. This interesting instrument has two
+rows of keys, and is _both_ a harpsichord and a piano,--one set of keys
+twanging the wires, and the other set striking them. The effect of the
+piano notes is so faint and dull, that we cannot wonder at the general
+preference for the harpsichord for so many years. It appears to have
+been a common thing in the last century to combine two or more
+instruments in one. Dr. Charles Burney, writing in 1770, mentions "a
+very curious keyed instrument" made under the direction of Frederick II.
+of Prussia. "It is in shape like a large clavichord, has several changes
+of stops, and is occasionally a harp, a harpsichord, a lute, or
+piano-forte; but the most curious property of this instrument is, that,
+by drawing out the keys, the hammers are transferred to different
+strings. By which means a composition may be transposed half a note, a
+whole note, or a flat third lower at pleasure, without the embarrassment
+of different notes or clefs, real or imaginary."
+
+The same sprightly author tells us of "a fine Rucker harpsichord, which
+he has had painted inside and out with as much delicacy as the finest
+coach, or even snuff-box, I ever saw at Paris. On the outside is the
+birth of Venus; and on the inside of the cover, the story of Rameau's
+most famous opera, Castor and Pollux. Earth, Hell, and Elysium are there
+represented; in Elysium, sitting on a bank, with a lyre in his hand, is
+that celebrated composer himself."
+
+This gay instrument was at Paris. In Italy, the native home of music,
+the keyed instruments, in 1770, Dr. Burney says, were exceedingly
+inferior to those of the North of Europe. "Throughout Italy, they have
+generally little octave spinets to accompany singing in private houses,
+sometimes in a triangular form, but more frequently in the shape of an
+old virginal; of which the keys are so noisy and the tone is so feeble,
+that more wood is heard than wire. I found three English harpsichords in
+the three principal cities of Italy, which are regarded by the Italians
+as so many phenomena."
+
+To this day Italy depends upon foreign countries for her best musical
+instruments. Italy can as little make a grand piano as America can
+compose a grand opera.
+
+The history of the piano from 1710 to 1867 is nothing but a history of
+the improved mechanism of the instrument. The moment the idea was
+conceived of striking the strings with hammers, unlimited improvement
+was possible; and though the piano of to-day is covered all over with
+ingenious devices, the great, essential improvements are few in number.
+The hammer, for example, may contain one hundred ingenuities, but they
+are all included in the device of covering the first wooden hammers with
+cloth; and the master-thought of making the whole frame of the piano of
+iron suggested the line of improvement which secures the supremacy of
+the piano over all other stringed instruments forever.
+
+Sebastian Erard, the son of a Strasbourg upholsterer, went to Paris, a
+poor orphan of sixteen, in the year 1768, and, finding employment in the
+establishment of a harpsichord-maker, rose rapidly to the foremanship of
+the shop, and was soon in business for himself as a maker of
+harpsichords, harps, and pianos. To him, perhaps, more than to any other
+individual, the fine interior mechanism of the piano is indebted; and
+the house founded by Sebastian Erard still produces the pianos which
+enjoy the most extensive reputation in the Old World. He may be said to
+have created the "action" of the piano, though his devices have been
+subsequently improved upon by others. He found the piano in 1768 feeble
+and unknown; he left it, at his death in 1831, the most powerful,
+pleasing, and popular stringed instrument in existence; and, besides
+gaining a colossal fortune for himself, he bequeathed to his nephew,
+Pierre Erard, the most celebrated manufactory of pianos in the world.
+Next to Erard ranks John Broadwood, a Scotchman, who came to London
+about the time of Erard's arrival in Paris, and, like him, procured
+employment with a harpsichord-maker, the most noted one in England. John
+Broadwood was a "good apprentice," married his master's daughter,
+inherited his business, and carried it on with such success, that,
+to-day, the house of Broadwood and Sons is the first of its line in
+England. John Broadwood was chiefly meritorious for a _general_
+improvement in the construction of the instrument. If he did not
+originate many important devices, he was eager to adopt those of others,
+and he made the whole instrument with British thoroughness. The strings,
+the action, the case, the pedals, and all the numberless details of
+mechanism received his thoughtful attention, and show to the present
+time traces of his honest and intelligent mind. It was in this John
+Broadwood's factory that a poor German boy named John Jacob Astor earned
+the few pounds that paid his passage to America, and bought the seven
+flutes which were the foundation of the great Astor estate. For several
+years, the sale of the Broadwood pianos in New York was an important
+part of Mr. Astor's business. He used to sell his furs in London, and
+invest part of the proceeds in pianos, for exportation to New York.
+
+America began early to try her hand at improving the instrument. Mr.
+Jefferson, in the year 1800, in one of his letters to his daughter
+Martha, speaks of "a very ingenious, modest, and poor young man" in
+Philadelphia, who "has invented one of the prettiest improvements in
+the forte-piano I have ever seen." Mr. Jefferson, who was himself a
+player upon the violin, and had some little skill upon the harpsichord,
+adds, "It has tempted me to engage one for Monticello." This instrument
+was an upright piano, and we have found no mention of an upright of an
+earlier date. "His strings," says Mr. Jefferson, "are perpendicular, and
+he contrives within that height" (not given in the published extract)
+"to give his strings the same length as in the grand forte-piano, and
+fixes his three unisons to the same screw, which screw is in the
+direction of the strings, and therefore never yields. It scarcely gets
+out of tune at all, and then, for the most part, the three unisons are
+tuned at once." This is an interesting passage; for, although the
+"forte-pianos" of this modest young man have left no trace upon the
+history of the instrument, it shows that America had no sooner cast an
+eye upon its mechanism than she set to work improving it. Can it be that
+the upright piano was an American invention? It may be. The Messrs.
+Broadwood, in the little book which lay upon their pianos in the
+Exhibition of 1851, say that the first vertical or cabinet pianos were
+constructed by William Southwell, of their house, in 1804, four years
+after the date of Mr. Jefferson's letter.
+
+After 1800 there were a few pianos made every year in the United States,
+but none that could compare with the best Erards and Broadwoods, until
+the Chickering era, which began in 1823.
+
+The two Americans to whom music is most indebted in the United States
+are Jonas Chickering, piano-maker, born in New Hampshire in 1798, and
+Lowell Mason, singing teacher and composer of church tunes, born in
+Massachusetts in 1792. While Lowell Mason was creating the taste for
+music, Jonas Chickering was improving the instrument by which musical
+taste is chiefly gratified; and both being established in Boston, each
+of them was instrumental in advancing the fortunes of the other. Mr.
+Mason recommended the Chickering piano to his multitudinous classes and
+choirs, and thus powerfully aided to give that extent to Mr.
+Chickering's business which is necessary to the production of the best
+work. Both of them began their musical career, we may say, in childhood;
+for Jonas Chickering was only a cabinet-maker's apprentice when he
+astonished his native village by putting in excellent playing order a
+battered old piano, long before laid aside; and Lowell Mason, at
+sixteen, was already leading a large church choir, and drilling a brass
+band. The undertaking of this brass band by a boy was an amusing
+instance of Yankee audacity; for when the youth presented himself to the
+newly formed band to give them their first lesson, he found so many
+instruments in their hands which he had never seen nor heard of, that he
+could not proceed. "Gentlemen," said he, "I see that a good many of your
+instruments are out of order, and most of them need a little oil, or
+something of the kind. Our best plan will be to adjourn for a week.
+Leave all your instruments with me, and I will have them in perfect
+condition by the time we meet again." Before the band again came
+together, the young teacher, by working night and day, had gained a
+sufficient insight into the nature of the instruments to instruct those
+who knew nothing of them.
+
+Jonas Chickering was essentially a mechanic,--a most skilful, patient,
+thoughtful, faithful mechanic,--and it was his excellence as a mechanic
+which enabled him to rear an establishment which, beginning with one or
+two pianos a month, was producing, at the death of the founder, in 1853,
+fifteen hundred pianos a year. It was he who introduced into the piano
+the full iron frame. It was he who first made American pianos that were
+equal to the best imported ones. He is universally recognized as the
+true founder of the manufacture of the piano in the United States. No
+man has, perhaps, so nobly illustrated the character of the American
+mechanic, or more honored the name of American citizen. He was the soul
+of benevolence, truth, and honor. When we have recovered a little more
+from the infatuation which invests "public men" with supreme importance,
+we shall better know how to value those heroes of the apron, who, by a
+life of conscientious toil, place a new source of happiness, or of
+force, within the reach of their fellow-citizens.
+
+Henry Steinway, the founder of the great house of Steinway and Sons, has
+had a career not unlike that of Mr. Chickering. He also, in his native
+Brunswick, amused his boyhood by repairing old instruments of music, and
+making new ones. He made a cithara and a guitar for himself with only
+such tools as a boy can command. He also was apprenticed to a
+cabinet-maker, and was drawn away, by natural bias, from the business he
+had learned, to the making of organs and pianos. For many years he was a
+German piano-maker, producing, in the slow, German manner, two or three
+excellent instruments a month; striving ever after higher excellence,
+and growing more and more dissatisfied with the limited sphere in which
+the inhabitant of a small German state necessarily works. In 1849, being
+then past fifty years of age, and the father of four intelligent and
+gifted sons, he looked to America for a wider range and a more promising
+home for his boys. With German prudence, he sent one of them to New York
+to see what prospect there might be there for another maker of pianos.
+Charles Steinway came, saw, approved, returned, reported; and in 1850
+all the family reached New York, except the eldest son, Theodore, who
+succeeded to his father's business in Brunswick. Henry Steinway again
+showed himself wise in not immediately going into business. Depositing
+the capital he had brought with him in a safe place, he donned once more
+the journeyman's apron, and worked for three years in a New York piano
+factory to learn the ways of the trade in America; and his sons obtained
+similar employment,--one of them, fortunately, becoming a tuner, which
+brought him into relations with many music-teachers. During these three
+years, their knowledge and their capital increased every day, for they
+lived as wise men in such circumstances do live who mean to control
+their destiny. In plain English, they kept their eyes open, and lived on
+half their income. In 1853, in a small back shop in Varick Street, with
+infinite pains, they made their first piano, and a number of teachers
+and amateurs were invited to listen to it. It was warmly approved and
+speedily sold. Ten men were employed, who produced for the next two
+years one piano a week. In 1855, the Messrs. Steinway, still unknown to
+the public, placed one of their best instruments in the New York Crystal
+Palace Exhibition. A member of the musical jury has recorded the scene
+which occurred when the jury came to this unknown competitor:--
+
+"They were pursuing their rounds, and performing their duties with an
+ease and facility that promised a speedy termination to their labors,
+when suddenly they came upon an instrument that, from its external
+appearance,--solidly rich, yet free from the frippery that was then
+rather in fashion,--attracted their attention. One of the company opened
+the case, and carelessly struck a few chords. The others were doing the
+same with its neighbors, but somehow they ceased to chatter when the
+other instrument began to speak. One by one the jurors gathered round
+the strange polyphonist, and, without a word being spoken, every one
+knew that it was the best piano-forte in the Exhibition. The jurors were
+true to their duties. It is possible that some of them had predilections
+in favor of other makers; it is certain that one of them had,--the
+writer of the present notice. But when the time for the award came,
+there was no argument, no discussion, no bare presentment of minor
+claims; nothing, in fact, but a hearty indorsement of the singular
+merits of the strange instrument."
+
+From that time the Steinways made rapid progress. The tide of
+California gold was flowing in, and every day some one was getting rich
+enough to treat his family to a new piano. It was the Messrs. Steinway
+who chiefly supplied the new demand, without lessening by one instrument
+a month the business of older houses. Various improvements in the
+framing and mechanism of the piano have been invented and introduced by
+them; and, while some members of the family have superintended the
+manufacture, others have conducted the not less difficult business of
+selling. To this hour, the father of the family, in the dress of a
+workman, attends daily at the factory, as vigilant and active as ever,
+though now past seventy; and his surviving sons are as laboriously
+engaged in assisting him as they were in the infancy of the
+establishment.
+
+Besides the Chickerings and the Steinways, there are twenty
+manufacturers in the United States whose production exceeds one hundred
+pianos per annum. Messrs. Knabe & Co. of Baltimore, who supply large
+portions of the South and West, sold about a thousand pianos in the year
+1866; W. P. Emerson of Boston, 935; Messrs. Haines Brothers of New York,
+830; Messrs. Hallett and Davis of Boston, 462; Ernest Gabler of New
+York, 312; Messrs. E. C. Lighte & Co. of New York, 286; Messrs. Hazelton
+and Brothers of New York, 269; Albert Webber of New York, 266; Messrs.
+Decker Brothers of New York, 256; Messrs. George Steck and Co. of New
+York, 244; W. I. Bradbury of New York, 244; Messrs. Lindeman and Sons of
+New York, 223; the New York Piano-forte Company, 139. About one half of
+all the pianos made in the United States are made in the city of New
+York.
+
+To visit one of our large manufactories of pianos is a lesson in the
+noble art of taking pains. Genius itself, says Carlyle, means, first of
+all, "a transcendent capacity for taking trouble." Everywhere in these
+vast and interesting establishments we find what we may call the
+perfection of painstaking.
+
+The construction of an American piano is a continual act of defensive
+warfare against the future inroads of our climate,--a climate which is
+polar for a few days in January, tropical for a week or two in July,
+Nova-Scotian now and then in November, and at all times most trying to
+the finer woods, leathers, and fabrics. To make a piano is now not so
+difficult; but to make one that will stand in America,--that is very
+difficult. In the rear of the Messrs. Steinway's factory there is a yard
+for seasoning timber, which usually contains an amount of material equal
+to two hundred and fifty thousand ordinary boards, an inch thick and
+twelve feet long; and there it remains from four months to five years,
+according to its nature and magnitude. Most of the timber used in an
+American piano requires two years' seasoning at least. From this yard it
+is transferred to the steam-drying house, where it remains subjected to
+a high temperature for three months. The wood has then lost nearly all
+the warp there ever was in it, and the temperature may change fifty
+degrees in twelve hours (as it does sometimes in New York) without
+seriously affecting a fibre. Besides this, the timber is sawed in such a
+manner as to neutralize, in some degree, its tendency to warp, or,
+rather, so as to make it warp the right way. The reader would be
+surprised to hear the great makers converse on this subject of the
+warping of timber. They have studied the laws which govern warping; they
+know why wood warps, how each variety warps, how long a time each kind
+continues to warp, and how to fit one warp against another, so as to
+neutralize both. If two or more pieces of wood are to be glued together,
+it is never done at random; but they are so adjusted that one will tend
+to warp one way, and another another. Even the thin veneers upon the
+case act as a restraining force upon the baser wood which they cover,
+and in some parts of the instrument the veneer is double for the purpose
+of keeping both in order. An astonishing amount of thought and
+experiment has been expended upon this matter of warping,--so much,
+that now not a piece of wood is employed in a piano, the grain of which
+does not run in the precise direction which experience has shown to be
+the best.
+
+The forests of the whole earth have been searched for woods adapted to
+the different parts of the instrument. Dr. Rimbault, in his learned
+"History of the Piano-forte," published recently in London, gives a
+catalogue of the various woods, metals, skins, and fabrics used in the
+construction of a piano, which forcibly illustrates the delicacy of the
+modern instrument and the infinite care taken in its manufacture. We
+copy the list, though some of the materials differ from those used by
+American manufacturers.
+
+MATERIALS.                 WHERE USED.
+
+_Woods._     _From_
+
+Oak         Riga           Framing, various parts.
+
+Deal        Norway         Wood-bracing, &c.
+
+Fir         Switzerland    Sounding-board.
+
+Pine        America        Parts of framing, key-bed
+                             or bottom.
+
+Mahogany    Honduras       Solid wood of top, and various
+                             parts of the framing
+                             and the action.
+
+Beech       England        Wrest-plank, bridge or
+                             sound-board, centre of
+                             legs.
+
+Beef-wood   Brazils        Tongues in the beam,
+                             forming the divisions
+                             between the hammers.
+
+Birch       Canada         Belly-rail, a part of the
+                             framing.
+
+Cedar       S. America     Round shanks of hammers.
+
+Lime-tree   England        Keys.
+
+Pear-tree   ----           Heads of dampers.
+
+Sycamore    ----           Hoppers or levers, veneers
+                             on wrest-plank.
+
+Ebony       Ceylon         Black keys.
+
+Spanish                    \
+Mahogany    Cuba            \
+Rosewood    Rio Janeiro     |
+Satinwood   East Indies     |--   For decoration.
+White Holly England         |
+Zebra-wood  Brazils         |
+Other fancy                 /
+woods                      /
+
+
+_Woollen Fabrics._
+
+Baize; green, blue,
+     and brown             Upper surface of key-frame,
+                             cushions for hammers to fall
+                             on, to damp dead part of
+                             strings, &c.
+
+Cloth, various qualities   For various parts of the action
+                             and in other places, to prevent
+                             jarring; also for dampers.
+
+Felt                       External covering for hammers.
+
+
+_Leather._
+
+Buffalo              Under-covering of hammers-bass.
+Saddle                    "         "      tenor and treble.
+Basil           \
+Calf            |
+Doeskin         |--  Various parts of action.
+Seal            |
+Sheepskin       |
+Morocco         /
+Sole                 Rings for pedal wires.
+
+
+_Metal._
+
+Iron            \    Metallic bracing, and in various small
+Steel           |--  screws, springs, centres, pins, &c.,
+Brass           |    &c., throughout the instrument.
+Gun metal       /
+Steel wire           Strings.
+Steel spun wire      Lapped strings.
+Covered copper wire    "        "   lowest notes.
+
+
+_Various._
+
+Ivory                White keys.
+
+Black lead           To smooth the rubbing surfaces of cloth
+                       or leather in the action.
+
+Glue (of a particular quality  \
+made expressly for             |--  Woodwork throughout.
+this trade.                    /
+
+Beeswax, emery paper,          \
+glass paper, French polish,    |--  Cleaning and finishing.
+oil, putty powder,             |
+spirits of wine, &c., &c.      /
+
+Such are the materials used. The processes to which they are subjected
+are far more numerous. So numerous are they and so complicated, that the
+Steinways, who employ five hundred and twelve men, and labor-saving
+machinery which does the work of five hundred men more, aided by three
+steam-engines of a hundred and twenty-five, fifty, and twenty-five
+horse-power, can only produce from forty-five to fifty-five pianos a
+week. The average number is about fifty,--six grand, four upright, and
+forty square. The reader has seen, doubtless, a piano with the top taken
+off; but perhaps it has never occurred to him what a tremendous _pull_
+those fifty to sixty strings are keeping up, day and night, from one
+year's end to another. The shortest and thinnest string of all pulls two
+hundred and sixty-two pounds,--about as much as we should care to lift;
+and the entire pull of the strings of a grand piano is sixty pounds less
+than twenty tons,--a load for twenty cart-horses. The fundamental
+difficulty in the construction of a piano has always been to support
+this continuous strain. When we look into a piano we see the "iron
+frame" so much vaunted in the advertisements, and so splendid with
+bronze and gilding; but it is not this thin plate of cast-iron that
+resists the strain of twenty tons. If the wires were to pull upon the
+iron for one second, it would fly into atoms. The iron plate is screwed
+to what is called the "bottom" of the piano, which is a mass of timber
+four inches thick, composed of three layers of plank glued together, and
+so arranged that the pull of the wires shall be in a line with the grain
+of the wood. The iron plate itself is subjected to a long course of
+treatment. The rough casting is brought from the foundery, placed under
+the drilling-machine, which bores many scores of holes of various sizes
+with marvellous rapidity. Then it is smoothed and finished with the
+file; next, it is japanned; after which it is baked in an oven for
+forty-eight hours. It is then ready for the bronzer and gilder, who
+covers the greater part of the surface with a light-yellow bronzing, and
+brightens it here and there with gilding. All this long process is
+necessary in order to make the plate _retain_ its brilliancy of color.
+
+Upon this solid foundation of timber and iron the delicate instrument is
+built, and it is enclosed in a case constructed with still greater care.
+To make so large a box, and one so thin, as the case of a piano stand
+our summer heats and our furnace heats (still more trying), is a work of
+extreme difficulty. The seasoned boards are covered with a double
+veneer, designed to counteract all the tendencies to warp; and the
+surface is most laboriously polished. It takes three months to varnish
+and polish the case of a piano. In such a factory as the Steinways' or
+the Chickerings', there will be always six or seven hundred cases
+undergoing this expensive process. When the surface of the wood has been
+made as smooth as sand-paper can make it, the first coat of varnish is
+applied, and this requires eight days to harden. Then all the varnish is
+scraped off, except that which has sunk into the pores of the wood. The
+second coat is then put on; which, after eight days' drying, is also
+scraped away, until the surface of the veneer is laid bare again. After
+this four or five coats of varnish are added, at intervals of eight
+days, and, finally, the last polish is produced by the hand of the
+workman. The object of all this is not merely to produce a splendid and
+enduring gloss, but to make the case stand for a hundred years in a room
+which is heated by a furnace to seventy degrees by day, and in which
+water will freeze at night. During the war, when good varnish cost as
+much as the best champagne, the varnish bills of the leading makers were
+formidable indeed.
+
+The labor, however, is the chief item of expense. The average wages of
+the five hundred and twelve men employed by the Messrs. Steinway is
+twenty-six dollars a week. This force, aided by one hundred and two
+labor-saving machines, driven by steam-power equivalent to two hundred
+horses, produces a piano in one hour and fifteen minutes. A man with the
+ordinary tools can make a piano in about four months, but it could not
+possibly be as good a one as those produced in the large establishments.
+Nor, indeed, is such a feat ever attempted in the United States. The
+small makers, who manufacture from one to five instruments a week,
+generally, as already mentioned, buy the different parts from persons
+who make only parts. It is a business to make the hammers of a piano; it
+is another business to make the "action"; another, to make the keys;
+another, the legs; another, the cases; another, the pedals. The
+manufacture of the hardware used in a piano is a very important branch,
+and it is a separate business to sell it. The London Directory
+enumerates forty-two different trades and businesses related to the
+piano, and we presume there are not fewer in New York. Consequently,
+any man who knows enough of a piano to put one together, and can command
+capital enough to buy the parts of one instrument, may boldly fling his
+sign to the breeze, and announce himself to an inattentive public as a
+"piano-forte-maker." The only difficulty is to sell the piano when it is
+put together. At present it costs rather more money to sell a piano than
+it does to make one.
+
+When the case is finished, all except the final hand-polish, it is taken
+to the sounding-board room. The sounding-board--a thin, clear sheet of
+spruce under the strings--is the piano's soul, wanting which, it were a
+dead thing. Almost every resonant substance in nature has been tried for
+sounding-boards, but nothing has been found equal to spruce. Countless
+experiments have been made with a view to ascertain precisely the best
+way of shaping, arranging, and fixing the sounding-board, the best
+thickness, the best number and direction of the supporting ribs; and
+every great maker is happy in the conviction that he is a little better
+in sounding-boards than any of his rivals. Next, the strings are
+inserted; next, the action and the keys. Every one will pause to admire
+the hammers of the piano, so light, yet so capable of giving a telling
+blow, which evoke all the music of the strings, but mingle with that
+music no click, nor thud, nor thump, of their own. The felt employed
+varies in thickness from one sixteenth of an inch to an inch and an
+eighth, and costs $5.75 in gold per pound. Only Paris, it seems, can
+make it good enough for the purpose. Many of the keys have a double
+felting, compressed from an inch and a half to three quarters of an
+inch, and others again have an outer covering of leather to keep the
+strings from cutting the felt. Simple as the finished hammer looks,
+there are a hundred and fifty years of thought and experiment in it. It
+required half a century to exhaust the different kinds of wood, bone,
+and cork; and when, about 1760, the idea was conceived of covering the
+hammers with something soft, another century was to elapse before all
+the leathers and fabrics had been tried, and felt found to be the _ne
+plus ultra_. With regard to the action, or the mechanism by which the
+hammers are made to strike the strings, we must refer the inquisitive
+reader to the piano itself.
+
+When all the parts have been placed in the case, the instrument falls
+into the hands of the "regulator," who inspects, rectifies, tunes,
+harmonizes, perfects the whole. Nothing then remains but to convey it to
+the store, give it its final polish and its last tuning.
+
+The next thing is to sell it. Six hundred and fifty dollars seems a high
+price for a square piano, such as we used to buy for three hundred, and
+the "natural cost" of which does not much exceed two hundred dollars.
+Fifteen hundred dollars for a grand piano is also rather startling. But
+how much tax, does the reader suppose, is paid upon a
+fifteen-hundred-dollar grand? It is difficult to compute it; but it does
+not fall much below two hundred dollars. The five per cent
+manufacturer's tax, which is paid upon the price of the finished
+instrument, has also to be paid upon various parts, such as the wire;
+and upon the imported articles there is a high tariff. It is computed
+that the taxes upon very complicated articles, in which a great variety
+of materials are employed, such as carriages, pianos, organs, and fine
+furniture, amount to about one eighth of the price. The piano, too, is
+an expensive creature to keep, in these times of high rents, and its
+fare upon a railroad is higher than that of its owner. We saw, however,
+a magnificent piano, the other day, at the establishment of Messrs.
+Chickering, in Broadway, for which passage had been secured all the way
+to Oregon for thirty-five dollars,--only five dollars more than it would
+cost to transport it to Chicago. Happily for us, to whom fifteen hundred
+dollars--nay, six hundred and fifty dollars--is an enormous sum of
+money, a very good second-hand piano is always attainable for less than
+half the original price.
+
+For, reader, you must know that the ostentation of the rich is always
+putting costly pleasures within the reach of the refined not-rich. A
+piano in its time plays many parts, and figures in a variety of scenes.
+Like the more delicate and sympathetic kinds of human beings, it is
+naught unless it is valued; but, being valued, it is a treasure beyond
+price. Cold, glittering, and dumb, it stands among the tasteless
+splendors with which the wealthy ignorant cumber their dreary abodes,--a
+thing of ostentation merely,--as uninteresting as the women who surround
+it, gorgeously apparelled, but without conversation, conscious of
+defective parts of speech. "There is much music, excellent voice, in
+that little organ," but there is no one there who can "make it speak."
+They may "fret" the noble instrument; they "cannot play upon it."
+
+But a fool and his nine-hundred-dollar piano are soon parted. The red
+flag of the auctioneer announces its transfer to a drawing-room
+frequented by persons capable of enjoying the refined pleasures. Bright
+and joyous is the scene, about half past nine in the evening, when, by
+turns, the ladies try over their newest pieces, or else listen with
+intelligent pleasure to the performance of a master. Pleasant are the
+informal family concerts in such a house, when one sister breaks down
+under the difficulties of Thalberg, and yields the piano-stool to the
+musical genius of the family, who takes up the note, and, dashing gayly
+into the midst of "Egitto," forces a path through the wilderness, takes
+the Red Sea like a heroine, bursts at length into the triumphal prayer,
+and retires from the instrument as calm as a summer morning. On
+occasions of ceremony, too, the piano has a part to perform, though a
+humble one. Awkward pauses will occur in all but the best-regulated
+parties, and people will get together, in the best houses, who quench
+and neutralize one another. It is the piano that fills those pauses, and
+gives a welcome respite to the toil of forcing conversation. How could
+"society" go on without the occasional interposition of the piano? One
+hundred and sixty years ago, in those days beloved and vaunted by
+Thackeray, when Louis XIV. was king of France, and Anne queen of
+England, society danced, tattled, and gambled. Cards have receded as the
+piano has advanced in importance.
+
+From such a drawing-room as this, after a stay of some years, the piano
+may pass into a boarding-school, and thence into the sitting-room of a
+family who have pinched for two years to buy it. "It must have been,"
+says Henry Ward Beecher, "about the year 1820, in old Litchfield,
+Connecticut, upon waking one fine morning, that we heard music in the
+parlor, and, hastening down, beheld an upright piano, the first we ever
+saw or heard of! Nothing can describe the amazement of silence that
+filled us. It rose almost to superstitious reverence, and all that day
+was a dream and marvel." It is such pianos that are appreciated. It is
+in such parlors that the instrument best answers the end of its
+creation. There is many a piano in the back room of a little store, or
+in the uncarpeted sitting-room of a farm-house, that yields a larger
+revenue of delight than the splendid grand of a splendid drawing-room.
+In these humble abodes of refined intelligence, the piano is a dear and
+honored member of the family.
+
+The piano now has a rival in the United States in that fine instrument
+before mentioned, which has grown from the melodeon into the cabinet
+organ. We do not hesitate to say, that the cabinet organs of Messrs.
+Mason and Hamlin only need to be as generally known as the piano in
+order to share the favor of the public equally with it. It seems to us
+peculiarly the instrument for _men_. We trust the time is at hand when
+it will be seen that it is not less desirable for boys to learn to play
+upon an instrument than girls; and how much more a little skill in
+performing may do for a man than for a woman! A boy can hardly be a
+perfect savage, nor a man a money-maker or a pietist, who has acquired
+sufficient command of an instrument to play upon it with pleasure. How
+often, when we have been listening to the swelling music of the cabinet
+organs at the ware-rooms of Messrs. Mason and Hamlin in Broadway, have
+we desired to put one of those instruments in every clerk's
+boarding-house room, and tell him to take all the ennui, and half the
+peril, out of his life by learning to play upon it! No business man who
+works as intensely as we do can keep alive the celestial harmonies
+within him,--no, nor the early wrinkles from his face,--without some
+such pleasant mingling of bodily rest and mental exercise as playing
+upon an instrument.
+
+The simplicity of the means by which music is produced from the cabinet
+organ is truly remarkable. It is called a "reed" instrument; which leads
+many to suppose that the cane-brake is despoiled to procure its
+sound-giving apparatus. Not so. The reed employed is nothing but a thin
+strip of brass with a tongue slit in it, the vibration of which causes
+the musical sound. One of the reeds, though it produces a volume of
+sound only surpassed by the pipes of an organ, weighs about an ounce,
+and can be carried in a vest-pocket. In fact, a cabinet organ is simply
+an accordeon of immense power and improved mechanism. Twenty years ago,
+one of our melodeon-makers chanced to observe that the accordeon
+produced a better tone when it was drawn out than when it was pushed in;
+and this fact suggested the first great improvement in the melodeon.
+Before that time, the wind from the bellows, in all melodeons, was
+forced through the reeds. Melodeons on the improved principle were
+constructed so that the wind was drawn through the reeds. The credit of
+introducing this improvement is due to the well-known firm of Carhart,
+Needham, & Co., and it was as decided an improvement in the melodeon as
+the introduction of the hammer in the harpsichord.
+
+At this point of development, the instrument was taken up by Messrs.
+Mason and Hamlin, who have covered it with improvements, and rendered it
+one of the most pleasing musical instruments in the possession of
+mankind. When we remarked above, that the American piano was the best in
+the world, we only expressed the opinion of others; but now that we
+assert the superiority of the American cabinet organ over similar
+instruments made in London and Paris, we are communicating knowledge of
+our own. Indeed, the superiority is so marked that it is apparent to the
+merest tyro in music. During the year 1866, the number of these
+instruments produced in the United States by the twenty-five
+manufacturers was about fifteen thousand, which were sold for one
+million six hundred thousand dollars, or a little more than one hundred
+dollars each. Messrs. Mason and Hamlin, who manufacture one fourth of
+the whole number, produce thirty-five kinds, varying in power, compass,
+and decoration, and in price from seventy-five dollars to twelve
+hundred. In the new towns of the great West, the cabinet organ is
+usually the first instrument of music to arrive, and, of late years, it
+takes its place with the piano in the fashionable drawing-rooms of the
+Atlantic States.
+
+Few Americans, we presume, expected that the department of the Paris
+Exposition in which the United States should most surpass other nations
+would be that appropriated to musical instruments. Even our cornets and
+bugles are highly commended in Paris. The cabinet organs, according to
+several correspondents, are much admired. We can hardly credit the
+assertion of an intelligent correspondent of the Tribune, that the
+superiority of the American pianos is not "questioned" by Erard, Pleyel,
+and Hertz, but we can well believe that it is acknowledged by the great
+players congregated at Paris. The aged Rossini is reported to have said,
+after listening to an American piano, "It is like a nightingale cooing
+in a thunder-storm."
+
+
+
+
+AN EMBER-PICTURE.
+
+
+    How strange are the freaks of memory!
+      The lessons of life we forget,
+    While a trifle, a trick of color,
+      In the wonderful web is set,--
+
+    Set by some mordant of fancy,
+      And, despite the wear and tear
+    Of time or distance or trouble,
+      Insists on its right to be there.
+
+    A chance had brought us together;
+      Our talk was of matters of course;
+    We were nothing, one to the other,
+      But a short half-hour's resource.
+
+    We spoke of French acting and actors,
+      And their easy, natural way,--
+    Of the weather, for it was raining
+      As we drove home from the play.
+
+    We debated the social nothings
+      Men take such pains to discuss;
+    The thunderous rumors of battle
+      Were silent the while for us.
+
+    Arrived at her door, we left her
+      With a drippingly hurried adieu,
+    And our wheels went crunching the gravel
+      Of the oak-darkened avenue.
+
+    As we drove away through the shadow,
+      The candle she held in the door,
+    From rain-varnished tree-trunk to tree-trunk
+      Flashed fainter, and flashed no more,--
+
+    Flashed fainter and wholly faded
+      Before we had passed the wood;
+    But the light of the face behind it
+      Went with me and stayed for good.
+
+    The vision of scarce a moment,
+      And hardly marked at the time,
+    It comes unbidden to haunt me,
+      Like a scrap of ballad-rhyme.
+
+    Had she beauty? Well, not what they call so:
+      You may find a thousand as fair,
+    And yet there's her face in my memory,
+      With no special right to be there.
+
+    As I sit sometimes in the twilight,
+      And call back to life in the coals
+    Old faces and hopes and fancies
+      Long buried,--good rest to their souls!--
+
+    Her face shines out of the embers;
+      I see her holding the light,
+    And hear the crunch of the gravel
+      And the sweep of the rain that night.
+
+    'Tis a face that can never grow older,
+      That never can part with its gleam;
+    'Tis a gracious possession forever,
+      For what is it all but a dream?
+
+
+
+
+AN ARTIST'S DREAM.
+
+
+When I reached Kenmure's house, one August evening, it was rather a
+disappointment to find that he and his charming Laura had absented
+themselves for twenty-four hours. I had not seen them since their
+marriage; my admiration for his varied genius and her unvarying grace
+was at its height, and I was really annoyed at the delay. My fair
+cousin, with her usual exact housekeeping, had prepared everything for
+her guest, and then bequeathed me, as she wrote, to Janet and baby
+Marian. It was a pleasant arrangement, for between baby Marian and me
+there existed a species of passion, I might almost say of betrothal,
+ever since that little three-year-old sunbeam had blessed my mother's
+house by lingering awhile in it, six months before. Still I went to bed
+disappointed, though the delightful windows of the chamber looked out
+upon the glimmering bay, and the swinging lanterns at the yard-arms of
+the frigates shone like some softer constellation beneath the brilliant
+sky. The house was so close upon the water that the cool waves seemed to
+plash deliciously against its very basement; and it was a comfort to
+think that, if there were no adequate human greetings that night, there
+would be plenty in the morning, since Marian would inevitably be pulling
+my eyelids apart before sunrise.
+
+It seemed scarcely dawn when I was roused by a little arm round my neck,
+and waked to think I had one of Raphael's cherubs by my side. Fingers of
+waxen softness were ruthlessly at work upon my eyes, and the little form
+that met my touch felt lithe and elastic, like a kitten's limbs. There
+was just light enough to see the child, perched on the edge of the bed,
+her soft blue dressing-gown trailing over the white night-dress, while
+her black and long-fringed eyes shone through the dimness of morning.
+She yielded gladly to my grasp, and I could fondle again the silken
+hair, the velvety brunette cheek, the plump, childish shoulders. Yet
+sleep still half held me, and when my cherub appeared to hold it a
+cherubic practice to begin the day with a demand for lively anecdote, I
+was fain drowsily to suggest that she might first tell some stories to
+her doll. With the sunny readiness that was a part of her nature, she
+straightway turned to that young lady,--plain Susan Halliday, with both
+cheeks patched, and eyes of different colors,--and soon discoursed both
+her and me into repose.
+
+When I waked again, it was to find the child conversing with the morning
+star, which still shone through the window, scarcely so lucent as her
+eyes, and bidding it go home to its mother, the sun. Another lapse into
+dreams, and then a more vivid awakening, and she had my ear at last, and
+won story after story, requiting them with legends of her own youth,
+"almost a year ago,"--how she was perilously lost, for instance, in the
+small front yard, with a little playmate, early in the afternoon, and
+how they came and peeped into the window, and thought all the world had
+forgotten them. Then the sweet voice, distinct in its articulation as
+Laura's, went straying off into wilder fancies, a chaos of autobiography
+and conjecture, like the letters of a war correspondent. You would have
+thought her little life had yielded more pangs and fears than might have
+sufficed for the discovery of the North Pole; but breakfast-time drew
+near at last, and Janet's honest voice was heard outside the door. I
+rather envied the good Scotchwoman the pleasant task of polishing the
+smooth cheeks, and combing the dishevelled silk; but when, a little
+later, the small maiden was riding down stairs in my arms, I envied no
+one.
+
+At sight of the bread and milk, my cherub was transformed into a hungry
+human child, chiefly anxious to reach the bottom of her porringer. I was
+with her a great deal that day. She gave no manner of trouble: it was
+like having the charge of a floating butterfly, endowed with warm arms
+to clasp, and a silvery voice to prattle. I sent Janet out to sail, with
+the other servants, by way of holiday, and Marian's perfect temperament
+was shown in the way she watched the departing.
+
+"There they go," she said, as she stood and danced at the window. "Now
+they are out of sight."
+
+"What!" I said, "are you pleased to have your friends go?"
+
+"Yes," she answered; "but I shall be pleased--er to see them come
+back." Life to her was no alternation of joy and grief, but only of joy
+and more joyous.
+
+Twilight brought us to an improvised concert. Climbing the piano-stool,
+she went over the notes with her little taper fingers, touching the keys
+in a light, knowing way, that proved her a musician's child. Then I must
+play for her, and let the dance begin. This was a wondrous performance
+on her part, and consisted at first in hopping up and down on one spot,
+with no change of motion, but in her hands. She resembled a minute and
+irrepressible Shaker, or a live and beautiful _marionnette_. Then she
+placed Janet in the middle of the floor, and performed the dance round
+her, after the manner of Vivien and Merlin. Then came her supper, which,
+like its predecessors, was a solid and absorbing meal; then one more
+fairy story, to magnetize her off, and she danced and sang herself up
+stairs. And if she first came to me in the morning with a halo round her
+head, she seemed still to retain it when I at last watched her kneeling
+in the little bed--perfectly motionless, with her hands placed together,
+and her long lashes sweeping her cheeks--to repeat two verses of a hymn
+which Janet had taught her. My nerves quivered a little when I saw that
+Susan Halliday had also been duly prepared for the night, and had been
+put in the same attitude, so far as her jointless anatomy permitted.
+This being ended, the doll and her mistress reposed together, and only
+an occasional toss of the vigorous limbs, or a stifled baby murmur,
+would thenceforth prove, through the darkened hours, that the one figure
+had in it more of life than the other.
+
+On the next morning Kenmure and Laura came back to us, and I walked down
+to receive them at the boat. I had forgotten how striking was their
+appearance, as they stood together. His broad, strong, Saxon look, his
+noble bearing and clear blue eyes, enhanced the fascination of her
+darker beauty.
+
+America is full of the short-lived bloom and freshness of girlhood; but
+grace is a rarer gift, and indeed it is only a few times in life that
+one sees anywhere a beauty that really controls us with a permanent
+charm. One should remember such personal loveliness, as one recalls some
+particular moonlight or sunset, with a special and concentrated joy,
+which the multiplicity of fainter impressions cannot disturb. When in
+those days we used to read, in Petrarch's one hundred and twenty-third
+sonnet, that he had once beheld on earth angelic manners and celestial
+charms, whose very remembrance was a delight and an affliction, since
+all else that he beheld seemed dream and shadow, we could easily fancy
+that nature had certain permanent attributes which accompanied the name
+of Laura.
+
+Our Laura had that rich brunette beauty before which the mere snow and
+roses of the blonde must always seem wan and unimpassioned. In the
+superb suffusions of her cheek there seemed to flow a tide of passions
+and powers, which might have been tumultuous in a meaner woman, but over
+which, in her, the clear and brilliant eyes, and the sweet, proud mouth,
+presided in unbroken calm. These superb tints implied resources only,
+not a struggle. With this torrent from the tropics in her veins, she was
+the most equable person I ever saw; and had a supreme and delicate
+good-sense, which, if not supplying the place of genius, at least
+comprehended its work. Not intellectually gifted herself, perhaps, she
+seemed the cause of gifts in others, and furnished the atmosphere in
+which all showed their best. With the steady and thoughtful enthusiasm
+of her Puritan ancestors, she combined that grace which is so rare among
+their descendants,--a grace which fascinated the humblest, while it
+would have been just the same in the society of kings. And her person
+had the equipoise and symmetry of her mind. While abounding in separate
+points of beauty, each a source of distinct and peculiar pleasure,--as
+the outline of her temples, the white line that parted her night-black
+hair, the bend of her wrists, the moulding of her finger-tips,--yet
+these details were lost in the overwhelming gracefulness of her
+presence, and the atmosphere of charm which she diffused over all human
+life.
+
+A few days passed rapidly by us. We walked and rode and boated and read.
+Little Marian came and went, a living sunbeam, a self-sufficing thing.
+It was soon obvious that she was far less demonstrative towards her
+parents than towards me; while her mother, gracious to her as to all,
+yet rarely caressed her, and Kenmure, though habitually kind, seemed
+rather to ignore her existence, and could scarcely tolerate that she
+should for one instant preoccupy his wife. For Laura he lived, and she
+must live for him. He had a studio, which I rarely entered and Marian
+never, while Laura was constantly there; and after the first cordiality
+was past, I observed that their daily expeditions were always arranged
+for two. The weather was beautiful, and they led the wildest outdoor
+life, cruising all day or all night among the islands, regardless of
+hours, and, as it sometimes seemed to me, of health. No matter: Kenmure
+liked it, and what he liked she loved. When at home, they were chiefly
+in the studio, he painting, modelling, poetizing perhaps, and she
+inseparably united with him in all. It was very beautiful, this
+unworldly and passionate love, and I could have borne to be omitted in
+their daily plans, since little Marian was left to me, save that it
+seemed so strange to omit her also. Besides, there grew to be something
+a little oppressive in this peculiar atmosphere; it was like living in a
+greenhouse.
+
+Yet they always spoke in the simplest way of this absorbing passion, as
+of something about which no reticence was needed; it was too sacred
+_not_ to be mentioned; it would be wrong not to utter freely to all the
+world what was doubtless the best thing the world possessed. Thus
+Kenmure made Laura his model in all his art; not to coin her into wealth
+or fame,--he would have scorned it; he would have valued fame and
+wealth only as instruments for proclaiming her. Looking simply at these
+two lovers, then, it seemed as if no human union could be more noble or
+stainless. Yet so far as others were concerned, it sometimes seemed to
+me a kind of duplex selfishness, so profound and so undisguised as to
+make one shudder. "Is it," I asked myself at such moments, "a great
+consecration, or a great crime?" But something must be allowed, perhaps,
+for my own private dissatisfactions in Marian's behalf.
+
+I had easily persuaded Janet to let me have a peep every night at my
+darling, as she slept; and once I was surprised to find Laura sitting by
+the small white bed. Graceful and beautiful as she always was, she never
+before had seemed to me so lovely, for she never had seemed quite like a
+mother. But I could not demand a sweeter look of tenderness than that
+with which she now gazed upon her child.
+
+Little Marian lay with one brown, plump hand visible from its full white
+sleeve, while the other nestled half hid beneath the sheet, grasping a
+pair of blue morocco shoes, the last acquisition of her favorite doll.
+Drooping from beneath the pillow hung a handful of scarlet poppies,
+which the child had wished to place under her head, in the very
+superfluous project of putting herself to sleep thereby. Her soft brown
+hair was scattered on the sheet, her black lashes lay motionless upon
+the olive cheeks. Laura wished to move her, that I might see her the
+better.
+
+"You will wake her," exclaimed I, in alarm.
+
+"Wake this little dormouse?" Laura lightly answered. "Impossible."
+
+And, twining her arms about her, the young mother lifted the child from
+the bed, three or four times, dropping her again heavily each time,
+while the healthy little creature remained utterly undisturbed,
+breathing the same quiet breath. I watched Laura with amazement; she
+seemed transformed.
+
+She gayly returned my eager look, and then, seeming suddenly to
+penetrate its meaning, cast down her radiant eyes, while the color
+mounted into her cheeks. "You thought," she said, almost sternly, "that
+I did not love my child."
+
+"No," I said, half untruthfully.
+
+"I can hardly wonder," she continued, more sadly, "for it is only what I
+have said to myself a thousand times. Sometimes I think that I have
+lived in a dream, and one that few share with me. I have questioned
+others, and never yet found a woman who did not admit that her child was
+more to her, in her secret soul, than her husband. What can they mean?
+Such a thought is foreign to my nature."
+
+"Why separate the two?" I asked.
+
+"I _must_ separate them," she answered, with the air of one driven to
+bay by her own self-reproaching. "I had, like other young girls, my
+dream of love and marriage. Unlike all the rest, I believe, my visions
+were fulfilled. The reality was more than the imagination; and I thought
+it would be so with my love for my child. The first cry of that baby
+told the difference to my ear. I knew it all from that moment; the bliss
+which had been mine as a wife would never be mine as a mother. If I had
+not known what it was to love my husband, I might have been content with
+my love for Marian. But look at that exquisite creature as she lies
+there asleep, and then think that I, her mother, should desert her if
+she were dying, for aught I know, at one word from him!"
+
+"Your feeling is morbid," I said, hardly knowing what to answer.
+
+"What good does it serve to know that?" she said, defiantly. "I say it
+to myself every day. Once when she was ill, and was given back to me in
+all the precious helplessness of babyhood, there was such a strange
+sweetness in it, I thought the charm might remain; but it vanished when
+she could run about once more. And she is such a healthy, self-reliant
+little thing," added Laura, glancing toward the bed with a momentary
+look of motherly pride that seemed strangely out of place amid these
+self-denunciations.
+
+"I wish her to be so," she added. "The best service I can do for her is
+to teach her to stand alone. And at some day," continued the beautiful
+woman, her whole face lighting up with happiness, "she may love as I
+have loved."
+
+"And your husband," I said, after a pause,--"does your feeling represent
+his?"
+
+"My husband," she said, "lives for his genius, as he should. You that
+know him, why do you ask?"
+
+"And his heart?" I said, half frightened at my own temerity.
+
+"Heart?" she answered. "He loves _me_."
+
+Her color mounted higher yet; she had a look of pride, almost of
+haughtiness. All else seemed forgotten; she had turned away from the
+child's little bed, as if it had no existence. It flashed upon me that
+something of the poison of her artificial atmosphere was reaching her
+already.
+
+Kenmure's step was heard in the hall, and, with fire in her eyes, she
+hastened to meet him. I seemed actually to breathe freer after the
+departure of that enchanting woman, in danger of perishing inwardly, I
+said to myself, in an air too lavishly perfumed. Bending over Marian, I
+wondered if it were indeed possible that a perfectly healthy life had
+sprung from that union too intense and too absorbed. Yet I had often
+noticed that the child seemed to wear the temperaments of both her
+parents as a kind of playful disguise, and to peep at you, now out of
+the one, now from the other, showing that she had her own individual
+life behind.
+
+As if by some infantine instinct, the darling turned in her sleep, and
+came unconsciously nearer me. With a half-feeling of self-reproach, I
+drew around my neck, inch by inch, the little arms that tightened with a
+delicious thrill; and so I half reclined there till I myself dozed, and
+the watchful Janet, looking in, warned me away. Crossing the entry to my
+own chamber, I heard Kenmure and Laura down stairs, but I knew that I
+should be superfluous, and felt that I was sleepy.
+
+I had now, indeed, become always superfluous when they were together,
+though never when they were apart. Even they must be separated
+sometimes, and then each sought me, in order to discourse about the
+other. Kenmure showed me every sketch he had ever made of Laura. There
+she was, in all the wonderful range of her beauty,--in clay, in cameo,
+in pencil, in water-color, in oils. He showed me also his poems, and, at
+last, a longer one, for which pencil and graver had alike been laid
+aside. All these he kept in a great cabinet she had brought with her to
+their housekeeping; and it seemed to me that he also treasured every
+flower she had dropped, every slender glove she had worn, every ribbon
+from her hair. I could not wonder. Who would not thrill at the touch of
+some such memorial of Mary of Scotland, or of Heloise? and what was all
+the regal beauty of the past to him? Every room always seemed adorned
+when she was in it, empty when she had gone,--save that the trace of her
+still seemed left on everything, and all appeared but as a garment she
+had worn. It seemed that even her great mirror must retain, film over
+film, each reflection of her least movement, the turning of her head,
+the ungloving of her hand. Strange! that, with all this intoxicating
+presence, she yet led a life so free from self, so simple, so absorbed,
+that all trace of consciousness was excluded, and she seemed
+unsophisticated as her own child.
+
+As we were once thus employed in the studio, I asked Kenmure, abruptly,
+if he never shrank from the publicity he was thus giving Laura. "Madame
+Recamier was not quite pleased," I said, "that Canova had modelled her
+bust, even from imagination. Do you never shrink from permitting
+irreverent eyes to look on Laura's beauty? Think of men as you know
+them. Would you give each of them her miniature, perhaps to go with them
+into scenes of riot and shame?"
+
+"Would to Heaven I could!" said he, passionately. "What else could save
+them, if that did not? God lets his sun shine on the evil and on the
+good, but the evil need it most."
+
+There was a pause; and then I ventured to ask him a question that had
+been many times upon my lips unspoken.
+
+"Does it never occur to you," I said, "that Laura cannot live on earth
+forever?"
+
+"You cannot disturb me about that," he answered, not sadly, but with a
+set, stern look, as if fencing for the hundredth time against an
+antagonist who was foredoomed to be his master in the end. "Laura will
+outlive me; she must outlive me. I am so sure of it, that, every time I
+come near her, I pray that I may not be paralyzed, and die outside her
+arms. Yet, in any event, what can I do but what I am doing,--devote my
+whole soul to the perpetuation of her beauty, through art? It is my only
+dream. What else is worth doing? It is for this I have tried, through
+sculpture, through painting, through verse, to depict her as she is.
+Thus far I have failed. Why have I failed? Is it because I have not
+lived a life sufficiently absorbed in her? or is it that there is no
+permitted way by which, after God has reclaimed her, the tradition of
+her perfect loveliness may be retained on earth?"
+
+The blinds of the piazza doorway opened, the sweet sea-air came in, the
+low and level rays of yellow sunset entered as softly as if the breeze
+were their chariot; and softer and stiller and sweeter than light or
+air, little Marian stood on the threshold. She had been in the fields
+with Janet, who had woven for her breeze-blown hair a wreath of the wild
+gerardia blossoms, whose purple beauty had reminded the good Scotchwoman
+of her own native heather. In her arms the child bore, like a little
+gleaner, a great sheaf of graceful golden-rod, as large as her grasp
+could bear. In all the artist's visions he had seen nothing so aerial,
+so lovely; in all his passionate portraitures of his idol, he had
+delineated nothing so like to her. Marian's cheeks mantled with rich and
+wine-like tints, her hair took a halo from the sunbeams, her lips
+parted over the little milk-white teeth; she looked at us with her
+mother's eyes. I turned to Kenmure to see if he could resist the
+influence.
+
+He scarcely gave her a glance. "Go, Marian," he said,--not impatiently,
+for he was too thoroughly courteous ever to be ungracious, even to a
+child,--but with a steady indifference that cut me with more pain than
+if he had struck her.
+
+The sun dropped behind the horizon, the halo faded from the shining
+hair, and every ray of light from the childish face. There came in its
+place that deep, wondering sadness which is more pathetic than any
+maturer sorrow,--just as a child's illness touches our hearts more than
+that of man or woman, it seems so premature and so plaintive. She turned
+away; it was the very first time I had ever seen the little face drawn
+down, or the tears gathering in the eyes. By some kind providence, the
+mother met Marian on the piazza, herself flushed and beautiful with
+walking, and caught the little thing in her arms with unwonted
+tenderness. It was enough for the elastic child. After one moment of
+such bliss she could go to Janet, go anywhere; and when the same
+graceful presence came in to us in the studio, we also could ask no
+more.
+
+We had music and moonlight, and were happy. The atmosphere seemed more
+human, less unreal. Going up stairs at last, I looked in at the nursery,
+and found my pet seeming rather flushed, and I fancied that she stirred
+uneasily. It passed, whatever it was; for next morning she came in to
+wake me, looking, as usual, as if a new heaven and earth had been coined
+purposely for her since she went to sleep. We had our usual long and
+important discourse,--this time tending to protracted narrative, of the
+Mother-Goose description,--until, if it had been possible for any human
+being to be late for breakfast in that house, we should have been the
+offenders. But she ultimately went down stairs on my shoulder, and, as
+Kenmure and Laura were out rowing, the baby put me in her own place,
+sat in her mother's chair, and ruled me with a rod of iron. How
+wonderful was the instinct by which this little creature, who so seldom
+heard one word of parental severity or parental fondness, yet knew so
+thoroughly the language of both! Had I been the most depraved of
+children, or the most angelic, I could not have been more sternly
+excluded from the sugar-bowl, or more overwhelmed with compensating
+kisses.
+
+Later on that day, while little Marian was taking the very profoundest
+nap that ever a baby was blessed with, (she had a pretty way of dropping
+asleep in unexpected corners of the house, like a kitten,) I somehow
+strayed into a confidential talk with Janet about her mistress. I was
+rather troubled to find that all her loyalty was for Laura, with nothing
+left for Kenmure, whom indeed she seemed to regard as a sort of
+objectionable altar, on which her darlings were being sacrificed. When
+she came to particulars, certain stray fears of my own were confirmed.
+It seemed that Laura's constitution was not fit, Janet averred, to bear
+these irregular hours, early and late; and she plaintively dwelt on the
+untasted oatmeal in the morning, the insufficient luncheon, the
+precarious dinner, the excessive walking, the evening damps. There was
+coming to be a look about her such as her mother had, who died at
+thirty. As for Marian--but here the complaint suddenly stopped; it would
+have required far stronger provocation to extract from the faithful soul
+one word that might seem to reflect on Laura.
+
+Another year, and her forebodings had come true. It is needless to dwell
+on the interval. Since then I have sometimes felt a regret almost
+insatiable, in the thought that I should have been absent while all that
+gracious beauty seemed fading and dissolving like a cloud; and yet at
+other times it has appeared a relief to think that Laura would ever
+remain to me in the fulness of her beauty, not a tint faded, not a
+lineament changed. With all my efforts, I arrived only in time to
+accompany Kenmure home at night, after the funeral service. We paused at
+the door of the empty house,--how empty! I hesitated, but Kenmure
+motioned to me to follow him in.
+
+We passed through the hall and went up stairs. Janet met us at the head
+of the stairway, and asked me if I would go in to look at little Marian,
+who was sleeping. I begged Kenmure to go also, but he refused, almost
+savagely, and went on with heavy step into Laura's deserted room.
+
+Almost the moment I entered the child's chamber, she waked up suddenly,
+looked at me, and said, "I know you, you are my friend." She never would
+call me her cousin, I was always her friend. Then she sat up in bed,
+with her eyes wide open, and said, as if stating a problem which had
+been put by for my solution, "I should like to see my mother."
+
+How our hearts are rent by the unquestioning faith of children, when
+they come to test the love which has so often worked what seemed to them
+miracles,--and ask of it miracles indeed! I tried to explain to her the
+continued existence of her beautiful mother, and she listened to it as
+if her eyes drank in all that I could say, and more. But the apparent
+distance between earth and heaven baffled her baby mind, as it so often
+and so sadly baffles the thoughts of us elders. I wondered what precise
+change seemed to her to have taken place. This all-fascinating Laura,
+whom she adored, and who had yet never been to her what other women are
+to their darlings,--did heaven seem to put her farther off, or bring her
+more near? I could never know. The healthy child had no morbid
+questionings; and as she had come into the world to be a sunbeam, she
+must not fail of that mission. She was kicking about the bed, by this
+time, in her nightgown, and holding her pink little toes in all sorts of
+difficult attitudes, when she suddenly said, looking me full in the
+face: "If my mother was so high up that she had her feet upon a star,
+do you think that I could see her?"
+
+This astronomical apotheosis startled me for a moment, but I said
+unhesitatingly, "Yes," feeling sure that the lustrous eyes that looked
+in mine could certainly see as far as Dante's, when Beatrice was
+transferred from his side to the highest realm of Paradise. I put my
+head beside hers upon the pillow, and stayed till I thought she was
+asleep.
+
+I then followed Kenmure into Laura's chamber. It was dusk, but the
+after-sunset glow still bathed the room with imperfect light, and he lay
+upon the bed, his hands clenched over his eyes.
+
+There was a deep bow-window where Laura used to sit and watch us,
+sometimes, when we put off in the boat. Her aeolian harp was in the
+casement, breaking its heart in music. A delicate handkerchief was
+lodged between the cushions of the window-seat,--the very handkerchief
+she used to wave, in summer days long gone. The white boats went sailing
+beneath the evening light, children shouted and splashed in the water, a
+song came from a yacht, a steam-whistle shrilled from the receding
+steamer; but she for whom alone those little signs of life had been dear
+and precious would henceforth be as invisible to our eyes as if time and
+space had never held her; and the young moon and the evening star seemed
+but empty things, unless they could pilot us to some world where the
+splendor of her loveliness could match their own.
+
+Twilight faded, evening darkened, and still Kenmure lay motionless,
+until his strong form grew in my moody fancy to be like some carving of
+Michel Angelo, more than like a living man. And when he at last startled
+me by speaking, it was with a voice so far off and so strange, it might
+almost have come wandering down from the century when Michel Angelo
+lived.
+
+"You are right," he said. "I have been living in a dream. It has all
+vanished. I have kept no memorial of her presence, nothing to
+perpetuate the most beautiful of lives."
+
+Before I could answer, the door came softly open, and there stood in the
+doorway a small white figure, holding aloft a lighted taper of pure
+alabaster. It was Marian in her little night-dress, with the loose, blue
+wrapper trailing behind her, let go in the effort to hold carefully the
+doll, Susan Halliday, robed also for the night.
+
+"May I come in?" said the child.
+
+Kenmure was motionless at first, then, looking over his shoulder, said
+merely, "What?"
+
+"Janet said," continued Marian, in her clear and methodical way, "that
+my mother was up in heaven, and would help God hear my prayers at any
+rate; but if I pleased, I could come and say them by you."
+
+A shudder passed over Kenmure; then he turned away, and put his hands
+over his eyes. She waited for no answer, but, putting down the
+candlestick, in her wonted careful manner, upon a chair, she began to
+climb upon the bed, lifting laboriously one little rosy foot, then
+another, still dragging after her, with great effort, the doll. Nestling
+at her father's breast, I saw her kneel.
+
+"Once my mother put her arm round me, when I said my prayers." She made
+this remark, under her breath, less as a suggestion, it seemed, than as
+the simple statement of a fact.
+
+Instantly I saw Kenmure's arm move, and grasp her with that strong and
+gentle touch of his that I had so often noticed in the studio,--a touch
+that seemed quiet as the approach of fate, and as resistless. I knew him
+well enough to understand that iron adoption.
+
+He drew her toward him, her soft hair was on his breast, she looked
+fearlessly in his eyes, and I could hear the little prayer proceeding,
+yet in so low a whisper that I could not catch one word. She was
+infinitely solemn at such times, the darling; and there was always
+something in her low, clear tone, through all her prayings and
+philosophizings, which was strangely like her mother's voice. Sometimes
+she seemed to stop and ask a question, and at every answer I could see
+her father's arm tighten, and the iron girdle grow more close.
+
+The moments passed, the voices grew lower yet, the doll slid to the
+ground. Marian had drifted away upon a vaster ocean than that whose
+music lulled her from without,--upon that sea whose waves are dreams.
+The night was wearing on, the lights gleamed from the anchored vessels,
+the bay rippled serenely against the low sea-wall, the breeze blew
+gently in. Marian's baby breathing grew deeper and more tranquil; and as
+all the sorrows of the weary earth might be imagined to exhale
+themselves in spring through the breath of violets, so it seemed as if
+it might be with Kenmure's burdened heart. By degrees the strong man's
+deeper respirations mingled with those of the child, and their two
+separate beings seemed merged and solved into identity, as they
+slumbered, breast to breast, beneath the golden and quiet stars. I
+passed by without awaking them; I knew that the artist had attained his
+dream.
+
+
+
+
+THE RELIGIOUS SIDE OF THE ITALIAN QUESTION.
+
+
+I.
+
+I have of late frequently been asked by my English friends why it is
+that I decline to return to my country, and to associate my own efforts
+for the moral and political advancement of Italy with those of her
+governing classes. "The amnesty has opened up a path for the _legal_
+dissemination of your ideas," they tell me. "By taking the place already
+repeatedly offered you among the representatives of the people, you
+would secure to those who hold the helm of the state the support of the
+whole Republican party. Do you not, by throwing the weight of your name
+and influence on the side of the malcontents, increase the difficulties
+of the government, and prolong the fatal want of moral and political
+unity, without which the mere material fact of union is barren, and
+unproductive of benefit to the people?"
+
+The question is asked by serious men, who wish my country well, and is
+therefore deserving of a serious answer.
+
+Before treating the personal matter, however, let me say that, since
+1859, the Republican party has done precisely what my English friends
+required it to do. The Italian Republicans have actually assisted and
+upheld the government with an abnegation worthy of all
+praise,--sacrificing even their right of Apostolate to the great idea of
+Italian unity. Perceiving that the nation was determined to give
+monarchy the benefit of a trial, they have--in that reverence for the
+national will which is the first duty of Republicans--patiently awaited
+its results, and endured every form of misgovernment rather than afford
+a pretext to those in power for the non-fulfilment of their declared
+intention of initiating a war to regain our own territory and true
+frontier,--a war without which, as they well knew, the permanent
+security and dignity of Italy were impossible, and which, had it been
+conducted from a truly national point of view, would have wrought the
+moral redemption of our people.
+
+The monarchy, however, which, as I pointed out in my article on "The
+Republican Alliance," had had five years to prepare, and was in a
+position to take the field with thirty-five thousand regular troops,
+one hundred thousand mobilized National Guards, thirty thousand
+volunteers under Garibaldi, and the whole of Italy ready to act as
+reserve, and make any sacrifices in blood or money, abruptly broke off
+the war after the unqualifiable disasters of Custozza and Lissa, at a
+signal from France,--basely abandoning our true frontier, the heroic
+Trentino,--and accepted Venice as an alms scornfully flung to us by the
+man of the 2d of December.
+
+I may be told that a people of twenty-four millions who tamely submit to
+dishonor deserve it.
+
+I admit it; but it must not be forgotten that our masses are uneducated,
+and that it is the natural tendency of the uneducated to accept their
+rulers as their guides, and to govern their own conduct by the example
+of their _soi-disant_ superiors; and I assert that, if our people have
+no consciousness of their great destiny, nor sense of their true power
+and mission,--if, while twenty-four millions of Italians are at the
+present day grouped around, I will not say the _conception_ of unity,
+but the mere unstable _fact_ of union, the great soul of Italy still
+lies prostrate in the tomb dug for her three centuries ago by the Papacy
+and the Empire,--the cause is to be found in the immorality and
+corruption of our rulers.
+
+The true life of a people must be sought in the ruling idea or
+conception by which it is governed and directed.
+
+The true idea of a nation implies the consciousness of a common _aim_,
+and the fraternal association and concentration of all the vital forces
+of the country towards the realization of that aim.
+
+The national aim is indicated by the past tradition, and confirmed by
+the present conscience, of the country.
+
+The national aim once ascertained, it becomes the basis of the sovereign
+power, and the criterion of judgment with regard to the acts of the
+citizens.
+
+Every act tending to promote the national aim is good; every act tending
+to a departure from that aim is evil.
+
+The moral law is supreme. The religion of duty forms the link between
+the nation and humanity; the source of its _right_, and the sign of its
+place and value in humanity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Such are the essential characteristics of what we term a nation at the
+present day. Where these are wanting, there exists but an aggregate of
+families, temporarily united for the purpose of diminishing the ills of
+life, and loosely bound together by past habits or interests, which are
+destined, sooner or later, to clash. All intellectual or economic
+development among them,--unregulated by a great conception supreme over
+every selfish interest,--instead of being equally diffused over the
+various members of the national family, leads to the gradual formation
+of educated or financial _castes_, but obtains for the nation itself
+neither recognized function, position, dignity, nor glory among foreign
+peoples.
+
+These things, which are true of all peoples, are still more markedly so
+of a people emerging from a prolonged and deathlike stupor into new
+life. Other nations earnestly watch its every step. If its advance is
+illumined by the signs of a high mission, and its first manifestations
+sanctified by the baptism of a great _principle_, other nations will
+surround the new collective being with affection and hope, and be ready
+to follow it upon the path assigned to it by God. If they discover in it
+no signs of any noble inspiration, ruling moral conception, or potent
+future, they will learn to despise it, and to regard its territory as a
+new field for a predatory policy, and direct or indirect domination.
+
+Tradition has marked out and defined the characteristics of a high
+mission more distinctly in Italy than elsewhere. We alone, among the
+nations that have expired in the past, have twice arisen in resurrection
+and given new life to Europe. The innate tendency of the Italian mind
+always to harmonize _thought_ and _action_ confirms the prophecy of
+history, and points out the _role_ of Italy in the world to be a work
+of moral unification,--the utterance of the synthetic word of
+civilization.
+
+Italy is a religion.
+
+And if we look only to the _immediate_ national aim, and the inevitable
+consequences that must follow the complete constitution of Italy as a
+nation, we see that to no people in Europe has been assigned a higher
+office in the fulfilment of the educational design, to the evolution of
+which Providence guides humanity from epoch to epoch. Our unity will be
+of itself a potent _initiative_ in the world. The mere fact of our
+existence as a nation will carry with it an important modification of
+the external and internal life of Europe.
+
+Had we regained Venice through a war directed as justice and the
+exigencies of the case required, instead of basely submitting to the
+humiliation of receiving it from the hands of a foreign despot, we
+should have dissolved two empires, and called into existence a
+Slavo-Magyaro-Teutonic federation along the Danube, and a
+Slavo-Hellenic-Rouman federation in the east of Europe.
+
+We shall not regain Rome without dissolving the Papacy, and proclaiming,
+for the benefit of all humanity, that inviolability of conscience which
+Protestantism achieved for a fraction of Europe only, and confined
+within Biblical limits.
+
+Great ideas make great peoples, and the sense of the enormous power
+which is an inseparable condition of the existence of our Italy as a
+nation should have sufficed to make us great. That sense, however,--God
+alone knows the grief with which I write it,--that sense with us is
+wanting.
+
+And now a word as to the amnesty.
+
+Were it my nature to allow any personal considerations to interfere
+where the welfare of my country is concerned, I might answer that none
+who know me would expect me to give the lie to the whole of my past
+life, and sully the few years left to me by accepting an offer of
+_oblivion_ and _pardon_ for having loved Italy above all earthly things,
+and preached and striven for her unity when all others regarded it as a
+dream.
+
+But my purpose in the present writing is far other than self-defence;
+and the sequel will show that, even were the sacrifice of the dignity of
+my last years possible, it would be useless.
+
+My past, present, and future labors towards the moral and political
+regeneration of my country have been, are, and will be governed by a
+religious idea.
+
+The past, present, and future of our rulers have been, are, and will be
+led astray by materialism.
+
+Now the religious question sums up and dominates every other. Political
+questions are necessarily secondary and derivative.
+
+They who earnestly believe in the supremacy of the moral law as the sole
+legitimate source of all authority--in a religion of duty, of which
+politics should be the application--_cannot_, through any amount of
+personal abnegation, act in concert with a government based upon the
+worship of temporary and material interest.
+
+Our rulers have no great ruling conception,--no belief in the supremacy
+of the moral law,--no just notion of life, nor of the human unity,--no
+belief in a divinely appointed goal which it is the _duty_ of mankind to
+reach through labor and sacrifice. They are materialists, and the
+logical consequence of their want of all faith in God and his law are
+the substitution of the idea of _interest_ for the idea of _duty_,--of a
+paltry notion of _tactics_, for the fearless affirmation of the
+truth,--of opportunity, for principle.
+
+It is for this that they protest against, without resisting, wrong,--for
+this that they have abandoned the straight road to wander in tortuous
+by-paths, fascinated by the thought of displaying _state-craft_, and
+forgetting that it was through such paths we first descended into
+slavery. It is for this that our government has reduced Italy to the
+condition of a French prefecture, and that our parliamentary opposition
+copies the wretched tactics of the _Left_ in the French Chamber, which
+prepared the way, during the Restoration, for the present corruption,
+degradation, and enslavement of their country.
+
+These things, I repeat, are _consequences_, not causes. We may change as
+we will the individuals at the head of the government; the system itself
+being based upon a false _principle_, the fatal idea will govern them.
+They _cannot_ righteously direct the new life of the Italian people, and
+redeem them from a profound unconscious immorality of ancient date.
+
+The present duty of the democratic party in Italy, then,--since they
+cannot serve God and Mammon,--is to educate the people; and, remembering
+that the basis of all education is truth, to endeavor to prove to them
+that the actual political impotence and corruption of Italy are derived
+from two causes which may be summed up in one,--we have no religion, and
+we have set up a negation in its place.
+
+
+II.
+
+On the one side we have--as our only form and semblance of religion--the
+Papacy.
+
+I remember to have written, more than thirty years ago, when none other
+dared openly to venture on the problem,--when the boldest contented
+themselves with whispering of reforms in Church discipline, and those
+writers who, like Gioberti, set themselves up as philosophers, thought
+proper, as a matter of tactics, to caress the Utopia of an Italian
+primacy, intrusted to I know not what impossible revival of
+Catholicism,--I remember to have written then that both the Papacy and
+Catholicism were things extinct, and that their death was a consequence
+of _quite another death_.
+
+I spoke of the dogma which was the foundation of both.
+
+Years have confirmed what I then declared. The Papacy is now a corpse
+beyond all power of galvanization. It is the lying mockery of a
+religion,--a source of perennial corruption and immorality among the
+nations, and most fatally such to our own, upon whose very soul weighs
+the incubus and example of that lie. But at the present day we either
+know or ought to know the cause of this.
+
+All contact with the Papacy is contact with death, carrying the taint of
+its corruption over rising Italy, and educating her masses in
+falsehood,--not because cardinals, bishops, and monks traded in
+indulgences three centuries ago,--not because this or that Pope
+trafficked in cowardly concessions to princes, or in the matrimony of
+his own bastards with the bastards of dukes, petty tyrants, or kings, in
+order to obtain some patch of territory or temporal dominion,--not
+because they have governed and persecuted men according to their
+arbitrary will; but because they _cannot_ do other, even if they would.
+
+These evils and these sins are not _causes_, but _consequences_.
+
+Even admitting the impossible hypothesis that the guilty individuals
+should be converted;--that the Jansenists, or other Reformers, should
+recall the misguided Popes to the charity and humility of their ancient
+way of life,--they could only cause the Papacy to die with greater
+dignity;--it can never again be what once it was, the ruler and director
+of the conscience of the peoples.
+
+The mission of the Papacy--a great and holy mission, whatever the
+fanatics of rebellion at the present day, falsifying history and
+calumniating the soul and mind of humanity in the past, may say to the
+contrary--is fulfilled. It was fulfilled six centuries ago; and no power
+of genius, no miracle of will, can avail to revive it. Innocent III. was
+the last true Pope. He was the last who endeavored to make the supremacy
+of the moral law of the epoch over the brute force of the temporal
+governments--of the spirit over matter, of God over Caesar--an organic
+social _fact_.
+
+And such was in truth the mission of the Papacy,--the secret of its
+power, and of the willing adherence and submission yielded to it by
+humanity for eight hundred years. That mission was incarnated in one of
+the greatest of Italians in genius, virtue, and iron strength of
+will,--Gregory VII.,--and yet he failed to prolong it. One hundred and
+fifty years afterwards, the gigantic attempt had become but the dim
+record of a past never to return. With the successors of Innocent III.
+began the decline of the Papacy; it ceased to infuse life into humanity.
+A hundred years later, and the Church had become scandalously corrupt in
+the higher spheres of its hierarchy, persecuting and superstitious in
+the lower. A hundred years later it was the ally, and in one hundred
+more the servant of Caesar, and had lost one half of Europe.
+
+From that time forward it has unceasingly declined, until it has sunk to
+the thing we now behold it;--disinherited of all power of inspiration
+over civilization; the impotent negation of all movement, of all
+liberty, of all development of science or life; destitute of all sense
+of duty, power of sacrifice, or faith in its own destiny; held up by
+foreign bayonets; trembling before the face of the peoples, and forsaken
+by humanity, which is seeking the path of progress elsewhere.
+
+The Papacy has lost all moral basis, aim, sanction, and source of action
+at the present day. Its source of action in the past was derived from a
+conception of heaven since changed,--from a notion of life since proved
+imperfect,--from a conception of the moral law inferior to that of the
+new epoch in course of initiation,--from a solution of the eternal
+problem of the relation between man and God since rejected by the human
+heart, intellect, conscience, and tradition.
+
+The dogma itself which the Church once represented is exhausted and
+consumed. It no longer inspires faith, no longer has power to unite or
+direct the human race.
+
+The time of a new dogma is approaching, which will re-link earth with
+heaven in a vaster synthesis, fruitful of new and harmonious life.
+
+It is for this that the Papacy expires. And it is our duty to declare
+this, without hypocritical reticence, or formulae of speech, which,
+feigning to attack and venerate at one and the same time, do but parcel
+out, not solve the problem; because the future cannot be fully revealed
+until the past is entombed, and by weakly prolonging the delay we run
+the risk of introducing gangrene into the wound.
+
+The formula of life and of the law of life from which the Papacy derived
+its existence and its mission was that of the _fall_ of man and his
+redemption. The logical and inevitable consequences of this formula
+were:--
+
+The doctrine of the necessity of _mediation_ between man and God;
+
+The belief in a _direct_, _immediate_, and _immutable_ revelation, and
+hence in a privileged class,--naturally destined to centralize in one
+individual,--the office of which was to preserve that revelation
+inviolate;
+
+The inefficacy of man's own efforts to achieve his own redemption, and
+the consequent substitution of unlimited _faith_ in the _Mediator_, for
+works,--hence _grace_ and _predestination_ more or less explicitly
+substituted for _free-will_;
+
+The separation of the human race into the _elect_ and the _non-elect_;
+
+The _salvation_ of the one, and the eternal _damnation_ of the other;
+and, above all,
+
+The duality between earth and heaven, between the _ideal_ and the
+_real_, between the _aim_ set before man and a world condemned to
+anathema by the _fall_, and incapable, through the imperfection of its
+finite elements, of affording him the means of realizing that aim.
+
+In fact, the religious synthesis which succeeded Polytheism did not
+contemplate, nor did the historical succession of the epochs allow it to
+contemplate, any conception of life embracing more than the
+_individual_; it offered the individual a means of salvation _in despite
+of_ the egotism, tyranny, and corruption by which he is surrounded on
+earth, and which no individual effort could hope to overcome; it came to
+declare to him, _The world is adverse to thee; renounce the world and
+put thy faith in Christ; this will lead thee to heaven_.
+
+The new formula of life and its law--unknown at that day, but revealed
+to us in our own day by our knowledge of the tradition of humanity,
+confirmed by the voice of individual conscience, by the intuition of
+genius and the grand results of scientific research--may be summed up in
+the single word _Progress_,[D] which we now know to be, by Divine
+decree, the inherent tendency of human nature,--whether manifested in
+the individual or the collective being,--and destined, more or less
+speedily, but inevitably, to be evolved in time and space.
+
+The logical consequences of the new formula are:--
+
+The substitution of the idea of a _law_ for the idea of a
+_Mediator_;--the idea of a _continuous_ educational revelation for that
+of an _immediate_ arbitrary revelation;
+
+The apostolate of genius and virtue, and of the great collective
+intuitions of the peoples, when roused to enthusiastic action in the
+service of a truth, substituted for the _privilege_ of a priestly
+_class_;
+
+The sanctity of tradition, as the depository of the progress already
+achieved; and the sanctity of individual conscience, alike the pledge
+and the means of all future progress;
+
+_Works_, sanctified by faith, substituted for mere faith alone, as the
+criterion of merit and means of salvation.
+
+The new formula of life cancels the dogma of _grace_, which is the
+negation of that capacity of perfectibility granted to _all_ men; as
+well as that of _predestination_, which is the negation of _free-will_,
+and that of eternity of punishment, which is the negation of the divine
+element existing in every human soul.
+
+The new formula substitutes the conception of the slow, continuous
+progress of the human _Ego_ throughout an indefinite series of
+existences, for the idea of an impossible perfection to be achieved in
+the course of one brief existence; it presents an absolutely, new view
+of the mission of man upon earth, and puts an end to the antagonism
+between earth and heaven, by teaching us that this world is an abode
+given to man _wherein_ he is bound to merit salvation, by his own works,
+and hence enforces the necessity of endeavoring, by thought, by action,
+and by sacrifice, to transform the world,--the duty of realizing our
+ideal here below, as far as in us lies, for the benefit of future
+generations, and of reducing to an earthly _fact_ as much as may be of
+the _kingdom_--the conception--of God.
+
+The religious synthesis which is slowly but infallibly taking the place
+of the synthesis of the past comprehends a new term,--the continuous
+_collective_ life of humanity; and this alone is sufficient to change
+the _aim_, the _method_, and the moral _law_ of our existence.
+
+All links with heaven broken, and useless to the earth, which is ready
+to hail the proclamation of a new dogma, the Papacy has no longer any
+_raison d'etre_. Once useful and holy, it is now a lie, a source only of
+corruption and immorality.
+
+Once useful and holy, I say, because, had it not been for the unity of
+moral life in which we were held for more than eight centuries by the
+Papacy, we should not now have been prepared to realize the new unity to
+come; had it not been for the dogma of human equality in heaven, we
+should not now have been prepared to proclaim the dogma of human
+equality on earth. And, I declare it a lie and a source of immorality at
+the present day, because every great institution becomes such if it
+seeks to perpetuate its authority after its mission is fulfilled. The
+substitution of the enslavement for the slaughter of the conquered foe
+was a step towards progress, as was the substitution of servitude for
+slavery. The formation of the _Bourgeoise_ class was a progress from
+servitude. But he who at the present day should attempt to recede
+towards slavery and servitude, and presumptuously endeavor to perpetuate
+the exclusion of the proletarian from the rights and benefits of the
+social organization, would prove himself the enemy of all civilization,
+past and future, and a teacher of immorality.
+
+It is therefore the duty of all those amongst us who have it at heart to
+win _the city of the future_ and the triumph of truth, to make war, not
+only upon the temporal power,--who should dare deny that to the admitted
+representative of God on earth?--but upon the Papacy itself. It is
+therefore our duty to go back to the dogma upon which the institution is
+founded, and to show that that dogma has become insufficient and unequal
+to the moral wants, aspirations, and dawning faith of humanity.
+
+They who at the present day attack the _Prince_ of Rome, and yet profess
+to venerate the _Pope_, and to be sincere Catholics, are either guilty
+of flagrant contradiction, or are hypocrites.
+
+They who profess to reduce the problem to the realization of _a free
+Church in a free State_ are either influenced by a fatal timidity, or
+destitute of every spark of moral conviction.
+
+The separation of Church and State is good as a weapon of defence
+against the corruptions of a Church no longer worthy the name. It
+is--like all the programmes of mere liberty--an implicit declaration
+that the institution against which we are compelled to invoke either our
+individual or collective rights is corrupt, and destined to perish.
+
+Individual or collective rights may be justly invoked against the
+authority of a religious institution as a remedial measure in a period
+of transition; just as it may occasionally be necessary to isolate a
+special locality for a given time, in order to protect others from
+infection. But the cause must be explicitly declared. By declaring it,
+you educate the country to look beyond the temporary measure,--to look
+forward to a return to a normal state of things, and to study the
+positive organic _principle_ destined to govern that normal state. By
+keeping silence, you accustom the mass to disjoin the _moral_ from the
+political, theory from practice, the ideal from the real, heaven from
+earth.
+
+When once all belief in the past synthesis shall be extinct, and faith
+in the new synthesis established, the State itself will be elected into
+a Church; it will incarnate in itself a religious principle, and become
+the representative of the moral law in the various manifestations of
+life.
+
+So long as it is separate from the State, the Church will always
+conspire to reconquer power over it in the interest of the past dogma.
+If separated from all collective and avowed faith by a negative policy,
+such as that adopted by the atheistic and indifferent French Parliament,
+the State will fall a prey to the anarchical doctrine of the sovereignty
+of the individual, and the worship of interest; it will sink into
+egotism and the adoration of the _accomplished fact_, and hence,
+inevitably, into despotism, as a remedy for the evils of anarchy.
+
+For an example of this among modern nations, we have only to look at
+France.
+
+
+III.
+
+On the other hand, in opposition to the Papacy, but itself a source of
+no less corruption, stands _materialism_.
+
+Materialism, the philosophy of all expiring epochs and peoples in decay,
+is, historically speaking, an old phenomenon, inseparable from the death
+of a religious dogma. It is the reaction of those superficial intellects
+which, incapable of taking a comprehensive view of the life of humanity,
+and tracing and deducing its essential characteristics from tradition,
+deny the religious ideal itself, instead of simply affirming the death
+of one of its incarnations.
+
+Luther compared the human mind to a drunken peasant, who, falling from
+one side of his horse, and set straight on his seat by one desirous of
+helping him, instantly falls again on the other side. The simile--if
+limited to periods of transition--is most just. The youth of Italy,
+suddenly emancipated from the servile education of more than three
+centuries, and intoxicated with their moral liberty, find themselves in
+the presence of a Church destitute of all mission, virtue, love for the
+people, or adoration of truth or progress,--destitute even of faith in
+itself. They see that the existing dogma is in flagrant contradiction of
+the ruling idea that governs all the aspirations of the epoch, and that
+its conception of divinity is inferior to that revealed by science,
+human conscience, philosophy, and the improved conception of life
+acquired by the study of the tradition of humanity, unknown to man
+previously to the discovery of his Eastern origin. Therefore, in
+order--as they believe--to establish their moral freedom radically and
+forever, they reject alike all idea of a church, a dogma, and a God.
+
+Philosophically speaking, the unreflecting exaggerations of men who have
+just risen up in rebellion do not portend any serious damage to human
+progress. These errors are a mere repetition of what has always taken
+place at the decay and death of every dogma, and will--as they always
+have done--sooner or later wear away. The day will come when our Italian
+youth will discover that, just as reasonably as they, not content with
+denying the Christian dogma, proceed to deny the existence of a God, and
+the religious life of humanity, their ancestors might have proceeded,
+from their denial and rejection of the feudal system, to the rejection
+of every form of social organization, or have declared art extinct
+forever during the transition period when the Greek form of art had
+ceased to correspond to those aspirations of the human mind which
+prepared the way for the cathedrals of the Middle Ages and the Christian
+school of art.
+
+Art, society, religion,--all these are faculties inseparable from human
+life itself, progressive as life itself, and eternal as life itself.
+Every epoch of humanity has had and will have its own social, artistic,
+and religious _expression_. In every epoch man will ask of tradition and
+of conscience whence he came, and to what goal he is bound; he will ask
+through what paths that goal is to be reached, and seek to solve the
+problem suggested by the existence within him of a conception of the
+Infinite, and of an ideal impossible of realization in the finite
+conditions of his earthly existence. He will, from time to time, adopt a
+different solution, in proportion as the horizon of tradition is
+progressively enlarged, and the human conscience enlightened; but
+assuredly it will never be a mere negation.
+
+Philosophically speaking, materialism is based upon a singular but
+constant confusion of two things radically distinct;--life, and its
+successive modes of manifestation; the _Ego_, and the organs by which it
+is revealed in a visible form to the external world, the non-_Ego_. The
+men who, having succeeded in analyzing the _instruments_ by means of
+which life is made manifest in a series of successive finite phenomena,
+imagine that they have acquired a proof of the _materiality_ of life
+itself, resemble the poor fool, who, having chemically analyzed the ink
+with which a poem was written, imagines he has penetrated the secret of
+the genius that composed it.
+
+Life,--thought,--the initiative power of motion,--the conception of the
+Infinite, of the Eternal, of God, which is inborn in the human
+mind,--the aspiration towards an ideal impossible of realization in the
+brief stage of our earthly existence,--the instinct of free will,--all
+that constitutes the mysterious link within us to a world beyond the
+visible,--defy all analysis by a philosophy exclusively experimental,
+and impotent to overpass the sphere of the secondary laws of being.
+
+If materialists choose to reject the teachings of tradition, the voice
+of human conscience and intuition, to limit themselves to the mechanism
+of analytical observation, and substitute their narrow, undirected
+physiology for biology and psychology,--if then, finding themselves
+unable by that imperfect method to comprehend the primary laws and
+origin of things, they childishly deny the existence of such laws, and
+declare all humanity before their time to have been deluded and
+incapable,--so be it. Nor should I, had Italy been a nation for half a
+century, have regarded their doctrines as fraught with any real danger.
+Humanity will not abandon its appointed path for them; and to hear
+them--in an age in which the discoveries of all great thinkers combine
+to demonstrate the existence of an intelligent preordained law of unity
+and progress--spouting materialism in the name of science, because they
+have skimmed a volume of Vogt, or attended a lecture by Moleschott,
+might rather move one to amusement than anger.
+
+But Italy is not a nation; she is only in the way to become one. And the
+present is therefore a moment of grave importance; for, even as the
+first examples set before infancy, so the first lessons taught to a
+people emerging from a long past of error and corruption, and hesitating
+as to the choice of its future, may be of serious import. The doctrines
+of federalism, which, if preached in France at the present day, would be
+but an innocent Utopia, threatened the dissolution of the country during
+the first years of the Revolution. They laid bare the path for foreign
+conquest, and roused the _Mountain_ to bloody and terrible means of
+repression.
+
+Such for us are the wretched doctrines of which I speak. Fate has set
+before us a great and holy mission, which, if we fail to accomplish it
+now, may be postponed for half a century. Every delay, every error, may
+be fatal. And the people through whom we have to work are uneducated,
+liable to accept any error which wears a semblance of war against the
+past, and in danger, from their long habit of slavery, of relapsing
+into egotism.
+
+Now the tendency of the doctrines of materialism is to lead the mass to
+egotism through the path of interest. Therefore it grieves me to hear
+them preached by many worthy but inconsiderate young men amongst us; and
+I conjure them, by all they hold most sacred, to meditate deeply the
+moral consequences of the doctrines they preach, and especially to study
+their effect in the case of a neighboring nation, which carried negation
+to the extreme during the past century, and which we behold at the
+present day utterly corrupted by the worship of temporary and material
+interest, disinherited of all noble activity, and sunk in the
+degradation and infamy of slavery.
+
+Every error is a crime in those whose duty it is to watch over the
+cradle of a nation.
+
+Either we must admit the idea of a God,--of the moral law, which is an
+emanation from him,--and the idea of human duty, freely accepted by
+mankind, as the practical consequence of that law,--or we must admit the
+idea of a ruling force of things, and its practical consequence, the
+worship of individual force or success, the omnipotence of _fact_. From
+this dilemma there is no escape.
+
+Either we must accept the sovereignty of an _aim_ prescribed by
+conscience, in which all the individuals composing a nation are bound to
+unite, and the pursuit of which constitutes the _nationality_ of a given
+people among the many of which humanity is composed,--an aim recognized
+by them all, and superior to them all, and therefore _religious_; or we
+must accept the sovereignty of the _right_, arbitrarily defined, of each
+nation, and its practical consequences,--the pursuit by each individual
+of his own interest and his own _well-being_, the satisfaction of his
+own desires,--and the impossibility of any sovereign _duty_, to which
+all the citizens, from those who govern down to the humblest of the
+governed, owe obedience and sacrifice.
+
+Which of these doctrines will be most potent to lead our nation to high
+things? Let us not forget that, although the educated, intellectual, and
+virtuous may be willing to admit that the _well-being_ of the individual
+should be founded--even at the cost of sacrifice--upon the _well-being_
+of the many, the majority will, as they always have done, understand
+their _well-being_ to mean their positive satisfaction or enjoyment;
+they will reject the notion of sacrifice as painful, and endeavor to
+realize their own happiness, even to the injury of others. They will
+seek it one day from liberty, the next from the deceitful promises of a
+despot; but the practical result of encouraging them to strive for the
+realization of their own happiness as a right, will inevitably be to
+lead them to the mere gratification of their own individual egotism.
+
+If you reject all Supreme law, all Providential guidance, all aim, all
+obligation imposed by the belief in a mission towards humanity, you have
+no right to prescribe _your_ conception of _well-being_ to others, as
+worthier or better. You have no certain basis, no principle upon which
+to found a system of education; you have nothing left but force, if you
+are strong enough to impose it. Such was the method adopted by the
+French Revolutionists, and they, in their turn, succumbed to the force
+of others, without knowing in the name of what to protest. And you would
+have to do the same. Without God, you must either accept anarchy as the
+normal condition of things,--and this is impossible,--or you must seek
+your authority in the _force_ of this or that individual, and thus open
+the way to despotism and tyranny.
+
+But what then becomes of the idea of progress?--what of the conception
+we have lately gained from historic science of the gradual but
+infallible education of humanity,--of the link of _solidary_ ascending
+life which unites succeeding generations,--of the duty of sacrificing,
+if need be, the present generation to the elevation and morality of the
+generations of the future,--of the pre-eminence of the fatherland over
+individuals, and the certainty that their devotion and martyrdom will,
+in the fulness of time, advance the honor, greatness, or virtue of their
+nation?
+
+There are _materialists_, illogical and carried away by the impulses of
+a heart superior to their doctrines, who do both feel and act upon this
+worship of the ideal; but _materialism_ denies it. Materialism, as a
+doctrine, only recognizes in the universe a finite and determinate
+quantity of matter, gifted with a definite number of properties, and
+susceptible of modification, but not of progress; in which certain
+productive forces act by the fortuitous agglomeration of circumstances
+not to be predicated or foreseen; or through the necessary succession of
+causes and effects,--of events inevitable and independent of all human
+action.
+
+Materialism admits neither the intervention of any creative
+intelligence, Divine initiative, nor human free-will; by denying the
+law-giving Intellect, it denies all intelligent Providential law; and
+the philosophy of the squirrel in its cage, which men term _Pantheism_
+at the present day, by confounding the _subject_ and the _object_ in
+one, cancels alike the _Ego_ and non-_Ego_, good and evil, God and man,
+and, consequently, all individual mission or free-will. The wretched
+doctrine, recognizing no higher historic formula than the necessary
+alternation of vicissitudes, condemns humanity to tread eternally the
+same circle, being incapable of comprehending the conception of the
+spiral path of indefinite progress upon which humanity traces its
+gradual ascent towards an ideal beyond.
+
+Strange contradiction! Men whose aim it is to combat the practice of
+egotism instilled into the Italian people by tyranny, to inspire them
+with a sacred devotion to the fatherland, and make of them a great
+nation, the artificer of the progress of humanity, present as the first
+intellectual food of this people now awakening to new life, whose whole
+strength lies in their good instincts and virginity of intellect, a
+theory the ultimate consequences of which are to establish egotism upon
+a basis of right!
+
+They call upon their people worthily to carry on the grand traditions of
+their past, when all around them--popes, princes, military leaders,
+_literati_, and the servile herd--have either insolently trampled
+liberty under foot, or deserted its cause in cowardly indifference; and
+they preach to them a doctrine which deprives them of every pledge of
+future progress, every stimulus to affection, every noble aspiration
+towards sacrifice,--they take from them the faith that inspires
+confidence in victory, and renders even the defeat of to-day fruitful of
+triumph on the morrow. The same men who urge upon them the duty of
+shedding their blood for an idea begin by declaring to them: _There is
+no hope of any future for you. Faith in immortality--the lesson
+transmitted to you by all past humanity--is a falsehood; a breath of
+air, or trifling want of equilibrium in the animal functions, destroys
+you wholly and forever. There is even no certainty that the results of
+your labors will endure; there is no Providential law or design,
+consequently no possible theory of the future; you are but building up
+to-day what any unforeseen fact, blind force, or fortuitous circumstance
+may overthrow to-morrow._
+
+They teach these brothers of theirs, whom they desire to elevate and
+ennoble, that they are but dust,--a necessary, unconscious secretion of
+I know not what material substance; that the _thought_ of a Kepler or
+Dante is _dust_, or rather _phosphorus_; that genius, from Prometheus to
+Jesus, brought down no divine spark from heaven; that the _moral law_,
+free-will, merit, and the consequent progress of the _Ego_, are
+illusions; that events are successively our masters,--inexorable,
+irresponsible, and insuperable to human will.
+
+And they see not that they thus confirm that servile submission to the
+_accomplished fact_, that doctrine of _opportunity_, that bastard
+Machiavellism, that worship of temporary interests, and that
+indifference to every great idea, which find expression in our country
+at the present day in the betrayal of national duty by our higher
+classes, and in the stupid resignation of our masses.
+
+
+IV.
+
+I invoke the rising--and I should die consoled, even in exile, could I
+see the first signs of its advent, but this I dare not hope--I invoke
+the rising of a truly Italian school;--a school which, comprehending the
+causes of the downfall of the Papacy, and the impotence of the merely
+negative doctrine which our Italian youth have borrowed from superficial
+French materialists and the German copyists, should elevate itself above
+both, and come forward to announce the approaching and inevitable
+religious transformation which will put an end to the existing divorce
+between thought and action, and to the crisis of egotism and immorality
+through which Europe is passing.
+
+I invoke the rising of a school destined to prepare the way for the
+_initiative_ of Italy;--which shall, on the one side, undertake the
+examination of the dogma upon which Catholicism was founded, and prove
+it to be worn out, exhausted, and in contradiction to our new conception
+of life and its laws; and, on the other hand, the refutation of
+materialism under whatsoever form it may present itself, and prove that
+it also is in contradiction of that new conception,--that it is a
+stupid, fatal negation of all moral law, of human free-will, of our
+every sacred hope, and of the calm and constant virtue of sacrifice.
+
+I invoke a school which shall philosophically develop all the
+consequences, the germ of which--neglected or ignored by superficial
+intellects--is contained in the word Progress considered as a new _term_
+in the great historical synthesis, the expression of the ascending
+advance of humanity from epoch to epoch, from religion to religion,
+towards a vaster conception of its own _aim_ and its own law.
+
+I invoke the rising of a school destined to demonstrate to the youth of
+Italy that _rationalism_ is but an _instrument_,--the instrument adopted
+in all periods of transition by the human intellect to aid its progress
+from a worn-out form of religion to one new and superior,--and science
+only an accumulation of materials to be arranged and organized in
+fruitful synthesis by a new moral conception;--a school that will recall
+philosophy from this puerile confusion of the _means_ with the _aim_, to
+bring it back to its sole true basis, the knowledge of life and
+comprehension of its law.
+
+I invoke a school which will seek the truth of the epoch, not in mere
+analysis,--always barren and certain to mislead, if undirected by a
+ruling principle,--but in an earnest study of universal tradition, which
+is the manifestation of the collective life of humanity; and of
+conscience, which is the manifestation of the life of the individual.
+
+I invoke a school which shall redeem from the neglect cast upon it by
+theories deduced from one of our human faculties alone that _intuition_
+which is the concentration of all the faculties upon a given subject;--a
+school which, even while declaring it exhausted, will respect the
+_past_, without which the _future_ would be impossible,--which will
+protest against those intellectual barbarians for whom every religion is
+falsehood, every form of civilization now extinct a folly, every great
+pope, king, or warrior now in the course of things surpassed a criminal
+or a hypocrite, and revoke the condemnation, thus uttered by presumption
+in the present, of the past labors and intellect of entire humanity;--a
+school which may condemn, but will not defame,--will judge, but never,
+through frenzy of rebellion, falsify history;--a school which will
+declare the death that _is_, without denying the life that _was_,--which
+will call upon Italy to emancipate herself for the achievement of new
+glories, but strip not a single leaf from her wreath of glories past.
+
+Such a school would regain for Italy her European initiative, her
+primacy.
+
+Italy--as I have said--is a religion.
+
+Some have affirmed this of France. They were mistaken. France--if we
+except the single moment when the Revolution and Napoleon summed up the
+achievements of the epoch of _individuality_--has never had any external
+mission, other than, occasionally, as an arm of the Church, the
+_instrument_ of an idea emanating from Papal Rome.
+
+But the mission of Italy in the world was at all times religious, and
+the essential character of Italian genius was at all times religious.
+
+The essence of every religion lies in a power, unknown to mere science,
+of compelling man to reduce thought to action, and harmonize his
+practical life with his moral conception. The genius of our nation,
+whenever it has been spontaneously revealed, and exercised independently
+of all foreign inspiration, has always evinced the religious character,
+the unifying power to which I allude. Every conception of the Italian
+mind sought its incarnation in action,--strove to assume a form in the
+political sphere. The ideal and the real, elsewhere divided, have always
+tended to be united in our land. Sabines and Etruscans alike derived
+their civil organization and way of life from their conception of
+Heaven. The Pythagoreans founded their philosophy, religious
+associations, and political institutions at one and the same time. The
+source of the vitality and power of Rome lay in a religious sense of a
+collective mission, of an _aim_ to be achieved, in the contemplation of
+which the individual was submerged. Our democratic republics were all
+religious. Our early philosophical thinkers were all tormented by the
+idea of translating their ideal conceptions into practical rules of
+government.
+
+And as to our external mission.
+
+We alone have twice given _moral_ unity to Europe, to the known world.
+The voice that issued from Rome in the past was addressed to and
+reverenced by humanity,--"Urbs Orbi."
+
+Italy is a religion. And when, in my earliest years, I believed that
+the _initiative_ of the third life of Europe would spring from the
+heart, the action, the enthusiasm and sacrifice of our people, I heard
+within me the grand voice of Rome sounding once again, hailed and
+accepted with loving reverence by the peoples, and telling of moral
+unity and fraternity in a faith common to all humanity. It was not the
+unity of the past,--which, though sacred and conducive to civilization
+for many centuries, did but emancipate _individual_ man, and reveal to
+him an ideal of liberty and equality only to be realized in Heaven: it
+was a new unity, emancipating _collective_ humanity, and revealing the
+formula of Association, through which liberty and equality are destined
+to be realized here on earth; sanctifying the earth and rendering it
+what God wills it should be,--a stage upon the path of perfection, a
+means given to man wherewith to deserve a higher and nobler existence
+hereafter.
+
+And I saw Rome, in the name of God and Republican Italy, substituting a
+declaration of PRINCIPLES for the barren declaration of
+rights,--principles the logical consequences of the parent idea,
+PROGRESS,--and revealing to the nations a common aim, and the basis of a
+new religion. And I saw Europe, weary of scepticism, egotism, and moral
+anarchy, receive the new faith with acclamations. I saw a new pact
+founded upon that faith,--a pact of united action in the work of human
+perfectibility, involving none of the evils or dangers of the former
+pact, because among the first consequences of a faith founded upon the
+dogma of progress would be the justification of _heresy_, as either a
+promise or endeavor after progress in the future.
+
+The vision which brightened my first dream of country has vanished, so
+far as concerns my own life. Even if that vision be ever fulfilled,--as
+I believe it will be,--I shall be in the tomb. May the young, as yet
+uncorrupted by scepticism, prepare the way for its realization; and may
+they, in the name of our national tradition and the future, unceasingly
+protest against all who seek to immobilize human life in the name of a
+dogma extinct, or to degrade it by diverting it from the eternal worship
+of the Ideal.
+
+The religious question is pre-eminent over every other at the present
+day, and the moral question is indissolubly linked with it. We are bound
+either to solve these, or renounce all idea of an Italian mission in the
+world.
+
+                      JOSEPH MAZZINI.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote D: This sacred word, which sums up the dogma of the future,
+has been uttered by every school, but misunderstood by the majority.
+Materialists have usurped the use of it, to express man's
+ever-increasing power over the productive forces of the earth; and men
+of science, to indicate that accumulation of _facts_ discovered and
+submitted to analysis which has led us to a better knowledge of
+secondary causes. Few understand it as the expression of a providential
+conception or design, inseparable from our human life and foundation of
+our moral law.]
+
+
+
+
+REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+
+_Miss Ravenel's Conversion from Secession to Loyalty._ By J. W. DE
+FORREST. New York: Harper and Brothers.
+
+The light, strong way in which our author goes forward in this story
+from the first, and does not leave difficulty to his readers, is
+pleasing to those accustomed to find an American novel a good deal like
+the now extinct American stage-coach whose passengers not only walked
+over bad pieces of road, but carried fence-rails on their shoulders to
+pry the vehicle out of the sloughs and miry places. It was partly the
+fault of the imperfect roads, no doubt, and it may be that our social
+ways have only just now settled into such a state as makes smooth going
+for the novelist; nevertheless, the old stage-coach was hard to travel
+in, and what with drafts upon one's good nature for assistance, it must
+be confessed that our novelists have been rather trying to their
+readers. It is well enough with us all while the road is good,--a study
+of individual character, a bit of landscape, a stretch of well-worn
+plot, gentle slopes of incident; but somewhere on the way the passengers
+are pretty sure to be asked to step out,--the ladies to walk on ahead,
+and the gentlemen to fetch fence-rails.
+
+Our author imagines a Southern loyalist and his daughter sojourning in
+New Boston, Barataria, during the first months of the war. Dr. Ravenel
+has escaped from New Orleans just before the Rebellion began, and has
+brought away with him the most sarcastic and humorous contempt and
+abhorrence of his late fellow-citizens, while his daughter, an ardent
+and charming little blonde Rebel, remembers Louisiana with longing and
+blind admiration. The Doctor, born in South Carolina, and living all his
+days among slaveholders and slavery, has not learned to love either; but
+Lillie differs from him so widely as to scream with joy when she hears
+of Bull Run. Naturally she cannot fall in love with Mr. Colburne, the
+young New Boston lawyer, who goes into the war conscientiously for his
+country's sake, and resolved for his own to make himself worthy and
+lovable in Lillie's blue eyes by destroying and desolating all that she
+holds dear. It requires her marriage with Colonel Carter--a Virginia
+gentleman, a good-natured drunkard and _roue_ and soldier of fortune on
+our side--to make her see Colburne's worth, as it requires some
+comparative study of New Orleans and New Boston, on her return to her
+own city, to make her love the North. Bereft of her husband by his own
+wicked weakness, and then widowed, she can at last wisely love and marry
+Colburne; and, cured of Secession by experiencing on her father's
+account the treatment received by Unionists in New Orleans, her
+conversion to loyalty is a question of time duly settled before the
+story ends.
+
+We sketch the plot without compunction, for these people of Mr. De
+Forrest's are so unlike characters in novels as to be like people in
+life, and none will wish the less to see them because he knows the
+outline of their history. Not only is the plot good and very well
+managed, but there is scarcely a feebly painted character or scene in
+the book. As to the style, it is so praiseworthy that we will not
+specifically censure occasional defects,--for the most part, slight
+turgidities notable chiefly from their contrast to the prevailing
+simplicity of the narrative.
+
+Our war has not only left us the burden of a tremendous national debt,
+but has laid upon our literature a charge under which it has hitherto
+staggered very lamely. Every author who deals in fiction feels it to be
+his duty to contribute towards the payment of the accumulated interest
+in the events of the war, by relating his work to them; and the heroes
+of young-lady writers in the magazines have been everywhere fighting the
+late campaigns over again, as young ladies would have fought them. We do
+not say that this is not well, but we suspect that Mr. De Forrest is the
+first to treat the war really and artistically. His campaigns do not try
+the reader's constitution, his battles are not bores. His soldiers are
+the soldiers we actually know,--the green wood of the volunteers, the
+warped stuff of men torn from civilization and cast suddenly into the
+barbarism of camps, the hard, dry, tough, true fibre of the veterans
+that came out of the struggle. There could hardly be a better type of
+the conscientious and patriotic soldier than Captain Colburne; and if
+Colonel Carter must not stand as type of the officers of the old army,
+he mast be acknowledged as true to the semi-civilization of the South.
+On the whole he is more entertaining than Colburne, as immoral people
+are apt to be to those who suffer nothing from them. "His contrasts of
+slanginess and gentility, his mingled audacity and _insouciance_ of
+character, and all the picturesque ins and outs of his moral
+architecture, so different from the severe plainness of the spiritual
+temples common in New Boston," do take the eye of peace-bred
+Northerners, though never their sympathy. Throughout, we admire, as the
+author intends, Carter's thorough and enthusiastic soldiership, and we
+perceive the ruins of a generous nature in his aristocratic Virginian
+pride, his Virginian profusion, his imperfect Virginian sense of honor.
+When he comes to be shot, fighting bravely at the head of his column,
+after having swindled his government, and half unwillingly done his
+worst to break his wife's heart, we feel that our side has lost a good
+soldier, but that the world is on the whole something better for our
+loss. The reader must go to the novel itself for a perfect conception of
+this character, and preferably to those dialogues in which Colonel
+Carter so freely takes part; for in his development of Carter, at least,
+Mr. De Forrest is mainly dramatic. Indeed, all the talk in the book is
+free and natural, and, even without the hard swearing which
+distinguishes the speech of some, it would be difficult to mistake one
+speaker for another, as often happens in novels.
+
+The character of Dr. Ravenel, though so simple, is treated in a manner
+invariably delightful and engaging. His native purity, amiability, and
+generosity, which a life-long contact with slavery could not taint; his
+cordial scorn of Southern ideas; his fine and flawless instinct of
+honor; his warm-hearted courtesy and gentleness, and his gayety and wit;
+his love of his daughter and of mineralogy; his courage, modesty, and
+humanity,--these are the traits which recur in the differing situations
+with constant pleasure to the reader.
+
+Miss Lillie Ravenel is as charming as her adored papa, and is never less
+nor more than a bright, lovable, good, constant, inconsequent woman. It
+is to her that the book owes its few scenes of tenderness and sentiment;
+but she is by no means the most prominent character in the novel, as the
+infelicitous title would imply, and she serves chiefly to bring into
+stronger relief the traits of Colonel Carter and Doctor Ravenel. The
+author seems not even to make so much study of her as of Mrs. Larue, a
+lady whose peculiar character is skilfully drawn, and who will be quite
+probable and explicable to any who have studied the traits of the noble
+Latin race, and a little puzzling to those acquainted only with people
+of Northern civilization. Yet in Mrs. Larue the author comes near making
+his failure. There is a little too much of her,--it is as if the wily
+enchantress had cast her glamour upon the author himself,--and there is
+too much anxiety that the nature of her intrigue with Carter shall not
+be misunderstood. Nevertheless, she bears that stamp of verity which
+marks all Mr. De Forrest's creations, and which commends to our
+forbearance rather more of the highly colored and strongly-flavored
+parlance of the camps than could otherwise have demanded reproduction in
+literature. The bold strokes with which such an amusing and heroic
+reprobate as Van Zandt and such a pitiful poltroon as Gazaway are
+painted, are no less admirable than the nice touches which portray the
+Governor of Barataria, and some phases of the aristocratic,
+conscientious, truthful, angular, professorial society of New Boston,
+with its young college beaux and old college belles, and its life pure,
+colorless, and cold to the eye as celery, yet full of rich and wholesome
+juices. It is the goodness of New Boston, and of New England, which,
+however unbeautiful, has elevated and saved our whole national
+character; and in his book there is sufficient evidence of our author's
+appreciation of this fact, as well as of sympathy only and always with
+what is brave and true in life.
+
+
+_A Journey to Ashango-Land: and further Penetration into Equatorial
+Africa._ By PAUL B. DU CHAILLU. With Maps and Illustrations. New York:
+D. Appleton & Co.
+
+Somewhere in the heart of the African continent, Mr. Du Chaillu, laying
+his head upon a rock, after a day of uncommon hardship, finds reason to
+lament the ungratefulness of the traveller's fate, which brings him,
+through perilous adventure and great suffering, to the incredulity and
+coldness of a public unable to receive his story with perfect faith. It
+is such a meditation as ought to reproach very keenly the sceptics who
+doubted Mr. Du Chaillu's first book; it certainly renews in the reader
+of the present work the satisfaction felt in the comparative
+reasonableness of the things narrated, and his consequent ability to put
+an unmurmuring trust in the author. Here, indeed, is very little of the
+gorilla whom we formerly knew: his ferocity is greatly abated; he only
+once beats his breast and roars; he does not twist gun-barrels; his
+domestic habits are much simplified; his appearance here is relatively
+as unimportant as Mr. Pendennis's in the "Newcomes"; he is a deposed
+hero; and Mr. Du Chaillu pushes on to Ashango-Land without him.
+Otherwise, moreover, the narrative is quite credible, and, so far,
+unattractive, though there is still enough of incident to hold the idle,
+and enough of information in the appendices concerning the
+characteristics of the African skulls collected by Du Chaillu, the
+geographical and astronomical observations made _en route_, and the
+linguistic peculiarities noted, to interest the scientific. The book is
+perhaps not a fortunate one for those who occupy a place between these
+classes of readers, and who are tempted to ask of Mr. Du Chaillu, Have
+you really four hundred and thirty-seven royal octavo pages of news to
+tell us of Equatorial Africa?
+
+Our traveller landed in West Africa in the autumn of 1863, and, after a
+short excursion in the coast country in search of the gorilla, he
+ascended the Fernand Vaz in a steamer seventy miles, to Goumbi, whence
+he proceeded by canoe to Obindji. Here, provided with a retinue of one
+hundred men of the Commi nation, his overland journey began, and led
+him through the hilly country of the Bakalai southeastwardly to the
+village of Olenda. From this point, before continuing his route, he
+visited the falls of the Samba Nagoshi, some fifty miles to the
+northward, and Adingo Village, twenty miles below Olenda. Starting anew
+after these excursions, he penetrated the continent, on a line
+deflecting a little south of east, as far as Mouaou Kombo, which is
+something more than two hundred miles from the sea.
+
+In first landing from his ship, Mr. Du Chaillu lost his astronomical
+instruments, and was obliged to wait in the coast country until a new
+supply could be obtained from England. Midway on his journey to Mouaou
+Kombo, his photographic apparatus was stolen, and the chemicals were, as
+he supposes, swallowed by the robbers, to some of whom their dishonest
+experiments in photography proved fatal. The traveller's means of
+usefulness were limited to observation of the general character of the
+country, some investigation of its vegetable and animal life, and study
+of the customs of its human inhabitants,--in none of which does he
+develop much variety or novelty.
+
+Nearly the whole route lay through hilly or mountainous country, for the
+most part thickly wooded and sparsely peopled. There was a very notable
+absence of all the larger African animals, and those encountered seemed
+to be as peaceful in their characters as their neighbors, the tribes of
+wild men. The nations through which Du Chaillu passed after leaving the
+Commi were the Ashira, the Ishogo, the Apono, and the Ashango, and none
+appears to have differed greatly from the others except in name. In
+habits they are all extremely alike, uniting a primitive simplicity of
+costume and architecture to highly sophisticated traits of lying and
+stealing. They are not warlike, and not very cruel, except in cases of
+witchcraft, which are extremely dealt with,--as, indeed, they used to be
+in New England. Fetichism is the only religion of these tribes, and they
+seem to believe firmly in no superior powers but those of evil. They are
+docile, however, and susceptible of control. Du Chaillu had the
+misfortune to spread the small-pox among them from some infected members
+of his train; and although all their superstitious fears were excited
+against him, the people were held in check by their principal men; and
+Du Chaillu met with no serious molestation until he reached Mouaou
+Kombo. Here he found the inhabitants comparatively hostile and
+distrustful, and in firing off a salute,--with the double purpose of
+intimidating them and restoring them to confidence,--one of his retinue
+accidentally shot two of the villagers. All hopes of friendly
+intercourse and of further progress were now at an end, and Du Chaillu
+began a rapid retreat, his men casting away in their flight his
+photographs, journals, and note-books, and hopelessly impairing the
+value of the possible narrative which he might survive to write.
+
+Such narrative as he has actually written, we have briefly sketched. Its
+fault is want of condensation and of graphic power, so that, although
+you must follow the traveller through his difficulties and dangers, it
+is quite as much by effort of sympathy as by reason of interest that you
+do so. For the paucity of result from all the labor and hardship
+undergone, the author--considering the losses of material he
+sustained--cannot be justly criticised; but certainly the bulk of his
+volume makes its meagre substance somewhat too apparent.
+
+
+_Liffith Lank, or Lunacy._ By C. H. WEBB. New York: Carleton.
+
+_St. Twel'mo, or the Cuneiform Cyclopedist of Chattanooga._ By C. H.
+WEBB. New York: C. H. Webb.
+
+In the first of these clever and successful burlesques, Mr. Webb has
+travestied rather the ideas than the manner of Mr. Reade; and one who
+turned to "Liffith Lank" from the wonderful parodies in "Punch's Prize
+Novelists," or those exquisitely finished pieces of mimicry, the
+"Condensed Novelists" of the Californian Harte, would feel its want of
+fidelity to the method and style of the author burlesqued. Yet the
+essential absurdities of "Griffith Gaunt" are most amusingly brought out
+in "Liffith Lank"; and as the little work makes the reader laugh at the
+great one, he has no right, perhaps, to ask more of it, or to complain
+that it trusts too much to the facile pun for its effects, which are
+oftener broad than poignant.
+
+Nevertheless, in spite of our logical content with "Liffith Lank," we
+are very glad to find "St. Twel'mo" much better, and we only doubt
+whether the game is worth the candle; but as the candle is Mr. Webb's,
+he can burn it, we suppose, upon whatever occasion he likes. He has here
+made a closer parody than in his first effort, and has lost nothing of
+the peculiar power with which he there satirized ideas. That quality of
+the Bronte sisters, of which Miss Evans of Mobile is one of the many
+American dilutions,--that quality by which any sort of masculine
+wickedness and brutality short of refusing ladies seats in horse-cars is
+made lovely and attractive to the well-read and well-bred of the
+sex,--is very pleasantly derided, while the tropical luxuriance of
+general information characteristic of "St. Elmo" is unsparingly
+ridiculed, with the help of frequent extracts from the novel itself.
+
+Mr. Webb appears in "St. Twel'mo" as both publisher and author, and,
+with a good feeling significant of very great changes in the literary
+world since a poet toasted Napoleon because he hanged a bookseller,
+dedicates his little work "To his best friend and nearest relative, the
+publisher."
+
+
+_The Literary Life of James K. Paulding._ Compiled by his Son, WILLIAM
+I. PAULDING. New York: Charles Scribner and Company.
+
+James K. Paulding was born in 1778 at Great-Nine Partners, in Dutchess
+County, New York, and nineteen years later came to the city of New York
+to fill a clerkship in a public office. His family was related to that
+of Washington Irving by marriage; he was himself united to Irving by
+literary sympathy and ambition, and the two young men now formed a
+friendship which endured through life. They published the Salmagundi
+papers together, and they always corresponded; but with Irving
+literature became all in all, and with Paulding a favorite relaxation
+from political life and a merely collateral pursuit. He wrote partisan
+satires and philippics, waxing ever more bitter against the party to
+which Irving belonged, and against England, where Irving was tasting the
+sweets of appreciation and success. He came to be Navy Agent at New York
+in 1823, and in 1838 President Van Buren made him his Secretary of the
+Navy. Three years later he retired from public life, and spent his
+remaining days in the tranquil and uneventful indulgence of his literary
+tastes.
+
+Dying in 1859, he had survived nearly all his readers, and the present
+memoir was required to remind many, and to inform more, of the existence
+of such works as "The Backwoodsman," a poem; the Salmagundi papers in a
+second series; "Koningsmarke, the Long Finne, a story of the New World,"
+in two volumes; "The Merry Tales of the Three Wise Men of Gotham,"
+satirizing Owen's theories of society, law, and science; "The New Mirror
+for Travellers, and Guide to the Springs," a satire of fashionable life
+in the days before ladies with seventy-five trunks were born; "Tales of
+the Good Woman," a collection of short stories; "A Life of Washington";
+"American Comedies"; "The Old Continental," and "The Puritan and his
+Daughter," historical novels; and innumerable political papers of a
+serious or a satirical sort. As it has been the purpose of the author of
+this memoir to let Paulding's life in great part develop itself from his
+letters, so it has also been his plan to spare comment on his father's
+literary labors, and to allow their character to be estimated by
+extracts from his poems, romances, and satires. From these we gather the
+idea of greater quantity than quality; of a poetical taste rather than
+poetic faculty; of a whimsical rather than a humorous or witty man.
+There is a very marked resemblance to Washington Irving's manner in the
+prose, which is inevitably, of course, less polished than that of the
+more purely literary man, and which is apt to be insipid and strained in
+greater degree in the same direction. It would not be just to say that
+Paulding's style was formed upon that of Irving; but both had given
+their days and nights to the virtuous poverty of the essayists of the
+last century; and while one grew into something fresher and more
+original by dint of long and constant literary effort, the other,
+writing only occasionally, remained an old-fashioned mannerist to the
+last. When he died, he passed out of a world in which Macaulay, Dickens,
+Thackeray, and Hawthorne had never lived. The last delicacy of touch is
+wanting in all his work, whether verse or prose; yet the reader, though
+unsatisfied, does not turn from it without respect. If it is
+second-rate, it is not tricksy; its dulness is not antic, but decorous
+and quiet; its dignity, while it bores, enforces a sort of reverence
+which we do not pay to the ineffectual fire-works of our own more
+pyrotechnic literary time.
+
+Of Paulding himself one thinks, after reading the present memoir, with
+much regard and some regret. He was a sturdy patriot and cordial
+democrat, but he seems not to have thought human slavery so very bad a
+thing. He is perceptibly opinionated, and would have carried things with
+a high hand, whether as one of the government or one of the governed. He
+was not swift to adopt new ideas, but he was thoroughly honest in his
+opposition to them. His somewhat exaggerated estimate of his own
+importance in the world of letters and of politics was one of those
+venial errors which time readily repairs.
+
+
+_History and General Description of New France._ By the Rev. P. F. X. DE
+CHARLEVOIX, S. J. Translated, with Notes, by JOHN GILMARY SHEA. New
+York: J. G. Shea. Vol. I.
+
+Charlevoix's "History of New France" is very well known to all who study
+American history in its sources. It is a well-written, scholarlike, and
+readable book, treating of a subject which the author perfectly
+understood, and of which he may be said to have been a part. Tried by
+the measure of his times, his research was thorough and tolerably exact.
+The work, in short, has always been justly regarded as a "standard," and
+very few later writers have thought it necessary to go beyond or behind
+it. Appended to it is a journal of the author's travels in America, in
+the form of a series of letters to the Duchesse de Lesdiguieres, full of
+interest, and a storehouse of trustworthy information.
+
+Charlevoix had been largely quoted and extensively read. Not to know
+him, indeed, was to be ignorant of some of the most memorable passages
+in the history of this continent; but, what is certainly remarkable, he
+had never found an English translator. At the time of the Old French
+War, when the public curiosity was strongly interested in everything
+relating to America, the journal appended to the history was "done into
+English" and eagerly read; but the history itself had remained to this
+time in the language in which it was originally written. This is not to
+be regretted, if it has been the occasion of giving us the truly
+admirable work which is the subject of this notice.
+
+The spirit and the manner in which Mr. Shea has entered upon his task
+are above all praise. It is with him a "labor of love." In these days of
+literary "jobs," when bad translating and careless editing are palmed
+off upon the amateurs of choice books in all the finery of broad margins
+and faultless typography, it is refreshing to meet with a book of which
+the mechanical excellence is fully equalled by the substantial value of
+its contents, and by the thorough, conscientious, and scholarlike
+character of the literary execution. The labor and the knowledge
+bestowed on this translation would have sufficed to produce an original
+history of high merit. Charlevoix rarely gives his authorities. Mr. Shea
+has more than supplied this deficiency. Not only has he traced out the
+sources of his author's statements and exhibited them in notes, but he
+has had recourse to sources of which Charlevoix knew nothing. He is thus
+enabled to substantiate, correct, or amplify the original narrative. He
+translates it, indeed, with literal precision, but, in his copious notes
+he sheds such a flood of new light upon it that this translation is of
+far more value to the student than the original work. Since Charlevoix's
+time, many documents, unknown to him, though bearing on his subject,
+have been discovered, and Mr. Shea has diligently availed himself of
+them. The tastes and studies of many years have made him familiar with
+this field of research, and prepared him to accomplish an undertaking
+which would otherwise have been impracticable.
+
+The first volume is illustrated by facsimiles of Charlevoix's maps,
+together with his portrait and those of Cartier and Menendez. It forms a
+large octavo of about three hundred pages, and as a specimen of the
+typographical art is scarcely to be surpassed. We learn that the second
+volume is about to appear.
+
+
+_The Comparative Geography of Palestine, and the Sinaitic Peninsula._ By
+CARL RITTER. Translated and adapted to the use of Biblical Students by
+WILLIAM L. GAGE. New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1866. 4 vols.
+
+American critics have found fault with Mr. Gage, as it seems to us
+somewhat too strongly, for certain features of this work. He has been
+blamed for adapting it "to the use of Biblical students," as though
+thereby he must necessarily tamper with scientific accuracy of
+statement,--for too much condensation, and for too little,--for omitting
+Ritter's maps,--and for certain incongruities of figures and
+measurement. It has also been said, that the book itself, being fifteen
+years old, is already antiquated, and that many recent works, not
+mentioned by Ritter, or at least not adequately used, have modified our
+knowledge of Palestine since his day. But, after all, these critics have
+ended by saying that the work is a good and useful one, and by awarding
+credit to Mr. Gage for his fidelity, industry, and accuracy in his part
+of the work. So that, perhaps, the fault-finding was thrown in only as a
+necessary part of the duty of the reviewer; for fault-finding is, _ex
+officio_, his expected function. A judge ought always to be seated above
+the criminal, and every author before his reviewer is only a culprit.
+The author may have given years to the study of the subject to which his
+reviewer has only given hours. But what of that? The position of the
+reviewer is to look down, and his tone must always be _de haut en bas_.
+
+We do not, ourselves, profess to know as much of the geography of
+Palestine as Professor Ritter, probably not as much as Mr. Gage. Were it
+not for the sharp-eyed critics, we should have wholly missed the
+important verification of the surface-level of Lake Huleh. We have in
+past years studied our "Palaestina," by Von Raumer, and followed the
+careful Dr. Robinson with gratitude through his laborious researches.
+But we must confess that we are grateful for these volumes, even though
+they have no maps, and cannot but think it honorable in Mr. Gage to
+prefer to publish the book with none, rather than with poor ones. We see
+no harm in adapting the work to the use of Biblical students, by
+abridging of omitting the topics which have no bearing on the Bible
+history. No one else is obliged to purchase it, and the warning is given
+beforehand.
+
+These four volumes contain a vast amount of interesting and important
+matter concerning Sinai and Palestine. The journals of travellers of all
+times are laid under contribution, and you are allowed often to form
+your own judgments from the primitive narratives. You are like one
+sitting in a court and hearing a host of witnesses examined and
+cross-examined by able counsel, and then listening to the summing up of
+a learned judge. It is easy to see how much more vivid such descriptions
+must be than a dry _resume_ without these accompanying _pieces
+justificatifs_.
+
+The first of the four volumes concerns the peninsula of Mount Sinai. It
+gives the history of all the travels in that region, and the chief works
+concerning it from the earliest time; the routes to Mount Sinai; the
+voyages of Hiram and Solomon through the Red Sea to India; an
+interesting discussion of the name Ophir; the different groups of
+mountains in this region; the Bedouin tribes of the peninsula, and of
+Arabia Petraea; and a full account of Petra, the monolithic city of Edom.
+
+The second volume begins with a comparative view of Syria, and a review
+of the authorities on the geography of Palestine. Then follows an
+account of the Land of Canaan and its inhabitants before the conquest by
+the Israelites, and of the tribes outside of Palestine who remained
+hostile to the Israelites. We next have an account of the great
+depression of the Jordan Valley, the river and its basin. Chapters on
+the sources of the Jordan, the Sea of Galilee, the caravan road to
+Damascus, and the river to the Dead Sea, and an account of the
+travellers who have surveyed the region, follow,--with an Appendix, in
+which is contained a discussion of the site of Capernaum, and Tobler's
+full list of works on Palestine.
+
+Vol. III. contains chapters on the Mouth of the Jordan; the Dead Sea;
+the Division among the Ten Tribes; an account of Judaea, Samaria, and
+Galilee; the routes through the Land; and several scientific essays.
+
+Vol. IV. gives a full account of Jerusalem, ancient, mediaeval, and
+modern; a discussion of the holy places; an account of the inhabitants;
+the region around Jerusalem; the roads to and from the city; Samaria;
+and Galilee;--concluding with an index of subjects, and another of
+texts.
+
+On the whole, we must express our gratitude to Mr. Gage for his labor of
+love, in thus giving us the results of the studies of his friend and
+master on this important theme. Students of the Bible and of Syrian
+geography can nowhere else find the matters treated so fully and
+conscientiously and exhaustively discussed as here.
+
+As the principal objection made to the translation of Mr. Gage is that
+it omits Ritter's maps, it is proper to state that Professor Kiepert
+declared them to be worthless; that the publisher declined an offer to
+sell five hundred sets, lying on his hands, to the Clarks of Edinburgh,
+because he could not conscientiously recommend them. Inasmuch as good
+Bible maps of Palestine are to be had everywhere, and as Robinson's are
+sold by themselves in a little volume, the student does not seem to
+have much reason to complain.
+
+The past quarter of a century has not added much to our knowledge of
+Palestine. Stanley, Bonor, Stewart, Lynch, Tobler, Barclay, De Saulcy,
+Sepp, Tristam, Porter, Wetystein, the Duc de Luyner, and others, have
+travelled and written, but the mysteries remain mysteries still.
+
+
+_Memoirs and Correspondence of Madame Recamier._ Translated from the
+French and edited by ISAPHENE M. LUYSTER. Fourth Edition. Boston:
+Roberts Brothers.
+
+In an article contributed a year or two since to these pages, Miss
+Luyster sketched the career of the beautiful and good woman whose
+history is minutely recounted in the volume before us. It is a
+fascinating history, for Madame Recamier was altogether as anomalous as
+any creation of French fiction. Her marriage was such only in name; she
+lived pure, and with unblemished repute, in the most vicious and
+scandalous times; she inspired friendship by coquetry; her heart was
+never touched, though full of womanly tenderness; a leader of society
+and of fashion, she never ceased to be timid and diffident; she ruled
+witty and intellectual circles by the charm of the most unepigrammatic
+sweetness, the merest good-heartedness.
+
+The correspondence of Madame Recamier consists almost entirely of
+letters written to her; for this adored friend of literary men wrote
+seldom herself, and at her death even caused to be destroyed the greater
+part of the few notes she had made toward an autobiography. In the
+present Memoirs Madame Lenormant chiefly relies upon her own personal
+knowledge of Madame Recamier's life, and upon contemporary hearsay. It
+is a very interesting book, as we have it, though at times provokingly
+unsatisfactory, and at times inflated and silly in style. It is not only
+a history of Madame Recamier, but a sketch of French society, politics,
+and literature during very long and interesting periods.
+
+Miss Luyster has faithfully performed the ever-thankless task of
+translation; and, in preparing Madame Lenormant's work for the American
+public, has somewhat restrained the author's tendency to confusion and
+diffusion. Here and there, as editor, she has added slight but useful
+notes, and has accompanied the Memoirs with a very pleasantly written
+introduction, giving a skilful and independent analysis of Madame
+Recamier's character.
+
+
+_Old England: its Scenery, Art, and People._ By JAMES M. HOPPIN,
+Professor in Yale College. New York; Hurd and Houghton.
+
+"The 'Pavilion,' with its puerile domes and minarets, recalls the false
+and flimsy epoch of that semi-Oriental monarch, George IV. His statue by
+Chantrey stands upon a promenade called the 'Old Steine.' The house of
+Mrs. Thrale, where Doctor Johnson visited, is still standing. The
+atmosphere of Brighton is considered to be favorable for invalids in the
+winter-time, as well as the summer."
+
+In this haphazard way many of the various objects of interest in Old
+England are introduced to his reader by a New England writer, who
+possibly mistakes the disorder of a note-book for literary ease, or who
+possibly has little of the method of picturesqueness in him. In either
+case his reader returns from Old England with the impression that his
+travelling-companion is a sensible, honest observer, who, in forming a
+book out of very good material, has often builded, not better, but
+worse, than he knew. There is no want of graphic touches; there is
+enough of fine and poetic feeling; but there is no perspective, no
+atmosphere: much of Old England through this book affects one somewhat
+as a faithful Chinese drawing of the moon might.
+
+At other times Mr. Hoppin's treatment of his subject is sufficiently
+artistic, and he has seen some places and persons not worn quite
+threadbare by travel. He did not pay the national visit to Mr. Tennyson,
+although he had a letter of introduction; and of those people whose
+hospitality he did enjoy, he writes with great discretion and good
+taste. His sketch of the High Church clergyman at Land's End is a case
+in point, and it has an interest to Americans for the light it throws
+upon the present conflict of religious thought in England.
+
+Mr. Hoppin writes best of the less frequented parts of England,--of
+Land's End, and of Cornwall and Penzance; but he writes no more
+particularly of them than of the suburbs of London. The chapter on
+London art and the London pulpit is a curious _melange_ of shrewd,
+original thoughts about pictures and of acceptations of critical
+authority, of sectarian belief and of worldly toleration, together with
+a certain immaturity of literary judgment and a characteristic tendency
+to incoherence. "Turner," he says, "did a great work, if it were only to
+have been the occasion of Ruskin's marvellous eloquence"; and of Dr.
+Cumming he writes, as if transcribing literally from his note-book: "His
+voice is rich, and mellow without being powerful. He is a tall man, with
+high, white forehead and white hair. It was difficult to find a seat,
+even upon the pulpit stairs. Dr. Cumming, as a graceful, yet not
+effeminate preacher, has good claims to his celebrity."
+
+It remains for us to praise the author's conscientious effort at all
+times to convey information, and his success in this effort. He has
+doubtless seen everything that is worth seeing in the country he has
+passed over; and if we cannot accept the whole of his book as
+literature, we have still the impression that we should find it one of
+the best and thoroughest of hand-books for travel in Old England.
+
+
+_Hymns._ By HARRIET MCEWEN KIMBALL, Boston: E. P. Dutton and Company.
+
+Religious emotion has asked very little of literary art; and if we are
+to let hymnology witness, it has received as little as it has asked in
+times past. To call upon Christ's name, to bless God for goodness and
+mercy, suffice it; and no form of words enabling it to do this seems to
+be found too feeble, or affected, or grotesque. For anything more, the
+inarticulate tones of music are as adequate to devotion as the sublimest
+formula that Milton or Dante could have shaped. It is only since
+religion has been so much philosophized, and has in so great degree
+ceased to be a passion, that we have begun to find the hymns which our
+forefathers sang with rapturous unconsciousness rather rubbishy
+literature. How blank, and void of all inspiration, they seem for the
+most part to be! Good men wrote them, but evidently in seasons of great
+mental depression. How commonplace is the language, how strained are the
+fancies, how weak the thoughts! Yet through these stops of lead and
+wood, the music of charity, love, repentance, aspiration, has poured
+from millions of humble hearts in sweetness that blessed and praised.
+
+With no thought probably of affecting the standard hymnnology were the
+hymns written in the little book before us. They are characterized by
+poetic purity of diction as well as tenderness of sentiment. They
+express, without freshness of intuition, the emotions and desires of a
+devoutly religious nature; and they commend themselves, like some of the
+best and earliest Christian hymns, by their realization of the Divine
+essence as something to be directly approached with filial and personal
+affection. Here is no burst of fervid devotion, but rather a quiet love,
+breathing contrition, faith, and praise in poems of gentle earnestness,
+which even the reader not imbued with the element of their inspiration
+may find graceful and pleasing.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No.
+117, July, 1867., by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 18914.txt or 18914.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/1/18914/
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+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
+http://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 http://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
+http://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 http://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 http://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 checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is 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:
+
+     http://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.
diff --git a/18914.zip b/18914.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3af0365
--- /dev/null
+++ b/18914.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..95f4e73
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #18914 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18914)